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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

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Danny used to be a vigilante, firmly on the side of good. Like, illegally, but morally good.

Danny’s 100% sure that whatever he is now, it’s not good.

Is Gotham’s influence just Like That?

He was homeless when he got to this thrice damned city (literally, because Lady Gotham was so cursed) and now he’s… here? In a mid-level penthouse with a rotation of homeless kids going in and out of his kitchen and eating out his pantry??

Danny adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, making the conscious decision to ditch the tie. He’s a tall 6ft 4 now, taking after his Dad. His head smarted all of the time, hitting doorframes when he was being a bit clumsier than the normal ghost-like grace he had learned to channel as The Phantom.

The Phantom instead of just Phantom. Why? Because Phantom was the name of a teenage vigilante in another dimension. The Phantom, on the other hand, is an intimidatingly tall, deceptively kind, extremely dangerous kingpin.

Honestly? Danny didn’t even want this life. Like, he had no idea it would snowball like this??

He supposed that it all started when the Penguin was trying to snatch kids off of his block on Crime Alley. Not officially his block, of course, because Danny didn’t actually enter this city to be a crime-shadow thing. But he hadn’t lost enough of Phantom the Vigilante to ignore kids getting hurt. He still hasn’t, if he’s being honest. He flew into a frantic search, tracking down the missing kids to Penguin’s bar. The Iceberg Lounge. Apparently, he wanted the kids to do some menial tasks and what not. Danny, rage flickering through his core, intangibly went in and robbed Penguin of every coin and secret the man kept.

Then? Danny blackmailed the Penguin to guarantee his kids a measure of safety from the Rogue. That began the slippery slope into whatever it is he does now. Penguin was being kept in line by Danny’s threats, the grip he had on the Rogue’s weak points, and a wonderful bit of intimidation.

——

“What, you stinking phantom? I’m stickin’ to yer rules!” Penguin snarled, forced to his knees by invisible blob ghosts.

Danny, salty and pissy from the lack of sleep he’d experienced trying to keep Penguin’s men in line as a result of Penguin trying to test where Danny’s lines were, dropped the temperature to the point where Penguin started shivering. Considering the place was already cold- the Iceberg lounge lived up to its name- it meant that Danny was standing nonchalantly in a room that was negative twenty five degree Celsius in a sweatshirt, Danny was already making good on his natural intimidation factor.

“It’s The Phantom to you, Oswald.” Danny said, in the tone of someone saying “it’s the shit, to you.”

Danny narrowed his blue eyes, letting a tiny tint of ectoplasm make his eyes glow a bit in the suddenly icing over room.

“Your people have been getting on my nerves, Oswald. Roughing up kids is so… uncultured. Are you sure you’re a Cobblepot?”

Penguin snarled, the effect of which was rendered ineffective due to his increasingly violent shivers. Plus, Danny loomed over him without even trying.

Danny, annoyed and asking himself “What Would Dan Do To Intimidate This Guy?”, gripped Penguin’s shoulder and hauled him up one handed. He dragged the mob boss over to one of the booths, avoiding the bodies he’d dropped (non-lethally) when Danny first walked in to ruin Penguin’s night. He shoved Penguin in chair he iced over, because Danny’s petty and if he saw one more bruise on his kids at Penguin’s hands, Danny was gonna go full Dan the Murderer.

He at least allowed to room to warm up before laying into Penguin, though. He stayed standing. Hey, he had the height advantage to use. He could have kept Penguin kneeling, but it was probably god the best that the mob boss got some sense of pride back.

(Danny had no idea that sitting as someone loomed over you to lecture and threaten you was even worse than kneeling. At least with kneeling, you knew where you stood. But sitting? It leaves you horribly off kilter.)

“I told you to keep your people in line. Kids are off limits, Oswald.”

“I kept them in line!”

Never let it be said that Oswald Cobblepot had a normal functioning sense of self preservation.

“Really?” Danny jabbed his pointer finger lightly on top of Penguin’s trachea and allowed his fingernails to sharpen into Phantom’s sharper digits. Penguin tried to lean away. “Then why did they start a gun fight when there were kids visible on the street? Why did I see one of my kids get hit by one of your poor excuses of a bouncer?”

“I-”

“Don’t care much for your excuses, if I’m being honest. I let you mess around with the little projects you have, without even breathing a whisper of your secrets. Sionis would love to know how you double crossed him the last deal, yeah?”

“I- I’ll keep them in line!” Penguin stuttered.

“Well, I believe in second chances,” Danny bullshitted. Ancients, how was this even working? “So I suggest you make an example of the guy that smacked Hailey around before I make an example out of you, Oswald.”

“Fine! Fine!”

——

And with that, he got access to Penguin’s resources and men and more importantly, the corrupt police officers. He made Penguin “boot out” the pedophilic ones (in a very violent way) and kept the rest.

Then? Mr. Freeze froze over the god damn pipes and Danny had to intimidate and make a deal with the Rogue so he and his increasing roster of orphans had access to warm water.

In exchange for Danny’s restorative and, more importantly, unmelting ice, Mr. Freeze was now Danny’s… on-call enforcer?? When he’s not researching cures for his frozen in a pod wife, that is.

Danny was satisfied with that. He was! But then Black Mask happened, with the man trying to engage in a battle of wits with Danny over the control of Crime Alley which, at that point, was firmly Danny’s territory.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t play nice anymore. Why bother with pointless mind games when he could just…

——

“So, you’re The Phantom.”

“And you’re Sionis.”

Black Mask twitched at the name, gloved hands pulling out his guns. Danny sat on the counter, head touching mid cabinet, and sipped out of Sionis’ favorite mug.

Because Danny broke into Black Mask’s safe house and stole his quality coffee. The man’s eyes were wary.

“How did you get in here?”

Danny shrugged. “Walked.”

Danny held the coffee out of the way as Sionis unloaded a clip into his chest and lunged forward to slap a mask onto Danny’s face. After waiting a bit, as Black Mask’s smug triumph bled into shock, Danny laughed and, using a bit of his natural strength, tossed the guy off of him. He casually took the mask off of his face.

“Jeez, I’m trying to be nice, here.”

“So, you’re a Meta.”

Danny grinned. “Eh. And you’re a cult leader with a mask fetish.”

Danny tuned out the rant about the “true face of Gotham” or whatever, already bored, and sipped at Sionis’ coffee. The ass might be a psycho, but his coffee tastes were wonderful. Danny stood up, rinsed his mug, and turned back to Black Mask.

“You’re trafficking people. Kids.” He said, cutting through Sionis’ chatter. He was sly about it too, committing violence and torture in a way that would ensure obedience and fear. Danny probably would have never caught on, Black Mask’s schemes being so ingeniously created and executed, had he not kept a hawk’s eyes on the more vulnerable members of Crime Alley’s community. And the rest of Gotham’s vulnerable communities, of course.

“My, a wonderfully obvious conclusion. Now, Phantom, I have a proposition for you.”

Sionis seemed to have gotten his bearings back. Danny tilted his head at him, looking down.

“You can work for me,” Sionis said, before opening a laptop with video feed to one of his masked men or whatever holding a knife to one of Danny’s more fearless kids. Danny snarled.

“Or, refuse, and your kid will lose a finger for every instance of your defiance.”

“I told you not to touch the kids, Sionis. I don’t allow trafficking either.”

Black Mask chuckled. “Cut off a finger, Sadness.”

“Yes, bos- ARGHHHH!”

Danny watched as Mr. Freeze froze the goon’s arms before breaking them.

“I’ve got her, Phantom.”

Danny nodded at Freeze, keeping an eye on Sionis in case the fool bolts.

“So, what are your cards now, Sionis? You’ve sure pissed me off with nothing to show for it.”

And that was the last night anyone heard from the one that was supposed to be the King of Crime.

But Gotham knew the head mounted on a pike at one of Black Mask’s hastily abandoned bases was a warning, that The Phantom was watching.

——

Then he somehow got a gaggle of more orphans that were undead zombie “Talons?”

From there, he just obtained influence over the crime bosses of Gotham. Because his Talons kept bringing him heads and blackmail and his crime alley kids and Gotham orphans kept bringing him information for food and safety?

But like, Danny never wanted anything in exchange for the safety he provided. His core could give less of a shit whether he got anything in return. But he couldn’t convince his kids of that! They’re putting themselves in danger and ugh-!

Danny checked himself once more in the mirror. Ready, he stepped out into the night to wait for the Bats at his new favorite VIP spots.

On the way, he passed Ivy and Harley, who he waved to. Pamela worked under him because he controlled Gotham’s criminal underground (which also mean the official parts of the city considering the sheer amount of corruption) and influenced them into more plant friendly methods. His dominion over Undergrowth also helped immensely.

Harley? They’re friends. He beat up and crippled her abusive ex. She gave him therapy and stopped torturing people for fun.

Danny stepped into the back door of the Iceberg Lounge. No one stopped him. No one dared to.

He settled onto a velvet couch, nodding respectfully at the server that had immediately and nervously set down his mai tai. He glanced around for cameras and wire taps, before giving up and upping his ectoplasmic output to short any recording devices out.

He sipped his drink as he waited.

“Batman.”

“Phantom.”

“Oh, good. You didn’t bring Robin,” Danny said, watching Batman tense. “Kids shouldn’t be in places like these.”

Batman stayed silent.

“Come on, sit.” Danny gestured to the couch across from him.

“This isn’t a social call. I’ll stop whatever you’re scheming-” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Is this where Nightwing gets it from?”

Batman snarled.

“Sit, sit.” Danny rolled his eyes.

Batman stayed stubbornly looming. Danny sighed, allowing his voice to slip into velvet danger.

“I told you to sit, Bruce Wayne.”

“You-”

“I won’t repeat myself again, Bruce. You’re testing my patience.”

Bruce sat, wary and hyper vigilant. Danny sighed, settling back in his chair.

“You’ve heard of Red Hood, yes? Don’t answer that, it was hypothetical. I know you’ve heard of him.” Danny waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t really care why he’s setting up shop in my Alley, but he’s upsetting the other crime lords. They’re asking me to interfere.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“No,” Danny acknowledged with a nod. “But I could make you, if you push it. Politeness would serve you much better right now, Bruce, seeing as I am doing you a… favor. And since I’m not shouting to the world who you are under the cowl.”

Danny gave Batman a pointed, patented, mom glare.

“… Apologies.”

“Now, you might be wondering what that favor is.” Danny watched Batman’s cowled face carefully. “I thought you should know that the Red Hood is your “Jason Todd.’”

Batman was still. And then Batman leapt at him, snarling, “How dare you-!”

Danny caught the vigilante by the throat and squeezed.

Batman’s flurry of punches- which, mildly ow, those gauntlets kind of hurt- quickly changed to clawing and maneuvers to get out of the choke hold. Danny held steady, cutting off the vigilante’s air supply until he began to go limp. He’s not Superman. Danny will bruise and kill, if he had to.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Danny asked mildly, emulating both Black Mask’s drawl and Dan’s effortless psychosis.

Batman gave a weak nod. Danny plopped him unceremoniously back onto his couch. He sipped on his drink once more as he waited for Batman to cough some sweet air back into his lungs.

“I’m telling you to get your little birds in line before I have to go hunting, yeah? Keep your kids out of danger, Bruce, and I won’t have to step in.”

“He- how do you know..?” The growl isn’t there anymore, and Danny felt a smug sense of vindication of having smothered it out of the guy. Woah, no, that thought was too Dan and too little Danny. Danny handed him a cup of water, which Batman didn’t drink.

Danny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Drink. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now. And as for how I know…”

Danny held up a beat up copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, filled with Jason’s writing. He tossed it to Batman, who caught it with blank eyes.

“Water,” Danny reminded him firmly, feeling like a mother hen. Batman gulped down his water, eyes flicking between the pages of Jason’s annotated book. Ancients, Danny couldn’t believe he annotated his book. A crime lord, like that? Well, it’s not like Danny could say anything.

Batman looked up at him, a silent demand- no, plea, because he’s not in a position to make demands- for an answer.

“Broke into his safe house. You should contact your fling, Talia. Seems like she dunked him into these “Lazarus pits” and told him you replaced him with the current Robin.”

Danny could see Batman’s emotional gears hard at work and honestly, he doesn’t have time for that.

“Now, we’re done here. You owe me one for the information. I’ll collect later.” Danny grabbed the Dark Knight, who stayed oddly unresisting (shock, maybe?) , and hauled him up.

“Tell Tim Drake to eat more. He looks too skinny.” With that, Danny dragged the Dark Knight to the window and punted him out. His kids were waiting on hot chocolate night and Danny had to go shopping for quality ingredients.

——

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE TOLD ME THE BIGGEST CRIME LORD OF YOUR CITY WAS THE FUCKING HIGH KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?!”

“Hn.”

“BLOODY HELL, DON’T YOU GRUNT AT ME, YOU BROODY BASTARD!”

Constantine let out a scream. Shite, the king who held his soul contract was a crime lord. Great.

——

The reason intelligence and convoluted schemes and genius doesn’t work against Danny is because he’s got weird standards of what he’ll tolerate and the fact is that his normal dumbassery and mother hen tendencies cancels out and coherent thoughts or plans he might have had.

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lumiambrose · 7 months ago

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✰ reflections of desire

kinktober 24 - day fifteen

featuring: michael kaiser x f!bartender!reader

summary: the infamous bunny night attracts many new customers to the eclipse, including the famed bastard münchen. serving the team seemed to fall on your hands for the night, attracting the attention of michael kaiser.

tags: smut, mirror sex, bunny suits, praise, p in v, breeding, kaiser is a slutty man, petnames (bunny), @/o-sachi cameo <3, kaiser is referred to as 'mihya'

wc: 2.6k

it’s the infamous bunny night at the eclipse royale. entertainers and staff alike are clad in bunny accessories and outfits, the estate is revamped to match.

“darling, can you serve table 20?” your colleague, chimi, calls out to you from across the bar, her tray piled high with empty glasses.

“give me a sec,” you answer, adjusting your headpiece and glancing over your shoulder at booth 20. it’s the busiest table of the night—bastard münchen’s under-20 team. the vibe around them is intoxicating—a mix of arrogance, power, and adrenaline. definitely celebrating a win.

you make your way over, weaving through drunken patrons as you approach the table with a smile. to be honest, you’re not even sure how to catch their attention over the noise, but luckily for you, a smooth voice cuts through the banter. a blonde man, lounging casually among his teammates, clears his throat. instantly, the chatter quiets down.

his presence is magnetic. he hasn’t even opened his mouth yet, but his gaze is tugging at your confidence. amusement dances in his expression as his eyes do a one-over on you, eyes sharp and calculating as he takes in your appearance.

“you’re here to take our order?” he asks, his voice dripping with arrogance that has his teammates chuckling.

“yeah,” you respond, trying your best to hold your own. “what’ll it be?”

instead of answering straight away, his eyes linger on your name tag as he leans forward, as if he couldn’t make it more obvious, a smirk playing on his lips. you attempt to divert your attention to his teammates, who are currently ordering. you scribble down their drinks, doing your best to ignore the heat that’s creeping up your cheeks. while the young athletes are all rowdy and loud, it’s the blonde who commands the space, every word laced with something more that you can’t quite put your finger on. although you’re sure that his focus never seems to leave you, even as you return to the bar.

but that’s not the last you’ll see of him tonight.

hours go by, and the night, which once started busy, has now thinned out. most guests either leaving the building or crashing for the night in their respective hotel rooms. you’re wiping down the bar when you hear chimi again, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. “room service is calling. a bottle of champagne, and they’re specifically requesting you to bring it.” she slides the bottle across the bar surface towards you. “room 702, wonder who the lucky man is.” she gives you a wink, and you roll your eyes in retaliation.

“get your mind out of the gutter, chimi.” you laugh, grabbing the bottle and preparing it in an ice bucket to take up. despite it being a common service for your job, you can’t help but feel a little excitement knowing somebody specifically asked you to serve them.

curiosity gets the better of you, and before you know it, you’re in front of room 702, bucket in hand, taking one more deep breath as you knock on the door. your pulse is anything but calm. before you could even process the sound of your knock, the door swings open, revealing the infamous blonde man from earlier.

he’s ditched the blazer and slacks he was once wearing, now replaced by the hotel's bathrobe that somehow manages to look expensive on him. his hair is slightly messy, but it only adds to his charm. his eyes flicker over you, from the bunny ears resting on your head to the bucket in your hands, his smirk returning in full force.

“room service,” you say. trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

“come in,” he says, stepping aside to let you pass. there’s something in his voice that makes you feel like his invitation is for more than just delivering a bottle of champagne.

you enter the room, taking in its luxury. it’s donned with velvety curtains, a lavish sofa, and mirrors adorning the walls and ceiling. despite working at the eclipse for a while now, your work has never expanded to inside the hotel. as much as you would like to enjoy the lavish suite and gorgeous view, you set the bucket down on the sleek coffee table, eager to finish up, and head back downstairs.

“champagne for one,” you quip, trying to ease the atmosphere. “strange, most people don’t drink alone after a win.”

“who said i’m drinking?” the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable as you suck in a breath.

you blink, confused. “you’re not drinking?”

he shakes his head, that devilish grin still playing at the edges of his mouth. “i ordered it for you.” his words hang in the air.

you laugh nervously, shaking your head. “oh no, I can’t, i’m still working. can’t exactly be drinking on the job.” you try to sound professional, but the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to keep your composure.

he steps closer, now just a few feet from you. the space between you feeling charged, the air thick with something you just can’t quite put your finger on. “i don’t care,” he says, his tone playful yet firm. “i just wanted to see my favourite bunny again.”

your breath catches in your throat. again? your suspicions now confirmed. he’s been watching you all night.

“come on, bunny,” he continues, grabbing the champagne from the bucket, his fingers brushing against yours as he leans over. “we have to celebrate, no? one drink. for me.”

you open your mouth to protest, but the words fall short when he pops the cork open with ease, pouring the sparkling liquid into a glass before handing it to you. his eyes never leaving yours, not at the casino, not at the door, and certainly not now.

you take a small sip, though to your misfortune, the cool champagne does nothing to calm the heat in your cheeks. he watches you profusely, his eyes darkening slightly as you lower the glass.

“good girl,” he murmurs, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

your heart races as you set the glass down, trying to regain yourself, but he’s already closing the distance between you. before you can react, his hand is at your waist, fingers curling around your hip, and he’s guiding you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed.

“i— i don’t even know your name,” you stammer, your voice shaky. you should be gone by now, out the door and back to the bar, but the way he’s looking at you, the heat in his eyes, keeps you in place.

“mihya, bunny,” he whispers. “call me mihya,” his other hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

to your surprise, his touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the hunger is his eyes. “you’ve been working hard all night, haven’t you? let me take care of you tonight.”

your trembling, no doubt about it. but whether it’s from nerves or something else entirely is a mystery to you. mihya leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin, and before you know it, he’s pressing you down onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“you’re quite cute like this,” he teases. “so nervous, and i’ve barely even touched you,” his lips inches from yours.

“i’m not—” you begin, but the words catch in your throat as his mouth unexpectedly meets yours, forcing it open to deepen the kiss while his hand slips under your waist, grazing the fabric of your bunny suit.

“don’t worry, bunny,” he pulls back, his voice sending a thrill through you. “i’ll be gentle.”

he leans back in, capturing your mouth once again. his free hand tangling gently in your hair while your hands dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks in place of your fingers. the champagne you sipped earlier now seemingly coursing through your veins, giving you the confidence you need to carry on. you let out a soft moan, body arching into his as you continue to sloppily make out. your newfound boldness makes you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer.

mihya broke the kiss, his voice hitching in between a low chuckle. “feisty bunny,” he coos, lips trailing down your neck, leaving wet kisses and sloppy hickeys that make you quiver. “how cute.”

the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the air quickly thickens with lust. the hand which was once laced with your hair, made its way to the bottom of your suit, brushing against your crotch before hooking his fingers through, teasing the area underneath.

“no panties? my my, what a naughty little bunny, walking around with nothing underneath, i bet you planned this from the start.” he teases, his breath inches away from your chest.

“don’t be afraid, bunny,” he whispered, sensing your hesitation. “i’ll take such good care of you. tonight, you’re mine.” with that, you felt something sharp graze your chest. his teeth biting into the hem of your suit, pulling it down to reveal your bear chest to him.

he starts to suck and bite on the exposed skin like a starved man, playing with your nipples and eliciting angelic moans from you while the hand that was once grazing your core lightly is now playing with your folds.

you can only hold out for so long before the pleasure gets to you, moans getting louder as you grind yourself on his fingers. your hands trailing down his back, only to dig scratch the bare skin when he hits that one spot that feels like pure bliss.

that made something click in him, immediately tearing the thin fabric of your bunny suit before untying his robe, leaving you both naked before one another. he picks you up and sits you down on the massive bed, facing one of the many floor-length mirrors decorated throughout the suite.

"don't look away," he commands, gripping your chin and forcing you to face your reflection. mihya sits behind you, his body enveloping yours, granting him full access. "i want you to see how beautiful you look with my fingers deep inside you."

his eyes roam over your body, entranced by the way you look, caged in front of him. he pulls you closer, feeling his erection press against your back as he traces his fingers down your neck. they ultimately land on your breasts, giving your nipples a gentle pinch. his eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

he continues to play with your breasts with one hand while the other slides down to tease your entrance, his fingers once again slick with arousal. “you’re so wet for me, bunny,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

he slides first one finger, then two inside you, while his thumb rubs circles around your clit. you gasp, eyes rolling back as pleasure courses through your body. his fingers moving in and out of you at a painfully slow pace.

he leans in, whispering, “look at yourself, bunny. watch as I pleasure you.” you hesitate, unsure at first, but the way his voice rolls off his tongue is enough to turn your head.

watching yourself in the mirror feels almost surreal. eyes half closed, mouth slightly parted, and your chest heaving with each breath while the cocky man pleasures you. his fingers continue their work, and you eventually feel your body tightening—the rush of an orgasm building.

he senses it too, as his fingers speed up, his thumb increasing the pressure on your clit while his fingers piston in and out of you rapidly. the room full of your moans and the slapping of skin on skin as he works your body.

“yes, bunny,” he encourages, “come for me.”

that was all it took to send you over the edge. you grind back into him as your orgasm crashes over you. you cry out in pleasure as your vision blurs, the pleasure hitting your entire body. mihya doesn’t stop though. he continues to work you, his relentless fingers milking every last drop of your release.

once you come down from your high, mihya helps you up and almost forcefully pushes you against the mirror, holding your body still with your arms locked behind your back. you yelp at his sudden movements, the cold glass hitting your bare chest like ice, making you shiver.

his free hand holds onto your hips, giving you a firm squeeze before guiding his cock to your entrance.

“look at me, bunny,” he commands. you can barely see him from the angle you’re locked in, but you can sense the intensity in his gaze.

you meet his gaze and he pushes into you harshly, stretching you out completely with his girth. he sighs as he finally bottoms out inside of you, pausing for a short moment, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“do you feel me, bunny?” he asks, “i’m so deep inside of you,” his tone low and seductive.

“ah~ i do,” you manage to get out along with a whiny moan, your voice breathy and shaky.

he begins to move, thrusting deep inside of you at a slow pace, getting used to your cunt sucking him dry. you feel every inch of him inside of you, as you do your best to accommodate his size. he slowly speeds up, still gripping your hips and keeping you locked under his body. his eyes never leaving yours through the reflection of the mirror.

the mirror reflects your entwined forms, your bodies slick with sweat as he fills you. every movement is powerful. each thrust driving you further into the glassy wall. your moans grow louder, your body arching to meet his every thrust.

“fuck bunny, you’re so tight. you going to let me breed this pretty cunt of yours?” he growls between thrusts, his hot breath lingering over your ears.

you nod, your breath catching in your throat as you struggle to respond. every thrust hits you deeper and deeper. he’s taking you to new heights, your body responding in kind.

“you close, bunny? can feel you milking me dry, gonna fill you up so well.” his grip on you tightens, and you cry out in agreement, on the verge of your orgasm. mihya’s thrusts grow more urgent and powerful, pounding into you with a hunger matching yours. the sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror only egging you on. the mirror in front of you shaking with each forceful thrust.

“fuck—yes, bunny” mihya groans. “cum for me.”

your orgasm hits you fast and hard. your body convulses as waves of pleasure wash over you, blurring your vision as you cry out mihya’s name. mihya continues to abuse your cunt through your orgasm, his own nearing as he gets more desperate, one of his hands snaking up to your neck, gripping the delicate skin.

“going to breed you so well, bunny. this tight cunt is mine, mine only.” he growls, rutting into you roughly before reaching his own climax, releasing his seed deep inside you.

waves of hot cum fill you up, marking and claiming you as his. as he slows down, the room is much quieter, only the sounds of your heavy breathing filling the room.

mihya pulls out and lifts you towards the bed, letting you recover from the intense orgasm. as you lie down, you look up, spotting another large mirror covering the ceiling above you. reflected in the mirror is your fucked-out state, hair dishevelled, and eyes watery.

you’re so distracted by your state that you don’t notice the blonde man creeping up towards the end of the bed, stopping at your now-spread legs.

“you see this, bunny?” he begins, teasing his already hard cock against your entrance. “i’m going to breed you again and again like a bitch in heat, and you’re going to watch every second of it from that mirror, understood?”

before you can reply, he enters you once again. filling you up for the second time of many to come tonight.

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network @strawchocoberry

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

#✰ ─ the devils month #ambrose.fics #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kaiser smut #michael kaiser smut #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader smut #michael kaiser x reader smut #blue lock smut

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dcxdpdabbles · 26 days ago

Text

DCxDP fanfic idea: What's your Poison?

Jason Todd's life has always been hectic. Or is tragic the better word? It certainly felt like that was a better way to describe it. Life was bursts of happiness and love for as long as he could remember, but it was often too short and quickly overshadowed by everything he loved being twisted into his worst nightmares.

His mother's lullabies, which once soothed him to sleep, would turn into her humming as she came down from her high, staring with unseeing eyes.

Bruce's warm compliments for pulling off a tricky maneuver would scatter in the wind as he pulled the triggers on the scum of the city, and all he heard from his father figure were swears to bring him in.

His childhood adoration for swimming, the few things he liked when school was out, would drown him in his memories of the liquid green he hadn't stepped foot in a pool in years as an adult.

It was more of a surprise to find that reading still offered him comfort as if he were the same scared, poor little boy who would do anything to escape his reality. Maybe that's why he made it his mission to visit every bookstore in this godforsaken city.

Maybe the magic wasn't the same, and he didn't lose himself in the words, or his passion for it wasn't as all-consuming as it once was. But it was the one thing from his childhood life that hadn't managed to ruin.

This is why he chose to go to Ghost Zone, which opened near the heart of Gotham's nightlife —only three streets away from Ice Lounge—despite doubling as a bar.

It sold drinks alongside books, and the menu featured cocktails based on book characters. At the last meeting, one of the men in the Red Hood gang was talking about it—or rather, the pretty owner. The spitfire had been unwilling to strike a deal about protection money, but his boys knew better than to force the owner's hand.

Jason didn't like bars.

He went to them when his friends invited him out, but these places felt horrible. Either he found people who thought they were untouchable by the world and made terrible choices because of it, or he found people who were so broken by the world that the bottle was all they knew.

Just like his old man.

The idea of being anything like Willis Todd left such a bad taste in Jason's mouth that he had never touched alcohol in his life.

It wasn't the kind of preference people usually liked him having at a bar. He's had plenty of women grow offended that they couldn't tempt him into a drink, not to mention the men who were suddenly brave enough to mock him for it.

Drunks, in general, annoyed him. They were too loud. Too much. And most times, you had to babysit them like an overgrown toddler.

So going to a bar, even one doubling as a bookstore was going to be a pain. Still, Jason pushed through the door, letting it slam close behind him and sealing away the neon lights, thumping music, and the echoing laughter from nearby nightclubs.

Thankfully, the Ghost Zone didn't seem very busy. In fact, Jason could see that he was the only customer in the building.

The bar ran along the left side of the room, more like a traveler than anything modern. Tables and chairs were nearly lined up in front of it. A lone man was cleaning some glasses with a cloth, dressed in a pretty green vest over a long black sleeve and black slacks.

He glances at Jason with sky-blue eyes, shimming with gentle light. "Welcome,"

"Hello," He responds, walking to the bar and checking the menu. There wasn't anything listed for none-alcoholic, which made him grimace.

"Can I help you with anything?" the man asks, stepping in front of Jason and flashing a pearl-white smile. It, annoyingly, lacks any fake costumer service tilt to it, meaning this man was able to appear genuinely happy to serve people.

Those were the worst kinds of salesmen. They sucked someone dry of whatever coins they had before the client even knew what was happening.

Jason knew to be wary as he grunted, "I was told this was a bookstore."

The man didn't even blink as his smile grew. He placed a small menu on the bar counter between them while pointing his thumb to a nearby stairway. "Books are on the second floor. You're welcome to pick one up and read here so long as you buy a drink if you're not looking to buy an entire thing."

There it was. The catch.

Jason doesn't bother hiding a grimace as he waves a hand. "Nah, I'll just browse. If I see something I like, I'll buy it."

"Alright. Let me know if you need anything, " the man says softly, going back to his glasses without care. Jason notes that they resemble roses as the employee holds one to the light. It shimmers slightly, catching a ray that bounces back on the man's face, making him glow for a brief second.

Jason whips around, wondering why he is staring when he should be looking at books. He scurries up the stairway, not looking too deeply into it. On the second floor, he finds bookshelve after bookshelve lined and organized neatly.

Babs would adore how well-kept everything was. As he starts browsing, he hopes this trip wasn't a waste of time. There are titles and authors he's never heard of, not even a money grab of new releases. Even after pulling out his phone to check reviews, Jason discovers that not a single one of these books is sold anywhere else.

They are all exclusive publishers of Ghost Zone. This is odd because even if it's local authors, there are some reviews and proof of the author somewhere. Usually, the lack of anything would have alarmed him, but instead, it fills him with the desire to read every single copy.

Jason soon finds himself with a stack of books. After walking through the entire second floor twice to ensure he didn't miss anything else he may be interested in, Jason encounters a little sign written in neon green.

Please make a book purchase at the bar below.

As he stumbles his way down to the bar, he can't help but feel as if someone is watching him. He glances out of the corner of his eye and manages to catch what appears to be a shadow of a child running and disappearing into a wall.

Huh. The Ghost Zone is haunted.

Well, all of Gotham is haunted. Jason is from one of the most haunted places in Gotham, and the ghosts in Crime Alley are never nice, but they can never harm anyone if you don't acknowledge them. It was a rule to always pretend you didn't see anything, and like any good Crime Alley kid, Jason did just that.

"Have you found everything you were looking for?" the man asks with a smile once Jason places his stack on the bar. He quickly starts scanning them with a ray gun.

"I did," Jason mutters, looking everywhere but the man who seems to have started glowing under his flower lights. He was beautiful in an almost untouchable way.

His hair almost flashed white for a brief second as he reached for a bag for Jason's books. Man, it's been a while since his last date. He was starting to see things if he was that distracted by a pretty face.

"Hey, since you are my first customer to buy some books, I was wondering if you would like a free drink?" the man says, giving the books back to Jason. He leans on the counter a little, giving Jason an almost taunting grin. "Tell me, what's your poison?"

"I don't drink," Jason replies, bluntly stepping back but not because of the offer or the grin. That child made of shadows was watching them from the backroom. Jason did not like that it followed him.

The bartender smiles. "I promise it will taste better than anything you've ever had."

"No, thank you." Jason stays firm, eyes trained on the bartender, but words aimed at the shadow child.

"Pity." The man sighs, leaning back. The shadow child vanishes, allowing him to relax a little more. Whatever that was, it lost interest in him. "I could make you a mocktail?"

Jason thinks it over, then shrugs. "If it's free."

"Great. I'm Danny, by the way. Based on the novels you picked, I think I know just what to get you." Danny twirls a wine glass shaped like a rose in his hand, and Jason is suddenly hit with the urge to never leave as the man trains glowing green eyes on him. "Have a seat."

He drops his books at his feet, stumbling towards the bar stole in front of Danny.

It takes his family three days to realize he's gone missing and five for the Red Hood gang to notice, too. But Jason doesn't mind. After tasting the best thing that's ever touched his taste buds, he's having fun mixing drinks with Danny at Ghost Zone.

Danny, for his part, seems grateful to have Jason around. Apparently, Jason is keeping the ghosts away from Danny- that might have something to do with the Pits being anti-death liquified- and hired him on the spot after Jason drowned his drink and begged him for more.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #What's your posion?#Part 1 #Ghost Zone is the name Danny picked for his bar/Bookstore #Danny unknowingly has Fae vibes #Jason may or may not have been Fae kidnapped #Jason's pov #Jason scares ghosts away #The books are from the real Ghost Zone #Dead on Main

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w-sims · 3 months ago

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The Sims 4 Businesses & Hobbies: A List of Small Business Ideas

With the recent announcement of the Businesses & Hobbies expansion pack, we'll be able to run small business on both residential lots or their 'community' lots.

On these lots, you'll be able to charge an entrance or hourly fee, sell items and encourage certain behaviours and actions.

I'm trying to create a list of ideas for different small businesses that it's possible to create, using different content from various other packs. Hopefully it will inspire you once we're able to use the pack!

I've tried to avoid any types of retail space/store, as that would make the list even longer! (Plus I'm not sure how they'll interact with Get to Work.) They're in no particular order, just as I thought of them.

Tattoo parlour

Laundrette

Woohoo playrooms

Table top/board game café

Garden maze

Science museum

Library

Gym

Spa

Yoga studio

Bowling alley

Sauna

Pool

Onsen

Massage therapist

Salon

Cinema

Karaoke bar

Comic book store

Gallery

Art studio

Pet café

Medium/psychic

Crystal workshop

Private gardens

Member's fishing lake

Lecture hall

Robotics workshop

Artist's studio

Petting zoo

Flower arranging school

Nudist colony

Photography studio

Rock climbing centre

Ice skating rink

Rollerskating rink

Nightclub

Bubble blower lounge

Thrift store

Movie studio tour

Soft play centre

Pet training/agility classes

Horse training paddock

Vineyard

Campground

Cooking classes

Food market

Convention centre

Content creation studio

Church

Arcade

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims #the sims #businesses & hobbies

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kumkaniudaku · 4 months ago

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101

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

"So…you come here often?"

In a crowded bar tucked into a rapidly changing side of town, Asia sat perched on a barstool, listening to yet another potential suitor court her uninterested best friend. They always approached with unearned confidence, dropping some variation of the same tired lines only to be tossed back into a sea of misfit boy toys to make room for the next poor, unfortunate soul.

Sabrina loved the attention, though. At a statuesque 5 '10", she didn't mind being worshipped like Aphrodite and choosing her favorite from the litter until she was bored and ready for the next man up. Asia loved it, too. Watching men fall all over themselves in a way they'd never done for her was weirdly empowering. She didn't get to take home any of the night's trophies, but she did get to listen to the stories of every Tom, Dick, and Devante that passed in and out of her friend's life.

Barely interested, Sabrina sipped through a tiny black straw and regarded her latest contestant with tipsy indifference. "Not really. Why?"

"Uh…I don't know. Just, uh, just wondering?"

"Mhm. I'm drinking tequila." A loud slurp from liquid long evaporated from scratched glass filled with more ice than anything else brought the young man's attention to her hands and then back to her face. She offered him her best sweet smile and proposed, "Get me another?"

Asia had never seen a man getting absolutely nothing in return move so fast to wedge himself between a handful of patrons vying for the bartender's attention.

Sabrina let off a cackle loud enough to eclipse various pockets of chatter and music as she elbowed a laughing Asia. "That's, what, three for you tonight?" Asia asked, still swirling around the pity Jack and Coke she was gifted an hour ago. "One more, and you might get the record."

"Girl, I'm not drinking that shit. I'm supposed to be meeting Eric later tonight, and I can't be drunk like I was last time. It's been a month, and I need that."

"He's back from Portugal?"

"Fuckin' finally," Sabrina gushed. "I don't mean to be a 'my man, my man, my man' ass bitch about a nigga that is not my man, but…"

Sabrina didn't need to finish. Four years of their on-off whatever the fuck had been as much a part of Asia's life as it was Sabrina's. She'd been there for all the dates, all the late-night phone calls that pulled her friend away from plans, every blow-up and breakup, and the eventual reconciliation that would, once again, leave her as a lonely party of one. Unfortunately, she never got any of the fabled mind-blowing sex that came from their strange arrangement. Only the stories and the occasional video if Sabrina was feeling spicy.

Asia downed the rest of her drink along with the jealousy brewing in her chest and slid the glass across the bar for someone to collect later. "Well, hey, as long as you're happy." Happy was relative. She really wanted to say as long as you're willing to keep your business out of my bubble, but swallowed the thought before it could breach her lips. "Should I keep my phone off DND just in case?"

No immediate answer made Asia pause her casual scan of the room to look over at Sabrina, who'd all but buried her nose into her cell phone to grin at whatever was keeping her preoccupied.

She called out to her friend again. "Sabrina!"

"Huh," she sputtered out, snapping from her Eric-mania. "N-no, I should be good. We're on good terms. Or I'll just go to my sister's house. Did I tell you she moved? Oh, shit. Let me take this."

Sabrina didn't leave much time for objection, though Asia couldn't say she would offer any if given the chance. She was used to flying solo. She liked moving around the city as a lone wolf, looking for any cocktail lounge or off-the-beaten-path late-night spot to slink into and observe the happenings of 20 and 30-somethings looking for something or someone to get into before trudging home when daylight came back around.

The night was still young enough to hit up a cigar bar her old work friend Marcus had told her about. She didn't smoke, but the brown liquor was always smooth, and their food wasn't half bad.

While she sat trying to get the bartender's attention to close her tab, a presence at her side made themselves known with an accidental shove that nearly knocked her off balance.

"Gahdamn," she hollered, gripping the bar top for dear life to avoid starting a dangerous domino effect. Her mind didn't register the frantic apology from her newest enemy or the way he grabbed her waist to return her to a steady state. All she saw was his smile's familiar, gorgeous gleam when he realized who he'd bumped into just as his night was beginning and hers was coming to a close. "Kelvin?"

He slowly let go of her body and tried to appear taller than he was. "Good, I'm glad you noticed. Thought you might beat my ass. I know how you get down."

"I still should. What the hell are you doin' in here, and did they card you at the door?"

"Ha-ha. I'm a grown-ass man. Don't let the stature fool you." His fake laugh gave way to a real one shared between coworkers who cared enough about their jobs not to get fired but never enough for rapid advancement.

Life as a creative in a city where just about everyone was a "creative" had a way of uniting strangers from all walks of life. When Asia stepped into her new agency searching for exciting new clients and an actual team of people to see in the office a few times a week, she didn't expect to be accosted by the bright-eyed Associate Creative Director who had no business fraternizing with the project management team. But there Kelvin was, half-sitting on her desk with his Nike-clad foot swinging while he rattled off lunch spots within walking distance for them to check out once she was done with her first meeting with HR.

"You always this chatty," She asked while trying to make sense of her new Macbook.

Kelvin sported a mischievous smile. "Only with the other Black folks. We gotta stick together. There ain't but six of us, and two of them are married."

He quickly grew into one of her favorite people to see during the week while they worked side-by-side to meet deadlines and ward off culturally insensitive questions from well-meaning white folks trying to sell products to urban communities. She'd seen him be gregarious during long nights in the office filled with thumbtacks and beer from the bar cart. She'd also sat with him on Teams calls, saying nothing for some of the day while he quietly worked through lines to inspire consumers to do what they did best.

But she'd never seen him outside the strict confines of work culture. In public, they were free to cross the lines of office politics and show their true selves. Asia's true self included a departure from relaxed trousers and professional shoes to make way for short shorts and sky-high heels that accentuated a figure Kelvin couldn't help but notice.

His eyes slowly swept over her body while he finished his thought. "I'm in here because my boy just got his heart broken and needed some comfort. What you doin' in here? I ain't know Asia knew how to have fun!"

"Nah, I can have fun. I just don't like y'all like that."

"That is abundantly clear," he laughed. "You haven't had lunch with me in like two weeks. We got a problem?"

Asia chuckled at him, trying to press her while she pulled cash out of her purse to pay the bartender. "I knew you missed me. I've been busy. Kam's been on my ass about the Moet timelines, and I'm trying to slim down a little bit for my birthday trip anyway. I can't keep eating smash burgers with you three times a week." Kelvin listened as he lazily pushed her hand away as soon as he could reach it and replaced her payment method with his.

He lightly bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to look down at her legs again. "You definitely doin' that," he complimented, a flirtatious lilt thick in his delivery. "Make it up to me tonight."

"How?"

"Kick it with us. We won't be out that long." Kelvin used his head to gesture toward a table to people Asia assumed to be his friends. Two girls and three guys, leaving her to make the group even. He caught her trepidation and stepped a little closer so that she could see his face clearly under blinking strobe lights. "I got you. We can leave at any time if you want. Drinks on me."

Asia rolled her eyes. "I'm not askin' you to do that."

"You don't need to. I aim to please, love. C'mon."

Part of her wanted to refuse his invitation and use Sabrina as her scapegoat. After all, she did step out as one half of a pair.

Then, the other part directed her attention to the tall woman conspicuously making her way to the front entrance, her phone pressed to her ear, and an Uber waiting as her chariot to carry her away from the ball and to a man too shady to ever be a prince.

Kelvin stood awaiting her answer, his eyebrows doing a bit of a cha-cha as he made them wiggle.

Fuck it. "Alright. Start with a lemon drop, and make sure to introduce me as your favorite coworker. Really do your big one."

"Still demanding outside of the office. I like that." He bit his lip again, this time checking her out without shame. When she returned his brazen act with one of her own, he chuckled and flagged down someone who could really get the night going. "Aye, my man! Let me get something for my favorite coworker."

By the time he'd ushered her over to his group of way too cool art friends, Kelvin had dropped the coworker portion of Asia's title and shortened it to "my favorite."

They all sat huddled at a small booth in the back of the bar, nearly stacked on top of each other. It was Kelvin's idea for her to sit sandwiched between him and his homeboy, all but forcing her against his warm chest for any chance at comfort. It was his idea for the group to continue their conversation about sex and relationships even though it had fizzled to focus on a Black sitcom hierarchy debate. And it was absolutely his idea for him and Asia to hang back together once the other members of the group had set off to find comfort as pairs for the night.

She could only take credit for dropping the frills in their cocktails and settling for straight shots of her good friend, vodka.

Kelvin tossed back shot number he didn't know and let his mouth curl into a devious smirk while he watched Asia reapply clear lip gloss that caught the light just right. "You use dating apps, or you more of an organic meet-up type of lady?"

"I have profiles, but I can't tell you the last time I used one. And nobody is checking for me outside." Asia laughed quietly at the idea of someone approaching her for any reason other than asking for directions.

"What's so funny?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. That you think people are interested in me to the point that they're swiping right of whatever the fuck."

"So you just be on there for fun? Nothing is happening?" He scoffed to himself and plucked a lukewarm fry from a basket in front of him. "You're at least hooking up."

"I've never hooked up in my life."

Asia tried to rush past her drunk confession, tried to push away the words just as quickly as they'd entered the atmosphere, but Kelvin had already heard them.

He nodded, mostly to himself, then shrugged. "That's okay. Nothin' wrong with it. You waiting for marriage?"

"Fuck no," she scoffed. "I'm just waiting for someone nice enough to not make it weird. It's embarrassing enough being 30 and a virgin. Not really trying to make it weird by discussing it over appetizers."

"Like we doin' now?"

Asia laughed and finally took her shot while Kelvin watched her with the sheen of drunk thoughts clouding his eyes. He brushed her hair over her shoulder softly, his fingers lingering on her collarbone for a few seconds before he threw his arm over the top of the booth's seat and scooched lower, settling into a comfortable manspread.

"This is different. You're easy to talk to and not being creepy about it."

He nodded in understanding. "So somebody nice. What else?"

"I don't know. Somebody willing to teach and be patient. I'm a quick study. I just need the opportunity to learn somewhere safe." Vulnerability shared with a man she only kind of knew personally made Asia shrink in embarrassment as she rushed to clean up her verbal mess. "That's stupid to want, though. Nobody's trynna teach a grown woman how to fuck. I'm cool with missing out."

She'd started to try to cover her tracks so much that she didn't hear when Kelvin spoke back to her until the last words had tumbled from his lips in a broken sentence.

She doubled back. "Wait. What did you say?"

"I said I'll do it. I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to fuck," he said so matter of fact that he sounded like he was talking about his grocery list or errands to run and not having sex. He continued despite the clear look of shock on Asia's face. "Only if you want me to. I'm cool either way."

"I-I mean…I don't…if you want. Maybe we shouldn't –."

He cut in and pointed at her shot glass. "You done or want another one?" Asia sputtered out that she'd had all she could drink in one night, and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket to pluck a credit card from his wallet's inventory. He tapped her hip to silently tell her to let him out, and she followed directions blindly for a reason she couldn't explain. Once he was standing, he looked down at her with a soft smile and kind eyes. "Just think about it and let me know. No pressure."

Asia didn't know what made her text Kelvin after work the following Thursday evening. All she knew was that he told her that his Friday was booked, but Saturday was all hers.

They agreed on him stopping by at 8:30 p.m., after anybody planning to go out had started their dressing routines and those intent on staying in had wrapped up any reason to leave the house and turned in for the evening. In her mind, that ensured none of her neighbors would see her bringing in a man clearly there for a singular purpose.

His prompt knock on her apartment door scared her even though she was the one who told him how to access guest parking, gave him a visitor's code, and told him her apartment number.

Wiping her sweating palms on her pajama shorts, she padded toward the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open.

He smirked when she came into view. "On the first knock? That's hospitable."

"Shut up," she admonished, though the joke had done its intended job and chipped away at building nerves. "And take off your shoes. There's fresh slippers in the basket if you need 'em."

Kelvin took Asia turning her back to him as an invitation to enter her apartment and to take a gander at the space he'd partially seen in meetings and their solo "work sessions."

Despite not being a hands-on creative, he could tell she had an appreciation for art. Reyna Noriega art prints and classic hip-hop album covers formed a gallery wall over her couch. A display of CDs that he had no idea people still collected sat stacked by a vintage boombox he was sure cost her a pretty penny. Potted monsteras and a well-loved fiddle leaf fig took up space beside a large window overlooking a bustling street below. It was clear she loved color from the maroon sectional in her quaint living room and the complementary pillows crowded in the corner he usually saw her sit in. He immediately recognized her desk and the lit 'on air' wall sign above it, making him feel like he knew something about her with the present situation carrying the kind of nervousness and uncertainty that typically came with first dates.

This wasn't a date, though. This was business—an agreement—a short-term arrangement for long-term success.

Asia cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of water before sliding it across the island to Kelvin, who took a generous sip from his spot in one of her barstools. She watched him intently as she stood on the other side, waiting for less abrupt words to populate her mind. They never came, and she couldn't stand the wait any longer.

She ran her hand up the back of her head to adjust flyaways beneath her fresh bun before speaking. "We should discuss a few ground rules…if that's cool."

"It's your world," he laughed. "I'm just here to help. By all means, go ahead."

Asia took a deep breath and then reached for her phone to navigate to the unnecessarily detailed note she spent the previous night typing out. "Okay. To start, I need to see your most recent test results, and they can't be older than three months from today's date."

"Cool," Kelvin shrugged, tapping at his phone screen before placing it back on the counter. "Those are from, like, two months ago. I can get you something more recent if that isn't enough."

A soft buzz in her hand signaled the delivery of his test results neatly packed in a PDF sent via iMessage, making her swallow a lump in her throat. Things were getting too real. She continued. "I'll…give those a look," she started, semi-impressed that he was keeping up with his health in that manner. "Next, no bondage or sub/dom play. I'm not into it. I haven't tried it, but I just know I'm not."

"Me neither. What's the next one?"

"We gotta use protection every time."

"Copy."

"No staying the night."

"I don't like it over here that much anyway."

Amusement tugged at Kelvin's lips while he watched her scroll further down her list. Deep brown skin. She had narrow hips that almost duped you into thinking there was no ass behind her. Strong thighs. A beautiful smile. A good head on her shoulders. Perfect lips. Pretty —

Kelvin blinked back into the present when he heard his name called. "Say that again. My fault."

Asia rolled her eyes and spoke a little louder. "We can't change our behavior at work. No one can know about this."

"Bet." He was so nonchalant all the time, so unbothered by the circumstances no matter the topic at hand. Deadlines didn't matter. Client gripes and regroup after regroup did little to deter him. He'd always shrug his shoulders under one of his many distressed hoodies and proceed unphased. Kelvin took another sip of water before answering the question he sensed in Asia's eyes. "I'm rolling off of the only work we share anyway, so we won't interact that much."

"Woah, how come?" Asia caught her reaction and tried to dial her sadness back a bit. "I mean, you're… you're not leaving, right?"

Kelvin flashed a toothy grin while adjusting the blue velour durag tied tight on his head. "Nah, I'm still around for now. I raised my hand to take on some pitch work for a challenge. I'm bored." He paused to turn his lips up in an accusatory pout. "You gon' miss me, huh?"

"Stop trying to distract me. Which brings me to my next rule: no kissing during sessions or otherwise. Let's try to keep this as platonic as possible."

"Oh, nah." The one rule Asia assumed Kelvin would accept with no pushback was the one that gave him the most pause. He twisted his face into one of instant disapproval. "I don't have sex with people I can't kiss or hang out with. I know it's just physical, but I still need to like you as a person. Nah. We gotta kiss. Go get some food every once in a while. Something. Nah."

He was adamant and unyielding in his need for physical and emotional intimacy despite their arrangement not being one meant for the comforts of a relationship.

Asia noted his gripe and raised a hand in surrender while she backspaced in her note. "Okay, okay. We can kiss. I'm probably not that great at it, but — "

"You don't need to worry about what you're good at with me. Nobody goes to swim lessons expected to know how to swim. I'm teaching, and you're learning. That's the point of all this."

Stunned silence dropped Asia's jaw for a half second until she had enough nerve connections in her brain to pick it up and try to salvage her image. Kelvin tried to hide his smile behind his near-empty plastic water bottle while he watched her with satisfaction dancing in his eyes. For someone usually so poised, so sure of themselves as they moved through the tiny world that overlapped between them, Asia was flustered easily. A crack in the armor. Endearing. It made her human to Kelvin, who saw her as a mythical creature filled with unattainable magic.

Standing, Kelvin pulled his hoodie over his head, a question muffled as he disappeared behind thick fabric. "Can I ask you some stuff, or is this more of an interview? I know I got movie star charm, but I do like a back-and-forth every once in a while. Keeps me humble."

"Oh, brother," Asia groaned. "Ask what you gon' ask, Kelvin, before I change my mind."

A glimpse at his abdomen as his disrobing incidentally lifted the crisp white tee beneath did all the heavy lifting to stir Asia into crackling embers of desire masked by a deteriorating cool exterior.

He caught her looking, eyes wide like deer in headlights and winked on his way to plop down on her couch. "This is niiice," he drew out, scooting deeper to get comfortable. Where you get this? Don't let me find out you've been letting me pay for lunch, and you're rich."

"That's why I gave you a break the last few weeks. See how I look out for you." she joked, earning a dimpled smile in return. "Now, ask your question."

Kelvin called her over with a quick tilt of his head and a disarming smile. "Come over here first."

In her inner monologue, Asia passed the blame for her slow walk toward him to the fleeting gleam of his earrings under her bamboo floor lamp acting as a homing signal. In reality, it was simple attraction. Bare bones, uncomplicated attraction. He was boyishly handsome, the type of man you meet in college and remain "friends" with until one of you gets bored. Clean facial hair, glowing skin, straight white teeth, a sturdy hairline – all the makings of a classically fine man. What he lacked in height, he made up in personality and a beguiling genuineness.

That's what carried her the few steps from the kitchen to Kelvin's side, her eyes low until he tugged her down into his lap. He chuckled into her ear as his soft hands rubbed a soothing path up and down her exposed thigh while he cradled her. "You ever hear your neighbors in here?"

"That was your question, Kelvin? If I can hear my neighbors? Not usually, no."

He quietly scanned the corners of the room, nodding to himself in silent confirmation, then looked back at Asia with a lazy smile. His lips pecked at her neck before he spoke against her delicate skin. "And I wanted you to tell me about Friday. I saw you got the Hustle this week. That's big, girl. Congratulations."

His deep mumbles vibrated across Asia's body, awakening nerve endings in places she didn't know could feel so electrified. Her legs tensed as she fought for a response. "Thank you. I…I wasn't expecting it."

"I don't know why. You been bustin' your ass. Stayin’ late…” His voice trailed as his fingers danced across her stomach to the waistband of her shorts, hovering. Waiting. Teasing. "Comin' early. Skipping lunches. The least they could do is recognize you."

All of Asia's words came out in a needy rush of air. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I know so." Long, deft fingers slid into Asia's shorts and over her thin underwear, looking for tension to relieve. "Tell me to stop whenever you want." Kelvin kept his lips attached her neck just as his hold on her waist tightened and her eyelids started to flutter closed. He spoke low and smooth, like warm honey. "What'd you do today?"

A sigh and a whimper tumbled from her lips, fragmented and surprised. "I…I went to the farmer's market. The one uptown by the Whole F-foods."

"What'd you get? More of that fruit juice you let me taste?"

"Mhm."

Asia had something else to say, something possibly important, had it popped up at a different time. However, the words faded into a haze of disjointed thoughts once Kelvin started making slow revolutions against her clothed center. The spot grew wetter with each pass. He listened to her try to breathe for a few seconds with the ghost of a smile on his lips while he focused on easing her into more stimulation.

He rubbed his nose against her cheek to gently direct her to say more. "And what else? Focus on that so I can focus on you."

Heat came first. An uncontrollable, blazing internal heat radiated from Asia's shoulders to her clenched toes. The fire inside created steam in her mind that needed a minute to clear before she could mentally wipe it away and think about the moments in her day that meant more than having her body controlled by a man who, less than a week ago, had never even seen her ankles.

"Lunch," she panted. "I had lunch at…at a, um, a vegan spot. It was terrible. I…oh my God…I wasted my money."

"You're vegan?"

"No. Just…thought I'd try something different today."

"Oh yeah?" Kelvin pulled his hands away long enough to lick the tips of his fingers before returning them further south. Slick and searching for warmth, he carefully led them into her panties for skin-to-skin contact. "You're full of surprises today, huh?"

Asia's answer became a shuddering sigh that never quite let all the air out of her lungs before she went to inhale.

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Asia breathing in an uneven pattern, eyes closed and twitching behind crinkled lids. Kelvin slowly, deliberately circling the center of her pleasure with his nose pressed to her neck, inhaling the shea and sandalwood body wash coating her skin. Both of them caught up in the rapture of an impromptu lesson one.

Kelvin snuck his free hand beneath Asia's shirt, caressing his way to both nipples that ached for contact. He ran his thumb across his favorite one a few times over before cupping her entire breast to gently hold it in the palm of his hand.

"I didn't know this was the first session," Asia whispered as her body grew rigid and wetness coated her thighs, the words almost lost to the low roar of her dishwasher across the room.

"It doesn't have to be. Consider it a chemistry test," he answered. "Wanna stop?"

Asia rushed to answer, "No! Stay right there…please."

Hearing her beg for his touch, for the feeling he was producing, sent Kelvin into a tailspin of emotions that he fought to put back into the mental box he never planned to open. But he couldn't escape the burning desire to press kisses from her shoulder to the corner of her lips. "Look at you. I think you know what you want," he commented as he increased the pace to elicit the whimper she tried to keep tucked away. "Don't be shy. Speak up."

She couldn't. Even with the words knocking against the container of her mind like cold rainwater on a tin roof, she couldn't fight the sighs and sultry mewls taking precedence over making requests. All she could squeak out as her stomach clenched to welcome the first shocks of impending orgasm was a measly whimper.

"That's okay," he murmured. "We can work on it. Breathe deep for me."

Or don't breathe at all. Asia's lungs chose the second option, involuntarily holding in a breath to receive the single digit tentatively plunging inside her while tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Kelvin kissed away the initial shock until she nervously returned the affection.

It was all too good. The taste of mint on his tongue, the feeling of his hands dragging out every sigh and sound she could concoct, the way his moans mingled with hers, how his eyes seemed to try and convey something more than the carnal situation they'd found themselves in – all too good and far exceeding expectations.

Plush lips moved against each other like seasoned lovers, syncing up without much pomp and circumstance. Asia was right. She was a quick study. She'd learned the ebbs and flows of a solid kiss in no time as she relaxed into Kelvin's touch. Nervousness had quickly dissipated into familiar passion, loosening the bolts on what they both assumed would be an awkward first encounter.

Her hips swiveled against his lap in time with each push and pull of his middle finger. She could handle more. She deserved more.

When his ring finger joined the show, Kelvin pulled away from their lip lock to let Asia's throaty moan ping off the walls and ceiling. "There she is," he cooed against her lips. "I knew you had it in you."

Her private time had nearly gone unrivaled until he came along. She'd mastered how to get herself off efficiently with nothing more than a little mental stimulation and time on her hands. This was different. This was exhilarating. Having praise and pleasure in equal measure scratched an itch that she'd almost believed would never be satiated. Now, she had her first taste of a drug she wasn't sure she wanted to quit.

Kelvin's reminder to breathe echoed through Asia's mind as her body welcomed release. Waves of warmth cascaded across her limbs to match the near sob in her throat. Sweat pooled beneath her t-shirt. He kept his lips pressed to hers, creating a heady feeling that juxtaposed the pressure quaking her insides and sending her essence all over his knuckles. Her breathing all but stopped until the slow tingle of feeling returning to her toes reminded her that not only was she still alive, but her coworker still had his hands in her pants and a silly, self-satisfied grin on his lips.

"You sound so pretty when you're not yelling at me through a screen." Kelvin pulled his fingers out of her warmth and immediately stuck them into his mouth for the taste he'd been fiending for. Asia watched him with shock and intrigue on her face as he hummed in approval at his reward for all his hard work. "And you acted like you didn’t wanna kiss but you're not bad at it. I've had way worse."

Asia's rolling eyes matched the deadpanned response she used to hide how flustered she was. "Oh, great. I was starting to worry," she scoffed. "Get out of my house, Kelvin. I'll see you next weekend. Same time?"

A pang of disappointment hit him as she stood to scurry toward her bathroom without sparing him a second look. "We don't have to be like that," he called after her. "It's up to you, but I got a Disney bundle and Uber One until the end of the month. And you gotta eat, right?"

"I guess so," Asia answered, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed while she quietly committed the dimples in Kelvin's cheeks to memory. "Can we get something I can put hot sauce on?"

"You want your Wednesday usual?"

She smirked and turned her back to leave. "Don't go browsing around my Netflix messing up my recommendations and shit. Wait 'til I come back!"

Kelvin kept his smart remark to himself and sank deeper into the couch to scroll through dinner options until he found his target. An intentional lick of his lips when he knew he was completely alone brought Asia back into the room by taste and imagination, reinvigorating a stirring below the navel that he couldn't relieve until he was in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Adjusting himself to find relief, Kelvin released a low chuckle and licked his lips again for the thrill.

All business and no play was boring. Next Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

--------

Reply if you'd liked to be tagged. DM if you’d like to be removed.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers

#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black oc

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itneverendshere · 8 months ago

Note

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. Like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that walk, shoulders rolled back like he owned the place, which, you guess, technically he did, or at least his dad did.

The Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it got to you. After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging around the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down.

But no, butterflies are still fluttering in your chest.

You tossed the rag on the counter, busying yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth, he knew exactly what effect it had on you.

You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast.

You glanced up, trying to keep things casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting…a little complicated?

And that was why you needed to end this.

You'd seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by.

It started with quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else. You din’t know when it morphed into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

You knew how this story ended, what happened girls like you fell for guys like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

You wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. He doesn’t mutter a word, you wonder if you had done it, convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back.

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing another towel and wiping the counter again, distracting yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen.

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was too close, you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly, testing them out. And then he laughed—this disbelieving sound that made you grimace. “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his stare. “Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, the word coming out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it.

He dropped his head closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular spot, you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, he was wrong, you could walk away and be fine.

Okay. You weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island.

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, his thumb brushing a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and shit, you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

It was all spilling out now, the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his temper in check.

“I'm not just some guy playing games. You thinnk I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you.

“Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity. He noticed and apologized immediately, his hand reaching for yours but stopping short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was overwhelming.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move. His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his stare, no more escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firmly but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, you tried to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left.

Rafe was trying to make you understand something without words.

And damn it, you kissed him back, of course, you did.

Despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this, him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed back, your hands pressed against his chest.

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as wounded up.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. It's not gonna make me believe you."

He exhaled, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted, hands still resting on his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," His forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling. "Stop pushing me away."

You let yourself be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it...He seemed worth the risk.

You couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, hiding how your lips betrayed you.

“Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you scoffed under your breath, fingers still gripping his polo, afraid to let go. “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, it was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him. He raised a brow, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him with just force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle. “You seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ‘kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made you nervous. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s… casual.”

Your throat tightened, “Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “We're just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache in a good way.

“Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

“Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced your skin. “Stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy.

“Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt disarming .

"I don’t know," you groaned, feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you.

"You sure about that?" Rafe's voice was quiet, he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. That kiss had meant something—more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

“Why do you care so much? Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was serious, a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m scared."

“I know,” he murmured, “I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour. Your heart was telling you to stay.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid blinding grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back.

This was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or....you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe x pogue!reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe fluff #rafe cameron universe #requested

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ofbatsandballads · 4 months ago

Text

pretty little birds

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: suggestive content, reader works at the Iceberg Lounge as a server/dancer/informant for Oz, slight objectification from Oz, reader described as having long hair but no other physical descriptions, slight implication of potential SA (nothing happens, just concern over it)

a/n: been thinking of Jason with a girl who works at the Iceberg Lounge ever since I watched The Batman and saw Selina’s gorgeous self working there. something about her and Bruce’s dynamic was very alluring and I realized how much better it would work with Jason so this was born. might make this a series, might not; who knows? not me! also if you want a nice visual aid for the club, I fully based it off the Gotham Knights version of the lounge.

divider credit: strangergraphics

Jason wasn’t a fan of the Iceberg Lounge. He’d been there plenty of times for missions, for reconnaissance, to beat the shit out of Oswald—it didn’t mean he liked it there. The club was ostentatious, loud and vulgar like everything that went on within it. He always scoffed when he saw it during patrol. An actual iceberg exterior; how corny could Cobblepot get?

He did have to admit that it was nicer inside. The marble floors, balconies, and columns lended an elegance to the place that it didn’t deserve. The neon blues and pinks of the lighting served to disorient, to intoxicate alongside the drinks that were served across the bar and the drugs that were passed behind it. The massive penguin ice sculpture in the center was tacky though. Jason could think of a million better design choices than that.

All this to say that he wasn’t thrilled to be sent to the club per Bruce’s orders of seeing if Oz was still as legit as he claimed. He wasn’t. They all knew it but B needed proof. Jason’s sure by proof Bruce meant that he wanted him to go undercover, but one of the advantages of being Red Hood is that he can go where the other Bats can’t. That distinction is how he finds himself stalking the club from his vantage point in the shadows.

It’s busy tonight. The main floor is crowded with people. Bodies push and pull to the rhythm of the music that blares from the speakers. As tightly crammed as the floor is, the servers still manage to weave through with a practiced grace. They’re all in various states of undress; short skirts, crop tops, some in straight up underwear. Jason recognizes the servers for what Cobblepot intends them to be: a distraction. They’re all young and beautiful—pretty girls and boys that are meant to draw your eye so you don’t see the money and the drugs that pass between their hands.

Jason zeroes in on the two working the floor for any indication of something illegal. Oswald’s been smarter since his last stint in Blackgate. He lets the filth of the city do their deals in his club while he himself is never caught up in it. The argument of “well I didn’t do it” usually wouldn’t hold up legally, but this is Gotham. His eyes track the man first. He’s weaving in and out, laughing with what must be the regulars. He’s charming them, plying them with more and more alcohol to stay longer, to spend more money. He’s not doing anything more than that, though, to Jason’s utmost disappointment. He turns his attention to the girl instead.

The difference between the two of you is so obvious it’s almost amusing. While the guy weaved fluidly through the throng of people like something unseen, the crowd itself seems to part for you. Recognition, some degree of respect, power—that’s what you’ve got over the drunken group of people. He immediately knows that his best bet will be with you. Everything about you echoes the pull you must have in the club. The way you walk, how you smile at the regulars, the drifting of your hands across shoulders and backs and jawlines. It’s even clear in the way you’re dressed. You look like something out of a cabaret show. Pink silk lingerie lined with black lace flowers, black fringe beads that form the idea of a skirt rather than an actual one, and those same beads hanging in alluring arcs across your arms, neck, and chest. You’re dressed up like Penguin’s favorite dream.

You’re also not doing anything illegal. Sure, he’s watched you take money from people, but all you bring back are drinks. He watches for over half an hour, eyes always trailing back to you. Nothing. It’s remarkable how much absolutely nothing he’s seen. His patience is wearing thin. It’s one in the morning and there are better things he could be doing, people he could be helping. But he can’t leave without something for Bruce. He tries to ignore the bile that rises in his throat when he thinks of why he still cares about disappointing him. His eyebrow twitches and he decides suddenly and definitively: fuck it.

So he kicks in Penguin’s office doors.

“Ah, Red Hood. If it ain’t Gotham’s least favorite vigilante,” Oswald mutters past the cigar in his mouth. “Shut the doors behind you, would ya?”

Jason kicks them shut. No one needs to see the bloody mess that Oswald’s going to be in about fifteen minutes.

“Ah ah ah. Before you get any ideas, I would advise you to consider how bad it would be for you to be caught assaulting a reformed citizen of this great city,” Oswald gloats, stubby finger pointing at the camera in the corner.

Fuck. Now Jason has to talk. He hates talking to Cobblepot. It gets you approximately nowhere fast.

“Reformed? We both know you’re full of shit, Oz,” Red Hood taunts.

“I’m on the straight and narrow. Scout’s honor,” Penguin laughs, coughing through the harsh inhale he took of his cigar.

Nowhere. Fast.

“You’re bringing in too much money for that to be true. Your parties aren’t that good, Cobblepot.”

“Eh, you haven’t seen my toys. Most of ‘em come for the pretty little things I keep around.”

“So you’re pimping them out? You see that I can work with,” Hood retorts.

It would make sense, Oz getting his servers into sex work. It’s not the worst thing he could do if they were all willing. And if they weren’t? Well, that gives Jason a nice excuse to finally put a bullet through The Penguin.

“You don’t listen too well, do you? I’m a changed man. People can look at my dolls, but they can’t touch. Everyone loves eye candy,” Oswald says.

The doors open just as Jason considers pulling a gun on Oswald, cameras recording him or not.

“And there’s my favorite. What do ya need, doll?”

Jason watches you saunter in. You move with an almost feline gracefulness. His eyes clock the sway of your hips and the way you toss your hair over your shoulder. Then he watches the way Cobblepot’s pupils dilate as his eyes lock on you. You plant your hands on the desk, bend over as you smile saccharine at the old man sitting behind it. Oh, you’re good. Very good.

“Nothing much. Just that DA wanting his usual,” you say.

Oswald’s eyes rake lecherously over your body. He looks at you like he wants to put you in one of the glass cases that decorate his office. It makes Jason’s stomach turn. Then he pulls a key out from a locked drawer and drops it into your open palm. Now that piques his interest.

“Thanks, Oz,” you say sweetly.

As you straighten up and spin around to leave, Penguin grabs your wrist and yanks you back. He leaves one kiss on the inside of your wrist and that pretty facade cracks. It’s only for a second, so quick that Oswald doesn’t see it. Jason does. Disgust. Pure disgust flashes across your face before it’s replaced by an alluring smile. Your eyes spark with something Jason can’t quite read.

“Mind if I get some too, Ozzie? You know how much I like it,” you ask as you play with the beads that dangle on your chest.

“Sure, doll. Take whatever you want,” Oswald acquiesces.

Your face lights up and you look almost victorious. Then you spin around and head towards the doors. To this point you haven’t acknowledged him, the known vigilante, at all. But just before you leave, you pause right next to him. Jason tries not to flinch as your hand runs up his arm.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your night here. Next time, feel free to ask for anything you want. Wouldn’t want Oz’s guests to get bored,” you purr.

Your eyes lock with the white lenses of his domino mask and Jason feels the air leave his lungs. You’d seen him. You knew he was there the whole fucking time. And you hadn’t told anyone. If you had, Cobblepot would’ve sent security in guns blazing.

“Have a good night, honey,” you tell him as you waltz out the door.

“See, Hood? Eye candy,” Oz hacks.

Jason follows you. What else was he supposed to do? Oswald gave him nothing. But you? You gave him what felt suspiciously like a lead. Ask for anything you want, you’d said. What else could you think he wanted but proof of Oswald’s lingering corruption? So he follows you. He’s careful this time. Quiet, precise steps that give no indication he’s near. It’s times like these he’s grateful for all the stealth training Bruce made him do as a kid.

He trails behind as you head downstairs. You weave through the maze of corridors until you come to a mahogany door, elaborately carved with floral emblems. It’s got an old brass lock on it that you slot the key into. Jason waits one beat, two, three—then goes through the door where you disappeared.

He finds you inside, crouching in front of an open safe. A rainbow of jewels glitter within. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds—there had to be enough jewelry in there to cover the cost of a couple of Bruce’s tricked out sports cars. You pull a more modest sapphire necklace from the safe and place it into one of the grab bags that guests can take home at the end of the night. So that’s what the DA wanted. You grab a far more ostentatious diamond bracelet and slip it into your bra.

“Think it’s a good idea to steal from your boss?”

You jump. Jason doesn’t want to admit how satisfied he is by that. He was a little worried that he’d lost his touch. You twirl around, eyes locked on the vigilante leaning against the closed door.

“Hmm…when I’ve got him wrapped around my finger? Why not?” you smirk.

You’re brave. He’ll give you that.

“Must really be putting on a show for him if you’re not worried,” he presses.

Your smile drops and your eye twitches in annoyance. He’s hit a nerve. Good.

“A show. That’s all it is. If he’s stupid enough to think it’ll be more than that, that’s his problem,” you bite, tone dripping venom instead of honey.

“Not scared he’ll realize the trick? Or what he’ll do when he does?” Red Hood asks as he fiddles with a knife he keeps in his belt.

He asks with sincerity. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. You could end up dead. Or worse. Jason’s no stranger to people taking what they want by force, and Oz clearly wants you.

“Oswald’s a coward,” you reply harshly. “He only fucks with people weaker than him. So no, I’m not scared of toying with him. He won’t do a goddamn thing to me.”

Jason cocks his head, sizing you up. A pretty girl in lingerie working in a club thinks she’s stronger than a crime lord. Well, you’re probably not wrong.

“You’re not weak?” he asks mockingly.

But it’s still fun to test your resolve. To your credit and Jason’s surprise, you just grin. A breathy laugh falls from your red lips and Jason can’t help the way his eyes flicker down to look at the curve of them.

“I got this without so much as a fight, didn’t I?” you gloat, grabbing the diamond bracelet and swinging it around your middle finger.

“He let you.”

“Precisely. What exactly are you missing here? He let me. Because he’s a fool. And to let me take this bracelet specifically? Well, he’s just about the village idiot,” you laugh.

Jason sees the bait. His stubbornness almost makes him want to not ask just to spite you. But it’s just too intriguing.

“What’s so special about that bracelet?”

You smile wryly. Jason’s reflexes are the only reason he catches the bracelet as you toss it to him from across the room.

“Oh, I think you’re smart enough to figure that one out yourself, baby,” you purr. “Now get the fuck out.”

Jason does as he’s told. He returns to the cave with no intel beyond a locked room with a safe full of jewels and a diamond bracelet. Imagine his shock when Bruce analyzes the serial markings of the bracelet and finds that it was part of a collection that got robbed from a boutique in the Diamond District. It had been months and they hadn’t found a single piece of jewelry from the robbery. There were no leads on who did it or how. And now one of the most expensive pieces is sitting on the Batcomputer. Jason can guess where the rest are.

“Who gave you this?” Bruce asks skeptically.

Always doubt with the old man.

“A friend. Maybe,” Jason ponders.

Bruce rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Jason grins at how exhausted all his kids make him. It’s a point of pride among them: who can stress out B the most?

“You should figure that out,” Bruce scolds.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

Jason’s suddenly got a very vested interest in the Iceberg Lounge, and he’s going to satiate that curiosity if it kills him again.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#hellooo folks! here’s that jay meets reader at the iceberg lounge fic I mentioned #also I’m probably definitely gonna make this a series. it’s just got so much potential.#kinda feel like this is a bit messy? not my best work but I like the idea so it’ll do for now #Jay’s such a little shit here. snide motherfucker. feel like he’s a bit more comic accurate here than I usually make him.

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ingeniousmindoftune · 7 days ago

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Smoke and Sin

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Smoke & Stack x Reader

Note: Set during the chaos in Sinners (2025), the twins— identical, lethal and seductively unholy— find themselves entangled with you, a sly speakeasy informant with secrets of your own. When you slip too deep into the game of lust and power, the twins close in- not as enemies but something far more dangerous…

The speakeasy on Mercer and 5th didn’t need neon. A faint halo of incense smoke drifted like a smokescreen under dim lamps carved from jade. The air tasted of sandalwood and gin. A cracked gramophone dripped ragtime piano keys, each note a slow pulse. You stood at the bar in your black velvet sheath—so tight your pulses showed through the slit that climbed your thigh—and clutched a coupe of ruby-red vermouth. The cold glass sent shivers across your palm.

Pleasure wasn’t your agenda. You traded in whispers: crooked card games, smuggled shipments, alliances bought with lipstick-smudged lies. But word had reached you that Elias “Smoke” and Elijah “Stack” Moore “Smokestack Twins”—twins notorious for leaving trails of bodies—were stalking the Quarter again.

“Trouble, table for two.” Benny’s breath ghosted at your ear. His voice trembled—a good omen. You didn’t spare him a glance. You felt the shift before you saw them.

Two silhouettes moved as one down the smoke-tinged aisle. Elias’ jaw was a blade; Elijah’s gaze a slow burn. Both wore charcoal suits cinched at the waist, collars open to reveal skin that gleamed like obsidian. Their eyes—smoldering coals—swept the room, sucked the air from conversations, blurred the edges of every patron’s glass.

“Y/N,” Smoke rumbled. His voice was velvet and steel. Your spine quivered.

Stack’s lips curved into a grin that tasted of promise and threat. “We missed you.”

You toyed with your glass, the ice clicking against crystal. “Didn’t know I was that entertaining.”

Smoke slid into the seat beside you, hips brushing yours. His nearness sent a pulse through your core. “You’re not entertaining, sweetheart. You’re worth the chase.”

Silk and incense and low-hunger music wrapped around you. The bartenders froze; the pianist’s hand caught mid-note. When the SmokeStacks arrived, the world contracted to their orbit.

But you came armored. A veil of perfume spiked with silver dust—an old charm against monsters. You lifted your chin, letting the soft glow catch your lashes.

“Still flirting with fire?” Stack traced a lazy finger up your thigh. Heat bloomed under his touch.

You tipped your head back, lips curving. “Only when I want to get burned.”

After that, the night blurred in green-whiskey shots and laughter threaded with tension. Lips brushed necks in shadowed corners. You slipped upstairs, guided by Benny’s nod. The VIP lounge glowed blood-red. Velvet sofas curved like sin. Curtains pooled on the floor, as if bleeding.

Smoke and Stack flanked you—two halves of a single desire. Stack’s scent was dark amber; Smoke, raw musk. You let Stack’s hand ghost over your ribs, then slide under your dress. Smoke’s mouth was hot on your nape, teeth grazing, sending sparks along your skin.

Smoke’s lips crushed yours—hard, demanding—tongue opening you like a secret. You gasped, arching into him. Stack’s fingers fumbled with your fasteners, sending velvet pooling at your hips. He kissed a path down your collarbone, tasting sweat and promise.

When Stack’s hand pressed between your thighs, slick with anticipation, you trembled. Smoke parted your hair to expose a tender curve at the base of your skull. His teeth grazed—you inhaled sharply. Every nerve ignited.

“We want the truth,” Smoke whispered against your jaw, voice a caress and a command. “Or we take it.”

Your breath stuttered. “I—I told you everything I know.”

Stack’s lips clamped on your breast, tongue flicking. You moaned, arching, the breath rattling free. Smoke’s fingers found your center, curling in slow, precise strokes. Heat pooled, pressing outward, making your vision blur.

“Say our names,” Roman murmured, thumb circling your clit with cruel devotion.

“Elias…Elijah…” Your voice was a plea buried in pleasure.

“Say our names…” they both growled.

“Smoke…Stack..”

Their rhythm shifted: one twin pulling pleasure from your moans, the other marking you with hot, insistent kisses. You were stretched between them—each movement an exquisite crime.

Then Stack’s teeth sank into your neck. Pain lanced through pleasure, making your blood drum in your ears. A strangled cry tore free. Smoke’s hand froze, crimson unfurling across your collarbone.

“You bit her?!” Smoke’s eyes flared, coal-red anger.

Stack’s grin was wicked. Lips wet with your blood, he pressed another kiss to the wound. “She tasted like sin.”

Smoke’s suit jacket dropped to the floor. He knelt, one hand at your pulse, the other steadying your thigh. His gaze flicked between the wound and Stack’s gleeful grin. “Our pact—if she bleeds, she dies.”

Warm dread pooled in your belly, but the silver dust in your perfume hissed at the venom, slowing its creep. You teetered on the edge of oblivion.

Stack’s fingers brushed your cheek, gentle now. “I didn’t plan it…her scent was too much.”

“Then help her,” Smoke ordered, voice brittle as broken glass. Pain flickered in his eyes.

Your breath came in ragged sobs. “Stack…” It was an apology, a plea.

He closed his eyes, knuckles white as he pressed a kiss to your blood-stained lips. His voice was a broken promise. “I should let you bleed out right here.”

You shivered, tears mingling with sweat and blood. “Then why—”

He silenced you by sweeping you into his arms. Softly, tenderly, as if cradling something precious meant to break. His suit ragged against your skin, his heartbeat thundered against your ear.

Stack hovered, guilt and desire warring in his sharp features. Smoke’s fingers brushed away your tears. “You’re ours,” he murmured. “And I’ll damn the world before I lose you.”

Your heartbeat steadied in his warmth. The twins—destroyers and saviors—held you between sin and salvation.

When they carried you toward whatever came next, you knew nothing would ever be the same.

#black writer #black fanfiction #black writers #imagines #black reader #ingeniousmindoftune #blackwomen #michael b jordan #fanfic writers #smuts #smokestack twins #reader x smoke #black reader x stack moore #sinners fanfiction #sinners fic #sinners 2025 #fanfiction #black actors #michael b jordan fics

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mymoonisgrey · 2 months ago

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mr. steal your girl

❤︎ ໋𓈒 in which satoru’s plans to steal you away from your girlfriend work, after a while.

warnings. 18+, smut, cunnilingus, p in v, satoru’s a smart manipulator, ooc, reader is bi and had a girlfriend, polygamy. based on this ask.

wc. 4.3k

A throuple. A polyamorous relationship. Not once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in one.

You’ve been with your girlfriend for a while now, and she’s wonderful—steady, kind, patient. You’ll admit that.

But a part of you has always yearned for something else. The kind of love that feels all-consuming. A man’s presence—protective, overwhelming, the low timbre of his voice settling deep in your bones, large, calloused hands engulfing yours, that brand of devotion you only ever see in movies.

Then Gojo Satoru waltzes into your life and tilts your world off its axis.

He’s thrilling, all spark and adrenaline. Just being near him sends a rush through your veins. Those striking blue eyes pull you in, make your head spin before you can even think.

It starts as a friendship.

You meet him at a bar, introduced through a mutual friend—Shoko Ieiri, who, for the record, is the human embodiment of lesbian energy. At first, you hang out in a group, once or twice. Then, somehow, it becomes a daily thing. Eventually, you’re comfortable enough to start meeting up with him alone.

“Trust me, you should really try the taro-flavored one,” he says, sliding the boba ice cream toward you with an easy smile. “I’m a sugar expert. And sugar varies, y’know?”

You hug your torso, lips quirking. “I know it tastes good. My girlfriend likes it.”

Satoru stills. The word hangs between you, and for a fraction of a second, his smile falters—so subtly you almost miss it.

Then, his expression smooths out, his interest sharpening into something even keener.

“Girlfriend?” he repeats, slow, as if tasting the word.

You nod, oblivious to the calculations running through his mind. “Mhm! I’ll bring her next time. You can meet her.”

A million possibilities unfold in his head, different ways this could go, all of them leading to the same outcome. Because he wants you—pronto.

His fingers graze the ends of your hair, his smile going languid, lazy.

“That,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “would be interesting.”

You didn’t think much about that interaction with Satoru at the time.

When you finally brought your girlfriend out to meet your friend, the connection between the three of you was instant—undeniable. Before you knew it, you had become a trio.

Satoru was always around, whether at your place or taking you both out. He spoiled you endlessly, never hesitating to drop money on gifts, meals, or spontaneous trips. He was the perfect masculine presence—charming, dependable, larger than life. Neither of you questioned it. Not at first.

You had no idea there was a motive behind it. Neither did she.

Then, one night, he brought it up.

“You know,” he starts, casual, almost offhanded. “We could just—make this a thing.”

You blink.

“Huh?” you mutter, sitting cross-legged, leaning back on your arms. Beside you, your girlfriend’s brows knit together.

Satoru swallows—an act, you realize later. He stares at both of you with a glassy, hopeful gaze, playing it up just enough to seem sincere but not too eager.

“I like you both,” he says. “So, if you’d like… I mean, I won’t take it personally if you say no—”

“Yes.”

The word leaves your lips before you can think, your back straightening as you nod.

Your girlfriend turns to you, eyes wide. But when you meet her gaze—soft, certain—she understands.

“…Yes,” she echoes.

Satoru smiles, slow and knowing. Then he stands smoothly, gathering you both into his arms—his grip just a little tighter around you.

It was a slow burn—he did think your girlfriend was cute, but you? You were everything. He could already picture it: kids, a settled life with you, lounging together in his clan’s estate. You, as his madam.

But he was patient. He took his sweet time, gradually pulling you further away from her without making it too obvious. It started small—sitting with you more often than she did, attending to every little need you had, hanging on to your every word. Then, the gifts.

“What’s all this?” you laugh softly, staring at the orange boxes with their fancy ribbons, the velvet-lined cases. You’d never been gifted something so luxurious before.

“They’re yours, honey.” He smiles, genuine, his heart pounding beneath his chest. “I picked everything based on… what you like.”

Your heart soars, your lips curling into a smile as you hug him tightly. “I love you. Thank you.”

Satoru exhales through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. “Mmm, I love you more,” he murmurs, his voice thick with devotion. He feels your eyes drift around, searching for something else.

His brow furrows. “I got her something too, don’t worry. It’s in her bedroom. When she’s back, I’ll give it to her.”

You nod, your smile warm, though your gaze lingers on the gifts in your lap. Part of you wonders—does she get the same? You assume she does. After all, Satoru’s generous.

He is, but only because he knows exactly what he’s doing. The gift for her? A simple diamond tennis necklace—barely a dent in his pocket. Not that it matters. This is all part of the plan.

It’s been going on for months—slowly, almost imperceptibly, Satoru has worked his way into your life, taking more of your attention, making you feel more at home with him than with your girlfriend. At first, it was subtle—the way he’d help you with everything, anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. But now, you’re beginning to notice the gap widening, the emotional distance growing between you and her.

Your girlfriend is becoming… strange.

She picks fights over the smallest things now—dirty dishes left in the sink, the couch cushion being out of place, your clothes tossed on the floor. It’s like every moment is an argument waiting to happen. Her moods shift at the drop of a hat. “I’m not in the mood,” she sighs. “I don’t feel like it today.” Even her complaints about Satoru—small, unimportant things—start to irritate you.

Satoru, on the other hand, never complains. He’s there when you need him, always helpful, always attentive. He’s not the one causing problems, and he never starts a fight. Everything he does seems to smooth over the tension.

But today… Today something shifts. Satoru’s patience snaps.

You’re out running errands, leaving Satoru and your girlfriend alone in the house. When you return, you find Satoru cornering her in the hallway. His face is expressionless, but there’s an undeniable hardness in his eyes.

“Honey,” Satoru says, his voice smooth, but with an edge that cuts through the air. His gaze never wavers from hers. “We need to talk.”

Your girlfriend glares at him, exhausted. “What now?” Her tone is laced with resentment.

“You’ve been really fucking hard on her lately,” Satoru continues, his voice deceptively gentle. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture almost predatory. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hard on her?” she scoffs, her eyes flashing with anger. “Oh, so now you’re playing the ‘knight in shining armor,’ huh? Tell me, why does everything have to revolve around you two, huh?”

Satoru’s lips curl into a tight, almost amused smile. He leans in, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re always together. It’s like I’m invisible! It’s like I wasn’t even your girlfriend too— she was my girlfriend first! why are you just… swooping in like im not here?!” Her voice cracks with frustration, but her hands ball into fists at her sides.

Satoru tilts his head, his expression cool and controlled. “You’re being irrational,” he says, his tone deceptively soft. “Maybe if you treated her better, she wouldn’t feel like she has to pull away from you.”

Her eyes widen, disbelief flashing across her face. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Satoru doesn’t flinch. His gaze hardens. “I said maybe you should stop acting like a bitch towards her,” he states with calm finality.

Her face pales, and for a moment, she looks like she might explode. “Excuse me?” she whispers, barely holding back her fury. “You think you can talk to me like that? You think you can just come in here, into our relationship, and tell me how I should act?”

Satoru’s smile remains unchanged. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you’re making things difficult for her. You’re pushing her away, and it’s your fault.”

“You have an ulterior motive, don’t you?” she spits, glaring at him. “You’ve been plotting this from the start. You want her all to yourself.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you think? Really?” He takes a step closer to her, his presence overwhelming. “You’re the one who’s been making it hard for her, not me. But if you’re too blind to see that, then that’s your problem.”

She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “I think you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s smile widens. “Maybe I have.” His eyes flick to the door, a silent invitation for her to leave, to walk away. “But you know what? That’s your choice.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he turns, walking away like he’s won.

Your girlfriend stands there, her body trembling with anger and frustration. She breathes heavily, looking at the door, before storming out without another word.

You return home, bags in hand, and freeze at the sight of your girlfriend standing outside. Her expression is clouded, her shoulders hunched, and she looks as though she’s just been torn apart.

“Hey… Are you okay?” you ask softly, approaching her, your voice filled with concern.

Her eyes flash with irritation. “Are you seriously asking me that?” she spits, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really don’t see it, do you? You’ve been so wrapped up in him, in Satoru, that you haven’t even noticed me. I’m right here, but you don’t care. You don’t even fucking care anymore.”

Your heart sinks, confusion and frustration rising. “That’s not true. I’ve been trying—”

“No! Don’t give me that!” she snaps, her voice raw with emotion. “You’ve been all about him. He’s always there, always helping, always doing for you. What about me? What the fuck do I get?”

Your eyes widen as the weight of her words settles in. “That’s not fair. You know how much I care about you.”

“Do I? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” she sneers, taking a step back. “It’s like you’ve forgotten everything. Like I’m just the other option, the one who gets pushed aside because you want him. You think I don’t see that?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you say, your voice wavering, emotions thick in your throat. “I’m not choosing anyone. I never wanted this to happen.”

“No, you didn’t,” she mocks. “But it’s happening anyway. Because you don’t see it. You don’t see me anymore.”

Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them away, fighting back the lump in your throat. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Well, you are.” Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’ve already hurt me.”

Before you can respond, she spins on her heel and storms away, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on your chest.

Inside, Satoru watches from the window, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watches the scene unfold.

You rush inside, groceries in your arms, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. The door slams shut behind you with a soft thud, but the weight in your chest feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried. You fight to keep the tears at bay, but they burn at the edges of your vision.

Before you even reach the kitchen, Satoru is there—appearing as though he was waiting just for you. His hands are quick, steady, and gentle as he takes the groceries from your hands, setting them down on the foyer table with a careful precision. His eyes meet yours, searching for the storm brewing in them.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before his arms are around you, pulling you into his warmth.

“My heart, come here.” His voice is a soothing whisper, an easy contrast to the fury that still bubbles beneath your skin.

You crumble against him, the dam breaking, and sobs rack your body uncontrollably. It’s as if all the frustration, all the pain, all the love you’ve been withholding explodes at once. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, a steady presence, even as your body trembles with the weight of everything that’s happened.

“She’s being fucking unfair!” you choke out between ragged breaths, the words barely making it past the tightness in your throat.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. His hand brushes through your hair, slow and gentle, as though each stroke is meant to calm the storm inside you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his own breath steady and warm against your skin.

“I know.” His voice is soft, tender in a way that makes your heart twist. “She’s not seeing it, baby. She doesn’t see how much you’re doing, how much you care.” He holds you tighter, his grip firm yet comforting. “But I do.”

You pull back just slightly, enough to look up at him. His eyes are sharp, a mixture of understanding and something darker, something protective. He wipes away the remnants of your tears with his thumb, his gaze never leaving your face.

“She’s pushing me away, Satoru. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to make her understand,” you whisper, voice raw, the weight of it all crashing down on you again.

His smile is small, but it holds a certain promise in it—a promise that makes your chest tighten and your heart race. “Don’t worry about that. Let me handle it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words get stuck. There’s something in the way he says it, something confident and unwavering. His hand moves down your back, his fingers brushing against your spine in a way that sends a ripple of warmth through your body.

“I’ll fix this, okay?” he murmurs, eyes darkening just slightly. “She’s not going to ruin what we’ve built. Not when we’re this close. You and me… we’re untouchable.”

You want to say something, to question him, but the sincerity in his voice and the way he holds you makes it hard to think of anything but him, anything but this—the safety, the comfort, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay again.

The thought makes you dizzy. And in the quiet of his embrace, you let yourself be swept away by the weight of his devotion.

The three of you sit on the bed, the TV playing in the background, but the quiet tension in the room thickens with every passing second. Satoru’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you closer, while your girlfriend watches, her hand inching toward his thigh.

Satoru notices first, his eyes flicking to her before he shifts slightly, pulling you into him even more. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His touch is steady, reassuring, as if to say it’s always been you, not her.

Your girlfriend hesitates, her fingers brushing his chest, but Satoru doesn’t react. Instead, his lips find your neck, kissing you softly, purposefully ignoring her advances. Her frustration is palpable, but she pushes forward, her fingers finding their way to his lap. She leans in to kiss him.

Satoru pulls away slightly, the edge in his voice sharp as he grabs her wrist. “Not yet,” he warns, his gaze unwavering. His attention shifts back to you, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss. Your hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, to drown in him.

Your girlfriend, still sitting beside you, looks lost. She reaches again, trying to touch him, but Satoru doesn’t let her. With one hand still on you, his other gently pushes her back. “I said no,” he repeats, his voice dark with an authority that leaves no room for doubt.

You moan as Satoru’s hand slides between your legs, slipping under your clothes to find you already wet for him. He takes his time, teasing you, while your girlfriend stares, her breath catching in frustration.

The more Satoru touches you, the more your body responds. His fingers slide inside, slow at first, but he picks up the pace, bringing you to the edge. You can barely keep your composure, his lips never leaving your skin, his movements relentless.

And then, without warning, your girlfriend’s gaze shifts—no longer hungry with desire, but with a mixture of confusion and jealousy. Satoru’s full attention is on you, and he isn’t even looking at her. She’s no longer part of this equation.

As Satoru picks up speed, his breath ragged in your ear, you come apart under his touch, body trembling, desperate for more. He pushes deeper, claiming you fully, making it clear that you belong to him.

The room falls silent except for the sound of your breathless moans and Satoru’s steady pace. Your girlfriend sits motionless, helplessly watching as the last pieces of her place in this dynamic crumble.

Satoru wastes no time, maneuvering you onto your back on the bed. His hands are rough, skilled, as he strips you of your clothes with an urgency that matches the fire in his eyes. He kisses his way down your body, his lips burning trails on your skin as he works his way lower, lower, lower.

“Look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growls, his voice low and thick with desire as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily. The sensation makes you gasp, your body arching up involuntarily. You can feel his knee pressing against your cunt, the heat of him seeping into you, sending electric shocks of anticipation through your veins.

Your girlfriend, watching from the edge of the bed, stays silent, her eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists. She’s hot and bothered, her body reacting despite the anger twisting in her chest. She’s fed up with the whole situation—tired of being the afterthought. She hates the way Satoru devours you, but she can’t tear her eyes away.

“Ng—Satoru…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his mouth works its magic, sucking your nipple until it’s slick and swollen. His lips leave your skin with a soft, wet pop as he shifts his attention lower, his knee pressing harder against you, reminding you of how he owns every inch of your body.

He lifts your legs, spreading them wide as he moves between them, his eyes dark with intent. “Fuck,” you yelp as he finally lowers his mouth to your cunt, his lips and tongue finding your clit with practiced ease. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth as he hums with approval, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he mutters into your heat, his voice muffled as his tongue works relentlessly. You can barely process the words as your hips begin to squirm under the relentless pressure, his grip locking you in place. Your feet flail, trying to gain some sort of control, but Satoru has you right where he wants you—completely at his mercy.

“Sat—Satoru—” you pant, your body trembling, feeling the tension coil tighter in your stomach. His tongue is relentless, his mouth working you down to the bone, and you’re losing yourself to him.

“Down, kitty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing despite the intensity of his actions. “Let me eat.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone making your heart race even faster.

Your hands dig into the sheets, fingers curling tightly as his mouth continues to devour you. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck of his lips, drives you closer to the edge, and all you can do is surrender to the pleasure. His grip on your hips tightens, ensuring you stay locked in place, and you feel your body trembling, the first waves of your orgasm crashing over you.

As you’re lost in the pleasure, you catch a glimpse of your girlfriend—her expression a mixture of frustration and arousal, her eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. The tension in the room shifts, the air thick with everything unspoken. But Satoru’s focus is entirely on you, making it clear who truly holds his attention.

You’re pulled back from the edge, gasping for breath as Satoru pulls away, his lips glistening, his eyes wild with hunger. He looks up at you, his face smug but tender, a twisted combination of possessiveness and affection. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

Your girlfriend, still sitting on the edge of the bed, watches, her chest heaving with a mix of frustration and desire. But she says nothing, the distance between the three of you growing ever wider.

Satoru’s movements slow for a moment as he looks down at you, his dark eyes gleaming with possessiveness and hunger. His thumb traces your bottom lip, tugging it gently as a lazy smile spreads across his face.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful when you’re helpless like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and gravelly. “Can’t get enough of that sweet little pussy of yours.” He groans, his hips rolling slightly, teasing you just enough to make your body twitch. “You’re all mine, baby. No one else gets to feel this.”

You whimper beneath him, your hands fisting the sheets as his words make your core tighten with need. Satoru lowers himself, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks again, his voice dripping with desire.

“Say it,” he commands, his breath hot against your skin. “Say you’re mine. Tell me you love how I fuck you like this.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out, your voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “I love it, Satoru—fuck, I love how you make me feel.”

He chuckles low in his throat, a wicked grin curling on his lips. “Good girl,” he purrs. “So fucking perfect for me. No one’s ever gonna make you feel like I do, not even your girlfriend. You’re mine, and you know it, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, feeling him fill you completely. His words sink deep into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. “Yes, Satoru… only you…”

“Damn right,” he growls, his thrusts growing faster, more brutal. “I’m the one who makes you come apart, not her. Every single inch of you belongs to me now. You’ll never be able to leave me after this, baby.”

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in as he pulls you against him with each powerful thrust. He watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring you as you squirm beneath him, your body moving in rhythm with his. He groans, the sound deep and throaty as he leans down to kiss you again, hungry and demanding.

“You wanna come again, huh?” Satoru whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “You can’t get enough of me, can you? I know you’re close… you’re so fucking tight around me. You love how deep I fuck you, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please, Satoru, I need you… need more.”

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “I’ll give you more, baby. I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”

He picks up the pace, slamming into you relentlessly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you raw.”

“I want it so bad,” you moan, your body trembling as you feel your orgasm build. “I want you to make me yours, Satoru. I want everything.”

With that, he groans, his thrusts growing even more intense as he drives into you harder, faster, pushing you into a state of pure bliss. “That’s it, baby,” he growls, “Come for me. Let me feel how fucking tight you are around me.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body spasming as you scream his name. Satoru follows close behind, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you through your orgasm, his own release flooding you as he grits his teeth in satisfaction.

You feel yourself being gently lifted, your body weightless in his strong, warm arms, and you’re dizzy from the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. Satoru moves you up the bed effortlessly, his chest pressed to yours as he cradles you in his embrace. His lips brush your temple, soft and tender, as he whispers, “Let’s stay like this for a while. I’ll clean you up and feed you in a bit, my love.”

You nod, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you, your body still humming from the intensity of everything. The soft comfort of his touch is like a balm for your overstimulated body, and you lean into him, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

But then, your gaze shifts, and you look around the room, your mind catching up with the reality of the situation.

“Where’s—”

“Gone.” Satoru whispers, his voice low and soothing as his lips press against your neck. His arms tighten around you, drawing you closer. You can feel his steady breath against your skin, and for a moment, everything feels impossibly right.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you hug him tighter, the full weight of his words sinking in. Gone. It’s just you and him now.

“Finally,” he breathes, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

for the anon that requested this, i hope its up to your liking and expectations. :) tried my best. pls let me know what you think through the inbox 🤍

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk gojo #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #anon submit #dividers by cafekitsune

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misshoneyimhome · 14 days ago

Note

Your last relic has given me many thoughts! One being a 3some of Willy and Knies. Knies thinks he knows everything there is about pleasing women and Willy shows him that he in fact knows nothing.

Oh absolutely, this combo is definitely one of my top favourites too! 🌺 And honestly, who better to guide the baby Leafs than our calm, collected, and ever-so-charming Swedish boyfriend?

Hopefully I captured even a hint of what you had in mind when it comes to William’s gentle yet confident teaching vibes 🙈

Tropes & warnings: Matthew Knies x reader x William Nylander, Friends to lovers, Smut 18+: Threesome (M/M/F), Oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), Vaginal sex (protected), DVP, Praise kink, soft dom vibes, Gentle guidance, reverence, aftercare

➼｡ﾟ

Bed Chem I William Nylander x reader x Matthew Knies ☆

The moment the final buzzer went off, the building erupted.

You weren’t on the ice, but somehow you felt it all the same—that pulse of adrenaline, the eruption of joy that cracked through the walls of Scotiabank Arena like a sonic boom. The Toronto Maple Leafs had clinched a playoff spot, and the city was electric. So were the players. So were you.

The locker room had been a mess of champagne sprays and booming music, post-game interviews overlapping with spontaneous shouts and camera flashes. But by the time you reached the dimly lit rooftop bar uptown, the energy had mellowed into something warmer. The buzz of victory still hung in the air, but it was laced now with alcohol, cigarette smoke from the balcony, and the sort of grins that came from knowing a season’s worth of grit had finally paid off.

You arrived with a couple of the WAGs, but it didn’t take long for Matthew to find you.

“There she is,” he said, looping an arm around your shoulders like it was second nature. “Thought you were gonna ghost us after the win.”

You gave him a look, amused. “You think I’d miss a party full of sweaty men and overpriced cocktails?”

“Yeah,” he said with a crooked smile. “But only because you’re smarter than all of us.”

He tugged you toward the bar, ordering you a drink before you could even ask. He remembered your go-to without question—of course he did. You’d been there through enough of his rough nights and quiet ones, holding space and talking him down when the city felt too big, too loud. He’d always said you made it easier.

Tonight, he was golden. Laughing freely, glow from the overhead string lights catching in his tousled curls. You stayed close, not because you felt like you had to—but because being near Matthew always felt like choosing warmth in a cold room.

“You sticking to your usual?” you asked, nodding to the beer in his hand.

He glanced down at the label and made a face. “I dunno, I might need to branch out. Try something more… mature.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, sipping your drink. “Like a whiskey sour?”

“Like a wine spritzer,” he deadpanned.

You choked on your drink mid-laugh, earning a proud smirk from him. That was how the night flowed—easy, playful. You’d drifted in and out of conversations with other guys, teammates leaning over to toast, make a joke, ask you how work was. But Matthew always came back, his hand at the small of your back, his laugh ready for your next sarcastic quip.

You weren’t blind to how the others saw it. You’d heard the chirps. The “When’s the wedding?” comments. The knowing glances. But it wasn’t like that. You were close—had been since the day he’d landed in Toronto, fresh-faced and already exhausted by the noise. You’d been his anchor.

Still, as you leaned against the bar beside him now, the air between you felt… warmer than usual. Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the way his thumb absently brushed your wrist. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, you didn’t feel the need to pull away.

And that’s when Mitch, two beers deep and already in rare form, decided to start chirping.

“Mattie, be honest,” he called out across the lounge. “You bring your own PR girl out for moral support, or is this part of your new strategy?”

Matthew didn’t flinch. “She’s just here to keep me humble.”

You rolled your eyes, but Mitch wasn’t done.

“No seriously—dude acts like he’s a girl whisperer just ‘cause he got a couple swipe rights after a hat trick.”

“That was one time,” Matthew muttered.

“I bet he still thinks making a girl laugh is enough to get her off,” Mitch added, practically giggling now.

You turned your head toward Matthew, sipping your drink with a smirk. “Is that true, Kniesy? Is that your big secret weapon?”

His eyes flicked to yours, somewhere between defensive and amused. “Maybe… you know, I’m very attentive.”

“Oh, so you’ve read a women’s magazine before.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning in, “I didn’t say Cosmo wasn’t a resource.”

Laughter broke across the group. Even you giggled—genuinely. He was good at that, at making you laugh without trying too hard.

And still, you felt it: a shift in the air. The faint buzz of someone watching.

You turned your head, casually scanning the room.

William stood near the windows. Alone.

A glass of something amber in his hand, one foot crossed over the other, posture relaxed—but his eyes were trained on you. He looked like something out of a noir film. Gold hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck, sharp jaw highlighted in low light, blue eyes unreadable but unwavering.

You hadn’t spoken much tonight. A few words in passing. A gentle squeeze of your elbow when you first arrived. But you knew that look. You’d felt it before.

William Nylander didn’t hover. He didn’t chase. But he watched—especially when it came to you. Not possessive. Not overt. Just… watchful. Like someone who kept the perimeter clear without ever needing to be asked.

You turned back to your drink before your thoughts could spiral.

“So,” Matthew said, leaning in with a grin. “Back me up here. You do think I’m a good listener, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re an excellent listener. When it comes to Spotify playlists and Uber Eats orders.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m just saying,” you shrugged, teasing. “Your success rate with women might have less to do with skill and more to do with… face symmetry.”

Matthew groaned. “Unbelievable.”

You leaned into his shoulder, whispering just loud enough for only him to hear. “You’re cute. You’ve got a good heart. But I don’t think you know quite as much as you think you do.”

He looked down at you, playful spark dimming just a bit into something more earnest. “So teach me.”

The words hung between you for a beat longer than they should have.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before William joined your side.

He didn’t say anything. Just stepped in, sitting close enough that his arm brushed yours. He was still holding his drink, but his attention was fully on the two of you now. And Matthew—bless him—sat up straighter.

William’s voice was quiet but firm. “Some lessons take more than charm.”

Matthew blinked. “Wasn’t asking you, bro.”

“I know,” William replied, eyes still on you. “But maybe she should.”

Your pulse jumped.

The banter was still there. The teasing. But something else had slipped underneath it. Something sharper. He wasn’t just joking. And neither were you.

You swallowed, trying to mask the heat rising in your chest. The room had shifted, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way both of them were looking at you now—like you were something worth studying. Something worth sharing.

Somewhere deep in your gut, you felt it:

This night was far from over.

It was always like that with team nights out—one moment the room was buzzing, too full, too loud, everyone trying to shout over each other, and the next it was emptying out, drinks half-finished, jackets thrown over shoulders, plans whispered between teammates as they slipped out in pairs or small groups.

You hadn’t noticed how late it was until you checked your phone. Past one.

Someone had changed the playlist from classic bar bangers to something smoother, bass-heavy, the kind of rhythm you felt in your chest before you even recognised the song. The laughter had faded. The clinking glasses, too. And when you finally looked up from the low leather couch, it hit you—nearly everyone had left.

Nearly.

Matthew was still beside you, legs spread, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, leaning forward now like the weight of the day had finally hit him. He looked relaxed. Buzzed. Eyes soft and cheeks still faintly flushed.

William stood a few feet away, now with his drink abandoned on the edge of a side table. He was rolling the hem of his sleeve with slow, careful fingers, like he had nowhere else to be.

You wet your lips, heart skipping when the silence held. It wasn’t awkward. But it wasn’t casual either.

Matthew exhaled a short laugh. “Didn’t realise we were the stragglers.”

“Or the smart ones,” William offered, finally sitting down in the armchair across from you both.

You watched the way he lounged into it, like his body already knew how to own a space before his mind even tried. William was… intimidating in the quiet. Not because he was trying to be—but because there was something about his silence that felt like a secret.

Matthew gave a half-smile. “Guess that means we get the afterparty.”

You stretched your arms above your head and hummed. “Or we’re just too stubborn to go home.”

“Speak for yourself,” Matthew said. “I live for moments like this.”

“Like what?”

“This,” he gestured around. “End of the night. No pressure. Just… honesty.”

You looked at him sideways, surprised.

William tilted his head. “That usually comes after drink number six.”

“Exactly,” Matthew grinned. “We’ve reached that stage.”

You didn’t say anything at first, just let your gaze bounce between them. The air felt… different. Still warm, but thicker. Slower.

“So,” Matthew said, suddenly glancing at you, “what’s the most honest thing you’ve said to someone after midnight?”

You blinked. “That’s a loaded question.”

“I know. That’s why I asked it.”

You smiled. “I told someone I was in love with their dog once.”

Matthew snorted. “That tracks.”

You glanced at William. “Your turn.”

He looked at you, then at Matthew. “I told someone I didn’t want just sex.”

That pulled the air tight.

Matthew blinked. You stared.

“Well, damn,” Matthew said softly. “Didn’t expect you to go deep.”

William just shrugged. “Honesty, right?”

You looked at him a moment longer. The calm in his voice wasn’t forced. There was no bitterness. But something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable.

“What about you?” William asked, nodding at Matthew.

Matthew hesitated. Then smirked. “I once told a girl I could make her come just with my mouth.”

You burst out laughing. “No, you didn’t.”

He raised a hand in mock-defence. “Hey, she agreed with me.”

“Was she unconscious?”

William chuckled. “That’s the cockiest thing I’ve heard all week.”

Matthew grinned. “I’m just saying, I’m good at what I do.”

You gave him a look, playful but sharp. “You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who thought clitoral stimulation was a TikTok trend.”

Matthew feigned a gasp. “I did not!”

“You did,” William added, unbothered. “In the group chat. We all remember.”

“Et tu, Brute?”

You were laughing again, but something about the heat in your cheeks wasn’t just from amusement. It was Matthew’s eyes on you, bold and youthful, and William’s steadier gaze—quiet, unreadable, but somehow deeper. You felt the shift again. That edge between teasing and something else. Something closer to a line neither of you had acknowledged yet.

You stretched your legs out across Matthew’s lap without thinking. He rested his hands lightly on your shins, thumbs brushing over your skin. William’s eyes followed the movement, slow and deliberate.

“You know,” you said, tone light but voice quieter, “for a guy who claims to be so good with women, you never really struck me as someone who… understood them.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

You nodded. “You’re enthusiastic. And sweet. But I think you think enthusiasm can replace intuition.”

He looked genuinely intrigued. “So what, I need a mentor?”

“Maybe,” you teased. “Someone older. Wiser. More… Swedish.”

William didn’t even blink. “You offering your services?”

You paused. The words hung there.

Then you tilted your head. “Maybe I am.”

Matthew leaned back, mock serious. “Are we talking about, like… a coaching session?”

You smirked. “You couldn’t handle me, Kniesy.”

“Try me.”

William shifted in his seat, jaw flexing just slightly. “He might try, but he won’t finish.”

Your breath hitched.

Matthew grinned, playing it cool. “You think you’d do better?”

William’s gaze never left yours. “I know I would.”

That’s when it happened. That moment. The second when everything tipped sideways. Because you weren’t joking anymore. And neither were they.

And God help you, but the idea didn’t scare you. It thrilled you.

You took a breath, heart pounding. “We could always find out.” The words slipped out softer than you expected. Barely more than a whisper.

Matthew blinked. “Wait—are you… serious?”

You looked between them. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the tension that had been brewing for years. Your pulse was screaming, but your gut was calm. “I trust you both,” you said. “And I… want to feel good. I want to be with people who know me. Who care.”

William leaned forward slowly. “We’d never do anything you weren’t sure about.”

Matthew nodded, eyes wide but sincere. “We’d take care of you.”

You gave a slow, steady nod. “Then let’s go.”

No one moved for a moment. It was like the silence itself needed a second to process what had just happened.

Then William stood first, walking over to you and offering a hand. You took it without hesitation. Matthew followed close behind, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over one shoulder.

And as you stepped into the cool spring air, sandwiched between two men who suddenly looked at you like you were a star they couldn’t stop orbiting, your chest tightened—not in fear, but in anticipation.

Because this wasn’t just a wild idea anymore.

This was happening.

And something told you… it would change everything.

William’s place was warm.

Not just physically, though the condo had that lived-in luxury—soft lighting, clean lines, the smell of cologne and something woodsy hanging faintly in the air. But the warmth came from something else. The quiet, steady kind. The way William held the door for you and Matthew. The way he let you walk in first like you belonged here.

You’d been in this place before—group hangs, pre-game meet-ups, the odd Sunday movie night when the guys needed normalcy. But never like this. Never with this undercurrent humming beneath your skin, this sense that every movement was leading somewhere.

“Can I get you guys anything?” William asked, already shrugging off his jacket.

You shook your head, still standing in the entryway, heartbeat too loud.

“No,” Matthew said softly. “I think we’re good.”

William looked over his shoulder at you, eyes darker now. “Then come here.”

You moved slowly, unsure but not nervous. Like stepping out onto a frozen lake—you could feel the tension beneath the surface, but something in you trusted it to hold.

Matthew trailed behind you, a step or two slower, his usual confidence muted now into something gentler. Watching you. Watching William.

You stood in the centre of the living room, just a breath apart, the three of you hovering like magnets waiting to be pulled together.

It was William who crossed the distance first.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your face toward his.

“You sure?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His kiss was soft. Focused. Like he’d wanted to kiss you for a long, long time and was finally allowing himself the pleasure. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy. It was knowing.

You leaned into it before you realised, one hand sliding up his chest, anchoring yourself to the steady beat of his heart.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to glance past you—to Matthew.

“Come here.”

Matthew obeyed. You felt his presence at your back, warm and close, as his hand found your waist and his lips grazed your neck.

“God,” he breathed. “This is… so much better than anything I ever imagined.”

You laughed softly, breath catching as he pressed a kiss behind your ear. “You imagined this?”

“I’m a guy,” he said. “We imagine everything.”

William chuckled low, one hand sliding along your arm. “Then stop imagining.”

And just like that, it began.

They moved with you, not at you—guiding you gently to the sofa, William sitting first and tugging you into his lap, your knees straddling him as Matthew settled beside you, hands brushing your thighs like a question.

You kissed William again, deeper now, more need curling beneath your skin. You felt Matthew’s lips at your shoulder, his hands climbing slowly up your torso, fingertips teasing beneath your blouse.

When he reached the first button, he paused.

“This okay?”

You nodded.

One by one, the buttons came undone. Then William’s hands joined his—warm palms sliding up your back as they helped you ease out of the fabric.

Every touch felt intentional. Every movement filled with quiet reverence.

“You’re beautiful,” Matthew whispered. “Like, unfairly.”

You turned your head and kissed him—Matthew—softly, testing the space between you, surprised by how natural it felt. How right. There was no hesitation, no awkward clash of lips. Just warmth. The heat of his breath mingling with yours as his mouth parted under the pressure, tasting of beer and something more.

Your fingers curled at his nape, drawing him in as you deepened it, emboldened by the low sound he made—half sigh, half groan. His hands stayed respectfully on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles just above the hem of your jeans, as though memorising the feel of your body, asking for permission with every pass of skin on skin.

Then you felt another pair of hands—steady, sure, achingly familiar.

William’s.

They skimmed low, trailing from your ribs to your hips, where they caught the waistband of your jeans and knickers. He moved with careful intention, tugging them downward in one smooth, patient motion. You rose slightly, shifting your weight just enough to let him help you out of them completely.

The moment you were bare, the air hit your skin—cool, sharp, electric.

And then William’s mouth followed.

He kissed your inner thigh first, just above the knee, a slow drag of lips and breath that made you twitch. Then higher. Then higher still. You felt the stubble on his jaw graze you gently, his nose nudge soft skin as he pressed closer. And finally, the warmth of his breath against your core.

You couldn’t help it—you gasped.

His hands came to rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing lines along their curve as he knelt between your legs. His eyes lifted to meet yours, sharp and dark and reverent, like he was about to say grace.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “About tasting you. About making you fall apart.”

And then his mouth was on you.

Firm. Intentional. Unhurried.

His tongue swept through your folds with maddening precision, teasing before pressing flat against your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He moaned softly into you, and the vibration alone sent a bolt of heat through your spine.

Your back arched, hands scrambling for something to hold on to. One found his shoulder. The other slid into his hair—thick, soft, a little damp with sweat—and you tugged, instinctively, just enough to feel him groan in response. The sound went straight through you.

You could feel every detail. Every flick of his tongue. Every purposeful pause. Every moment he let his nose nudge against your thigh like he couldn’t get close enough. It was overwhelming. And still—somehow—exactly what you needed.

Beside you, Matthew hadn’t moved far. His breath was uneven now, chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted a shift. He reached out with one hand, stroking the length of your arm with gentle reverence. His other hand cradled your jaw, grounding you in his presence as his lips found yours again—slow, coaxing kisses that gave you something to hold onto while William unraveled you below.

Your thighs began to shake. That pressure—low, hot, coiling—was building fast.

“W-Willy,” you gasped, hips tilting into his mouth.

And then he stopped.

Pulled back. Licked his lips.

You let out a sound—needy, wrecked, half-whimper.

He just smiled. “Your turn,” he told Matthew, his voice rough and knowing.

Matthew looked like he might combust on the spot.

“I—I don’t wanna ruin the fun,” he admitted, flushed to the ears, breath catching.

“You won’t,” William said calmly, standing to his full height. “Watch. Listen. Then try.”

You moved in your position, pulse still racing, as you lay back on the couch, legs open and draped across the cushions in invitation. Matthew moved between them, eyes wide, searching your face like you were sacred scripture.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, offering a reassuring smile. “You’ve got this.”

He started slow. Tongue tentative. Hands a little unsure, but sweet. So sweet.

William crouched beside him, not touching either of you—just guiding. “Go slower. Focus on the top. Feel her breathing. Let that guide you.”

Matthew listened. Really listened.

He adjusted. Tilted his head. Flattened his tongue. One of his hands splayed against your lower stomach, the other steadied your thigh, and he moaned when he felt you twitch beneath him.

Your breath caught.

He was definitely a quick learner. Smart and curious. And when he found that rhythm—pressure and pace just right—you let your head fall back with a cry.

“Matt—oh my God—”

He kept going. Determined now and focused. He sucked your clit a few times, and just like that you came, hard and fast—hips bucking, hands fisting the cushions, voice echoing through the room as the coil inside you snapped and pleasure rushed over you in waves.

Matthew pulled back slowly, lips shiny, eyes wide with something like awe.

“Oh… yes,” he breathed, resting his head on your thigh like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “That was—holy shit.”

William chuckled softly from above you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Told you.”

You were still shaking, heart pounding, chest heaving.

And then they came back to you. William next to you on the couch, lifting you gently into his lap, kissing your temple. Matthew kneeling at your feet, stroking your calves as he gazed up at you with something between pride and disbelief.

And then, like they’d rehearsed it, they kissed you—one on the neck, one on your lips. Like you were sacred. Like you were theirs.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were.

“More?” William asked, his voice husky, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, breath shaky, body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Say it,” he whispered, his hand trailing down your side, anchoring you with every touch. “Tell us what you want.”

Your reply was a breath, a confession. “I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”

The air shifted—like something ancient and silent had just been summoned. They helped you up, warm hands on your arms and hips as you left the sofa behind and padded down the hallway together. William guided you into his bedroom, dimly lit and clean, with soft sheets and the faint scent of cedarwood lingering in the air. You could hear Matthew behind you, the slight catch in his breath, the soft creak of the floorboard under his weight.

Your back met the edge of the bed, and you sank down gently as you watched them both undress completely.

William stood at the foot of it, eyes dark with restraint as he reached into the nightstand drawer. He slid a condom out of the box, tore it open with ease, and rolled it on with a practiced hand, his gaze never leaving you. Then he climbed onto the bed, shifting beside you and drawing you gently to your side, body curled around yours.

His hands were everywhere—stroking your spine in long, grounding sweeps, massaging your hips with reverence, touching you like he was reminding himself you were real. One of your legs lifted to hook over his hip, welcoming him in.

He kissed your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, before positioning himself at your entrance.

And then—slowly, carefully—he pressed in.

The stretch made your eyes flutter shut. You gasped, body arching instinctively as the fullness hit, his body molding to yours in the most intimate way. The heat of his chest at your back. The sound of his breath at your ear. It was more than sex—it was surrender.

You opened your eyes—and there was Matthew.

Standing in front of you, one hand loosely gripping the base of his cock, the other resting against his stomach. He was flushed, eyes heavy, lips parted as he watched William sink into you.

You reached for him. “Come here.”

He did.

You took him in your hand first—slow, teasing strokes that made his hips twitch—before guiding him gently to your lips. You kissed the tip, then slid your mouth over him inch by inch, letting the moan in your throat reverberate around him.

William began to move behind you. Long, deep thrusts. Controlled. Reverent. His fingers tightened around your waist as he matched the rhythm of your mouth.

It was overwhelming—in the best possible way. The push and pull. The heat. The rhythm of William moving inside you, the weight of Matthew on your tongue, their soft groans and praises surrounding you like a lullaby spun from sin and safety.

You were the centre of gravity. And you wanted more.

You pulled off Matthew with a whimper, lips wet, hand still stroking him slowly. “I want to feel you too,” you whispered to him. “Please.”

They stilled.

William’s hand traced down your side, grounding you. Matthew looked at you like he was trying to memorise you.

A pause. Then William’s voice, low and careful: “You’re sure?”

You nodded. “Yes. I want this. I want both of you.”

William then gently pulled out before Matthew reached for a condom with shaking hands, tearing it open and rolling it on with quiet reverence. Then he lay back on the mattress, propped on pillows, arms open in invitation.

You climbed over him slowly, one knee on each side of his hips, gently and slowly guiding him to your entrance. You gasped as you eased down onto him—already sensitive, already aching—and he moaned beneath you, hands flying to your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You rode him slowly at first, trying to catch your breath. But then William was behind you again—steady, calm, the grounding presence he always was. He pressed soft kisses between your shoulder blades, hands sliding along your waist.

“Lean forward for me,” he murmured.

You obeyed, bracing your hands on either side of Matthew’s head. His arms cradled your back, keeping you steady as William positioned himself again.

You felt him—hot and hard—at your entrance. And then, with excruciating care, he pushed inside.

The stretch made you cry out. Your fingers curled into the sheets. Your body trembled with the sheer intensity of it.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” William breathed into your shoulder. “Let me in. Let us take care of you.”

They held still for a long moment, letting you adjust. Letting your body catch up to the sensation of being filled completely.

Then—slowly—they began to move.

In sync.

One pushing while the other pulled. A rhythm of careful thrusts and reverent touches. Their hands roamed your body like you were art. Their lips brushed against your back, your shoulder, your neck. Matthew’s eyes locked with yours, wide and worshipful.

You’d never felt anything like it. Not even close.

The pleasure was molten. Liquid. Spreading through you like wildfire. Your moans turned to cries. Their names spilled from your lips like prayers.

You came first.

It hit like a wave—your body shuddering, your thighs quaking, your voice cracking as they held you between them, coaxing you through it.

Matthew followed next, gasping your name as he thrust deep one last time, head thrown back against the pillow.

William came last—always controlled, always composed—his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried himself fully, groaning into your skin as he let go.

And then…

Stillness.

Just the sound of breathing. The weight of their bodies. The lingering tremble in your limbs.

You collapsed between them, chest heaving, every nerve ending singing.

No one spoke. They didn’t have to.

It was quiet.

Not the kind of silence that begged to be filled—but the kind that settled in like a warm blanket, the kind that only followed something honest. Something real. Like your bodies had said more than words ever could, and now the quiet was just the breath between pages.

You lay between them. Skin still flushed, heartbeat finally slowing. Matthew beneath you, chest rising and falling, one hand still tracing lazy patterns up and down your back. William behind you, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other splayed across your ribs like he never wanted to let go.

No one moved. Not really.

Matthew let out a low, exhausted chuckle.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

You smiled, face buried against his chest. “Can’t feel my brain.”

William kissed the top of your spine. “Can’t feel bad about that.”

You laughed softly—genuine, a little sleepy. Your muscles ached, but not in a way that hurt. More like the echo of something good. Something earned.

They stayed close, touching you gently like you might disappear if they let go for even a second.

You shifted slightly, limbs heavy, letting your cheek rest against Matthew’s chest. His skin was warm. His heartbeat steady.

“I still feel like I’m floating,” you murmured.

“Same,” he said, voice low, a little shy now. “That was…”

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to.

William’s voice came from behind you, soft and steady. “You were perfect.”

You turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

“So were you.”

He smiled—slow, tired, full of something that made your heart clench.

“I mean it,” he said. “You didn’t just… let us have you. You trusted us. That matters.”

Matthew nodded. “It really does.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of those words sink in. Maybe it should’ve felt overwhelming. Maybe you should’ve been second-guessing everything. But all you felt was… full.

In every sense of the word.

“Alright,” William said, sitting up a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You started to protest, but he was already easing you up, his hands gentle, movements unhurried. Matthew helped too, his touch soft, reverent, the teasing edge from earlier now replaced with something tender.

William disappeared into the ensuite, returning a moment later with a warm cloth and a bottle of water.

He crouched beside the bed, pressing the bottle into your hands. “Small sips.”

You obeyed.

Then he brushed a damp cloth between your thighs, movements careful, almost clinical—but still loving. Like he was honouring the body he’d just worshipped.

You touched his wrist lightly, silently thanking him.

When he finished, he climbed back into bed beside you. You reached for him without thinking. Matthew rolled over too, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“We should probably talk,” you whispered, unsure where the thought came from, but knowing it needed to be said.

“Eventually,” William said, already pulling the covers up over all three of you. “But not tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matthew echoed. “Let’s just… be.”

You sank into the sheets, wrapped in warmth and the scent of their skin.

The weight of the moment finally settled in your chest—not heavy, but real.

Because this wasn’t just some wild night. Not something you’d laugh about tomorrow and lock away in a mental file labelled “one-time mistakes.”

This was something else. Something that shifted tectonic plates you hadn’t realised were movable.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. You didn’t know what this meant for any of you.

But right now, in this bed, with two men who had just shown you more tenderness and reverence than you’d ever expected to receive in your entire life—right now, you weren’t afraid.

You were seen. Held. Wanted.

And when you finally drifted off, tangled between William’s quiet strength and Matthew’s golden warmth, the last thing you felt was a kiss on your forehead… and a voice, low and steady, murmuring into the dark:

“Sleep, baby. We’ve got you.”

#my asks #smut 18+#william nylander x reader x Matthew knies #william nylander imagine #matthew knies imagine #wn88 imagine #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines

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