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highinmiamiii · 2 days

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you can be the boss 🦢

Club owner!Joe Kessler x Stripper Reader x DBF!Billy Butcher

18+ smut mdni

(a/n): new installment to club kess! i love this au soooo much kess is such a dirtbag, he’s kinda hard for me to write so i apologize if things are not as smooth sailing as you might expect. i hope you all enjoy this more sugar daddyish oriented smut chapter i was feeling smutty…perhaps we will get more sugar daddy shenanigans in the future before butcher decides he needs kessler gone asap. i love them being jealous of eachother its so hot, anyways

(CW: in general just stay away if you’re uncomfortable by anything sexual bc this is pretty filthy. fingering, squirting, slight daddyish dynamic, arguement w butcher, idk what else)

The dim glow of Kessler’s modern penthouse was a sharp contrast to the harsh reality she faced daily. The space was a testament to excess—a grand apartment bathed in dark marble, glass and metals, where every piece of furniture looked more out of some sort of sterile futuristic hospital than the last. Black velvet drapes, rich and heavy, framed the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cigars and fine leather.

Tonight, she was a vision in a black silk dress that clung to her every curve, the material shimmering under the soft, ambient lighting. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, each step resonating with the weight of her uncertainty. The dress’s plunging neckline and thigh-high slit revealed just enough to captivate yet leave much to the imagination. Her makeup was impeccable—smoky eyes and red lips that promised allure. Her hair cascaded in glossy waves, framing her face in a way that only enhanced her beauty further.

Kessler lounged on an overstuffed leather sofa, his presence larger than life. He had a predatory grace about him, his eyes glinting with unspoken promises. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice smooth as silk. “You look fuckin’ gorgeous tonight. I must say, the way that dress hugs you—” He let the compliment trail off, his gaze lingering in a manner both admiring and possessive.

She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the subtle pressure his gaze exerted. “Thank you, Mr. Kessler,” she replied, attempting to mask her discomfort with a polite smile.

Kessler’s smile widened, revealing a glint of white teeth. “Call me Joe, darling. ‘Mr. Kessler’ makes me sound like a schoolteacher. Now, let’s talk business.” He gestured toward a bottle of vintage champagne resting in an ice bucket nearby, his hand lingering just a fraction too long on her arm as he led her to sit beside him.

As she settled on the sofa, he poured the champagne with practiced elegance, his eyes never straying far from her. “You know, baby, I’ve been thinking about our last conversation. You’ve got something special, and I’d hate to see that talent go to waste.”

Her heart raced at his words. She thought back to the other day when he spoke to her in his office. The promises of stardom hanging heavy between them since them “H-how so?”

Kessler leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m talking about making you a star. Not just any star, but one of those dazzling lights that everyone will want to see. I could maybe even get ya in a film one day”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to read his intentions. “And what’s in it for you?”

A smirk played on his lips as he handed her a thick envelope stuffed with cash. “Absolutely nothing sweetheart, just a little something to show my appreciation. Get yourself something nice to wear. Don’t worry about the details just yet. We’re going to get you out of this town, baby. It’s only a matter of time.”

The envelope felt heavy in her hands, its weight a reminder of her growing dependence on Kessler’s promises. As she hesitated, he reached out and gently stroked her cheek. “Relax, darling. You’re in good hands.”

His thick strong hands roamed their way down her waist, gently turning her over so her back is facing him. He starts to dig his fingers deep into the blades of her back, kneading the skin and helping her release every last knot “Mmm, so tense baby” He huffs and kneads rougher, causing a pleasured gasp to escape her throat “fuck..” She whispers, cracking her neck

Kessler’s hands continued their slow, deliberate work on her back, each stroke more possessive than the last. His breath was hot against her neck, close enough to send shivers down her spine. He was playing a dangerous game—one that blurred the lines between manipulation and seduction.

“Can’t have my girls all tense like this,” Kessler whispered, his lips grazing her ear, voice low and full of promise. “You’ve been carrying too much weight on those pretty shoulders.”

He pushed her hair aside and trailed soft kisses down the back of her neck, his lips lingering just enough to make her pulse quicken. She tensed, unsure how to respond. Part of her mind screamed to pull away, but her body betrayed her, leaning back into his touch, craving the attention despite the warning signs flashing in her head.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers now tracing circles along her hips, drawing her closer into him. “I’ll take care of everything. You just let me handle it.”

His hands roamed lower, teasingly brushing against her waist as he spun her around to face him. Kessler’s dark eyes were filled with desire and power, a dangerous mix that made her heart race. He pulled her closer, into his lap so that she’s straddling his waist.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Kessler growled softly, his hand now caressing her cheek, thumb tracing her lips. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you, baby? The way you move, the way you look at me… it drives me wild.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips crashing against hers with an intensity that made her knees weak. The kiss was hard and demanding, filled with the same possessiveness that had been building between them since the start. His hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as his tongue slid against hers, coaxing her deeper into the moment.

Her mind swirled with conflicting emotions. She knew this was wrong—knew that he was manipulating her, bending her to his will. But in that moment, with his hands on her and his words washing over her, it was hard to remember the reasons why she had to resist.

He pressed her against the wall, his lips finding their way to her jaw, her throat, marking her with each kiss. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispered against her skin, the promise dripping with desire and control. “You won’t need anyone else. Just me.”

Her breath quickened, and she felt his hand slide down to her thigh, lifting her leg slightly so that he could press himself harder against her. It was overwhelming, the way he commanded the situation, the way he took control without giving her time to think. Kessler pulled back just enough to speak, his voice husky with lust. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s what you do to this ol’ man, eh? you proud of that?” He says teasingly as he breathes heavily into your ear

As his lips found hers again, she kissed him back with a desperation that surprised even her. It wasn’t just the money, or the promises—it was the way he made her feel in moments like this. Powerful, desired, and yet, completely under his thumb. A stark contrast to how Billy made her feel.

The only time she would feel any sort of reciprocation from Butcher when he was off his rockers or blackout drunk. You’d looked up to him since you were a literal little girl. Of course you had a dumb schoolgirl crush on him, but that didn’t matter right now. Not with Kessler holding you like this, making you feel so sexy, so wanted, spoiling you every last chance he got. Fuck Billy. If he didn’t want her sober then she was going to find someone world’s better for her.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, she knew the truth: the more she gave in, the more she’d lose of herself. But then again, it was a much better feeling to have someone want you without having to consume enough alcohol to kill a small animal for once.

Kessler’s hands slid up her waist again, his grip firm. “You won’t ever need to work for those tips again,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “You’re too good for that. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

She pulled back, her breath ragged as she searched his eyes. “And what do you get out of this, Joe?…” She asked, honestly not wanting to deal with her suspicions right now and see him as the perfect man…but she had to, it seemed like a very unfair trade here.

He smirked, that devilish grin lighting up his face. “I get you, sweetheart. That’s more than enough.”

Her mind was screaming at her to step away, to leave, but instead, she stayed there, pinned between Kessler and the wall, completely unsure of where to go from here.

Kessler's gaze held hers captive, his eyes darkening with intensity. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek before tangling in her hair. "Why do you always have to be so unsure about everything, huh babygirl?" he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Kessler's hands tightened around her waist, his fingers splayed possessively over her hips. "You know, when you're being difficult, it makes me want to put you over my knee and spank some sense into you." He growled, his voice low and menacing.

Her eyes widened, her face flushing a deep shade of red. "W-What?... Over your knee?... Like a- a fucking a child?" She stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re sicker than I thought you were Kess” She mutters with a soft nervous chuckle. Kessler grinned wickedly, enjoying her flustered reaction. "Well, sweetheart, you're acting like a damn brat right now, ain't you? Maybe a good spanking is just what you need to learn some respect." His hands squeezed her backside, his intent clear.

She nervously stutters out “Y-you know what- it’s getting late kess—“

Kessler silenced her protests with a searing kiss, his hands gripping her thighs and hoisting her up. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms looping around his neck. "Then perhaps," he said against her lips, "you should show me some obedience instead, young lady."

Her mind was racing, but her body betrayed her, clinging to him as he carried her to the bedroom. She buried her face in his neck, murmuring “y-yes Mr. Kessler”

He hikes her dress up past her ass, his palm smacking loudly against the plump fat, her skin rippling as she yelps in shock “Told ya not to fuckin’ call me that, didn’t I babygirl?”

She gasped as his palm connected with her bottom, the sharp smack echoing in the room. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she buried her face deeper into his neck, letting out a choked sob "Y-yes- m’sorry” she whines helplessly

Kessler's hand caressed her reddened flesh soothingly, his touch gentle despite the earlier roughness. "Good girl." He praised, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's see if you can ride my hand like one"

Kessler felt a surge of protectiveness well up within him. He could feel her body quivering against his, her breath coming in ragged, tear-choked gasps. Her vulnerability stirred something primal within him, a need to cherish and control her in equal measure. She let out a soft, shuddering breath as his hand caressed her stinging backside, her body still tensed from the sudden, humiliating punishment. The heat from his palm seeped into her skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. His touch gentled, his fingers trailing along the crease of her bottom, pausing to squeeze the tender flesh possessively before slipping lower. She could feel his knuckles brushing against her thighs, parting them ever so slightly.

Kessler wrapped an arm around her waist and tossed her facedown on the mattress, her breath hitching as she bounced slightly. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs and pinning her hips down with one beefy, tattooed arm wrapped around her waist. His other hand snaked beneath her, groping along her inner thighs until it reached the hem of her lace underwear. He paused, his thick fingers toying with the delicate fabric before he slowly began to drag it aside, revealing the tender flesh beneath.

As he exposed her soaked pussy, he let out a low, appreciative growl. "Fuck, look at you," he muttered, his breath hot against her ear. "Fucking soaked, just for me. dripping all over my sheets, aren't you, sweetness?" Her cheeks flamed with embarrassed heat as she buried her face in the mattress, muffling her moans. His thick fingers parted her folds, slowly sliding up and down her slick crease. “Answer me," he demanded gruffly, punctuating his words with firm pressure against her hole.

“Y-yes” she gasps out softly, wondering how the hell she got here. she had promised butcher that she wasn’t sleeping with kessler, especially not for his money…so what the hell was she doing letting him touch her like this. Her mind raced as Kessler's touch grew bolder, his fingers pumping in and out of her as his thumb swirled around her sensitive little pulsing nub, soaking up her guilty secret. "Squeezin’ me and i’ve barely got two fingers in, got the tightest pretty little pussy i’ve ever laid eyes on, baby" he growled, his breath hot against her ear.

Kessler's fingers curled inward, pressing against her g-spot as he continued to talk dirty to her. "that’s a good fuckin’ girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "let's see just how messy we can get’er, eh?”

She bit down on her lip to silence her cries as he slowly added a third finger, stretching her wide. His touch grew more insistent, his thumb rubbing firm circles over her swollen nub while his fingers pumped in and out of her, slowly gaining speed.

“oh yeah baby, doin’ so well..” he rasped, his tone filled with approval. “This little cunts gripping my fingers so tight, all soaked and sloppy... that old fuck that comes around the club- what’s his name sweetheart?— “

“W-wha—“ She mumbles, rolling her neck in pleasure as she arches her back slightly. “jeeesus- i- i don’t know who you’re talking about-“

“The motherfucker that picks ya up babygirl, think I don’t ask around? Butcher, was it? He bury his fingers this deep in ya like I am now?"

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled moan as he hit that spot inside her again and again. Her eyes rolled back, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to keep his fingers inside her, but he just pushed them in even deeper. Her back bowed, pushing her rear higher into the air as unbridled pleasure coursed through her veins like liquid fire. Each thrust of his fingers against that magical spot sent shockwaves through her core, her inner walls clutching at him greedily, desperate to keep him inside.

"Mmm, does he make you feel like this?" Kessler growled, his breath hot against her ear. "does he make you shake and whimper like my touch does? does he make you beg for his touch, sweetheart?"

"No, Billy means nothing," she stammered, her back arching off the bed as Kessler's fingers hit that magic spot inside her. "We've never— really done anything. He's always drunk, and I've never… never even gotten close to finishing with him…I-I swear…”

Kessler's eyes widened in disbelief as she spoke, his fingers pausing inside her for a moment before he started moving again, faster and harder. "What the fuck, sweetheart? He's never even gotten you off?" "He's not my boyfriend," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. "He's just... around. And when he is, he's drunk or asleep. Oh god, Kess, please..." Kessler groaned softly, his mind racing with the realization that he was likely the only one who'd ever touched her like this, who'd ever brought her to the brink of release. His fingers curled inside her, his thumb rubbing her swollen nub with quick, firm circles. "You're so close, babygirl. I can feel you pulsating around my fingers. You're gonna come for me like this, ain't ya? Y’don’t need him..” She nodded frantically, her body trembling as his words washed over her. "Yes, Kess, yes, d-don’t need him! I've never... I've never even touched myself like this. Only you, only your fingers—and oh god, I'm so close!"

Her back bowed, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as the most intense pleasure she'd ever known exploded within her. It was like a dam breaking, her insides convulsing as waves of pure ecstasy crashed over her. Kessler's mouth dropped open as she cried out, her body convulsing as a torrent of her release gushed out, drenching his hand. "Holy fuck...made my girl fuckin’ squirt" he breathed, watching in awe as her body trembled and quaked.

He quickly moved to clean her up, his tongue delving between her folds to lap up every last drop. She whimpered and shuddered, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as he ate her out like a starving man.

Kessler's face buried between her thighs, his tongue ravaging her soaked flesh as he licked up every last trace of her release. She quivered uncontrollably, her hips bucking against his mouth, overly sensitized from the mind-shattering climax. "K-Kess... it's too much...,"

He gentled his touch, lapping at her slowly, thoroughly cleaning her up before placing soft kisses on her inner thighs and belly. He crawled up beside her, pulling her against his chest as they both caught their breath.

That next morning, sun seeping in through the floor-to-ceiling windows as his his housemaid sweeps the floor. Soft jazz played in the background, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and ease. She, in a delicate white lacy dress that contrasted starkly with the darkness of her previous attire, felt like she was stepping into a world far removed from her own struggles. This dress, with its intricate lace detailing and short little poofy skirt, was both elegant and suggestive—a perfect blend of innocence and allure.

Kessler greeted her with an almost theatrical flourish. “There she is, my starlet,” he crooned, his eyes dark with something akin to possessiveness.

Weeks later, her role at Club Kessler had evolved significantly. She had been promoted to a bottle service girl, a coveted position that allowed her to cater to the club’s high-profile clientele. The VIP area, with its plush seating and private booths, was a stark contrast to the main stage where she once performed. The exclusivity of her new role seemed like a step toward the future Kessler had promised her.

Kessler’s possessiveness, however, became more apparent with each passing night. She, now clad in a glittering silver mini-dress that showcased her toned legs and accentuated her every move, was serving a particularly influential client. As she danced for him, her movements fluid and practiced, she noticed Kessler watching from the shadows, his gaze intense and scrutinizing.

After the dance, Kessler approached her with a dangerous smile. “Baby, I need to talk to you.”

Her heart sank. She followed him to a quieter corner of the club, where the sound of the music seemed distant and hollow. “What’s wrong?”

He placed a hand on her arm, his touch possessive. “I saw what you were doing out there. It’s not what I want for you. You’re not just another girl in this club; you’re special. I don’t want you giving private dances anymore.”

She blinked, stunned. “But… how am I supposed to make money? I work off tips.”

Kessler’s smile faltered for a brief moment before returning with a more sinister edge. “Don’t worry about it. From now on, I’ll take care of everything. You’re not here to earn a living, sweetheart; you’re here to shine.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders. Her independence was slipping away, replaced by a sense of obligation and dependency. The last shred of her dignity—the money she had earned herself—was now a distant memory.

Kessler’s manipulation became more pronounced. The cash he handed her grew in volume, and his control over her life tightened with each passing day. She felt the weight of her dependence on him—a growing burden that overshadowed the promises of fame and freedom.

The bell above the door chimed as Butcher stepped into the shop, his presence a familiar weight that made the cramped space feel even smaller. She stood behind the counter, hands smoothing over a pile of folded shirts, trying not to let her fingers tremble. The shop smelled like old leather and wood polish, mixed with the faint tang of motor oil from the garage out back. It was the kind of place that felt worn-in, like a pair of boots broken just right.

Butcher, in his usual dark coat, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, looked out of place here—too rough, too loud for the quiet, slow-moving world of the shop. His heavy boots echoed off the wooden floors as he strode past the racks, eyes landing on her in that way that always made her feel exposed. He had that same look tonight—like he knew something wasn’t right but wasn’t sure how to ask.

She wore a pale pink dress today, soft and frilled at the edges, the kind of thing that made her feel delicate, though she’d long forgotten how to be. It hugged her figure just enough to feel pretty without trying, but now, under Butcher’s stare, it felt like too much. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the dress, fidgeting in that way she did when she was nervous.

“Bit late, don’t ya think?” she asked, her voice light but brittle as she glanced up at him. He looked tired. The kind of tired that sunk deep into the bones, making everything heavy. He didn’t answer right away, just made his way over to the counter, resting his elbows on it as he leaned toward her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to read something there.

“You closing up soon?” His voice was low, rough, but there was something softer beneath it, hidden beneath the layers of his gruff exterior.

“Yeah, just waiting on one last customer,” she said, nodding to the back where an old man was browsing the shelves with deliberate slowness. He didn’t seem in a rush to leave, and neither did Butcher, it seemed.

He grunted in response, shifting his weight. “Didn’t think you’d be workin’ this late.”

She shrugged, eyes dropping to the counter, fingers running over the grain of the wood, tracing the tiny nicks and scratches that had accumulated over the years. “Needed the hours,” she muttered. Butcher knew why, even if she didn’t say it outright. The debt. Kessler. Everything she’d tangled herself in.

A silence fell between them, thick and heavy like the dusk settling outside. She could feel him watching her, that familiar gaze that made her skin itch, like he could see all the things she was trying to hide. It was always like this with Butcher—he didn’t have to say much to make her feel like she was under a microscope.

“You alright?” His question was simple, but there was weight to it, like it held more than just casual concern.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, too quickly, her voice wavering just enough to betray her. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the cracks.

Butcher tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if to study her closer. “Ya sure ‘bout that, Doll?”

She hated how easily that nickname slipped out of him, how it softened her resolve even when she didn’t want it to. She glanced up, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking away. He always had a way of getting under her skin, seeing through her defenses without even trying.

The old man at the back of the shop coughed, a reminder that they weren’t alone. Butcher straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest, looking like he was about to say something when the customer shuffled to the front, a stack of books in hand.

She stepped away from Butcher, her heart pounding in her chest, and rang up the sale with hands that were a little too shaky. The man didn’t seem to notice as he gathered his things and nodded politely, heading for the door. The bell chimed again as it swung shut behind him, leaving her alone with Butcher.

The air felt thicker now, the shop quieter. Butcher took a step toward her, his fingers drumming on the countertop. “Doll,” he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

She looked at him finally, really looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of a world that wasn’t entirely his. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His coat was rumpled, like he’d been wearing it for too long, and his shirt was half untucked, one side pulled loose where his belt cut into his waist. But there was something else too—something softer, buried deep in the lines of his face. Concern, maybe. Or guilt. She couldn’t tell anymore.

“I’m fine, Butcher,” she repeated, but this time her voice was quieter, more tired than defiant. She wiped her hands on her dress, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “You don’t need to keep checking in on me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah? And who’s gonna check in on ya if I don’t?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for too long. She didn’t answer, didn’t know how to. Her eyes drifted to the door, then back to him, and suddenly the space between them felt too small, too intimate.

“I can take care of myself,” she muttered, more to convince herself than him. She didn’t even believe it anymore.

Butcher’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “I ain’t sayin’ you can’t handle yourself, Doll. I know you’re tough. But tough ain’t always enough.”

Her chest tightened, the words sinking deep. She could feel the weight of them pressing down on her, the way Butcher always seemed to pull her in, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She wanted to push him away, tell him to leave, but instead, she found herself leaning into it, letting the silence stretch between them.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to fix everything.”

Butcher’s eyes softened, just a fraction, and he let out a breath he’d been holding. “I ain’t tryin’ to fix ya, Doll. Just don’t want ya drownin’, is all.”

There it was again—that concern, that twisted, broken care that made her chest ache. He didn’t know how to show it, not the way people were supposed to, but she felt it anyway, like a pulse between them.

“I’m not drowning.” she whispered, though the words felt like a lie. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself anymore. “Leave it, Butcher.”

Butcher didn’t move, didn’t push, just stood there watching her with that quiet intensity that always made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something. Something dangerous. Something she couldn’t escape from.

The bell above the door chimed again as he turned to leave, but before stepping out into the night, he glanced back at her, eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Make sure ya lock up, Doll,” he muttered, his voice softer now, like a command but gentler. Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving her standing in the dim light of the shop, the weight of his presence still hanging in the air.

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