#pole dancer reader

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

(Horny Round 2!!!)

Reader is a burlesque dancer, cuz they got mouths to feed, and Old Man Lilia gives them a proposition: put on a show for him and his boys so they can learn how to best please their future lovers. Voyeurism, corruption kink, Daddy Lilia~

Characters are aged up!! I based it off of this YouTube video as well as a few pole-dancing videos.

Warnings: Reader is not Yuu, AFAB but with GN pronouns, corruption kink, voyeurism, pole dancing, strip teasing, lap dance, dry humping, foursome, penetrative (p in v) sex, corruption of the future king and his knights, jerking Sebek and Silver off, overstimulation, creampie(s), blowjob(s)

Diasomnia

There was a dancing troupe coming to the Briar Valley, and they came around annually in the summer because it gave the citizens something to look forward to. Well, it wasn’t just the dancing troupe. It was an entire fair, but the dancing was the main show. During the day, the dances were all child-friendly, and the children were even allowed to hop up on the stage sometimes to join the dancers.

However, after the clock struck 8:30 PM, the doors were closed for children, and the dancers went into their dressing rooms and brought out the more… provocative… outfits. This was a time for an adult audience, and maybe a few teenagers in the older margin who managed to sneak in somehow.

You were with your girls in the back, making sure that your red lipstick was applied pristinely. You had large feathered fans, and a rather revealing outfit that was covered up a bit with a tutu. Your fellow dancers were all hyping each other up, and you saw one of them slap another on the ass as she went on stage, saying go get ‘em, tiger! It made you laugh… until the matron of the troupe called your name.

Getting up from your seat, you walked over, fans in hand, nervous that you were going to get fired. This entire fair was your livelihood. If you were to be let go, not only would you suffer, but so would the family members you’ve been sending money to. Your heart was racing as you walked up to the matron, heels clacking against the floor.

“Y/N, someone has requested our best dancer for a large sum of money. I know the financial situation you are in and you are the first that came to mind. Plus, you are one of our finest dancers, so I am giving you the option, should you accept, to give our esteemed guests a private show.”

“Madame, I don’t mean to sound selfish or money-obsessed, but how-”

“They are offering 1 million thaumarks, and I have the check in this envelope right here,” She held up an envelope, emphasizing that this was real and not a joke. Then, she brought her arm back down, and extended it to you. “You don’t need to have sex with them, but the… leader?... of the group wanted for them to have an experience with something so informal as the fair.”

“Umm…” This was probably the biggest decision of your life. 1 million thaumarks?! There was no way that you were going to pass that up. So, you nodded your head, “Yes, I will do it.”

“Good! This is yours, then! They will be in Room 1 in about 45 minutes. Your routine should be fine, as the man said he wanted it to be ‘culturally enlightening’.” She then walked off, and you were left staring at the envelope now in your hands.

“Holy fu-”

~~~~~~~~

In the aforementioned room, 4 men were sitting, discussing the plan for the evening. Three of them had no idea what was going to happen, while the ‘leader’ was explaining everything.

“Alright, boys. As you know, this is not a children’s show. However, I wanted you to learn something about the art of burlesque dancing. It’s quite sensual, but it gives power to the performer because they have the audience in their hands just with the way they move.”

“LILIA-SAMA, I AM GRATEFUL THAT YOU HAVE GIVEN US THIS EDUCATIONAL OPPORTUNITY, BUT I FAIL TO SEE WHY THIS WOULD BE IMPORTANT!” Sebek was immediately shushed, being told that he needed to keep the volume of his voice down.

“Well, it will teach-” Lilia was cut off by the room going dark. The thing about these rooms was that they were really smaller-scale tents behind the large one. In addition to that, the small tents had platforms in the middle of them for the dancer, along with a pole.

Spotlights came on, highlighting you and your large fans. You were wearing a bustier, corset, panties, and a tutu, and you were wearing bright red lipstick as well as elbow-length gloves. Your heels sparkled in the light. You bent down, one leg in front of the other, using one fan to cover your rear end and the other to point at your outstanding foot.

“Hello, boys~” Your voice said. Then, the music started up, and you started to dance. Sharply moving your hips up and down, making sure that your toes were always pointed so that your legs looked longer. You could feel their hungry gazes on you, and you smiled as you reached your hands behind you, going to untie the tutu.

Shimmying it down your waist, you could tell who the leader was. You know he had been at previous adult shows, as his pink hair was hard to miss. However, based on the reactions of the one with light green hair and the one with silver hair, you guessed that this was the first adult show they had been to. You were happy to be their first. As for the one with the horns, you could see that he was genuinely interested in the art as well as you.

Once it was off, you threw it like a frisbee to the man with green hair. You smiled and winked at him as his face was glowing an even brighter red. Truly, his face would put your red lipstick to shame.

You then turned to the silver-haired one and ushered him over to the stage. You turned around, making sure to bend over as much as you could, and then you asked if he could untie your corset. He nodded his head and went to untie it, struggling a little because his hands were shaking. You heard the ‘leader’ shout something.

“Let him take it off of you!”

Smiling, you looked at the man and he was also frozen in place. Did you really have that effect on men?

Whispering, you asked, “Would you like to help me take it off?” You giggled as he nodded, pulling at the strings pair by pair, and you worked on unclasping the front of it. Once it was off, you threw it to the horned man while placing a rather passionate kiss on the silver-haired man’s lips. Breaking apart, you saw that you left red lipstick on his lips, but you gently pushed him back in his seat.

Standing back up, you headed to the pole. You weren’t as advanced in pole dancing as some of your fellow dancers, but you did know how to do the basics. You grabbed the pole, pulling your body to it, slowly sliding down, placing your fans down on the ground. Once you were squatting down, you started grinding against the pole. You stood back up slowly, locking eyes with the leader, and then you sauntered over to him after picking up one of your fans.

Straddling him, you threw your arms around his neck and he placed his hands upon your hips gently, making sure you aren’t feeling pressured to do anything you don’t want to. You placed a kiss on his lips this time, making sure to rub your clothed regions against his growing boner. For him being a rather small man, you could tell that he definitely had a disproportionate size, but it just further served to arouse you.

This small group of men was different from others you have danced for. They appreciated your art, and they weren’t groping you in a way that made you uncomfortable. They allowed you to go to them first, and you loved it. You stood up, repositioning yourself in a reverse cowgirl position, and leaned back into him. He placed kisses upon the crook of your neck, and you used your fan to cover up the way you were grinding back down on him.

You can’t remember a time where you felt genuine pleasure from one of these dances, but you felt yourself growing wet as you continued your actions. You felt one of his hands slowly reach up to cup your bra-clad breast and one reach down to your panties, giving you a chance to stop him, but you didn’t. You instead tossed away your fan so that the other guys could see what was going on.

“Call me ‘Lilia’, love~” He whispered into your ear before using his fangs to bite into your neck. There was a bit of pain, but pleasure soon followed, and it wasn’t enough to draw blood anyway. Otherwise, you might have guessed he was a vampire.

“Call me ‘Y/N’,” You whispered back, letting out a gasp when he started rubbing your clit. His other hand went under your bra and he started fondling your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. You looked back at the other men and you were surprised to see them drawing closer.

“Alright, Y/N. I wanted you here because I want to teach these boys how to pleasure somebody. However, I need verbal consent,” He said louder, stopping what he was doing so that you could answer.

“You have my consent, Lilia,” Upon saying that, he immediately shoved a finger into your awaiting pussy, making you moan at the sudden intrusion. You could feel his finger curling and moving inside of you, and you simply wanted more. 

As your hips rolled to try and get more friction, you ended up rubbing more and more against his erection, making him groan. 

“So wet for me~” He snickered, looking at your little audience, “Boys, you never want to just go right ahead and stick your dick inside someone without a little bit of preparation and foreplay. After all, you want them to be aroused and participating.

That’s another thing: basic consent and participation. Depending on what you are into, all parties involved must be participating and making sure it is a pleasurable experience for those involved.

Please stand up, love.” 

You followed his orders, saddened that he took his hands out of your bra and panties. Then, you heard his belt unbuckle and his pants slide down, and you felt your underwear slide down your legs. The cold air hits your exposed regions like a block of ice, making you shudder. It didn’t go unnoticed by anybody in the tent.

“Now you may sit back down,” Lining up your entrance with the tip of his cock, he put his hands on your hips to guide you. Feeling him fill you up finally could have made you cum alone, but his size made your eyes roll back in pleasure. You tried covering your mouth to block any moans from coming out, but his hand blocked yours. “Let those pretty noises out, dearie. These boys need to learn what pleasure sounds like.”

Nodding, you put your hand back down as he started to guide you up and down on his cock. 

Oh, oh, ohhh’s enunciated each drop down, with an occasional fuckkkk. You didn’t even notice the silver and green-haired knights get close and right next to you, unbuckling their pants as well. 

“Y/N, you wouldn’t mind giving these guys a bit of the pleasure you’re feeling, would you?” You looked to see them with their dicks out, and you quickly reached out your arms and hands to start jerking them off. The horned man continued watching you all, a smirk on his face.

Up, down, up, down, up, down. Your hips went up and down on Lilia’s member, your hands went up and down on the knights’ cocks, the horned man’s eyes went up and down following you. Every single time Lilia hit that special spot inside of you, you squeezed on the dicks in your hands, making the two men groan.

The man with bright green hair had already came, and now he was just a tad sensitive. You guessed he was at least part fae based on his fangs, so his durability had to be amazing. If you were being honest, you were not far behind, and you found your climax washing over you as you slumped, but your eyes snapped open when Lilia kept thrusting up into you.

“You didn’t think I was done… did you? Neither are any of these fine gentlemen. Tell me, Y/N, where do you want me to cum?” 

“I-Inside… Please, please, please inside!” You cried, and you had felt another orgasm wash over you as he came inside of you. You were panting, feeling the warmth of his cum painting your walls white.

“I would be willing to have a turn with them, Lilia,” The horned man said, and his height intimidated you. The dick imprint that you could see against his pants intimidated you as well. However, you found yourself somehow getting aroused again, and, stumbling, you walked over to him.

With a snap of his fingers, you saw that his pants were off and folded neatly on the side. His size was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. To be fair, it’s not like you slept around, but you have had a few flings here and there in the different places you performed. No beastmen could come close to comparing.

“I’m aware I’m… better endowed than most. If you wish, I could prepare you more-”

“That isn’t going to be necessary, sir. I think I’m ready.” You really need to think about what you say before you say it, but you just couldn’t wait to have that absolute monster inside of you. You decided that you would straddle him, cowgirl-style, so that you could work at your own pace.

However, he had other plans.

Placing his hands on your hips, he shoved you all the way down, and tears leaked from your eyes. You groaned in both pain and pleasure, burying your head in his shoulder, adjusting to his size.

“Tell me when you want to start moving.” It took a few moments, but you eventually nodded and he began moving you up and down again. Luckily, he had strength to do it for you entirely, as your legs gave up.

“Do you think you could bend backwards enough to suck this young man off?” Lilia asked. Being a dancer granted you a level of flexibility that actually allowed you to do this. You leaned back as far as you could, just to be met with the silver-haired man’s cock. 

Oh, yeah… he hasn’t cum yet, you realized. Opening your mouth, he slid the tip in. It was quite unusual to be giving a blowjob in this position, but you were always down to be a bit more adventurous in such activities. His size was the smallest in this group of men, but it still wasn’t anything to laugh at.

“Oh, fuck…” The man muttered under his breath. What you couldn’t see was that as he was thrusting into your throat slowly, there was a bit of a bulge. Your mouth was so warm. You moaned around his dick, adding even more stimulation. On your left, Lilia and the green-haired man were each stroking themselves, watching you get absolutely railed by these two men.

Earlier that day, your matron said you didn’t have to have sex with them. Lilia even told you that you could tell them to stop. However, they were both wrong. You did have to have sex with them, and you couldn’t tell them to stop. If you turned this down, you might have to have yourself committed to a mental asylum because no one in their right mind would turn down an opportunity like this.

[bnpd]

black swan

in which you were once a girl with dreams and aspirations, before it was swept right from under your feet.

"i love your eyes," he'd said before stealing the light right out of them. 

pairings: law-firm-ceo!gojo x ex-ballerina:pole dancer fem!reader warnings: heavy angst, sexual assault, hints of being video taped while under the influence. brief mentions of stalking, obsession, abuse of drugs, coercion (none of these things are done by gojo, this is NOT a dark gojo fic), ending is kind of a cliffhanger???, reader is kind of emotionless.

NOTEᝰ.ᐟ : writing this was </3, pls enjoy. ballerina pictures edited by me. please watch these tik toks for a visual of readers dancing (she does NOT look a certain way, imagine her as you please) pole dance 1 : pole dance 2 : pole dance 3 : pole dance 4 : pole dance 5 :

FIC PLAYLIST : ♬ˎˊ˗ : my masterlist : navigation

you used to be an ambitious young woman. your previous everyday life was defined by schedules and a plan that was expected to last you for as long as you would have wanted it to. as long as you kept working and pushing towards your goal, nothing could come between you.

at the age of 17 you got into a prestigious school of arts for ballet. you lived and breathed ballet. it was your everlasting passion. whatever happened in a dance studio was between you and your ambitious heart. 

your parents supported you through it all. they funded your practices and everything in-between–from attires to entrance fees for special events.

they were more than proud and excited for you when you shared with them the news of your acceptance. it was like their dream came true through you. your happiness was theirs. 

thankfully the university was not more than 2 hours away from home, so coming and going was as easy as filling in a coloring book. 

weekdays were spent in studios for dance, and regular sit-in classes for your core courses. not that it interested you in the slightest, but you excelled none-the-less. 

whereas weekends were split in between extra studio practices (saturdays) and at home (sundays). some days you had to stay on campus to participate in rehearsals for upcoming showcases, competitions or the events themselves. for these occasions your parents were happy to drive down there to see you. 

never missing the opportunity to see their darling girl.

you were an only child. it’s why your parents always spoiled you. they made sure nothing was missing in your life. it’s why they were behind you in every decision you made, making light of the good and bad.  

3 years as a student and you were at the peak of your dance career. you were constantly booked for the lead roles in ballet recitals, sought out for tips from the lower classmen, praised by your professors, acknowledged constantly by your peers, and offered countless opportunities to advance in your pursuit of your goal. 

it was possibly the happiest you could have been. 

unfortunately, good things don’t last. no matter how much you want them to, or fight against all forces to prolong them.

in your last year as a student, tragedy struck. you met a boy. a boy who would soon ruin everything you worked so hard for. 

a man, who at the snap of his fingers, could demolish every single step you’ve carved out for yourself. 

you met him on your way to class. he had dark black hair with white strands grazing the tips of it. chocolate brown eyes that reflected against the sun. he was tall, some could say handsome, and a charming yet unjarring smile. any girl would fall for him. 

just not you. to you, he was a distraction–an unsettling one at that. 

he had introduced himself to you as naoya zenin (bitchass naoya). a sweet name for the devil in disguise. he never failed to emphasize the last name: zenin. a remarkable yet well-known name. given that it was the same one as the president of the school. 

the declaration itself caused a nasty shiver to run down your spine at the mere thought of it. 

one thing lead to another and he continued to pursue you, in which you continued to politely decline. 

“i’m sorry but i’m not interested in a relationship right now. you’re a great guy, surely there are many girls interested in you.”

“yes, but they're not as great as you.”

it was then that you realized that he wasn’t necessarily interested in you. but rather what you brought to the table, which was ultimately, the status of a talented young woman at her peak. 

men like him want someone they can have around their arm. they want someone that’ll make them look good. someone to be there as an accessory to their greatness. 

unfortunately for you, naoya came to the conclusion that it had to be you. whether you liked it or not. 

no way in hell were you going to let this boy use you this way. so, you didn’t, but he offered an ultimatum. 

“alright then, why don’t we just become friends then?” you had to play it safe with a boy of his status.

you accepted. what was the harm in a friendship, you knew you wouldn’t have time to maintain it anyway. with how busy your schedule was, he’d get bored, lose interested, and leave you alone for good. 

but the zenin’s are insistent, and naoya was no different. 

always at your doorstop. constantly sending you messages, looking to hangout, begging to see you or know your schedule. anything that you knew, he wanted to know. 

so you would leave him on delivered, seen, or just completely decline his advances. 

if he wanted to be your friend, he had to know that this is how it was going to be. and that simply didn’t work for naoya. 

“come on. just one party, and we’ll leave it at that.” 

“fine, but im leaving at 10, i have a dance rehearsal tomorrow morning at 8”, after this you were going to put your foot down and let him go from your life, given that he’d brought nothing but distraction. 

“wonderful” was, sadly, the last thing you remember from that night. you woke up the next day, wearing clothes that weren’t yours, in a room that wasn’t yours, next to someone you most definitely recognized, and a camera pointed in the direction of your sleeping position. 

your heart was in your stomach. you remember the countless notifications on your phone, the one you found tossed haphazardly on the floor of the living room in the unfamiliar apartment. the way your hands trembled like an after effect of a drug that was yet to wear off.  

you quickly and anxiously looked for the remainder of your things. after gathering it all, you zoomed out of the apartment, praying that whatever you may have thought happened at the apartment didn’t. 

a buzz came from the back of your jean pocket, but you ignored it. desperately trying to get to where you needed to be: dance rehearsals. you tried to ignore the weird looks you received while on your way to the studio. 

after arriving, you dashed to the locker room, thankful to your past self for always being overly prepared, having had an extra pair of ballet shoes and practice clothes. 

quickly changing into the clothes you're quietly and quickly slipping into the dance studio, positioning yourself in the back. hoping your instructor does everything but notice your tardiness, but as the top student of the program, your presence goes anything but unnoticed. 

“miss LN,” your professor's voice echoed painfully across the studio and her tone made you stiff, “a word please.”

you felt about 20 sets of eyes turning to look at you. you follow behind your instructor, entering her office stationed beside the massive studio. 

you hear the door shut behind her, yet you remain rooted in your spot in front of her desk. 

“why are you here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. her eyes were nothing but deep pools of emotionless cobalt, and her dark red stained lips do nothing but give her a harsher look. 

you’re a little taken aback by her question, confused to say the least. “excuse me?” you chuckle awkwardly and nervously. 

“we had a dance rehearsal this morning at 8 for the upcoming showcase, didn't we?” you question. 

she purses her lips, “yes we did, but i am afraid that statement no longer includes you.” she says coldly.

you stare at her with wide shocked eyes. “by the look on your face i am quite certain you are not aware. i suggest you check your email.”

she rounds her desk once again, heading for the door, but halting her movements to get her last words in, “and by the time rehearsals are done, i want your locker cleared out, and your access key to the studio left on my desk.” 

the door slams shut behind her. the slam of the door echoes into the deafening silence.

you’re shaking in your seat. what the hell is going on?

remembering you left your phone in your locker—given that the only thing you’re allowed to bring inside the studio is a water bottle. you retrieve your cellphone, and unlock it. 

you tremble a little as you scroll through the endless amount of messages, until you settle on the email sent by the institution. 

Dear Ms. YN LN,

It is with deep regret that we inform you that after careful consideration we have decided to terminate your position as a student at our institution. Effective immediately. 

We also have to acquaint you with the reason for this decision. On May 24 of 2025, we received an anonymous tip accompanied by a link to an adult website. The link featured a public accessed video of you, in which you were identified, and another faceless individual engaging in less than appropriate behaviour. This video was reviewed by a university appointed council to verify your involvement. 

While we respect personal freedoms and the autonomy of our students outside of the classroom, participating in publicly available adult content, undermines the core values of our university.

A permanent notation reading “Dismissed for Conduct Violation” will be placed on your academic transcript. This status may impact future applications for admission, transfer, or professional certification.

We encourage you to take this time to reflect on the importance of personal accountability and the broader implications of public conduct.

Sincerely,

Naobito Zenin Dean of Students  Office of Student Conduct and Academic Integrity Shibuya School of Arts University

now, you’re 25 years old. existing in a bustling city with nothing worth living for. 

after you read the email, your entire world fell apart. you cleared out your things from your dorm and the locker room.

you didn't break the news to your parents. so, you pretended that you were still attending school. your plan was complete school in any way shape or form. but higher education comes with a price. an expensive one at that.

it was difficult. the video blew up and it completely shattered your reputation. not like it was your choice, considering that pieces of that night were foggy to non-existent.

however, things never stay hidden forever: your parents somehow found out about it. so you ran away. back then, you didn't think you could have faced your parents. you still don't think you could. you were a coward.

the only thing that plagued your mind was that the image of their picture perfect-talented daughter was completely tainted.

what would they think of you? how could you face them after everything that happened?

fearful that they'd somehow track you down, you left everything behind. took a bus to the next city over, and stayed with a dear friend of yours: utahime.

utahime worked at a nearby high school as a supervisor. she insisted on helping you find a job, but who would hire you? most definitely not a school.

the only thing you knew to do, was dance. so, you looked up strip clubs looking to hire pole dancers, and came across a decent ad online.

it’s sickening how fast anything can be swept away from beneath you, even as you stand on it. some are lucky to remain standing, while others fall straight on their ass–like you. 

you weren’t supposed to work tonight, but your boss called you, hoping that you’d perform a solo show tonight. he said he’d pay you double your regular pay. something about a big name in the crowd tonight. 

you couldn’t care less. you needed the money. 

you tuned out the rest of the call after the talk about the pay. it was an offer you simply could not refuse. 

even if it meant missing utahime’s monthly gathering dinner. you’d just have to explain to her when you arrived at the apartment later tonight. 

you fix your lip stick in the tiny mirror taped to the door of your locker, making sure it’s perfect. 

you swallow the lump in your throat when you remember how it felt to get ready before a rehearsal, your mom was always there to adjust your hair accessories, but now it’s just you. 

“geez angel, leave some for the rest of us will you?” your coworker beside you jokes. you have moved to adjusting the straps of your tight pink performance bra when she breaks you out of your melancholic day dream. 

angel. the stage name given to you after your audition for this job. something about the way you danced resembled that of a soft angelic ballerina. 

you still remember the way your face slightly dropped at the mention of it. 

you find nothing humorous in her statement, nor her implication. 

the locker room however, finds it quite enlightening, “yeah angel, always stealing all the clients”, the grip on your locker room briefly tightens in an attempt to ground yourself. i don’t mean to, you internalize. 

you’re far from proud about what you do, dancing on stage in front of men makes your skin crawl. it wasn't necessarily about dancing on a pole, but rather who you did it for.

their faces full of lust and dark fantasies make your stomach churn. the look on their faces shows you how their sick minds envision you. the way they’d jump on stage if given the chance.

despite it all, it’s about whatever keeps you dancing. regardless of the audience, this was the only way you could continue your passion. in some sick way, it was the last piece of yourself you could salvage.

your expressions stay neutral, staring blankly at the vacant inside of your locker room. a stark contrast to everyone elses. while they have pictures, sparkles or some sort of personal touch. yours is lifeless and empty. 

you’re starting to feel a little resemblance to it. 

you sigh and close your locker room, body glitter at hand. “sorry,” you mutter, not really knowing what else to say. 

glitter particles stick to your body as you spray it all over yourself. 

“angel you’re up next,” calls the stage manager. years ago, the words would have thrilled you, now they fill a void–a void you try to fill when you pretend you’re doing something else on stage. 

you tighten your mountain high heel straps and make your way over to the stage. 

you shut down your conscious when you take the first step of your heels lands on the stage.

the lights dim and your hand grips the pole. you shut your eyes, and pretend you’re somewhere else dancing ballet. 

a place where the music is something else, and your purpose belongs for your own pleasure. a place where no man could hurt you again. 

the music starts, and you dance. 

2 HOURS AGO

gojo feels sick to his stomach. it’s his 29th birthday and geto thought it was a bright idea to bring him to a strip club. 

“come on loosen up,” he says, patting him down. they’re both still in their expensively tailored work suits. fresh out of a boring birthday dinner with the higher ups. 

gojo shoves geto away, “how can i loosen up when we’re here?” he bites back, “at a fucking strip club,” he says in disgust. 

geto gives him a look, “hey”, he warns him with a level headed look, “don’t be such a dick, i know you’re just being an asshole because of how pent up you’ve been with work.” 

gojo stares at him with an unimpressed stare. any other day he’d be more than happy to just be anywhere in the city doing anything that wasn’t work related. 

however, the mountain of piled up work cases he has to look over sit—not only physically, but mentally—as a constant burden. 

he’s been needed at work more than usual. all thanks to his grandfather who had stepped down as the CEO of Gojo Law Co., and stood up as the chairman. he had handed down the business to gojo less than a month ago. 

with absolutely no heads up. anyone can imagine how stressed he is. 

thankfully, geto was promoted to president. 

given how powerful they were as a duo in the courtroom, one can only imagine how great they’d do managing an entire firm.

geto sighs before looking at gojo, “listen i get it, you want to live up to his standards, but you can’t do it with a stick up your ass. so stop moping around and try and get your dick wet once in a while. you didn’t seem to have a problem doing it in college.”

he slings his arm around gojo’s shoulders and drags him into the strip club. 

thankfully, gojo doesn’t put up much of a fight. 

-

a whiff of cigarettes hits gojo’s sensitive nose immediately. 

the place seems well kept, better than most he’s seen in the past. security seems tight and well established, given the big bulky men stationed in different parts of the club. the music is loud and the lights are dimmed down, and different colors dim in and out. 

it’s quite a massive place. it’s spacious now but he knows that during rush hour it’s incredibly packed. he can tell that whatever they have going here, sells well and is provided on an expensive silver platter.  

there’s women walking around in tight revealing waitress costumes, holding bottles or serving platters with perfectly decorated beverages. their walks are elegant as they stride in their towering high heels. 

their smiles are bright, and certain. one could mistake them for genuine happiness. 

there’s small table dancing poles scattered around the place accompanied by comfortable booths surrounding them, but what captures his attention the most is the empty massive stage positioned towards the far end of the club covered by heavy curtains. 

the lights are completely turned off for that section of the club, but the timer displaced at the top of the curtains gives him something to anticipate. a timer that piques his interest.

he nudges geto in the midst of their journey to the bar. he tilts his chin in the direction of the stage, "what's that?” he makes an educated guess that it’s why his best friend brought him here in the first place. 

geto looks over to the direction he gestured to, and grins, “that,” he points, “is the countdown for the main event tonight. it’s actually why i brought you here.” he confessed, confirming gojo’s initial suspicion. 

gojo continues to stare at the stage. before geto interrupts him with a gentle shove towards the bar. 

two drinks in hand later, they slither their way through the crowd and to the front row. where their vip section awaits them. 

geto nods at the security surrounding their booth, and they move to create a path in the direction of their seats. 

once they’re seated and comfortable the lights dim further, leaving the club almost pitch black. aside from the lights directly above the stage. almost like it’s putting whoever will dance in their own bubble. 

gojo watches intently as the curtains open, and there stands a woman. 

you grip the pole, but your eyes remain gently shut. your pose is enticing, the music is yet to start, but you’re already setting the tone. 

gojo's mouth gapes open a tiny bit when your head rolls back, and the hair previously covering you exposes your neck. 

when your head returns forward again your eyes are open, but they hold an unreadable emotion, almost as if you were on autopilot. 

you’re nothing short of stunning. a woman with a face like yours could entice anyone. gojo was no exception. 

gojo studies you intently. from the clothes you wear, to the look on your face. the transparent slip on dress makes you look like a model on the cover of a lingerie magazine. beneath it you wear lingerie. 

the lighting of the stage defines your face in a manner that sharpens your already defined features. with the slow movement of the lights, they catch the sparkles scattered around your revealed body. 

it almost drives him insane how breathtaking you are. 

almost. but he knows what this is. it’s your job to make him feel this way. he doesn’t want to say it’s in your nature to evoke these feelings but something in the back of his mind nags at him that it’s far too easy for you to kindle these feelings in any man. 

he’s confused. 

gojo has had more than his fair share of sexual encounters. and he means more than fair. but he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone of your caliber, and he’s only looking at your face. 

there's cheers, and an ‘oh yeah baby!’ shouted from the crowd. a few whistles are scattered around too. 

gojo can’t find it in himself to do the same. despite the incredible pull he currently feels towards you all he can do is lean forward from his seat, inching his way to the edge of it. all he can do is gape at you. 

the slow sensual tune of a song begins, and you spin around the pole. your moves are elegant, fluid, and slow. it’s like you’re floating. there’s a certain gentle yet precise form in which you move. 

almost that of a ballerina, he notes. he doesn’t know why, but it hurts to watch you up there. 

his eyes desperately try to remain staring into yours, but occasionally a strands of hair will settle on your face, shielding you from the audience. 

your eyes are glazed over. 

despite your obvious attractiveness, he feels far from aroused. 

you spin on the pole before descending onto the floor, you’re now laying on the floor. within gojo’s reach. but he has no desire to invade your space. you’re in your element. 

your back arches, like the invisible string tied to your heart has been pulled. seconds later you’re back on the pole, moving again. 

gojo’s completely entranced by you. sucked into your world, but he can’t envision what you’re seeing in your head. he can’t understand it. all he can see is a shell of you. 

when your performance finishes, he’s left with a tiny gaping hole in his heart. 

one he’d like to expand by getting to know you. 

even if it means coming here every night to see you.

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[rbfclassy]

MONEY LOVE! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...toji loves to come into the club every week and spend his time watching you dance, finding himself infatuated with you

INFO...toji x stripper fem!reader, no smut, sexual tension, toji is kinda older, toji is rich, talks of blowjob, talks of sex, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

welcome to my second account everyone I’m @classyrbf but now I’m writing on here cause I’m shadowbanned so do not be alarmed if the writing and layout is similar bc it is me lol

At the end of every Friday, Toji finds himself driving to the strip club at the edge of town. The one that’s always crowded with gross old men looking to take one the dancers home for the night, ones that could never keep their hands to themselves, and eventually get kicked out for being too drunk. As much as he dislikes it, he only goes there for one thing. You.

He sits there, narrow eyes watching your figure sway around the pole, heels hitting the floor with each step you took. The bitter alcohol burns his throat as he takes a sip, watching the way you bend over in front of him, arching your back. All the others mutter around him, catcalling you and saying the most cliche things, but Toji keeps his thoughts to himself. Instead, he pulls out a wad of cash, counting the bills one by one. “Sweetheart,” he calls out to get your attention. You slowly turn towards him with a small smile. He hands you a few bills before saying, “keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll earn the rest.”

Toji knows that you’ve seen him before, always comes around the same time, the only man who tips big in this shitty town. The others just watch and get their dicks hard. With him, you’ve taken a liking, even if you didn’t know his name. He kept to himself, a reserved man, but he only ever watched you, wanted you. It made you feel special in a way. You kneel down in front of Toji, smirking at him. “What’s your name, Mister?” You ask, chuckling. Toji stares you down, a stoic expression on his face. “Oh, come on. You’re not gonna answer? I see you in here all the time,” you tease, reaching out to touch his hand. Still, no answer.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you come over here!” The others shout out, whistling. You pull away from Toji, strutting across the stage to give the other men a show, wrapping your leg around the pole and twirling around it.

It isn’t until almost the end of your shift when your manager tells you someone requested a private dance. You were exhausted, but still, all you were thinking about was the money. Hopefully, whoever this person was had it. You changed into another scandalous outfit, freshening up before you headed over to the private rooms. Slowly opening the door, your eyes met with Toji’s. “Still here?” You smiled, shutting the door behind you.

He sat on the velvet couch, legs spread, the purple led lights bouncing off of his skin. You walked over to him, standing in between his legs as he stared up at you. “What is it that you’re looking for, hm?” You asked, leaning over so you were face to face with him. Your lips were only inches away from his. “I see you every week, same day, same time, yet I don’t even know your name.”

“Toji Fushiguro,” he answered, plainly.

“And what is it that you want, Toji?” Your hands slowly pushed him back, brining your legs over his waist, straddling him. The scent of expensive cologne filled your lungs.

He found it hard not to touch you right now, your body pressed right against him and he couldn’t do a single thing about it. He’s become infatuated with you, more infatuated than he’s ever wanted to be. He stared you in the eye, catching the glint and that smirk you always have. He finally decided to break the silence. “I want you.”

A laugh erupted from your chest as you shook your head at him. “We don’t do those kinds of services here. Strictly a strip club, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m saying, sweetheart. I don’t mean sex,” he scoffed.

“Oh.” You blinked, shocked.

“I wanna take you on a date, spend time with you. You’re a beautiful girl who deserves more than old creeps trying to fuck her every second just because she’s doing her job. Though, it completely your choice.” He slightly tilted his head to the side.

“Do you…mean it?” You asked, mostly at a loss for words.

“When are you free?” He questioned.

“All day tomorrow, I’m not doing a thing,” you replied.

“Good.” He picked you up off of his lap, sitting you on the couch. “Here’s my number, text me.” He handed you a small slip of paper. “Oh, and here’s the rest of that cash.” He pulled out the wad of cash he had in his hand earlier, giving it to you like nothing. “When are you off work?”

“Um,” you stared up at his tall and muscular figure, “in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll take you home, I’ll be outside.” He walked out the room, leaving you sitting there on the couch dumbfounded. Did that seriously just happen? Muffled club music filled your ears as you sat there, staring into the room. Your gaze slowly shifted to the money in your hand, a mix of five thousand and ten thousand yen bills.

The back door the club squeaked as you opened it, the night breeze hitting you in the face as soon as you stepped out. A small shiver sent up your spine, heels clicking against the pavement, eyes wandering around the parking lot for Toji. Turning the corner, you caught sight of him. He was leaning against his car, cigarette in hand as he blew the excess smoke from his lungs. A smile crept up on your face, slowly walking over to him. “Hey,” you spoke, catching his attention.

He looked up, seeing you standing right in front of him. You adjusted the duffel bag you had on your shoulder, full of the money you made tonight and the outfits you had brought along. “You ready?” He asked, flicking his cigarette on the floor and snuffing it with his shoe. You gave a simple nod. He opened the passenger door for you, allowing you to get it first and shutting it behind you. The gesture made you smile even if it was the bare minimum. You’ve barely met this guy, yet he’s the first to treat you with more respect than anyone you’ve ever met. “Where do you live, sweetheart?”

“Oh, I live on 51st street, you know those apartments by the highway,” you informed.

“Yeah, I know, I pass by there all the time heading to work.” He reversed out of the parking lot, looking over his shoulder to make sure no cars were approaching.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything from me? Like at all? Not even a kiss? Heated makeout session? A blowjob?” You asked, laughing slightly.

Toji chuckled at you, shaking his head, “as much as I would love those things, no”

“Really?!” You asked, surprised.

“Really.” He glanced at you.

“Mmm, then how about after our first date?” You asked in a sultry tone.

“Do you really wanna fuck me that bad?” He stopped the car at a red light, turning his head to look at you.

“You kind of make it hard for me to not want to,” you explained, placing your hands around his arm, hugging it towards you.

“And why is that?” He placed his finger under your chin, lifting your chin. Your breath got caught in your throat as you stared into his dark eyes, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest.

“You’re the first guy to ever treat me nicely,” you quietly told.

“As much as I’m flattered, it’s basic human decency. So, get used to it, yeah?” The light turned green, Toji tearing his gaze away from you as he began to drive again. You put your hands back in your lap, fiddling with the fabric of your duffel bag. The rest of the car ride was silent, but not awkwardly silent. It was peaceful, the roads empty, and feeling the small breeze on your skin from the cracked window. It was almost enough to put you asleep until the car came to a full stop.

You looked up to see you were in front of your apartment building. As you undid your seatbelt, Toji stopped you. “Tomorrow five o’clock, I’ll be here.”

“And I’ll be ready.” You smiled. He watched you open the car door before you stopped and turned back to face him. You leaned in planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” you muttered and stepped out of the car. He made sure you got in the building safely before pulling off. The scent of your perfume lingered in the car, and he could feel the lipgloss from your kiss still on his cheek, though he felt no need to wipe it off. He knew he was going to make you his girl the moment he laid eyes on you that night three months ago.

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: Anon request on tumblr - "can you do a jake x poll dancer smut?"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, pole dancer!y/n, cocky!y/n, mentions of working in a strip club, breaking club rules, semi public, sneaky, unprotected sex, hair pulling, biting, scratching, general filth

Word count: 2.9k | not edited really

Also, I fucking LOVE writing these ones because it makes me feel like I could totally be a stripper, so thank you to whoever sent this is to me.

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Ladies and gentlemen.." The DJ announces to grab everyone's attention, "Welcome to The Cave, where our number one priority is to make sure you have a good time, if not, then the best time!

A small smirk toys with your lips as you know your stage name is about to be announced.

"Please, without further ado, give it up for Sinderella."

Your song that you chose for openings tonight’s show, Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman, starts blasting through the speaking, mixing in with the cheers and whistles of the desperate men ready to try and get your attention.

You emerge from behind the curtain, a huge smile on your face as you walk over to the pole. You wrap one hand around it, walking around it as the song builds up.

Your eyes scan over the crowd surrounding the stage, one guy in particular catches your attention.

You give him a smirk as your eyes meet his and you lift yourself up, wrapping one leg around the pole as you lean back.

You slide down, squatting down as you move around to the beat of the song. You turn around, crawling over to the edge of the stage, stopping right in front of the guy that caught your attention.

Your eyes scan up his tattooed skin as you reach out, tangling your fingers into his hair and pulling slightly as the lyrics, “..she likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth..” play loudly through the club.

He smirks and looks up at you, watching as you spin around and tilt your head back, looking at him upside down.

You bite your lip, spinning away from him, ass towards him as you crawl back to the pole. You stand up, lifting yourself up to spin around, doing a split in the air.

You smile as money gets tossed your way from everyone around the stage.

You move back down, crawling over to a random guy off to the side during the one bridge of the song. You get on your knees, hooking the straps of your red thong and pulling them outward as the song plays, “Red thong, party's on, love this song, sing along..”

You bite your lip as you spread your legs, bouncing up and down slightly as you give a little way to the guy during, “.. see you later back at home..”

You get up, walking back to the pole and dancing against it. Your eyes travel back to the guy with the dark hair and tattoos and you walk towards him, turning at the last second to go to the other side of the stage.

You glance back at him, smirking as you see him shake his head as he mouths, “Tease.”

You look away, tilting your head as you lock eyes with another guy, dragging your hands up your body, “..she's naughty to the end..”

You grip the edge of the stage, leaning forward so a guy can stuff a few ones in the strap of your very sheer bra.

“Thank you.” You smile and move down the stage on your hands and knees, flipping your hair, moving to shake your ass to the beat of the song.

You were having complete fun with it, until you went back to the guy.

You were assuming his friend was right next to him, so you lean out, grabbing the loose tie that was around his neck and pulling him into you as you lean back.

You push your chest out, flipping your hair as you let go of the tie. You move back, mouthing along to the lyrics as you slowly crawl towards the guy, “.. But does it make her wrong to have the time of her life?..”

You sit up straight, staring down at his hand reaching up to slip a twenty into the tiny strap of your thong.

Your eyes move up to his, “Thank you, baby.”

He nods, “Anything for my favorite dancer.” He winks, sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies through you.

You smile and move back to the pole to finish out the song. You spin, twirl, twist, and bend around it. As the song ends, the DJ comes back onto the mic, “Thank you, darlin’. Everyone give it up for Sinderella.”

You smile, bowing before going around to collect your money. You reach out, taking the loose ones from the hands of the men, giving them a cute smile as you thank them.

You walk back through the curtain, “Good luck, Sugar.” You smile at the next girl getting ready to go out and she scoffs, “Please. After that? I’ll need it. You were incredible, as always.”

You smile, “Thank you.” You hear the DJ announce her and you squeeze her shoulder, “You’re going to kill it.”

She disappears out onto the stage and you walk back to the dressing room to change into something different. You opt for a very skimpy all black one piece that just barely covers your nipples.

You switch your heels to Lacey black ones and fluff your hair one last time before making your way out to the floor.

Your head immediately turns towards the stage, but not to look at Sugar spinning around the pole.

You were looking for him.

“Sinderelly. Sinderelly.” One of your regulars comes up to you, taking your hand to spin you around so he can get a full view of you, “Got time for a private dance?”

He holds up three hundred dollar bills and you sigh, giving him a smile, “Of course I can.” You lead him back to the private rooms, pulling the curtain closed.

“Two songs like usual?” You turn around, walking around to lay your hand on his chest. He chuckles, “I wish, sweetheart. But I have an early flight tomorrow, so we’ll just make it one for tonight.”

“Where are you flying to?” You walk around to the front, slowly bending down as you sit on his lap.

“Barbados. Business, you know?” His eyes rake up and down your body, “Is this new?” He asks referring to your little outfit.

“Sure is.” You lean your back against his chest and move your hips against him.

You couldn’t help but think of how soft that guys hair was when you laced your fingers in it.

How his eyes followed you as you moved around on the stage.

The way he made your skin tingle when he brushed his fingers against your skin to tuck the money into the band of your panties.

You wanted him, needed him.

And you decided right then and there that you were going to be the ones to break the rules.

As the song ends, you stand up, turning around to face the gentleman in the chair, “I hope your trip goes well.”

He hands you the three hundred dollars and smiles, “I’ll definitely have to come back and tell you how it was.”

You nod, pointing to him after taking the money, “I’ll be holding you to it, honey.” You open the curtain, allowing him to walk out first, “Have a good night.”

He looks back at you as he walks towards the exit, “I will now.” He winks and you smile as he leaves.

You walk around the club, saying hi to other people you see in there all the time. As your leaned forward on the one table, your eyes lock onto the friend of the guy you can’t stop thinking about.

He smirks and nudges him, nodding towards you. He turns around, looking directly at you with a smile on his lips. You see him tell his friend that he’ll be right back, but you were going to make sure it wouldn’t be for a while.

“See you guys later.” You smile at the guys and walk around the table. You put one hand on your hip, smiling as he walks up to you, “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smirks and tilts his head, “So I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Likewise.” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod. You can tell his wheels were turning about whether or not you were just saying that because it was your job, or if you actually meant it.

You lean in, “Interested in a private dance?”

“Oh boy, you bet I am.” He nods with a slight laugh and you smile as you take his hand into yours, “Follow me.”

You glance back at him as he gives his friend a thumbs up. You shake your head laughing as you lead him to the room all the way in the back, “So what’s your name, baby?”

He walks in, sitting down in the large velvety chair, “Jake.”

“Jake.” You repeat as you shut the curtain behind you, “It’s very nice to meet you.” You walk over, dragging your hand over his chest as you walk in a circle around him.

“What did you think of my turn on the stage, Jake?” You sit in his lap, facing him with your hands on his shoulders.

He rests his arms out on the arms of the chair, “You want my honest answer?”

You nod as you move your hips to the beat or the song, “Please.” You lean in, brushing your lips against his neck and you can feel him swallow hard, “I um..” he clears his throat, shifting around under you, “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He tilts his head back, looking up at you as you lean up, “Yeah? Well thank you, I really put my all into those kind of shows.”

He smirks, “You definitely had my attention.”

“Oh I know I did.” You laugh slightly and sigh as you stand up, turning around to sit in his lap, “So tell me, Jake.” You lean back against his chest, “You have a girlfriend that doesn’t know you’re here? Or does? I don’t know if you’re into that kind of thing.”

He chuckles, rubbing his fingers together, “No, no. I am as single as a dollar bill, Sinderella.” He tilts his head, “How’d you come up with that name anyway?”

You stand up, turning around to face him. You lay your hands his knees and bend down, “I spell it Sin as in..” you look up at him, “S. I. N.”

His brow twitches, “Yeah?”

You nod, “And.. because I like to live like there’s no midnight..” You move back to straddling him, your boobs right in front of his face and his eyes are locked on them.

“That’s..” he takes a breath, “Creative.”

You’re not only teasing him at this point, you’re teasing yourself.

“You can touch me.” You whisper, “It’s okay.”

He’s hesitant at first, “I really don’t want to get out time cut short by getting thrown out of here.” He chuckles and you slide your hands up his mesh covered chest, “As long as we’re quiet.. there’s no need to be thrown out.”

He tilts his head, “You do this with all your guests that come back her with you?”

You shake your head as you slide your hands down his arms, “Nope. I’m a good girl. I always follow the rules. But..” you guide his hands to your hips and you lean in, “You’re the first person I want to break the rules for.”

“Fucking hell.” He groans lowly as you grind down onto his growing bulge. You drag your nails up his arm and lay a hand on the side of his neck, “What do you say Jake? Still can’t get me off your mind?”

He smirks, a chuckle following behind, “If we’re doing this, I should get to know your real name.”

“Do you want to do this?” You ask and he instantly nods his head, “Fuck, yeah.”

“Y/n.” You say with no hesitation, “Nice to meet you.” You smile and lean in to close the space between your lips and his.

His hands slide down, gripping your ass, moving you to give him some sort of friction. A low groan leaves his lips as you bite down on his bottom lip and tilt your head back.

He kisses back your jaw and down to your neck, “You are so fucking sexy.”

You smile as you close your eyes, biting your lip to hold back your moans as he sucks on your neck, “No marks, Jake.” You lean back and he smirks, “Right. Sorry. Forgot that we’re a secret.”

You slide your hands down his chest, undoing the belt on his jeans so you can undo them and push his zipper down.

You lift up slightly so you can reach in, pulling him from his boxers, “You’re so big.” You bite your lip as you stroke him a few times.

He smirks and licks his lips, “Thanks. I’m pretty confident in it.” He chuckles but stops as soon as you rub the tip against your already slick folds.

You spit onto the tip of your fingers, reaching down to coat the tip of his cock with it, “You should be.” You smile and bite down on your lip hard as you slowly start to sink down onto him.

His fingers dig into your skin, tilting his head back as you grip the chair behind him, “Fuck, Jake.” You lean in, whimpering as you roll your hips, “needed you so bad.”

He turns his head, kissing the corner of your mouth, “So fucking wet.”

You turn your head, crashing your lips onto his as you slide a hand to lay on the back of his head, fingers lacing into his soft, dark hair.

You clench around him, already wanting to cum for him.

His hands guide you up and down on his cock, groaning lowly and fighting to stay as quiet as he can.

“My shift ends in two hours.” You breathe out, “Give me a ride home?”

Jake nods quickly, “As long as you promise to ride me just like this when we get there.”

“Deal.” You moan out quietly, “Fuck.” You bury your face into his neck, whimpering as you clench around him, “Cum for me, y/n.”

Jake using your real name sends you over the edge. Your nails dig into the couch as your other hand pulls his hair.

You clench your jaw and you rock against his cock, guiding yourself through the high or your orgasm. You kiss up his neck to his lips.

Your lips move in sync as he slowly and subtle as possible, thrusts his hips upward, “Never made a girl cum that fast before.”

You giggle slightly, “Now ya have.”

He tilts his head back before sliding a hand up to move the tiny straps covering your nipples. He looks down, eyes scanning over your boobs before staring down at his cock going in and out of you in the red light of the room.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking close.” He looks up at you, “Where do you want me?”

“I’ll swallow.” You whisper, “Just tell me when.”

He nods, pulling you back into kiss him. He thrusts a few more times before he nods, “Okay. Okay now.” You quickly get up, dropping to your knees in between his and placing your lips around his cock.

He lays a hand on the back of your head as you bob, working him up to cum. You feel if shoot into your throat and you wait til he done to lean back.

You look up at him, licking your lips as you wipe the corner of your mouth with your wrist.

“You’re such a bad girl.” He boops your nose and you shrug, “Only for the right kind of person.” You slide your hands up his thighs before standing up.

He fixes himself and rests his head back, staring up at you as you fix your outfit, “You say two hours?”

You nod, “Yep. Midnight.”

“I guess I can force Johnnie to stay here another two hours.” He laughs and you tilt your head, “That your friend?”

He nods, “Yeah, he didn’t want to come, but I told him it would be worth it. I guess I was right on that part for me anyway.”

“I’ll tell one of the girls to treat him good.” You smirk and Jake nods, “He will hate that.”

“Oh, do you no-“

He cuts you off, “No, no. Do it.” He laughs and moves to the edge of the chair, reaching out to pull you to him. His hands slide up and down your thighs as yours rest on his shoulders.

“I’m going to enjoy these next two hours.”

You look down at him, “Why’s that?”

“After what I just got.. it’s a big fuck you to all the assholes who know they can’t to touch you.” He smiles and stands up, giving you one last kiss before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a hundred dollar bill, “To cover our tracks, you know.”

“Of course. Of course.” You smile as he slips it into the thin strap. You look up at him and step back, “See you out there.”

“See you out there.” He winks before leaving the room and you stand there, silently composing yourself before you walk back out to the floor.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Thank you so much for reading!

Love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[ddaisyvision]

𝐆𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄! | 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈

𝐚/𝐧: im back bitches and it feels great! writing this was real fun. i was smokin a lil weed, listening to music and then gimme more by britney spears came on and thus this was born. it was supposed to be a mini fic but.. i got a lil carried away lmao. enjoy my babies! 💋

𝐜𝐰: pervy!denji, sleazy!denji, stripper!reader (your stripper name is diamond btw), fem!bodied, heavy petting, sloppy kissing, alcohol use, raw penetrative sex, breeding(?)| 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧)

Even in his twenties, Denji was still a perverted loser. He may have been a great devil hunter; but his lust for women kept him anchored on distraction. Tits. Pussy. Asses. The fat of their thighs spreading when they sit. The way they smell; so sweet like flowers or a piece of decadent dessert. The allure of femininity alone scratched an itch within him. 

So is it any surprise that Denji’d be spending his nights at the local strip club? Every Friday; his only day off a week, he’d be sat with his ones in tow sitting in the front row of the stage every bit of gitty. He was like a teenage boy, already undressing the half dressed dancers that walked around the dimly lit club with his hungry eyes. 

“Alright gentlemen! This girl’s a newcomer to our club tonight, so open your wallets and please give a warm welcome to the gorgeous Diamond!”

Denji’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw you, walking achingly slow towards the middle of the big pink stage. You were dressed in all baby blue; soft white accents of your outfit making you look every bit of angelic. Your breasts were adorned in a sparkly bikini-like top, the twinkle of every rhinestone calling attention to the audience like a flare in the sky. His eyes were then fixated onto your navel where a heart shaped charm hung ever so dainty. His gaze traveled down to your soft legs as they wrapped around the pole, a vision of those same legs wrapped around his waist as he took you quickly coming to mind. 

Denji’s now fighting the agitating urge to palm himself through his jeans, his cock now painfully hard as he watched you grind and shake your plump ass on the pole. Your body seemed to float when you danced, a mix of seduction and grace that was quite impressive for an amateur. Your routine landed you on the floor of the stage, crawling towards the man that looked to be her biggest fan already.

Denji swallowed his nerves and braced himself as you got closer, eyes immediately falling to your cleavage. As you sensually touch your body in front of him, grinding and arching your back for his viewing pleasure, Denji’s hands start to stuff money right in between your breasts. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness to show his appreciation for you, so you turn around and wiggle your ass in his face, Denji’s cheeks now bloodshot red. His lust was so obvious, hands touching every bit of skin he could before your routine was over.

You liked him. You didn’t know why but you did. He tipped you so nicely and his hands felt so good on your skin it almost lit you ablaze. You both seem to get lost in the moment as you let him explore your curves, softly gasping when his slender fingers ghost past your pussy. It was a cheeky move that caught you by surprise, touching this salacious normally granted in a gentle ass-whooping by security. Luckily no one saw.

Long after your dance, you and Denji continued the party in one of the luxe VIP rooms in the back. One glass of champagne led to another and suddenly you were both all over each other. Denji may have had to dip into his savings a bit to afford you but god were you worth every cent. You were sat in his lap tasting him, your tongues swirling together to take each other in. His teeth gently tug at your bottom lip as he reluctantly pulls back, his hands speaking more than he might have been. He starts to knead at your breasts, tugging the fabric of your top aside to reveal your soft mounds. Denji moans as if he’d just slipped inside you at the sight of your puffy nipples, taking his time licking and sucking and tugging at each one with sloppy noises following every motion. Heat started to rise from between your legs, essence oozing from your pussy as your mouth hangs agape. You really want to keep quiet. Sex wasn’t allowed in the VIP rooms but so long as the customers paid, no one seemed to mind. 

“We can’t, baby, not in here.” You purr directly into his ear. Each hair at the back of Denji’s neck stands, your sweet voice causing his already aching cock to twitch and leak furiously. The thought of not getting what he paid for struck a chord in Denji. 

“C’mon. Might as well gimme somethin’.” Denji pulls this line out of his back pocket, trying not to sound desperate but the teasing is killing him at this point. All he can think of is burying his cock deep inside your gorgeous pussy and fucking you until you both see stars. You take one look into his puppy dog eyes and swoon, taking a hand to dotingly stroke his angry cock through his pants. You erupt into a fit of giggles as you watch him flinch and buck his hips up to meet your hands for more friction. 

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute...” 

Any more foreplay would have the both of you erupting with just one touch, lips crashing into each other for one sloppy mess of a drunken kiss. Both your hands get tangled together as you try to take off Denji’s jeans, the sound of his belt buckle hitting the hardwood floor with a clank. The sexual tension between the two of you was suffocating as if you couldn’t get to each other fast enough. Finally Denji’s cock sprung free from the confines of his clothes. It was surprisingly big. Not too lengthy with the right amount of girth. His poor cock had been leaking so much the front of Denji’s boxers were soaking wet. Had he already cum?

Your sultry eyes drink him in, sliding your panties out of the way as your feet plant down on either side of his legs on the long lounge chair. Your sopping cunt is now hovering over his lonely tip, your pretty hand wrapped around his length to keep him still. As you slowly sink down you can feel the slickness of your pussy coating him, the two of you moaning in sync at the sensation. The delicious pressure caused you to bite your lip to keep the noise at a minimum, sitting all the way down as Denji’s face lay snugly between your cleavage. He’s already losing his mind, his fingers digging indents into the skin of your hips to lift you up and down on his cock, you following his rhythm by bouncing up and down. Fuck he filled you so nicely, causing your legs to shake with every bounce of your hips. Hell, you could barely keep yourself up, Denji’s learned a thing or two from all those pornos he spends his spare time reading, licking the tip of his thumb to flick at your swollen bud. You can feel yourself clench around him as he touches you there, your moans becoming more and more difficult to keep them down. 

“Haah, fuck, haaaah.” Denji moans, almost louder than you. 

His voice was shaky, breath uneven. You can hear bits and pieces of how good your pussy feels, how badly he wants to cum inside you; but it’s hard to make out. You can tell he’s close; you were too. You stop your hips and let his lust drive his movement, his hips thrusting upwards without you having to direct him. Your hands find themselves in Denji’s hair, holding him closely as you come undone for him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your entire body sits limp in Denji’s grasp. It doesn’t take much longer for Denji to follow suit, his cock finally finding the release it had been craving since the moment he saw you. He fucks his seed into you without a thought behind his eyes besides cumming. Fits of ‘oh fuck’s and ‘shit’ flood from his lips as his head hangs back in the seat, facing the ceiling. His hot sticky cum flooded your walls, some even leaking and dripping all over the chair beneath you two as you watched him get off with satisfied eyes. 

“You’re cute when you cum.” You say to him, trying to catch your breath as you fit a small giggle in between. Denji smiles, his head finally rising again to look you in your eyes.

“See you next Friday?” He asks with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. You can’t help but laugh.

“For sure.”

[allbark-no-bite]

things friends do.

felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)

summary: things friends do include but are not limited to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other

warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex

author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in

————————————————————————

You were not in love with Felix Catton.

And Felix Catton was not in love with you.

He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

But this was Felix.

Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.

—

The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.

To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.

After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.

A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.

"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.

"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.

His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.

His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.

In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.

You shriek again. "Felix!"

Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.

It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.

His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.

"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"

Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.

Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."

Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."

He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.

It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.

As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"

Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."

You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.

Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."

"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."

"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.

You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.

Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.

And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.

—

It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.

You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.

Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.

Maybe.

It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.

You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.

He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"

You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.

"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.

Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.

You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"

While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.

You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.

Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.

Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.

"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.

"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.

His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.

The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."

All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.

Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.

"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.

Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.

Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.

Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.

His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."

You nod as best you can in his hold.

You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.

The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.

Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."

You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.

Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.

You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.

“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.

Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.

When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and he loves you.

He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.

You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”

Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”

Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”

Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.

[y2kstarr]

— ᥫ᭡ like that . . . matt sturniolo

where . . . Matt spots you at one of his regular clubs, a new stripper that's caught his eyes instantly. After seeing your moves, talking to you, and noticing that fiery spark you have, he's willing to pay anything just for one night, all night long.

contains . . . smut, ceo!matt, stripper!reader, unprotected p in v, mirror sex, praising, big dick!matt

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept

HOT PINK WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #6

The club wasn’t new. Not to him.

It was a place washed in heat and rhythm — a velvet-draped haven of liquor-laced sin, built for the rich to forget how hollow their lives were. The ceilings were low enough to trap secrets, the lighting a decadent blend of low amber and bruised purple, casting everything in seductive half-shadows. Music pumped like a steady pulse, bass curling up the bones, humming beneath the skin.

Matt slid into his regular booth near the back, the one slightly raised from the rest of the lounge, offering him a wide, unobstructed view of the stage. Staff knew him by name. The bottle of expensive bourbon had been brought over before he even asked.

He didn’t usually drink much here — he didn’t come for the indulgence, not really. Routine brought him back. Familiarity. A controlled escape from the sterile walls of his penthouse and the high-pressure glass kingdom of his office.

But tonight felt…different.

Matt leaned back in the leather seat, one ankle crossed over the other knee, long fingers curled around a crystal glass. He watched the girls on stage in the way someone might watch a commercial — half-there, mentally somewhere else. He'd seen it all before.

And then the lights shifted.

A sultry hue of crimson bled into silver spotlight, and suddenly the music changed — slowed down, dragging tension like silk across bare skin. And then you stepped out.

He sat forward, not even realizing he’d done it. His glass paused halfway to his mouth.

You didn’t walk like the others. You prowled. Quiet confidence dripped from every step, every flick of your wrist, every deliberate twist of your waist. The outfit you wore barely qualified as clothing, but it wasn’t the skin that caught him — it was the presence. The way you filled the room without trying to. Like you didn’t need their eyes to feel worthy — like their attention was a bonus, not a requirement.

Matt’s eyes followed you like a tether. Every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every roll of your body to the beat against the pole on stage — it was hypnotic. You danced like you didn’t care who was watching… which made it impossible not to.

He watched the slow drag of your fingers down your thighs. The way you tilted your chin slightly toward the ceiling, eyes closed, lost in the music. It wasn’t vulgar — it was dangerous. Something about you didn’t feel performative. You were electric, and it had his attention rooted to the floor.

Matt's jaw tensed. Not out of restraint, but fascination. He had no idea who you were, but something primal in him clicked into place, the kind of pull he hadn’t felt in years. Not over money. Not over control. Just want.

By the time the last note hit and you strutted offstage, the crowd erupted — but Matt didn’t hear them. He was already standing. Already moving.

The bartender clocked him right away, nodding respectfully, clearing space at the bar. You were perched at the far end, sipping water, still catching your breath, sweat glinting like stars along your collarbone.

Matt watched as you walked over to the bar, your walk sultry as you now had a sleek fitting dress to cover your outfit. Matt slid onto the stool beside you without a word at first, waiting until you glanced his way. His voice was calm but sure when it came.

“You were incredible, made all the other dancers look like filler,” Matt said, voice smooth but edged with intention.

You turned your head, brow arched in amusement. “Smooth.”

He smiled faintly, eyes locked on yours. “I mean it. I come here often. I've never seen you before. You're new.”

“First night.” you replied, guarded but curious. He was older, sure — late 30s — but striking in a way that made your throat catch. Dark eyes, neatly trimmed beard, the scent of something expensive lingering between you.

“I figured. No one here moves like that." He complimented, his eyes taking you up and down slow. "Name's Matt. Matt Sturniolo.”

You gave a small shrug before replying with your name, sipping your drink like you weren’t entirely sure what to make of him. He was polished, powerful. Something sharp behind the charm — a man used to getting what he wanted, but not one who demanded it with arrogance.

Then he said it.

“How much for the night?”

You blinked. “...Excuse me?”

“One night. No strings. No games. Just your time. Name your price.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head at him like he’d just offered to buy the moon. “People like you always say that.”

He didn’t blink. Just leaned forward, his gaze dark and unflinching. “Try me.”

So you did. A number — absurd, obscene, laughable — fell from your lips like a dare. Enough to buy a car. Maybe two. One that made men choke.

Matt didn’t hesitate.

He took out his phone, coolly typed something in, and moments later, your phone buzzed on the counter, your eyes glancing at it to read the new notification.

Incoming transfer. Amount: Paid in full.

Your fingers froze around your glass. “You’re serious.”

“I don’t waste time,” he said simply. “And you? You’re not something I can walk away from.”

His expression never changed as he held your gaze — still calm, still quiet, but underneath it was fire. Intention. “Now that I’ve proven I’m serious,” Matt said, eyes steady and intense, “will you come with me?”

You hesitated, searching his face for any cracks, any signs this was all some ploy or drunken fantasy. But there was none. Just a man who knew exactly what he wanted — and had the means to take it.

And somehow, beneath all that power, he was waiting for your answer.

You took a breath, heart racing, the club noise melting into the background once again, before a smirk came to your lips as you looked at him with playful eyes. "Alright then, show me a good night, Mr. Sturniolo."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The elevator opened with a soft chime, revealing a private corridor washed in golden light, silent and still — a stark contrast to the club they’d left behind. Matt’s penthouse sat on the top floor of a high-rise that kissed the stars, its windows stretching from floor to ceiling, offering a view of the entire sleeping city below.

But neither of you noticed the view.

Your back hit the wall just inside the entryway, a breath caught between a laugh and a gasp, as Matt pressed his mouth to yours — hungry, measured, like a man who’d waited far too long to taste something rare. His hands were firm at your hips, sliding up, memorizing curves like they were currency he couldn’t afford to forget.

You tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket, loosening the perfect structure of his power, unraveling him one breath at a time. His tie came undone under your fingers, and he let it fall to the polished marble floor without a care.

The kiss deepened — no longer cautious, no longer polite. It was heat and intent and something heavier beneath it, something he hadn’t expected when he first saw you on that stage.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your lips, voice rough and low. “You’re more dangerous than I thought.”

You smirked. “You paid for the night, not a warning label.”

Matt laughed, the sound deep in his chest, then swept you up in one motion, arms solid beneath your thighs. You locked around him without hesitation, nails grazing the back of his neck as he carried you through the open-concept living room, the soft hum of distant jazz playing somewhere overhead — subtle, intimate, like the place itself.

His bedroom door opened with a push of his shoulder, revealing a space that was all dark wood and clean lines, shadows stretching across cool linen sheets.

He pulled from the kiss, pausing only to drink you in — the tousled hair, the kiss-swollen lips, the sparkle in your eyes like you knew exactly what power you held now.

Matt’s hands moved with practiced restraint, like he was fighting the urge to ruin you too fast. You felt the press of his mouth at the curve of your jaw, your collarbone, warm breath trailing behind each kiss like a promise left unfinished.

His fingers traced the hem of your dress before slipping beneath it as he put you back down, knuckles grazing your skin as he pulled it upward, slow, deliberate. He watched your face the entire time, like your expression told him more than words ever could.

You lifted your arms, letting the fabric slide away and fall to the floor in a hush of motion. His gaze swept over you — hungry, reverent, almost stunned — as he took in the gorgeous outfit you'd been wearing on stage, looking even more delicious up close.

"God, you're..." he exhaled like he didn’t even have the word for it, making you giggle and bite your lip.

You reached for him next, unbuttoning his shirt with fingers that trembled only slightly — whether from anticipation or the way he looked at you, you weren’t sure. The shirt hit the floor. Then his belt. Then the space between you closed again, and you were backing him onto the bed.

Your hands touched his chest before pushing him down, smirking at the way his eyebrows raised before you crawled onto the mattress, climbing into his lap and straddling his thighs.

As his hands met your hips, you dove in for another kiss, deep and messy, passionate and needy, your hands sliding up to thread your fingers through his brunet curls, tugging at the strands just to hear the way a groan fell from his lips against yours, a smirk tugging at your own.

Your hips rolled forward in smooth, hypnotic motions, an advantage to being such a fluid dancer on stage. You felt his bulge straight through his boxers and your panties, grounding against him as he made more noises into the kiss until he finally took control, a gasped yelp leaving you as he gripped your hips tight before flipping the two of you over.

Your back hit the mattress as you giggled, biting his bottom lip playfully before teasing. "Ohh, looks like someone's eager, can hardly keep it in your pants, huh?" You teased, before the glint of something caught your eye before you looked up, your eyes widening at the sight looking back at you.

A ceiling mirror. Matthew Sturniolo had a goddamn ceiling mirror above his bed. Of course, what fucking else would he do with his money.

"What? See something you like?" Matt cooed, kissing down your body as he smirked, chuckling against your skin as you looked down at him with a scoff and a grin.

"You are one freaky man, Mr. Sturniolo," You purred in a sultry voice, earning a groan from him, clearly loving the way you called him that, before feeling as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your smooth legs.

"Keep calling me that and I'll get a superiority complex," He teased, leaning up to kiss your lips as he tossed your panties aside, settling between your legs as your hands unclipped your bra and tossed it aside as well, leaving yourself bare before him.

His eyes drank you in like a hungry wolf, as if restraining himself at the sight of your gorgeous body before him, your ego boosting as you heard the groan that left him as his cock throbbed painfully in his black Calvin Klein boxers.

"God, you're a fucking sight, baby..." He groaned softly, his hands coming down to the waistband of his boxers and slowly tugging them down, freeing his big, thick cock, springing out and already leaking from his flushed tip, your eyes widening at the sight before you.

"Woah... you're..." You breathed out, looking back up at him as he pulled his boxers off fully, blush creeping up your neck in a way you hadn't felt in years, your pussy already growing insanely slick with arousal at just the thought of what he'd feel like inside of you.

Matt chuckled low at your reaction, before leaning forward to his bedside table , your eyes watching as he opened the top drawer, pulling out a wrapped condom. As you looked back down at his cock, biting your bottom lip, you pressed your hand to his chest, making him pause and look at you with almost concerned eyes.

"How about... we do it without the condom?" You asked low and smooth, watching the way a shiver rushed up his spine visibly, before restraining himself.

"Are... are you sure?"

"I think you paid well enough to let me give you a treat," You teased a little, smirking at the way he grinned and tossed the condom back into his drawer. "Just make sure you pull out in time, or I'll really charge you extra."

He chuckled as his lips met yours once more, your mouths moving together in a slow, languid dance as you felt him line himself up, the tip of his cock dragging through you soaked folds and pulling a moan from your lips into the kiss.

Slow and steady, he sheathed himself inside of you, a gasp leaving both of you in unison as he slowly pushed deeper and deeper, your mouth falling open and your head falling back against his pillow at how deep he was inside of you, deeper than you'd ever felt in your life.

"Ohh my— god—" You moaned softly as he finally hilted himself fully within you, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that had your mind going fuzzy, before feeling as he pulled himself back before thrusting forward, a moan falling from both of your lips at the delicious pleasure.

"Fuuuck— This pussy's amazing—" Matt groaned, his hands sliding down your sides to grasp your hips tightly in his hands, sitting himself up before he finally started a steady pace, deep and perfect, your back nearly arching at every thrust.

"Holy shit— Mmm—" You couldn't help but whine, pleasure swimming throughout every nerve ending in your body like never before at each thrust he gave, slowly growing it speed as the bed began to creak in time with you two, the wooden headboard meeting the wall in a steady beat with his thrusts.

Slick, nearly sloppy sounds emitted from your pussy being thoroughly fucked in Matt's silk sheeted bed, moans falling from your lips in time with his grunts and groans, growled praises leaving him as he felt practically drunk off of your pussy.

As you lay your head back on his pillow, your hands gripping the plush fabric on either side of your head, you looked back up to see the mirror, a gasp leaving your lips at the explicit sight playing out before you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he groaned.

"Fuck— You really like that mirror, huh?" Matt chuckled low and breathless, his thrust getting even deeper as he fucked your pussy with perfect form, clean and precise, but also needy and almost obsessed, before you felt his thumb press to your clit and rub the bundle of nerves in tight circles. "You like watching yourself get fucked nice and good on my dick, baby?"

You let out a choked moan, back arching at the overstimulating pleasure coursing through you, your hips rocking in time with his thrusts as your eyes rolled back, a whimpered "mhmmm" falling from your lips, already going dumb on his cock.

You felt that burning pleasure fill your abdomen, your chest sputtering with panting breaths as your grip on his pillows tightened, whined moans falling from your parted lips as it built more and more with each thrust.

"Ma— Matt—! F-Fuck— 'M so close— Please don't fucking stop—" You moaned out, hearing the way Matt groaned out as he kept pace, his thumb keeping his circles firm on your clit.

"That's it— That's it baby— Fuck— Cum on this dick. C'mon, cum f'me—"

The moment the words left his lips, you felt that knot snap within you, your mouth falling open in a loud moan as your back arched hard, you pussy spasming around his cock as you came, eyes rolling back in ecstasy, toes curling and your vision practically going white.

He watched you come undone, biting his lips at he kept his movements steady to ride you through your high, but as he watched your back come back down to the mattress as your chest rose and fell with your panted breaths, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Fuck fuck fuck—" Matt stumbled over his words with a shaky voice as he pulled out, his body practically trembling as his hand fisted his cock, pumping himself at the same speed of his thrusts before he finally came.

Thick, warm spurts of cum shot from his cock, painting your chest and tummy with his seed as he shakingly panted and groaned, his other hand gripping your thigh tight to steady himself before he finally came down from his high, his body shaking a bit as his hand released his cock.

You were the first to make noise in the midst of your shared pants, giggling breathlessly. "Holy shit... that was... fucking amazing." You panted out, feeling as you melted into his bed, spent and so beyond blissed out.

As Matt hummed and nodded, you felt as he leaned forward to press kisses from your thighs up your stomach and to your neck, loving the way you looked underneath him like this, blissed out and marked by his cum. And you couldn't help but smile lazily, feeling warm and better than you've ever felt after sex, a voice in the back of your head telling you that this was just one of many nights to come with him.

"Was I worth the money, Mr. Sturniolo?" You whispered, your eyes meeting his gorgeous blues as he smiled down at you, his lips brushing over yours as his hands held your sides, pure adoration and love within his eyes as he felt your arms come up to wrap around his neck.

"Worth every fucking cent, baby..."

☆ : sorry this one took so long today, i got too into descriptions for this one 😭 also, mama's got glasses now!! whoop whoop! I can see!! Anyways, yet another pairing I actually really fucking love sooooo 🤭 hope you guys enjoy!! <33

also shoutout to my bsf @wondersofthecosmos222 for helping me with the concept 😋

taglist 🏷️

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scoot back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[ashen-char]

special to me 🔞

my masterlist, to check out my other works, is here

ship: anora x reader (gender neutral in terms, reader has a penis so g!p)

content: smut (but not PIV), sex work bc of ani's job

summary: a regular client of ani's, you strive to be special to her. the way she calls you puppy makes you think you might be.

word count: 1100+

Ani moans into the kiss, her body arching down into your touch. She can feel the hardening evidence of your arousal pressing against her thigh, hard and insistent. So greedy. She fucking loves it. It makes her own core throb with need, her panties dampening. Because of you. For you.

This knowledge is why you come back every time. You delude yourself that she's only this wet for you, that she hates everyone else she talks to. They're just wallets. You're special. Maybe it's true. Maybe this is her shtick with every client that walks through those doors. You can't bring yourself to care. Not when she smells of cherry blossoms and cheap tequila, not when you can taste her sweet on your tongue and feel her heat on your lap.

"Mmm, my naughty darling," Ani purrs, her hands sliding under your shirt to explore the planes of your back. "Touching yourself without permission, wasting your fuckin' cum. Such a bad puppy." She rocks her hips down against your lap, grinding her clothed pussy against your cock. You can feel it straining in your boxers, begging, pleading for more. More friction, more attention, fucking anything. "Don't you know it's all mine?"

"I'm not bad," you protest weakly. "Just missed you. P-please." You don't think you get the last word out, interrupted by Ani's manicured fingers slipping into your waistband. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, nails digging into the leather seats.

Headquarters' VIP room is a familiar sight to you now. You went for the first time a couple months ago for your best friend's bachelor party. That's when you saw her.

Ani's words bring you out of that reverie. "You're lucky I'm in the mood to forgive you. The thought of you needing me so bad you stroked that pretty cock 'til you popped? Well, it makes a girl feel special." She flashes you a smile and you think it's genuine. You feel it.

That makes you perk up. You're her puppy, her baby, she wouldn't forgive anyone else. She wouldn't care.

Ani's hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the firm muscle there. She hooks her legs around your hips, using the leverage to pull you closer. Dancing has given her a lot of strength that might be surprising considering her slight frame, her core and legs in particular. You watch in awe every time she's on the pole. Or on your lap.

"I think you owe me an apology, don't you?" she breathes, her lips brushing against your ear. Her whisper is hot, makes your dick twitch. "You should've fucking visited earlier if you missed me. I think you need to make it up to me with that fat dick of yours."

She reaches between your bodies, fumbling with your zipper. Ani's fingers brush against your clothed cock, making her gasp at the size of you. "Fuck, puppy. Already?" the dancer teases.

"You know you make me hard," you answer sheepishly. "Don't be mean."

She finally gets your jeans undone, shoving them down your hips along with your boxers. "Fine. I'll play nice." Your cock springs free, slapping against your stomach with a resounding thwack. Ani's eyes widen at the sight, her mouth watering, mouth curving into a smile. "God, look at you. So big and hard, all for me."

She wraps her hand around your shaft, stroking you slowly. Ani's thumb swipes over the tip, smearing the bead of precum that's already leaking from your slit. "Tell me my body drives you insane," she says. "That you don't even look at any girl here."

"Your body is perfect." A breathless grasp. Ani pumps you a little harder, retaining that snail's pace but rewarding your words with a squeeze. "You're fucking breathtaking. No one dances better than you. I-I don't even watch anyone else, even if you're doing a group number. The other girls don't exist, not to me."

"Good puppy." She jerks you off with a smirk on that pretty face. You try not to close your eyes, to keep your gaze on how the glitter sparkles just above her cheeks, or the tinsel in her hair. Since she's got those long nails, her hand doesn't even completely wrap around you, mostly stroking the underside. But fuck that's good too. So good.

"Your good puppy," you whine. You can't take it. Your eyes close, you bite your lip, you scratch the seats up.

"I want your cum inside me, puppy. I want you to fill me up until I'm dripping with it." Her voice is low and breathy, filled with lust. "But first, I want that tongue. I want you to eat my pussy until I'm screaming your name."

Ani releases your cock, an action that makes you whimper pathetically, sitting up and quickly stripping off what's left of her clothes. She tosses her bra aside, her pert breasts bouncing free. Ani lies back on the couch, spreading her legs wide in invitation. Her pussy is glistening, swollen with arousal. "Come and get it, puppy," she purrs, her fingers sliding through her slick folds. "Show me how sorry you are."

With a harsh gulp, you kneel down in front of her. A wary glance to the door. "You sure no one will barge in?" you ask. Not that your worry lasts long. She looks too good, glistening like that. Dripping, inviting you to taste. So you throw caution to the wind and you do.

Her legs wrap around your neck and pull you in until your cheeks are pressed against her inner thighs. With a roll of her hips, her wetness smears against your face. The sweetest nectar. There's no more room for hesitation. You bury your face between your legs and eat her out like you're fucking starving.

Your erection is still raging, jutting out from between your legs, but you don't call attention to it. Ani's teased you about it a bunch, calling it your red rocket, your stiffie, laughing as she jacks you off and says it's cute. You lap at her cunt, little licks on her clit since you know she likes the build up. She always tells you to be gentle at first and you're her good puppy so you do.

Her hand strokes through your messy hair, nails scratching your scalp. "That's it, puppy. Just like that." She sighs, and you can feel her body relaxing, muscles untensing. "Maybe I missed you too. Just maybe."

You realise it then, as your tongue curls around her engorged clit and she twists so pretty for you. You were so worried about being special to her that you never thought that she wanted that too. "You're perfect," you repeat, "you're talented, and fierce and I-"

Her grip on your hair tightens and her hips rise from the leather seat, bucking against your mouth as she cums, beautiful and breaking just for you.

[bloodibambiidoll]

Pussy Liquor (Eric Draven x Stripper!Reader)

Summary: It’s a slow, boring night at the club until he walks through the door.

Warnings: Eric is implied to have a lot of money(he’s in the music industry), unprotected public sex, lust at first sight, choking 18+MDNI

✰ I think this one has been a long time coming for me. I’ve never written stripper!reader but I was a stripper for several years so this is v personal to me. The songs reader dances to used to be my favorite set. thank u for always encouraging me pookie @babygorewhore ✰

It was a dreary, slow night. There were bodies in the club but no money to go along with them. A few dudes you can tell just turned 21 and are here for the experience, they’ll definitely spend the entire evening at the same table drinking cheap beer while they whistle at the dancers with their wallets closed. A few of the girls regulars are here, either in the back or cozied up at a table. If you were lucky they’d ask you to come sit with them and at the very least buy you drinks but you didn’t feel like entertaining someone for nothing more than a few ones and some shots. There was a couple in the corner arguing and a few older men with their eyes practically glued to the slot machines. Classic.

But there was one individual that caught your eye. He wasn’t someone you would usually see in a place like this. He was more like a pretty face you saw on the street and thought about for the rest of the week. He’s tucked away in a back corner booth drinking what looks like shots of crown royal, the whole bottle, always a good sign. He’s approached the stage and tipped each girl generously but hasn’t stayed for a set. You’ve noticed a few girls go offer him dances but he declines, offering them a tip anyway. You couldn’t blame them for trying. He was gorgeous. He’s extremely tall, still towering over even the tallest dancers in their heels. His toned arms are covered in tattoos and the white tee he’s wearing sits taunt against his chest. His distressed black jeans are tucked into beat up leather boots and his face is otherworldly. Those bright green eyes shine in the flashing lights of the club, the way they dance around his face accentuating different parts of his statuesque bone structure. He has full lips and a perfect pointed nose and you’ve never wanted to ride a customer right in the middle of the club until right now. You haven’t felt nervous to go on stage since you were just starting out dancing but the way his viridescent eyes raked over your body as you climbed the stairs to the stage had your heart pounding.

Your first song starts to play and you grab onto the pole lightly as you prance around it to the beat. You press the tip of your healed boot against the bottom of the pole and spin your body around it with your other leg pointed before pressing your back against it. You nearly trip when you see the man you’ve been fantasizing about all night sitting at your stage with a $20 bill sitting on the bar. You regain your composure, smiling at him sweetly as you slide down the pole onto your knees so you can crawl to him. The sound of Rob Zombie’s “Pussy Liquor” thrums through your body, making you feel like a succubus. You stop on your knees in front of the top bar, never breaking eye contact with him as you pluck it with your manicured fingers and stuff it into the band of your black bikini top.

“Thank you, that’s so sweet of you.” You press your tits together as you lean over and stick your ass out behind you. “I’m Bunny, what’s your name?”

“Well, that’s kind of forward, isn’t it?” His voice is much softer than you expected as he returns your smile with one of his own, it’s not condescending though, it’s almost playful. “I’m Eric.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. You can just watch me dance.” You wink at him before leaning back on your knees and pulling the string on your top so it falls down your body, your tits spilling free. Eric’s eyes sparkle and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks up at you like he hasn’t seen multiple pairs of boobs just within the last hour.

You pull the bottom string free and then toss it to the side as you push yourself up on your 8 inch heels. You sway toward the pole, running your fingers through your hair as you purposefully wiggle the fat of your ass. You grab onto the metal and roll your body before swinging your foot around it so you can climb up. You lock your legs together and lean backward, suspending yourself in the air. You watch as Eric pulls out a roll of cash and throws a huge stack of ones followed by several twenty’s. You grab onto your tits and jiggle them for him before titling yourself back up to grab onto the pole. You timed it perfectly so when the beat dropped so did you, right from the top onto the ground in the splits. Eric claps, which you find absolutely adorable because who the fuck claps in a strip club? And then he throws a literal hundred dollar bill onto your stage right as your first song ends. You tease him all through the next song, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails and when you’re leaning over to press your tits into his face he gives you this dopey smile and tells you that he loves the songs you choose. After your set is done you offer him a dance, and he insists on a private room.

You pull the thick red curtain back so you can lead him into the sectioned off area of the club. There’s walls on all three sides and an open face that’s completely blocked by curtains. You can’t help but giggle at the way he stands there awkwardly surveying the room. You can tell he’s never done this before.

“This your first time?” You grab onto a piece of your hair and twirl it, looking up at him through your lashes. He’s even taller than you thought he was and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs when how easily he could toss you around crosses your mind. You have no idea how you’re going to get through the next thirty minutes without getting turned on. You already are.

“Yeah. I’m just not sure how it works.” He chuckles lightly as he rubs the back of his neck but there’s this glint in his eye that tells you he isn’t going to make this any easier on you or your tiny thong.

“Well, why don’t you just sit down on the couch and I can dance for you?” You grab his hand and guide him to the couch, encouraging him to sit down. He obliges you and you lower yourself into his lap with your legs hanging over his. You’re back in your top now, but it leaves little to be desired and you feel your body heat as his eyes rake over you. One of his large hands lands on your thigh and he gives you a questioning look, instead of answering him verbally you swing your leg over his to straddle him and grab onto both of his hands, resting them on your hips. You throw your arms over his shoulders and grind down on him lightly and it has his grip on you tightening.

“I don’t know the rules and you’re making it really hard for me to control myself already.” Eric’s voice is a deep rumble that runs straight to your core and god you don’t usually let customers touch you like this but you’re starting to wonder if you can stop yourself from fucking him right here.

“Wanna know a little secret, Eric?” You ghost your lips across his pierced ear and you can feel his skin break out into goosebumps.

“Yeah.” He groans when you grind down on him harder this time, his grip on you turning almost bruising.

“I don’t usually let guys touch me, even for money, but you? You can touch me as much as you want.” You run your nose down his jaw before pulling away from him, flipping around on his lap and pushing yourself onto your feet. You roll your body and shake your ass for him while pulling your top off again. You shimmy back onto his lap with your back pressed to his chest and grind against his now hard bulge. You can’t help the little whine that escapes you. His large tattooed hands grip onto your tits and that’s when you lose all sense of reality.

“I really liked your songs, ya know?” Eric’s breath tingles against your neck, his lips just barely brushing your skin. “You’re the only girl here I wanted to talk to.”

“Yeah? You’re the only guy I’ve ever seen in here that I actually wanted to dance for.” You throw your hands behind your back so you can lace them behind his head as you continue to wind on his lap. “And it’s so fucking against the rules but I’d let you fuck me right here.” You lean your head back so you can look up into his eyes and his expression has changed drastically, it was like your words flipped a switch inside of him and he wants nothing more to eat you alive.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, bunny.” He chuckles and brings a finger up to your cheek. He runs it down your face to your jaw before ghosting it over your lips and you can’t help but dart your tongue out to lick the pad of his finger. “Let me take you home with me.”

“Well, I’m not really supposed to do that either. But I really feel like breaking some fucking rules tonight.” You wind your hips in a circle and his cock slides perfectly between your thong covered ass.

“They can’t be too mad if I pay them off, right?” He squeezes your boob, rolling your nipple between his fingertips.

“That would cost a lot. You’re hot enough to lose my job over. There’s other clubs. I want you to fuck me.” You whine and pull the strings of your bottoms so they fall down your hips. You never thought you’d be here, sitting on a customers lap begging him to fuck you like a bitch in heat. But something about this man was making you lose all rationality.

“Money isn’t an issue for me baby. Hell, I’ll get you out of here permanently if you want.” He runs that perfect nose along the column of your throat, inhaling the expensive perfume one of your regulars bought you a few months back. “And you don’t need to beg, the minute I saw you I knew I’d give you anything you asked for.”

“Fuck, Those are some big promises, honey.” You giggle, sugary sweet, and it makes him melt. He grabs onto your hips and pushes you to stand, your tiny thong falling at your feet, leaving you exposed to him. Eric grabs onto the globes of your ass and spreads them open, your pussy lips coming apart with a click from how wet you are.

“Would you look at that? So fucking perfect.” He grips onto your hips to turn you around, making sure to steady you when you stumble in your heels. You watch with wide eyes as he reaches for his playboy bunny belt buckle and your jaw practically drops to the floor when he pulls his cock out. It’s fucking huge and pierced. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, bunny. Come sit on it.”

Eric pulls you forward and you straddle him, your knees sinking into the leather of the couch. He grips onto his shaft and runs it through your wetness, the balls of his piercing bumping against your clit. He taps the head against your sensitive bud before lining up with your entrance and slowly pushing inside your wet walls. But it’s not enough, you want to feel the burn of the stretch while he splits you open so you slam your hips down onto his, taking him to the hilt in one thrust. It nearly knocks the wind out of you and a moan so loud that the music barely drowns it out.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Eric grips onto your ass and bounces you up and down on his cock as he stares into your eyes deeply. “You sure nobody is gonna come in here?”

“Nobody will, they’re definitely watching on the cameras and I’m definitely fucked as soon as we walk out of here but they’ll let it play out.” It’s like you gave him the green light because he plants his feet firmly on the ground and starts to fuck up into you. He grips onto your throat so he can pull your lips to his in a filthy kiss, not wasting any time intertwining your tongues together. The metal bar in his cock caresses your walls as his thick head bullies your g-spot and your toes curl in your boots. “Choke me harder.”

“Yeah? You like it rough, bunny? I’m going to have so much fun with you.” Eric squeezes your throat tighter and his free hand comes to run circles on your clit with his thumb. The way he’s talking about you like he already owns you combined with the pleasure he’s giving you has you already teetering towards the edge. “I’m gonna keep you, make you my pretty little fuck doll. You want that?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” You whine, drool starting to drip down your chin as your eyes roll back. Your manicured fingers scratch at his back through his shirt and you wouldn’t be surprised if it has tiny rips in it by the end of this.

“Look at me when you fall apart on my cock.” Eric grunts as he shifts his hips so he’s fucking into you even deeper and it has euphoria washing over your entire body the minute your eyes lock with his. Your pussy clenches around his cock like a vise grip and you moan so loudly there’s no way it can’t be heard outside of this room. But you’re way past giving a fuck. “Oh, that’s a good bunny, come for me.”

“Oh my f-fucking god! Fuckkkk me!” Eric’s thrusts don’t let up as he chases his own high, his hands grip onto your ass again and he’s practically folded in half on the couch as he bounces you like a fuck toy on his dick.

“I’m gonna fucking come.” Eric grunts before he’s pressing your hips flush against yours with his cock twitching inside you. You watch as he throws his head back, exposing his tattooed neck and you can’t help but lean forward and bite down on it. “Fuck yes, fucking bite me.”

You suck and bite on his skin until he goes limp underneath you, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He pushes himself up with his cock still nestled inside of you before pulling you close so he can kiss you with a passion no man ever has before. Who was this guy? And why did you never want to leave him?

“Alright, we should get out of here so I can go lose my job.” You chuckle as you stand up and grab your bikini, tying it back on while Eric tucks himself back into his pants. He comes to stand in front of you, taking your face into his hands.

“I meant that shit I said. I know we don’t know each other, hell, I don’t even know your real name. But come home with me, I’ll pay off these assholes and buy you whatever you want.” Eric smiles at you so sweetly you feel like you’re going to melt into the beer soaked carpet and how can you say no?

“Fuck it. Let’s go.” You giggle and push yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss him before pulling him out to face the music.

You definitely lost your job that night. But Eric fucked you so good you couldn’t even bring it in yourself to care. And he kept his promise. He kept you as his little doll and gave you everything your heart could ever desire.

Tagging a few moots who might be interested: @nailbatanddungeon @myspacebrat @ghoul-friendz @taintandviolent

Divider is by @cafekitsune

[girthgrudgefear]

pope with stripper!reader that baz paid to give him a private dance one time and he sits through it, the entire routine with his hands balled into fists and resting against his thighs. and even though he had a tick in his jaw, gave off the impression like he'd rather be anywhere else, he couldn't help but think about how intoxicating her perfume was, how her skin looked so soft underneath her cute little dancer outfit. of course it helped that her nails were painted the prettiest, shiniest red in her clear pleasers.

the dance is over and as she's picking up her outfit, shed two minutes into the fifteen minute session. he's fishing into his wallet. he approaches her as she presses the top portion of her two-piece over her breasts, hands out the bill for her to take.

"oh, no, that's okay." she says, "baz already paid me- oh." he presses the money into her palm anyway and hesitantly she closes her fingers around it.

"you're sweet. thank you."

she watches him as he goes with a small smile on her face. at least baz told her about the silence and the staring. but all in all, he wasn't the most unsettling customer she's ever had.

~

she never expected to see him again but he comes in the following week, alone. had his hands in his pockets as he ambled through the dimly-lit neon walkways of the club.

she found him near the stage, looking past the dancer twirling next to the pole atop the scuffed-surface when she approaches.

"you're back!" she says with a type of warmth and excitement that he isn't used to hearing, not about him. her hand closes around his forearm (and he can feel her rubbing them slightly, admiring his form) and she's pulling him along, leading him back to one of the rooms.

again, two minutes in and her clothes are on the floor, a pretty one piece made up of elaborate lace and string.

and she says, 'touch me.' not 'you can touch me,' which is something way different than what pope is used to, a command rather than a light suggestion. so he does, keeps it kosher at first, and she laughs at him, tells him he's cute. then she puts her hands on his wrists, guides them to her waist, and he feels like a teenager again the way his interest stirs.

they don't get far. pope knows the rules; heavy petting allowed, a handjob or blowjob allowed, penetration if he pays for a private suite but it's at the discretion of the dancer. and she does try, her hand on the belt of his jeans, but he stops her. she redirects her attention elsewhere, straddles his lap and rolls her hips at the rhythm of the song, smooths her hands down his arms and back.

"i'm sorry if i was too pushy..." she says afterward, trying to fix the strings that make up her outfit before she steps back into it. pope shakes his head.

"it's not that." he says. "i just didn't think we had enough time." he's so matter-of-fact that she can't help but giggle.

and again he slides her the money plus the tip, but she knows just from looking at the roll of bills that it's way too much. she tries to stop him, he presses the money into her palm, and he waits for her to get dressed before he leaves.

~

the third time happens in a similar fashion, but it's the fourth time that something changes.

"you just missed her." one of the girls, misty, one of craig's favorites, told him as he made his way towards the stage. "probably still waiting for her ride." she suggests helpfully, but pope is annoyed, wondering in the back of his head if she makes a habit of telling all of your customers your whereabouts.

and true to her word, he finds her waiting near the alley next to the club, which he also hates.

"you don't have a car?" he asks, noting the uber app open on her phone.

"oh! hey!" she greets him, even though he appeared behind her so suddenly she damn near jumped out of her skin hearing his voice. "um, no. i just never got around to getting one when i moved out here, and i live so close sometimes that i usually just walk, but... my feet hurt and it's kind of late." she says.

"cancel it. i can give you a ride." he leaves no room for argument, already walking towards his truck. and she's quick to do what he asks, slides into the passenger seat from the door he's holding open for her.

the drive to her house is ten minutes, which means she definitely should not be walking these distances alone at night. nor should she be standing outside of the club at night waiting for a rideshare, either.

so before he's thinking, before the car fully stops outside of her townhouse, he's telling her to take his number down, send him her schedule so that he can pick her up and drop her off when she's finished.

again, he leaves no room for argument. asks when she works next, and she damn near whispers it when she says, 'um, tomorrow starting at 7. i'll be off at 3.'

"i'll come get you at 6:30."

he watches her enter her house, waits for it to close behind her before he pulls off.

~

he takes her to and from work wordlessly, but before she leaves his car at night, she asks him to come inside with her.

and there's less than five minutes in between when they walk into her house and when they're on the couch making out.

and she's on top of him, again, straddling his lap, telling him in that raspy voice of her's, "touch me." she grabs him by his wrists, squeezes just slightly as she puts one on her hip, the other over the tank top she's wearing with no bra.

five minutes later and they both have their hands in each other's pants, hers covered in spit, using that and the combined slick of his pre-cum to stroke him off. he has two fingers inside of her, buried between the lace of her thong and her pussy lips. their arousal builds off of each other, plays between them on a feedback loop.

and it takes them no time to cum together, panting into each other's mouths, her high-pitched moans meeting his quiet grunts.

so, yeah. anyway, pope's favorite dancer turns into his girl.

this includes pope's girl asking him once every week or two what color she should paint his nails, and at first he always says 'red' because she looks so fucking good in red. until he figures out she looks good in every color and sometimes he throws in black, blue, even purple.

pope being pleased every time she takes his suggestion (which is every time), and staring for a long time at her matching toes. (yes, he is a foot man. yes, he does fuck her every time she gets a fresh set!)

pope's girl showing pope all of her new outfits for work. pope tracing his fingers over the lace, the strings, marvelling at how her body fills out each two-piece and onesie perfectly. and yes, he fucks her in each one too.

pope realizing how much dedication goes into being a dancer; taking note of her workout routines, diet, even her water intake all aiding her in maintaining her physique for work.

pope dropping her to and from work or leaving his car for her whenever he won't be available to do so. pope subtly trying to probe her about getting a car; asking her if she'd want a little one or a big one, a fast one... until she catches on and shuts him down, saying, 'why would i need a car when i have yours?' and he can't argue with that logic, the way she knows he'll always be there to take care of her, can he?

pope learning to come early enough that there's no possibility of her having to stand outside of the club and wait after he catches a few man lingering near her one day where she stood next to the alley, openly leering at her in her sweatpants and tank top. pope having to break a bone or two that day and nearly getting himself trespassed until she pleads her case to the bouncers.

and a bonus being that none of the cody boys, not baz, hell, not even smurf herself, can tell him shit about being in love with a stripper. especially once they get to know her and realize she's one of the coolest people pope could have ended up with. that she's fun at parties, knows how to mind her business, and can drink craig under the table. and she's smart as hell, especially at math.

oh, and pope stomped out craig so badly before he could even finish saying the word 'stripper,' that they're all afraid that ever happening again.

[bbokicidal]

7 : 0 0 | H . J S

── .✦ content warning : fem!reader, flirting, light touching (thigh), dirty talk, rubbing/intimate touching

Stray Temptations ; Bbokicidal 4K Event Proposal : Couch Room Session Staff Member Requested : Han Jisung Meeting Time: 7:00 PM ; Saturday Evening

[Location : Main Stage : 5:30 PM]

"Jisung, you've got a client."

The woman's voice startles him for a second, Jisung's body turning away from his mixing table to instead face their manager who had appeared at the side of the stage only moments before. She peers up at him curiously, cocking a brow before lifting a hand to gesture to the side of her head as if turning a knob against her ear.

Jisung gets the hint and tugs his headphones off, blinking rapidly in an attempt to figure out what it was she said. He needed to be a little better in the future about remembering when he had his headphones on and when he didn't; Or at least remembering to keep one side tucked back off his ear. "What did you say?"

"You have a client." She repeats, one hand coming to rest on her hip. "Private Session later today."

The DJ's eyes widen in surprise. He presses a hand to his chest, fumbling a little from the new information. "Me? I do?" His lips immediately curl into a smile and he can't help the way he flushes in excitement. "When? What time?"

"Uh," Maxine looks down at the paper in her hand, eyes scanning the brief request before looking back up to him. "Seven o'clock. Room One -" She gestures across the large space filled with the dance floor, poles on the stage, and a few velvet curtains across the way that each lead to different rooms for private sessions. "So please don't be late. And find someone to cover for you for at least an hour, yeah?"

"Got it; Can do, boss man! Er - woman. Sorry." Jisung tries to reply smoothly, leaning against the mixing table as he eyes the manager walking away from him to go instead scold the bartender for openly ogling a customer the night before. He sighs out, smiling to himself shortly after. He could do this - He'd be fine! It was just his first private client... ever.

-

[Location : Main Stage - Private Room 1 : 6:58 PM]

Jisung makes sure to find coverage for the main stage while he's away on private business. He convinces Hyunjin to take over the mixing table while he's busy, giving Felix a heads up - and warning - that Hyunjin will be filling in for him for about an hour that evening. The dancer rolls his eyes with a smile and wishes Jisung good luck as he leaves the stage, the time reading 6:58 PM.

As he heads to room one, he realizes he's never quite been inside of it before. He usually isn't requested for private events like this, given he's usually too busy with working all of the music that plays through the club from 6 PM - 2 AM every night. And honestly - He loves his job! So he isn't too upset that he doesn't have many private bookings for sessions like this. Though, truly, he is honored to have someone want him away from everyone else.

As he pushes the velvet curtain open just enough to step in, his eyes fall to you already sitting pretty on the red leather couch set up just across from the curtain. He smiles at the sight of you and lets the curtain fall shut behind him, making his way over so he can take a seat beside you. The couch is large enough for two spacious cushions - but small enough that his knees are forced to touch yours with the way he sits to face you. This meeting should be personal, flirty - enticing. Something to get the client to come back for more.

"It's a pleasure to meet the beauty who requested my presence in private," Jisung coos with a soft chuckle, his hands settling in his lap as he glances you over. Your expression is soft and warm - inviting, almost, and Jisung finds himself relieved and happy that someone so sweet was the person who asked for him. "What's your name?" He hums - and after you reply, his smile only grows. "A name just as beautiful as the woman it's assigned to. I'm - Jisung, by the way. I don't know if you knew that or not, I --"

It was working already, if you were honest. Jisung's soft charms and the way he spoke so suave (or tried to) to you were definitely factors that were already making you itch for more. Maybe you should've booked a longer session..

"I have to ask, just out of curiosity; Is there a reason you asked for me specifically?" Jisung quips, his voice taking on a softer tone as to not seem accusatory towards you.

He watches your smile grow, your head tipping down in an almost bashful manner. "I've been here before," You reply, cheeks rosy, "And the last time I was here I was really close to the stage up front? And I uhm - You were just.. really pretty, and really charming and the way you interacted with the crowd felt so intimate." Your eyes turn up to find Jisung's mouth open, his expression something of quiet awe.

"You really think so?" He chuckles out the words, pressing a hand to his chest. "Thank you. I'm.. honored you felt that way. I mean - I'm glad I was able to give you that experience. I always try to interact with people as much as I can even if I'm on stage and can't really.. you know. One on one like this often."

"Well I'm glad I got you in here," Your smile is infectious to Jisung and he can't help the way his cheeks burn at the comment coming from your lips - so pretty and glossed up just for this meeting with him.

Something pushes Jisung to carefully maneuver his body closer to your own, one of his hands coming down to lay atop your thigh. His fingers close, gently squeezing at the bare skin as he smiles. "I'm glad you got me alone, too." He hums, "You have to tell me a little about yourself. About what you like in these types of situations. You know - being intimate." His thumb slides back and forth slowly over your skin as he leans in closer.

It catches you a bit off guard with the way he tucks his face down into your neck, his breathing soft and gently fanning over your skin in a way that made you shiver. "Me? I.. like..." You hesitate, eyes darting around over his shoulder in a weak attempt to focus. "I like kissing, and --" You swear you feel his lips part against your throat, his tongue sliding slowly over your skin. "Jisung, I can't focus," You manage to laugh out the words.

"I can tell," He chuckles, smiling into the junction of your shoulder. "You didn't think I was going to go easy on you just because it's our first time properly meeting, right? I work in a Strip Club - I'm not going to be all gentle with you." Jisung peeks up, "And I like to play with people like this. Tell me what you like or I'm going to have to stop; And you don't want that, do you sweet girl?"

"I like --" You suck in a breath that proves Jisung's point, his lips pressing soft kisses over your skin slowly as you continue talking. He knows it's a little mean to be teasing you so relentlessly but this is what you paid for, right? "Marking, and being marked. And I like taking things slow and dragging it all out," You whisper the last bit but Jisung catches it with ease. His lips connect to your skin again, his finger hooking into the top of your dress to tug the fabric down so he can suck a soft pink mark just above your chest.

He lets you take a moment to breathe as he sucks a few light marks into your skin, glancing up shortly after with a smile that's nothing short of cunning; Devious, even. Jisung's hand had began to trail up your thigh, his fingertips carefully pushing under the dress as he gauges your reaction. He watches the way your lashes flutter as your head tips back in awe, allowing him to kiss further over your skin and leave another couple marks in his wake. He won't do anything if you react negatively to it; After all, he's here to please you as much as he can within this short time period you have together.

Your breath catches when his fingertips gently push at your panties, finding your clit with practiced ease and flicking at it with his index from over the fabric. He grins when your body flinches under his weight, leaning further into you and humming against your skin which in turn gently coaxes a moan out of you. "Keep talking," He teases, pausing his movements just for a moment until you open your mouth.

"I like.. this," You whisper out in need, your hand finding his shoulder to grip at the tank top he wears. "I like this a lot. All of this, Jisung. It's perfect. You're perfect, so perfect," You whimper into the space between your bodies, peeking down to watch Jisung suck another mark darker than the rest against the top of your breast. "I'm definitely coming back for you."

"It's a shame you booked such a short session. You're already so wet for me," His voice comes out lower than before; A purr against his tongue that licks at your skin and promises nothing but pleasure. His fingertips slide through your folds, pushing the lace of your panties tight to your slit as the slick leaks further and soaks through.

Jisung sighs out at the feeling of your warmth against his fingers, giving one more slow circle over your clit before he pulls his hand back and up towards his mouth. His tongue lathes over his fingertips, your eyes drawn and glued to the way he licks your essence clean from them before he all but moans out about how good you taste.

At this point, he may be more excited for the next time you pop in than you are.

"You have to book another meeting, sweetheart. I need more of you." It's not a demand but rather a soft plea for you to return - For you to give him a chance to actually get a taste of you. He's not sure he could get the words out without fumbling and stuttering over himself but he wants nothing more than to tell you just how badly he wants to bury his face between your thighs for an entire hour.

This time, though - your time runs short. The thirty minutes is up all too quickly and leaves the both of you wanting more; But Jisung is sure to secure your goodbyes with a soft kiss to your lips. You briefly taste yourself on his tongue just as he pulls away, standing from the couch and peeling himself off the leather with a small smile.

His hand cups your cheek so his fingertips can run along your jawline, keeping you on your toes and making you chase his soft touches. "You'll come back for me; Won't you, sweets?"

Your eyes glisten with want, sparkling with need and pooling with desire. You nod, breathless at the way his tongue had entered your mouth as if he wanted to devour you whole only moments ago. And now he was leaving to get back to his station, his eyes wandering for just a moment over you as he slips away through the curtain; A glance to keep himself remembering you for a few days at least - Something to envision later. Something that even with a quick up-and-down, makes his cock twitch in his pants.

As Jisung disappears behind the curtain, he sighs out heavy and heads back to the stage to resume taking over the mixing table. He's a little disappointed he didn't get to do more with such a gorgeous woman but after your promise to come back for him, he can't help the bubble of excitement running through his veins like a drug buzzing though his entire system.

You'd better come back for him like you promised; You wouldn't break his heart and leave him high and dry, would you?

Taglist:

@an0ther-us3r @linofthelace @breakmeoff @seungpuppymongmong

@d4ily-s-nsh1ne @slut4junho @charredchae

@wickedbutlovely

[chrollohearttags]

°˖✧✿✧˖° lose it • e. jaeger °˖✧✿✧˖°

📃: musician!eren, influencer reader, nipple play, subby eren, footjob, overstimulation, mentions of other suggestive themes, riding, orgasm denial (if you squint)

📝: posted this on Patreon a while back but like with everything I wrote, it got taken down. So here it is again bc this man is on my mind again 😩 I’ll be revisiting this au again very soon

wc: 1.1K

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

“Shit!—princesssss..oh fuck…”

“Eren, babe..you gotta be quiet. We’re gonna get caught.”

a tall request to ask of your musician husband at the moment but you’d still try nonetheless. Tossing a cupped palm around his mouth, (y/n) (l/n) tried your hardest to stifle those loud moans escaping his lips but to no avail. To think that the same EJ the Don, who was just on stage performing and rapping the most obscene lyrics..had now been reduced to a babbling mess by his pretty little wife. Truthfully though, you were just biding your time until you could get him all to yourself. See, the two of you had entered into a contract for the duration of his international tour and your group, the Pole Assassins, would be hoping his collective, Dead Boys. This was following the aftermath of a scandal with another artist who refused to allow you to be the main dancer on his stage. Naturally, it was all of you or none at all. So your husband, entering a new era with his artistry..wanted you to be around for the journey. Although you were hesitant, and felt as if his fanbase wouldn’t be receptive to it, you were completely wrong. From the states to Europe, you girls were the talk of the entire performance. Whilst Eren and the rest of his crew swooned sultry lyrics during slower tracks, you all were right there twirling above them…doing unbelievable stunts. When it came to more high energy joints, you’d rejoin them and mirror that of the girls in the strip club. There was one track in particular where you and Eren had a solo stunt. You’d climb to the top of the pole and when the beat dropped, you’d come down split leg into his lap as he sat in a chair with his thighs spread wide. Money would fall from the ceiling and accompany you. It was a variation of your infamous Kiss of Death that had gone viral countless times. You’d even have segments where you’d invite fans up on stage to try and mimic your movements and they’d have a blast. Especially at the 18+ shows. Not to mention all of the offstage antics between your groups…even your manager, choreographer friends and hairstylists were on the trip and it was a ball. Needless to say, all of you were having a good time!

however, fans began to notice that a new sound wasn’t the only change in EJ. His appearance was different as well. His skin seemed to glow something serious. His once defined abs were back and his outfits seemed to become a lot more revealing. He was coming out his shirt more; chains banging against his chest during performances and that large collection of tattoos seemed to grow even bigger. Even some of the crew’s wardrobe resembled that of an idol group when they performed together with different variations for each. But perhaps the most noticeable change? Those silver bars protruding from his pectorals. Particularly his nipples! Piercings he’d acquired one night on a whim, when you divulged how sexy they’d look on him. Granted, it wasn’t as if you were pushing the issue or even begging him to but when it came to his princess, he’d all but jump off the edge of the earth to see you smile. Naturally, it was the exact reaction he got too!..you were utterly shocked when he came back to your hotel room, climbed on top of you and began ravaging your body. That night, he fucked you like an absolute dog!..fingers in your mouth as he fed you backshots, placing you into a headlock and even twisting you up akin to a pretzel as he forced you into orgasm after orgasm..pounding your throat from the side of the bed. He even went for some backdoor exploration when he discovered you’d brought an anal plug along for the trip! You’d definitely had your fair share of wild nights with Eren but this one was insane. Three years of marriage but he was treating you like a slut off of the street..it was so fucking hot! His only explanation? He was egregiously horny after getting his piercings done. All he could think about was getting back to you!

But now, it was time to return the favor…right after the show, the two of you found yourselves in (y/n)’s dressing room. Sprawled out on the pink leather couch with his fishnet top ripped around as your tongue swirled around his sensitive buds. You’d start off by slowly kissing them..licking and lapping. Meanwhile, your acrylic fingertips wrapped around his shaft and stroked it. His cock was seeping with precum and was equally as red as those rhinestones as your outfit for the night. You even made him sit in front of you with your legs coiling his waist as your clear Pleasers rubbed up against his throbbing member..you’d never seen him so overstimulated in your life. You were afraid he was going to bust any second! However, he’d just continue begging for more..panting and whining as you played his most erogenous areas. ‘Baby..calm down. Someone’s gonna hear us, okay?” Which was absolutely unfair to ask! He was so damned aroused, he didn’t know what to do. Being this vulnerable wasn’t typically how you guys’ sex life went. You were normally the one whining and whimpering for more!..but alas, tables had turned.

“B-but I can’t..just feels so good..” It was a crime how cute he looked at the moment! Rutting himself into the palm of your hand and biting his lip to attempt to stifle his moans. You’d make it all but impossible to refrain from reaching climatic bliss when you asked him to lie flat on his back so you could ride him. From the moment you positioned yourself on his crotch, peeling those panties back and sinking his cock into your warmth, you would’ve sworn that your husband was looking at a ghost. His eyes stretched three times their own size until they eventually rolled back. That thick, heavy ass ricocheting off of his lap as those thrusts got harder. All the while, your fingertips caressed his nipples whilst you finally began deriving your own pleasure. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you reach ecstasy…

“Then let it out, baby..I won’t hold it against you..”

and the way you were fucking on him, was enough to make him lose it!

[2cupids]

warnings! stripper!reader, implied black!reader but everyone’s can read, riding, semi public sex, BIG DICK NANAMI, he gets one look at reader and is lowkey infatuated w her. mdni (17+)

length. 3.5k+ ….

salaryman!nanami considers himself a fairly straight edged person.. aside from the occasional drink.

he’s a man who goes by the books, always following things to a T and seeing them all the way through.

never has he been swayed by peer pressure or to follow a crowd, he’s always been independent-minded. so when a certain coworker of his, told him he needs to find a way to unwind and suggested he go to a strip club to relieve some of his stress, he found the idea revolting.

it was no secret that his coworker, satoru gojo, indulged in many of the taboo things in life and that was far from any lifestyle nanami would ever lead. normally, he would’ve never entertained such an idea, simply pushing it out of his head and going on with his uneventful day. though for whatever reason, gojo’s words replay in his mind like a broken record as the week drags on, and once friday night arrives, nanami finds himself parked outside a strip club towards the edge of town. one hand stays gripped around the steering wheel as his mind flashes what the possible implications of him coming here might give off to the other patrons, staff, and especially the girls.

he swallows thickly, unsure why he’s putting so much thought into this. it’s not like he has to stay if he doesn’t like it, right? but there’s a little part of him that wants to venture out of his comfort zone and see what draws in so many men to watch these girls dance. plus, he withdrew a generous amount of money out of his fat checking account just incase he does have a good time. with a shaky breath, he turns the ignition off and grabs his wallet, stepping out of the car and straightening his tie.

once inside the club, he takes a seat towards the back of the joint, far from the stage in hopes that’ll help calm his racing heart. the dark atmosphere of the club is illuminated with colorful lights that shine towards the stage onto the dancers and dimmed recessed lighting that’s scattered around the building. the sleek inside is a pleasant surprise to the seedy look that the outside holds. as the waitress circulates around the club to take orders, he orders a drink and tells himself to relax. by the time the waitress comes back with his drink, he tips her and takes a sip of his whiskey and settles back into his seat. as his mind quiets down and his heart rate slows, he catches the last few seconds of the current dancer’s set before she collects her money and walks off the stage. now it’s time for the next girl to step on stage and do her thing.

you.

the first thing nanami’s eyes land on the way the neon lights hit your pretty, brown skin as you strut onto stage. the skimpy lingerie outfit consisting of a bikini top and thong, is paired with an equally matching itty bitty skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. nanami’s eyes are locked on you. he lets his gaze drift over your body briefly, but it doesn’t linger. the thought doesn’t even cross his mind of doing so, finding any ogling of the sort incredibly disrespectful.

music of your chance that you asked the dj to play, booms throughout the club as you work the pole skillfully. the way you move so elegantly, yet confident at the same time, fascinates him and it’s got him feeling like he could watch you dance forever.. literally. everytime you make eye contact with the patrons and your eyes wander towards the back of the club and meet his, his heart stutters in his chest. and maybe it’s just him, but he swears your eyes stay on him a few seconds longer than any of the other guys.

within minutes, he finds himself gravitating closer towards the stage and before he knows it, your set winding down after a four songs. he hurriedly pulls his wallet out and throws multiple ten and twenty dollar bills on stage, mentally sighing because he would like to see you again but he realizes he probably can’t. and that’s when gojo’s words pop into his head again. he could pay for a vip room.

nanami wonders if you’ll come out to the floor, so he can talk to you but as the minutes pass and you’re nowhere to be seen, nanami starts to lose hope. then he sees you walking towards the bar and he pushes his nerves aside and approaches you. “um.. excuse me, miss. do you offer vip rooms?” he asks, his voice carrying the slightest bit of hesitancy for such a usually self-assured man. it also doesn’t help that you’re even more stunning up close in person.

as you turn and face the potential customer, your expression changes into a more friendly, playful one at the idea of selling a room. “i do. how long are you interested in staying, babe?”

nanami’s heart flutters and he thinks for a moment. “oh, i guess thirty minutes sounds good.”

you hum and walk over to a table, ushering him to follow you. “thirty minutes is six hundred and champagne isn’t included in that. let me tell you everything a vip room with me includes. okay?” it would be rude to cut you off as you go over the perks of paying for a room with you, but he could really care less. the perks, the price, none of that matter to him. he just wants to see you again, just to simply be able to be in your presence is enough for him.

a bouncer leads him towards the vip rooms section and he can hear his heart pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out the music in the club. he steps inside the room and takes a seat, watching you step up on the stage. the sensual music you chose starts playing and you begin doing a mix of both floor work and pole work, unlike what you were doing minutes earlier out on the main stage. being close enough to observe you for a prolonged time now, not only are you beautiful, but he notices just how much the ginger color of your hair compliments your skin and the words slip out before he realizes. “that hair color is gorgeous on you.”

a knowing look appears in your eyes and you smirk, winking at him. “thank you, i know.”

it’s so embarrassing, but the action shoots straight down to his dick and his slacks tighten a just tiny bit. the way you maintain eye contact with him all throughout the first song is like you’re purposely teasing him, and he doesn’t know if he’ll last twenty-something minutes like this.

when the next song comes on, a more sultry one, that’s the signal it's time for a lap dance to match the vibe of the song. you stand up and look down at him from the stage, that lively expression from before is back on your face. “so what’s your name, handsome?” you descend down the steps and walk over to him, flipping your hair as you lean forward, holding onto his muscular thighs as you look him straight in the eye.

“n-nanami, miss.” he stutters, eyes glued to where your hands caress his strong thighs. he gulps as his eyes trail up the smooth skin of your arms and he succinctly eyes your tits in that silly little bikini top you’re wearing before his eyes land on your pretty face, hoping you didn’t notice.

you laugh and crack a smile, amused at his respectful tone. “miss? that’s a first. i’ve never heard anyone call me that here before.” nanami’s actually so surprised about that, but then again he remembers the culture here is indeed different.

wonderstruck is the only word to describe the way nanami feels as you dance for him. the confidence you exude pulling off such provocative moves is a turn-on he never knew he even had. your hands run along the sides of your body as you move and although he tries not to be impolite, he can’t help but let his eyes occasionally flicker over your body and linger on certain parts for longer than he’d like to admit.

it’s probably just him and his anxiousness, but he finds the silence awkward and uncomfortable despite the loud music playing. nanami clears his throat and speaks up. “may i ask your name as well?”

you take a seat on the edge of his lap and lean against him, reaching your arm back to hold his neck. “you can call me jasmine,” you whisper and somehow his body goes even more stiff underneath you. “and don’t forget you can touch me if you want, nanami.” you get up slowly from his lap, making sure to arch your back and you immediately move into the next move of shaking your ass as you’re bent over in front of him.

his eye twitches and a deep, throaty groan makes it way past his lips. fuck, why did you have to make things difficult for him?

lowering yourself to the ground, you kneel in front of him and your hands move up his thighs once again as they come in dangerously close proximity to his crotch as your fingertips graze his abdomen over his button up. with everything happening, on top of the eye contact, he could swear it’s like he’s having an out of body experience.

“what brought you here, nanami? i’m curious.” you question, a teasing undertone in your voice. “you don’t seem like the type to frequent strip clubs.”

nanami continues to sit there like a fool, simply staring at your beautiful face, trying to find the strength and willpower to form a coherent thought. he’s having so many firsts tonight and it’s overwhelming, but he can’t bring himself to leave or pull away. he won’t. “i, um.. a coworker suggested it. and i’ve been stressed from work, so i thought it might do me a little good to come here. take a load off.”

the wheels in your head start to turn and a thought suddenly comes to you as he reveals his motive. “you’ve been stressed, huh? what do ya do?”

“i work in stocks.. just making other people rich.” he sighs, a flash of emptiness crossing his eyes.

“oh really?” you stand up and throw one leg onto the couch, followed by the other one as you straddle him. you look in his eyes and wrap your arms around his neck. depending on his answer, this could be the last move for this lap dance before you move into some other routine else, or the dancing could end right here. “what would you say if i offered another way to help relieve your stress?”

nanami cocks an eyebrow, intrigued about what you could possibly be talking about. he thinks he has an faint inkling of what you could possibly be insinuating, but he doesn't want to jump to conclusions or get any wrong ideas. “what way are you talking about?”

actions speak louder than words. your hips move to grind slowly against his as you look at him without saying anything. nanami understands what you’re talking about and he responds in a low, quiet voice. “oh.”

“mhm. and that’ll add on another thirty minutes on to your time. and for this.. special service, it’ll bring the total cost to twenty five hundred dollars. what do you say?”

your thumb runs along his sharp jawline and your hand runs down his chest. he breath catches in his throat and he nods. “yeah.. yeah. i don’t care about the price, i’ll give you anything.”

you glanced at his fingers as you discussed what your vip room consists of out on the floor and you didn’t see a wedding band, and you still don’t see or feel one but it won’t hurt to ask. “you married or anything, nanami?”

“no, i’m single.” he’s still slightly dazed that he’s really going through with this.

“the ladies are missing out then,” a smirk graces your glossy lips as you move to unbuckle his pants and you take him in your hand, silently marveling at his size. “and i don't want you to get the wrong idea or anything.. i don’t do this. ever.”

he makes a small sound of acknowledgement, eyes going down to your long, acrylic nails adorning your fingers as your hand wraps around his dick, pumping him. he’s already half hard and you teasingly rub your finger across the tip, causing him to suck in a heavy breath. you’re about to ask him if he has protection when he places a hand on your back and moves to slide his wallet out of his pocket, opening it and taking out a condom.

oh yeah. he’s different just like you thought, you didn’t even need to ask him. you’re finding more reasons to like him.. platonically of course. at least for now.

you take the condom from his hand and notice the gold magnum wrapper has ‘xl’ on it and you find it amusing in a such attractive way. the condom is held in between your teeth as you keep stroking his length. your hand doesn't even fit half way around his girthy cock, he’s big. nanami sighs quietly, mumbling out a quiet curse underneath his breath.

you tear the shiny foil of the wrapper and roll the rubber down his cock, the material fitting him just like a glove. you place a hand on his shoulder and line him up with your entrance. the man’s large hands finally come up to touch you, carefully placing themselves on the sides of your hips and nanami’s deep brown eyes look up at you as his heart hammers in his chest. “jasmine,” nanami breathes deeply. “take your time, please. i– uh, i’ve been told before that it hurts..”

the concern he shows is incredibly sweet, especially for stranger and for the first time in a while, it makes you nervous, yet you don’t break character, no matter what.

you grin and give him a questionable look. “you think i can’t handle it? but thanks for the warning.” you slowly lower yourself down onto his thick penis and your eyes flutter shut, your eyebrows knitting together as you suck in a sharp breath from the stretch. nanami rubs at your hip gently, silently encouraging you and eventually you settle down into his lap after fitting all eight inches or however many inches inside you. your eyes gleam with a hint of mischievousness as you laugh, breaking the silence between the two of you, “fuck.”

nanami smiles for the first time tonight– actually for the first time in a while– his worn eyes crinkling slightly at the sides. “i know, but you’re doing great and damn.. i have to say that you feel wonderful around me.” he murmurs, his dark eyes still peering up at you as his voice drops towards the end of his statement.

you lift yourself off his cock and lower yourself back down, repeating the motion and letting your pussy get accommodated to being split open by something so big and thick. your other arm comes up to grip his shoulder and his hands tighten around your hips as you move against his lap, finding a good rhythm for yourself.

soft pants and whines slip out from your lips as you bounce in nanami’s lap, his dick fitting nice and snug between your walls with each drag of your hips. meanwhile, nanami is still stuck on how he’s got a literal goodness in his lap, riding him and making him feel good. he doesn’t feel worthy. truthfully, speaking his brain is on the verge of short circuiting right this very moment.

your movements come to a halt as you grind your clit against his pelvis and that propels his meaty length even deeper inside you and a breathy moan leaves your mouth. you whine your hips in a circle, keeping eye contact with him and nanami swears he could die peacefully at this very moment. then you resume your motions and he’s back on cloud nine.

quiet grunts and sounds of pleasure leave nanami, he’s never been a particularly loud lover. his hands roam up your curves and situate themselves on your waist, holding you tighter as he realizes he’s getting close. his head rests back against the couch as your warmth engulfs him and it gives him a mouth watering view of the point at which your bodies connect. he watches how your pussy streches to take in his girth. he believes you’re one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on, but the beauty of you on top him using his dick to please both of you is something else completely.

“uhhh… ‘m getting– fucking close,” the words come out strained as he grits his teeth, the feeling of you squeezing around him having an unimaginable affect on him right now. “you close, sweetheart?” he grunts, eyes flickering up to your as he notes the pleasure etched into your pretty features as your soft bottom lip is tucked between your teeth.

when he sees you shake your head, he immediately moves into action. he’s not going to finish before he helps you get there. “i hope you don’t mind me touching you.” nanami eyes your face for any signs of opposition as his hand comes in contact with your clit, but there’s none. instead, your body twitches from the very welcomed touch and your lip falls from its place between your teeth, letting a plethora of moans come spilling out.

nanami bucks his hips up to meet yours and it’s got you reeling. his cock bumps against your g-spot so deliciously as you both your hips meet each other in the middle. nanami rubs at your clit faster and you’re starting to get close, tears well up in your eyes from the feeling. “oou fuck baby! right there, don’t stop!���

your pretty sounds are like music to his ears as he watches your body tremble from pleasure above him from your orgasm. your walls flutter around him and he’s close to losing it, too. his arms wrap securely around your waist as he takes the lead, holding your tired body close against his and pressing his face into your soft boobs as he fucks you, his thrusts turn more erratic as he approaches his orgasm.

condensation forms against your tits as he heaves and pants into your chest as he gets closer. one final thrust of his hips up into you and his body stills against yours, his dick pulsating and throbbing as he cums. you can feel the hot spurts of semen line the condom and it feels so warm inside you that it almost has you salivating.

“that was amazing.. thank you.” nanami whispers, and you hum softly.

the both of you stay like that for a moment. nanami’s strong arms holding you against him with his face still buried between your tits and your face nestled against the crook of his neck. once you hear nanami’s breathing steady, you kiss the side of his throat, letting your lips ghost up his skin until you’re next to his ear. “you’ll come back and see me... won’t you, nanami?”

a shiver goes down his spine and he nods, unwrapping his arms from around your form to let you go. his dick slips out of you as you proceed to lift yourself off his lap and stand up, curiously looking at him and awaiting his answer as you stand up and fix your thong and micro skirt.

“of course i will. i..i’d like to see you more. maybe get to know you a bit if that’s alright with you.”

after finishing up the vip room with nanami and cleaning up, you leave three thousand dollars richer that night– and that’s not even including the money you made from earlier in your shift– and with a new regular who doesn’t mind spending big money on you for your time. he’ll actually turns out to be the best regulars you’ll ever have.

nanami leaves feeling much more composed and relaxed then he can remember being in ages, and no, it’s not just from the fact he got laid. he’s left with something new to preoccupy his mind other than work and his handful of hobbies, too– you. maybe he’s got his hopes up and he’s being too optimistic, but either way it’s very uncharacteristic of nanami because he can’t stop thinking about how he wouldn’t mind if something more came from this.

oh, and most importantly, he has to thank that annoying co-worker of his, gojo, for pushing him to live a little more once they get back on monday.

cleo’s note. hope y’all enjoyed one of the rare times i wrote about protected sex lol. anyways happy bhm. this is dedicated to all my fellow blk baddies. ilyyy 🫶🏾

tags <3 @cheezemanz @tojicvmslut

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: this masterpiece being on repeat made me like this 😵‍💫

HOUSTON'S BEST. | Aaron Pierre

Terry Richmond x Black! Female Stripper Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex, (male receiving) penetrat!on (unprotected p in v, don't do that!), breath play, water sports, slapping/hitting, degradation), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread.

Summary: in which Terry meets an exotic dancer during his deployment and recounts their heated sexual relationship.

you used to strip out of east Atlanta,

probably where you learned all your talents.

He never knew her real name, or anything that was actually concrete to her, but he did know how his hazel eyes stayed trained on the exotic dancer in front of him the first time he saw her, the strobe lights made it a bit impossible to focus in on her face—as well as her many tricks and whirls around the pole. But her silhouette was perfect, and with a body as perfect as hers he was sure her face had to be a perfect match.

That wasn't his usual scene though, he'd been nearly forced there with his homeboys. Due to his recent breakup at the time, and a dreary deployment, his friends swore he needed a night of fun. And obviously their idea of a night of fun, was six deep in an east Atlanta strip club. He didn't usually spend his pastimes in Atlanta strip clubs, blowing his last dollars on a half-dressed woman, but if every stripper was enchanting as this one, he understood.

They introduced her as Houston, something he only understood when he found himself at her apartment. Only a few blocks away, from the club she worked at four nights a week, the other three days were supposedly spent in trade school where she was training to be a dental hygienist.

Not to mention, her face definitely did match her body.

Terry was unsure of how he made it to her quaint apartment the first time. He remembered how she sauntered over to the bar sometime after her set, she sported an oversized jogging suit, her low, brown eyes seemed to stare right through him, her smile was sinful. Everything about her screamed, trouble.

Anyway, even with a couple of shots flowing through him he was sober enough to hear the country edge to her voice—soft, elongated vowels, with that slight drawl that captivated him with each word. For a man who'd been deployed in and out of the states, he knew a Houston accent from anywhere, he'd spent four years there after all. That's where her stage name came from.

She'd never volunteered her real name, and always seemed hesitant when he asked about it. Obviously there was things she was keeping secret from this arrangement, and even three months deep into this said arrangement, she was still just Houston.

Terry never knew how they advanced to sex so quickly, the first time. Maybe it was the amount of alcohol in his system that night, maybe it was how naturally bold Houston was. Maybe it was because she kept casually sitting on his lap, complimenting him. Looking at him with those low, seductive eyes.

But it wasn't the first time anymore. Or the second. Or the third, and that was because Houston kept him coming back. She was a needed stress reliever. She knew what she was doing.

Houston knew exactly what she was doing though. And she was best at the shit too. The art of seduction through her dance—had nothing on her art of seduction in the bedroom. She would stare at him through her long lashes and low eyes, when she had him halfway back in the back of her throat. Coughing, gagging, eyes watery and red, but she still managed to hold that mockingly innocent gaze with him. Her hands nuzzled in the thin material of the strip lingerie she wore for him, vigorously rubbing away at her hard clit. Pleasing him, pleased her—and all that shit pleased him.

"Fuuuuckkk," he'd grunt, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as she fucked her own throat on his dick, almost like she was eager to taste all of him, her tongue swiping the underside of his dick as she eagerly took all of him. Her almost violent gagging and choking seemed to not deter her in the slightest, and it definitely hadn't deterred him either. Both his hands cradling the back of her head as he fucked himself into her throat, his own brows furrowed, lips parted as his grunts and groans seemed to follow one after another, eyes boring into hers. The feeling of the tightness of her throat, around him was unmatched. The way she did this shit like she had no regard for him was unmatched. Breathing clearly didn't matter to Houston. The hardwood flooring underneath them had collected a puddle of the saliva that seemed to pool out of her mouth and off of him, in the process.

"Fuckkk, imma nut! Imma nut, bae—jus' like that!" He rushed out, breathless and slurred. His hips stilling, but she never stopped taking him in, fucking her own throat once again, she looked up at him. His own eyes, slowly falling closed as she kept up her volatile movements.

"Mhm," she hummed on his dick, her blurred vision taking him in earnestly, her own fingers slipping inside her hole once again as she watched his facial expressions hungrily, as she brung him over the edge. The loud, groans queuing her to his orgasm, she pulled back from him with a loud pop. A growing smile on her lips as she stroked him off over her face, the warm ropes of cum painting her face just as she liked. What a messy girl she was, indeed.

She was the best at that shit.

But then again, she was the best at everything. She was definitely the best at doggystyle. Her face pressed into the cushioning of her sofa, his fingers squeezing and kneading the meaty flesh of her hips as she sat on her knees, ass perfectly arched up for him. Tip pressing against the spongy spot that caused the slight trembling in her thighs, and those deep gasping breaths to leave her mouth. Her hands flying up to the arm of the couch to gain leverage to slam back against him, her ass ricocheting off his pelvis with loud plaps. He'd run his thumb over the small butterfly tattoo etched into the skin right on the top of her ass.

"Don't run," he'd coach firmly, his voice stern hands growing tighter around her waist, his knees following hers, a harsh slap to her ass following his words, "don't fuckin' run. I can't get in that shit?" He'd ask over her whimpers.

"Yesssss," she'd slut out loudly, his stern voice and harsh slaps always put her back into motion, taking it like he knew she could.

"Right there, right there, right there!" She'd urgently call out, voice shaky and strained. "Right there, baby! I'm bout to cum, daddy!" Her whimpered voice muffled by Terry pushing her face down into the cushions, his focus solely on hitting against the spot, she repeatedly referred to.

"Where it's at?" He'd mutter, the lingerie of her little strip tease outfit now bunched around her waist, in his grasp as he used it as more leverage to thrust into her. "Where it's at, baby?" He'd ask again when he received no proper response from her, just her inaudible babbling and squealing moans.

"It's right there, daddy!"

"Give it to me then," he coolly replied hand roughly slapping at against her reddening brown skin, "give that shit to daddy, paint my dick. Lemme see it," he'd coax her orgasm right out of her, with her erratic breathing and faltering limbs.

Houston was also the best at missionary. And she didn't even have to do anything in this position, she just always looked so pretty and dazed. Mouth agape, eyes soft and low, darting back and forth between Terry's gaze, and his dick slipping in and out of her slick pussy. Her loud guttural moans would follow behind Terry's soft groans, his hands placed steadily on the back on her thighs, his knees allowing him to steadily drop dick in her. Her walls squeezing around him tighter and breathing hindering, every time he went just a little too deep.

She always looked too good in this position. His hands clamped tightly around her neck, he'd watch the color in her face tint to red. "You wanna breathe don't you? Yeah? Squirt on my dick then, show me how bad you wanna breathe. Show me that shit." He'd taunt, his dick roughly plowing into her, he'd watch with complete adoration as her eyes rolled back, her chest heaving, no sound leaving her lips but he strained breathing as he neared her orgasm. No sound would alert him, just her juices spurting out of her wildly, drenching her lower tummy and thighs, as well as his.

Or maybe she was the best at riding. Balancing her weight on the tips of her toes, her hands fisting the top of the couch on either side of him, strings of sticky arousal from her pussy connected the two, as she milked him up and down with loud sticky plaps. His thumbs and pointer fingers tweaking with her pierced, sensitive mounds. Pulling and pinching at her nipples as he muttered, lewd phrases and exploitative words against the flesh of her neck.

"You gon nut?" He'd ask her at the same time. Watching her nod eagerly over a series of moans. He'd slap against her cheek firmly, not quite satisfied with her non-verbal response. "You gon nut?" He'd ask again.

"Yesss!" She'd cry out, nodding vigorously, big brown eyes brimming with tears, the tightness in her belly threatening to burst open.

"Nah you ain't," he'd reply, eyes staring into hers so casually as if he wasn't having her plow herself onto his dick for his pleasure, "you been cummin' all night. It's my turn."

"Look at you fuckin' yourself on my dick," he tsk'd, his hand coming up once again to firmly slap against her cheek, "you ain't gon tell nobody about this right? Bout how you bein' such a lil easy bitch on my dick, makin' a mess. You ain't gon tell nobody?"

"No, daddy!" She'd stammer out through hindered breaths and broken moans. Her eyes slowly falling open as she continue to fuck herself on his dick, he was making her edge herself, and the shit felt torturous.

"Jus' like that, baby," he'd praise, hands dropping to knead both her ass cheeks as she rode him, "make me nut. Make me nut in this pussy." Hand leaving a series of hard echoing snacks there, until he came deep inside her.

Houston knew exactly what she was doing.

Hope you enjoyed, Houston! <3

tag list: @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @nickidub718 @keehendrixx @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @b2hotty @partypoison00 @grooveoftiro @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dxddykenn @motheroffae @kaylaahisthebestest- @hello-therree

[soldiersgirl]

FOR BEAU MAYBE WRITE ABOUT LIE A STRIPPER GF WHO GIVES HIS TOUCHSTARVED ASS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE

ask and you shall receive !

summary — beau discovers what he needed most in the last place he thought he would find it.

cw — stripper!reader x beau arlen, 18+ (mdni) mentions of drinking, exotic dancing, kissing, groping, YEARNING.

word count — 1,162 words

beau had driven as far out of montana as he could. honestly, he wasn't even sure which state he was in. all he knew was you and the way you worked your magic up on that pole to the beat of "cherry pie". what a cliché, but it was one of his favourites and nothing looked more heavenly than the cherry red lingerie that clung to your body, the way he wished he could.

with each wink of your luscious eyelashes, flick of your shiny hair and snap of your hips, he fell further into your trap and he wasn't looking for an exit anytime soon. other dancers came and tried to get his money and attention but it was all yours tonight. he couldn't stop imagining the way you would feel in his hands, on his lips, on his lap. on him.

he tried to distract himself by staring down the neck of his beer bottle, only for a second, to cool down and ease the growing, painfully ignored bulge in his worn denim jeans. before he knew it, the song had ended and your heels were click-clacking off stage backstage to refresh yourself and prepare for your next dance. he knew he had to strike now.

he sat in the darkened vip booth, draped with crimson curtains, red satin couches and matching tassel curtains. his hands itched and sweat decorated his brow as he waited for you. each second that passed only escalated his anxiety, excitement? he couldn't work out what he was feeling, but what he did know was that he longed for you and your soft touch.

what was he doing? god, he's a sheriff. he can't be doing this. he'd be the talk of town if they found out that he was going to strip clubs just to get attention. hell, he would be laughed out of town. god, what would his daughter and ex-wife think? he scratched the back of his neck and ran his hands over his face.

"fuck." he sighs to himself before going to grab his jacket to leave before he fell in deeper, but he didn't get very far. his eyes flickered up and there you stood in between the tassels with a small smirk and a raised brow.

"leaving so soon?" you pout as you glance between his shocked face and fleece denim jacket in his grasp. you let the tassels dance over your skin as you reach out and pull the jacket from his tight grasp and throw it behind you. "you already paid, i don't think you should waste your money. you look too clever for that." you winked as you pushed him back against the satin couches and sat on his lap. he's sure he's forgotten how his lungs work as your fingers danced over and caressed his crows feet, down his stubbled cheek and along his jawline, all with a soft smile on your painted lips. "first time?" you whisper as your hands travel down and rest above his heart, that he was sure was about to beat out of his chest.

"that obvious?" beau manages to say, his lungs finally refilling as he remembers to breathe. a small giggle escapes you as you nod and run your hands through his surprisingly, luscious hair.

"you look too sweet to be here." you breathlessly whisper. "but don't you worry, i'll take good care of you." before beau can even react, you readjust and straddle him as your hands connect behind his neck and your hips gyrate to the beat of whatever techno song is blasting in the background. he can't focus on anything but the sensation, smell, feeling of you. your sinful eyes never leave his widened ones as you smoothly grind against him before you throw your head back and reveal your chest to him. his hungry eyes trail down the smooth valley of your breasts and down to where your bodies mould together. his hands fly up to rest on your waist but you smack them away and, to his demise, climb out of his comfortable lap.

"rule number one. no touching." you smirk as you run your hands over your curves as you swivel on the spot, glide down to your knees and crawl towards beau. his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he tries to control his breathing. your hands glide from his knees to his thighs and he freezes. so close yet so far away from where he wanted you most.

"what's rule number two?" he mumbles, his brain flooded with you.

"don't fall in love with a dancer." you laugh as you clamber onto his lap again. behind his half-lidded eyes, he silently thanks god as you rest your back against his toned chest, throwing your head back and resting on his shoulder. you continue your previous grinding with a smirk as you feel him against you, loving what you do to him. how you're able to make a man like him weak in the knees and drunk of desire. you grab the older mans hands and let them trace the outline of your body before resting on your chest.

"but it's more fun if we break rules, isn't it?" you nibble at his ear and his whole world comes undone in that single moment. he is stuttering and stammering as he gropes and squeezes your tits as if his hands were trained to do so with your heated panting against his sensitive neck and relentless grinding on his clothed cock. for the next five minutes, beau was pretty sure he had gone to heaven as your hands and lips glided over one another as the techno-beat echoed in his eardrums.

this was one sin he hoped to never be absolved from.

eventually, you slowly untangled yourself from the handsome gentleman, caressing his cheek one final time before rewarding him with a slow, deep kiss. he tried his best to remember everything: the taste of your cherry lipgloss, the comforting feel of your supple skin beneath his calloused hands, your innocent eyes and dirty words. you pulled back and cocked your head, as if examining him.

"i get off in 1 hour. if you're interested." you play with the collar of his shirt, giving him a sly smile.

"i.. i can wait." he blurts out.

"good thing, sheriff. i'm not done with you yet." you lean in and press your soft lips to his collar, leaving a bright red lipstick stain on the pristine, white shirt.

"... sheriff?" he gulps, trying to play it off. "i'm not.. you've got me mistaken–"

"oh, mr. arlen. when a sheriff as handsome as you turns up, girls will talk. and girls will want." you wink. you give his cheek one chaste kiss before hurrying out and letting the tassels glide over your skin. beau thought becoming sheriff was the best thing to happen to him. he just figured out that he was wrong.

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