Hetalia Strips Novels & Stories

"I wasn't going to say this, Alpha. But I think it makes sense now." "And what could that be?" I asked curiously. I tried to be very calm. "Did you find something?" "The stripper, she was Diego's mate." "Diego? Who is that?" "The Alpha prince of the crescent pack. It is said that she got rejected by him a couple of days ago." "Hmm," I exhaled and settled back on the couch. "Do you believe that?" "Maybe it's all an act. Or there is more. Perhaps, she has to get him the bracelet to be accepted back by him."

Though, she protested against it, Lola didn’t take no for an answer and she squeezed her into the tiny frame. Now, they were leaning against the wall, silently devouring their popsicles in front of a neon-lit strip club sign whose fluorescent glow casted a shadow across the sidewalk. June tilted her head as a question slipped past her lips. “Do you enjoy stripping?” “Yes,” Lola answered without a second thought, making June snap her head toward her in surprise. June asked with a tone of disbelief. “Really?” Lola nodded, licking the top of her ice cream with a carefree smile that almost seemed out of place given the conversation. “Yep, really.”

"It all started when Alpha Geneva told me am going to be stripping for him the next day. I had got to his room that unlucky morning and couldn't move a muscle. Like I had told you, I didn't feel the urge that usually cones around when am about stripping so I had to tell him that. And yes, even though he was the least generous, he did gave me some hours to get out of his room and find a way to get myself together." "And instantly, even though I knew no place in this pack, I know where the little clubhouse was located- so I immediately headed down there as I knew that was the only thing that can get me together and bring back the me I always feel in me whenever am about stripping. I was paid t

I whispered at last, the words so soft they barely felt real as they left my lips. He tilted his head slightly, studying me, his eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and something darker, as if he were weighing the truth of my confession. His voice dropped, low and unfiltered, more honest than gentle. “But you work at the club as a stripper, right? You don’t have a boyfriend. Or were you trying to keep yourself?”

"It's not funny." "It's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me." Garrison straightened, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "My perfect son. My self-righteous, principled son who spent his entire adult life looking down at me for falling for a stripper." He shook his head slowly. "And his fated mate is exactly the same." "She's nothing like Lydia." "No?" The smile turned. "She takes her clothes off for money. Dances for men she doesn't know. Human, I'm guessing. No pack, no protection, nobody standing in her corner." He let that sit for a moment.

“I don’t really know much. Whenever they’re there for the meeting, they make all the strippers and bottle girls wear these customized headphones they bring along themselves. As a stripper, you strip to whatever song you can hear through the headphones. As a bottle girl, you have loud music playing. Whenever they want a bottle, your music stops, you get the orders, and then your music automatically comes back on. I don’t know why they do it, but there’s no way you can hear or see anything even if you’re right in front of them stripping. They’re so organized and don’t make too much noise.” She paused, then added, “But there was something about all of them. The few I’ve been opportuned to strip

I could still feel the warmth of her lips, the mocking confidence she had when she put her mouth on me, driving me to the brink of insanity. And she was a stripper, too. The title alone carried a mountain of assumptions, a narrative I had constructed to keep myself from treating her like something fragile. I shifted my weight, testing the boundaries of her tightness by moving my hip just a fraction of an inch—a slow, cautious tilt that was meant to ease the pressure. A sharp intake of air caught in her throat, her head tossing against the pillows as a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracking a damp path down her temple into her dark hair.

But I was no one so I had no strength or power to do anything back but give him a death stare. “I am a respected Alpha. I work night and day to make everyone happy and apparently, my mate isn’t. Then I have you. A stripper telling me to make things work with her like I haven’t been. I’ve done everything! Yet you were able to read me better than she ever did.”

) “Quante volte devo rivendicare il tuo corpo con i miei segni? Non importa, mogliettina, lo farò finché quella fottuta cosa non si siederà nel tuo cervello grande quanto una nocciolina!” (How many times do I have to claim your body with my marks? Never mind, wifey, I’ll do it until that fucking thing sits in your peanut size brain!) The voice keeps poking his ears. His half closed eyes did not let him sleep fully. He was disappointed because the thing was not leaving him even if it was a dream. But that innocent soul did not know that whatever he was listening to was real. He tried to close his eyes fully before covering his face with the quilt. And before drifting to sleep, “Striscia!” was

Wow, I just stood there, dazed, my brain struggling yet failing to comprehend what just happened. My stripping career just ended. What the fuck just happened?