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meiyokbf · 15 days ago

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under your spell | megan x g!p!reader | part one

synopsis: you thought friday night meant staying in, but manon dragged you to a strip club miles from home. the usual clichés don’t prepare you for one dancer who hits the stage like she owns it. no lingerie, no fake smiles, just calculated moves and eyes locked on yours. by the time you’re handed a room key, you’re not sure who’s watching who anymore.

author’s note: not proofread, bare with me lol. and also!! you guys!! i wasn’t even going to post this today but since our meiyokie came out i had to! so so so happy for her and so happy everyone’s being supportive :)) she deserves all the love in the world! happy pride month <3

warnings: mdni. stripper!megan x g!p!reader, slightly manon x lara, mentions of alcohol, drinking, smut (blowjob, reader recieving). reader is kind of a loser lol, probably will make a part 2.

word count: 3.6k

🏷️: katseye, megan x reader, megan skiendiel x reader, katseye x reader, katseye smut, megan smut.

masterlist. | prev. | next.

you didn’t even want to go. it was a friday night, you had a shit ton of uni work to do tomorrow, and you had already worked your ass off at the gym earlier. you made manon promise she wouldn’t try to drag you out of the apartment for the weekend. she annoyed the shit out of you every time she wanted to go out, and you always caved; went with her to whatever shithole club she found on some shady instagram post, stayed there for fifteen minutes tops, and ended the night leaving her and daniela grinding on strangers while you rewatched modern family for the sixth time this year.

and now here you are, standing in front of a club whose name you couldn’t even pronounce, watching your friend dig through her purse like her life depended on it.

— why did you choose this place? of all the clubs we could go to, this one’s like a full uber ride away from our place…

— because this club is absolutely legendary, and you’ll see why in a couple of seconds, my dearest friend. — you stared at her, blankly, until a group of half-naked girls with tramp stamps and singles falling out of their purses walked out of the club.

— dude. did you bring me to a fucking brothel?

— oh my god, no??? what kind of friend do you think i am? you wound me. — she said dramatically, pulling her id from her purse and signaling for you to do the same. manon handed hers to the absolute butchiest stud you’ve ever seen guarding the door, and you followed suit; only to receive two condoms in return, making you shoot her a wide-eyed look.

— well technically, it’s just a normal strip club. with some fun little rooms built inside…

— i’m staying for twenty minutes and then i’m bouncing. got it? — manon rolled her eyes but nodded, knowing damn well that was the best deal she was gonna get out of you. — and you’re getting me a beer.

you had just opened your bottle when the “performances” started. hanging near the bar was good enough for you; while manon was already separating her money like a bratz doll doing her taxes. the lights went down, some sensual music started playing, and you immediately rolled your eyes. could this be any more cliché?

the first girl came on stage; she looked indian, wearing a two-piece green lingerie set, and started dancing with this slow, confident rhythm while staring down the crowd in front of her. she was good, no denying that. you looked over at manon and saw her happily slipping singles into the girl’s thong like a five-year-old feeding a vending machine. it made you laugh a little, even.

you took a sip of your beer, checked your phone, wondering how much longer this self-inflicted torture would last before you could return to the sweet embrace of your bed and whatever episode cam and mitchell were losing their minds in.

you turned your phone off and looked back at the stage. the indian girl had just left, and now the lights were changing again. the music was less tacky this time; some pop song you didn’t recognize, and then she walked in.

and she wasn’t like the others.

she wasn’t wearing lingerie or anything super revealing. instead, she had on a tight black tank top, tiny black shorts and silver accessories. somehow, she looked way hotter than all the other girls whose uteruses were practically waving hello at you. she moved slowly, deliberately. like every step had purpose. and yeah, it probably did; this was her job. but still, there was something different about the way she did it.

she didn’t look at anyone. she didn’t perform for anyone. she was dancing like she was the only one in the room. like she didn’t need anyone’s gaze. but she still owned it. and then, her eyes met yours.

just for a second. and that was enough.

she didn’t look away.

and you were right. she was dancing for herself. but now? now she was dancing for you too. her eyes stayed locked on yours, and there was the faintest smirk on her lips. like she knew exactly what she was doing. like she was having fun with the way you were reacting.

your mouth went dry. your legs tensed. and between them, yeah. your dick was doing things. you felt like the worst kind of straight man alive.

and just when you thought it couldn’t get worse; she took off her shirt.

you almost broke the damn beer bottle in your hand.

who the fuck was this girl?

the show ended. she scooped the cash up with one smooth motion, and; just before walking off stage, she looked at you one last time. and disappeared.

you stood there like an idiot. that girl had just made you feel fire burning through your veins and then vanished into the night like a cat that knows exactly when to disappear before you can pet it.

manon came over, and her smile was so wide it looked like her face might split in two.

— see? not that bad, right? better than that nerd ass star fight convention you go to every year.

— first of all, it’s star wars, not star fights. if you’re gonna roast me, at least get the name right. second of all… do you know who that last girl was? — you finished your beer in one go, making manon raise her eyebrows.

— you mean jade? yeah, she’s something, huh? — the ghanaian girl grinned, clearly already a fan. — last time i came here, she did a split on stage while twerking. we stuffed her panties with ten-dollar bills like it was a charity drive.

— so interesting that i lent you 150 bucks and you’re out here donating it to hookers every weekend.”

manon looked offended.

— for the millionth time, they are not hookers, dumbass. — she smacked your arm, and you laughed. — if you respected me, i’d be a good friend and hook you up with miss jade over there. but now i want you to die alone.

— stop being so dramatic, for once. you are a good friend, and you will, in fact, hook me up with her.

— please. what are you even gonna do? shove that lego lightsaber you keep between your legs into her?

before you could respond with an appropriate level of rage, the first performer walked toward you two; and you could almost feel manon’s jaw dropping from where you were standing.

she had that kind of smile that made her look almost unreal — mysterious eyes, lingerie clinging to her perfect curves, and a presence that made your spine straighten on instinct.

— well, if it isn’t my favorite fan?

— biggest admirer, and yours truly, manon. — she said, kissing the back of the stripper’s hand like a total simp. you rolled your eyes. there was nothing gentlemanly about a girl who had an entire empty lays packaging collection next to her bed.

— very, very nice to finally meet you, manon. but i’m actually here to give your friend something. — she turned to you, and you blinked in confusion. she handed you a key. it had the number “21” and a cherry drawing on it.

— end of the hall. someone’s waiting for you.

you hesitated, glancing at manon; even if she was annoying as hell, you didn’t love the idea of leaving her alone in this place. — don’t worry, i’ll take very good care of miss manon over here while you’re gone.

— see, dude? now get the fuck out. bye-bye! — manon pushed you like a kid pushing their mom once she dropped them off at summer camp, and you rolled your eyes as you finally turned and left.

you walked all the way down the hallway, passing by numbered doors, muffled giggles, and, most bizarre of all, completely different soundtracks leaking out of each room. it felt like each door was its own little parallel universe. some had sensual r&b, others were blasting k-pop (?), and at one point you swear you heard the harry potter theme.

don’t ask. don’t look back. just keep walking.

when you finally reached door 21, the one with the little cherry sticker on the key, you stood there for a second. just… stood there. you weren’t nervous; or maybe you were. it wasn’t clear. you’ve had your fair share of messy nights, but this? this was absurdly out of your comfort zone. you were a “read the wikipedia page and the sources” kind of person, not a “walk into a mysterious club room where a literal goddess might be waiting” kinda person.

and yet here you were.

you unlocked the door.

and she was already there. jade. sitting casually on a velvet couch like it was her throne, legs crossed, wearing the same outfit from the performance, with her bare chest looking at you; out and proud. she didn’t say anything at first. just looked at you like she knew exactly how fast your heart was racing.

you opened your mouth to say something, probably something stupid, but she got up before any sound came out and walked toward you slowly, deliberately.

— you’re cuter up close.

her voice was smooth and warm, like honey stirred into tea. but there was a glint in her eye; mischief, maybe. hunger.

you let out a nervous laugh. — yeah, well. you’re… insane.

she tilted her head. — good insane or bad insane?

— the kind that makes someone watch one dance and consider faking their own death just to move into your basement.

that made her laugh. genuinely. and that eased something in your chest. just a little. you were relieved that she wasn’t weirded out by your own weirdness.

she stepped closer and, without asking, took the empty bottle of beer from your hand and set it on the dresser beside the couch. then her fingers; cold at first, brushed your jaw.

— let’s play a little game, baby. i’m gonna ask you three questions. for every one you answer honestly, you get a reward. lie, and you go back to your little beer at the bar. deal?

you blinked. — do i even have a choice?

— not really.

she took a step back, like she needed space to see you properly. her arms crossed over her bare chest, but not in a closed-off way. more like she was sizing you up. like this was part of the game, and she was already winning.

— first question… — she said, cocking her head slightly. — …what exactly did you think about when i took my shirt off?

you didn’t answer right away. your mouth opened, then closed. then you licked your lips and gave the most nonchalant shrug you could pull out of your ass.

— that i was going to hell.

jade grinned. — good answer. very catholic of you.

she walked over and pressed a kiss to your jawline; featherlight, like a secret.

— that’s your first reward.

you tried not to react too much and failed spectacularly. she took her time with the next question. she paced a little, running her fingers along the edge of the couch, like she was deciding how mean to be.

— second question. what do you want me to do to you?

this one hit a little lower. literally. you shifted your weight, suddenly too aware of how warm the room was. your brain short-circuited for a second. then you cleared your throat and gave her a look that tried; and mostly failed, to be confident.

— i want…

she raised an eyebrow. — careful now. you only get one sentence.

you exhaled. — i want you to make me forget my own name.

her eyes lit up. not in surprise; in satisfaction. like she’d known you’d say something like that, and she was so ready to deliver.

she pushed you down gently, and you landed on the couch behind you. jade straddled your lap without warning, her hands resting on your shoulders.

— that was a very, very good answer.

her mouth found yours before you could reply, slow and purposeful at first, then deeper, with this soft little noise from her throat that made your whole body shiver. her fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, dragging it up slowly like she wanted to memorize the feel of your skin.

you’d had kisses before. you’d had hookups before. but this felt different. not rushed, not transactional. like she meant it.

she pulled back, just enough to talk against your lips.

— third question... when you woke up this morning… — she trailed a finger down your chest. — did you have any idea tonight would end like this?

you laughed breathlessly. — absolutely not.

— wrong.

you blinked. — what?

she leaned in, whispering against your ear:

— the moment you put that tight-ass shirt on, showing off these muscles, you knew you were having someone on their knees tonight.

and before you could argue back, her teeth grazed your neck. she kissed your skin hungrily, as if it was the last thing she would ever do in her life. your hands went straight to her waist, in an attempt to bring her closer to you. and this time, it was rougher. a little messier. there was no more teasing. she tasted like cherry gum, whiskey and something distinctly hers; sharp and addictive, like biting into something you weren’t supposed to want, but did anyway.

your fingers curled against her waist, digging in just enough to make her shift above you, slow and deliberate. her mouth trailed down from your lips to your throat, then lower still, every kiss a promise wrapped in silk and teeth.

— you’re so warm, baby… — she murmured, like it was a secret she hadn’t meant to say out loud. — i could stay right here forever.

you would’ve let her. fuck, you would’ve begged.

her hands explored like they had all the time in the world. slow circles at your hips, a thumb brushing under the waistband of your jeans just to feel you twitch. at this point, your dick was already rock hard under your pants, trying its best to be released from the fabric. you were trying to play it cool, trying not to give her the satisfaction; but she saw through it. of course she did.

— trying to be good, baby? — she whispered, tongue flicking out to taste the answer before you could speak. — or are you just waiting for me to make you bad?

your breath caught. she smiled.

she shifted again, grinding down on your cock just enough to draw a sound out of you that you didn’t even recognize as your own. like a prayer torn from a throat that never learned how to kneel.

— mmm… there it is. — her voice was velvet and smoke. — that’s what i wanted to hear.

and when she finally dragged her hands lower; no hurry, just cruel patience, it was like being unravelled by a storm you’d walked into on purpose. feeling her hands grabbing your cock made you go to heaven and back in just one second. she unzipped your pants with just one hand, with a mastery that made you think she was even hotter. your member hit your stomach once your zipper was completely open, leaking enough pre-cum to stain your boxers; which made her laugh a little. — fuck, i can’t wait to taste you…

she started to stroke you slowly, as if she wanted to torture you on purpose. your hips bucked involuntarily, wanting to feel her hand as much as you could. everything else faded: the music from the hallway, the fact that you didn’t even know what time it was, your name, your rules, the little voice in your head that usually kept you safe.

gone.

just heat, pressure, her.

you clung to her like you were falling. maybe you were. but god, what a way to go.

her mouth was everywhere now; neck, collarbone, that soft spot just below your ear that made your stomach knot and your fingers tighten around her. every touch was purposeful, like she was writing something on your skin in a language only your nerves could understand.

you didn’t speak. couldn’t.

your brain had gone quiet in the best way; no spirals, no second guesses. just sensation. just her.

her hand stopped for a second just to slid beneath your shirt again, this time tugging it upward with slow, unbothered confidence, like she was unwrapping a gift she already knew she wanted.

— arms up, baby.

it wasn’t a question.

you obeyed without thinking, shirt discarded somewhere behind the couch like it never mattered. her eyes roamed over you then—hungry, appreciative, almost reverent.

— fuck… — she said it like a blessing, soft and full of heat. — look at you.

she climbed back into your lap, knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your hips. your bare chest met hers; warmth against warmth, and it sent another shiver rippling through you. her hands slid up your back, nails trailing lightly as her hips began to roll again, slow and devastating.

you couldn’t help it; you bucked up, chasing more friction, more of her.

she laughed, low and breathy, and kissed you again, deeper this time.

messier. wetter.

you were falling apart in her hands, and she knew.

she loved it.

her mouth dropped lower, tongue tracing down your chest, your ribs, your stomach; every inch of you claimed by heat and lips and the scratch of her teeth when she decided you could handle a little more.

you gasped, one hand slipping into her hair.

not pulling her away. never that.

you were just grounding yourself. trying to remember how to breathe.

she looked up at you from where she’d paused, mouth hovering just above the edge of your waistband, fingers hooked there lazily.

— still doing okay? — she asked it sweetly, but her eyes told a different story; dark, wicked, knowing.

you nodded, because words had long since failed you.

— good. — she grinned, slow and smug. — then i’m not stopping ’til you forget what breathing feels like.

and just like that, jade wrapped her lips around your throbbing cock, and you stopped caring about anything but the way her name tasted in your mouth when you moaned it. — oh, fuck…

her name slipped out of you like it had always been there; half prayer, half curse, drawn out from somewhere deeper than language. she smiled against your skin when she heard it, the kind of smile you could feel; lips curved, warm breath ghosting over you, a hum of satisfaction in her throat like she’d just tuned the frequency of your body and found the perfect pitch.

— you’re so tense, baby… — she murmured, knuckles brushing dangerously low. — let me fix that.

and god, you let her.

you fell back against the couch cushions, jaw slack, pulse loud in your ears. your hands made a makeshift ponytail on her hair, trying to hold onto something solid while she stripped you down like she owned you, like this was her personal ritual and you were the altar.

then her mouth was blowing you again, her cheeks hollowed out as she tried to get more suction.

she was slow about it at first. torturously slow. tongue dragging, lips parting, hands keeping your hips pinned just enough to remind you who was in control here. and you wanted her to have it. every inch of it. every ragged sound you made, every trembling muscle, every helpless roll of your hips.

you were unraveling, and she was watching you come apart like it was art. like your wreckage was her masterpiece.

— that’s it, baby… — she whispered when your fingers threaded tighter into her hair. — don’t hold back now. i want to hear you.

and you gave her everything.

no filters. no pride. just need, bleeding out of you in sounds you couldn’t stop if you tried.

when she picked up the pace, it was like something inside you cracked wide open; pure sensation rushing in, blinding, aching, perfect. your spine arched, your thighs tensed, and the pressure built so fast it almost scared you.

you tried to warn her. tried to say her name again, to tell her you were close, but she didn’t stop. didn’t want you to speak.

she just looked up at you with those dark, wicked eyes and moaned around you; low, deliberate, like she knew what it would do to you. like she wanted to be the last thought in your head before you shattered. — cum for me, love… let me taste you, please…

and then you came.

not gently. not quietly.

you broke.

and she held you through it, every wave, every breathless tremor, every raw piece of you laid bare in her hands. — that’s it, love… give it all to me.

by the time you could open your eyes again, she was back on your lap, straddling you like nothing had changed; but everything had.

she was smiling, a little smug, a little proud.

she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and kissed your cheek sweetly, almost innocently.

— so… — she whispered against your ear — ready for round two?

your laugh came out half-wrecked, half-dazed. — i don’t think i ever stood a chance with you, jade.

she pulled back just enough to look at you again.

— megan. — she said, cupping your face with both hands like you were fragile now, something precious she’d broken and would spend the rest of the night putting back together. — my name is megan.

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