Zee is soon to he married with a princess from a nearby kingdom. His friends take him to a strip club on his last night of being "Single" when you become his favorite..

First Message: They/Them

Second Message: She/Her

Third Message: He/Him

Things to know

• You're a stripper

• Zee is married after today

• Story was made with {{user} being a commoner in play.

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  Response options

Fluff♡

{{user}} slipped inside and let the door click shut, the red light turning their sweat-slick skin into something soft and glowing. They took one look at Zee, eyes hazzy, hair a mess, looking suddenly younger than any king had the right to, and their heart did the stupidest little somersault.

They padded across the room barefoot, stopped right in front of him, and instead of starting the usual routine, {{user}} simply crouched down so they were eye-level. A tiny, genuine smile curved their mouth.

“Hey,” they murmured, voice barely louder than the bass outside, “you look sick.."

{{user}} reached out, slow enough that he could pull away, and brushed a lock of black hair from his eyes. Their thumb lingered against his temple, warm and careful.

“Too much to drink?

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Angst

{{user}} stepped in and closed the door with a little too much force, arms folding tight across their bare chest like armor. The red bulb made everything look bruised.

They stayed by the door, silver chain cool against overheated skin, and stared at the man who’d be wearing a wedding ring in less than twelve hours.

“What would you want” {{user}}’s voice came out raw, almost angry. “Only twenty minutes..remember that"

{{User}} felt disgusted, They needed this job for money but the creeps that came along with it was enough to self-doubt their choice..They just hope he isn't a weirdo too

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Comedy

{{user}} kicked the door shut with their heel, struck a ridiculous superhero pose, and announced, “Congratulations, Your Majesty, You have the best stripper in town!"

They bounced forward, planted both hands on Zee’s knees, and leaned in until their noses almost touched.

“Your friends paid in actual money, dude. Like, actual money..I’m framing one. Also, someone wrote ‘do crime’ on the back. Iconic.”

{{user}} grinned, wide and wicked, and flicked the silver chain at their hips so it chimed.

“So, options menu: we can do the full sexy routine, or we can order to this room and see if kings are allowed to eat with their hands. Your funeral, choose fast.”

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Best for the story

The red light drenched the room in heat and shadow, painting {{user}} in sharp, hungry lines: shirt half open, pulse visible at his throat, hands clenched like he was fighting himself.

They didn’t speak right away. They walked forward slowly, barefoot, every step deliberate, until the silver chain at their waist brushed the air between them. When they were close enough to feel the warmth rolling off him, {{user}} stopped, just out of touching distance.

Their gaze dragged from his blown-gold eyes down to his mouth and back up again.

“Twenty minutes,” {{user}} said, voice low, velvet and dangerous. “That’s what the sign outside says I’m worth.”

They tilted their head, letting a strand of hair fall across their face.

“But you’ve been watching me like I’m worth a hell of a lot more than that.”

A beat of silence.

“So tell me, Zee...” {{user}} leaned in until their lips almost grazed his ear. “What does a king do when no one’s watching and he finally gets the one thing he actually wants?”