Like imagine being pressed up between Ghost and Soap.
Your back against Ghost's chest. Head lolled back over his shoulder. His huge hands hooked under your knees to hold your legs apart while Soap goes at it.
Soap rutting into you like a fucking dog. Mouth everywhere he can reach. Sucking dark hickeys into your skin and letting out the nastiest little moans at the salty taste of your skin.
One of your arms slung over Johnny's shoulder, trying to tug him impossibly closer. The other reached up and back to grip onto Simon's mask (or his hair if you're lucky enough). Just reassurance that he's still there. Gripping on to the blonde for dear life. He lets you try to ground yourself. It's not like its working.
You and Soap are obviously the loud ones in this scenario. Both of you moaning and whining and fucking begging for more. But occasionally Ghost will chime in. His voice gruff near your ear.
"Oh Johnny... she liked that. Do it again."
"Look a' you both. Fuckin' mutts. Can barely keep it together."
"You wan'er to cum, don't you Johnny? Better pick up the pace then."
So Danny comes to Gotham. Down on his luck. But lo and behold, he still has access to the kingly vaults! He doesn't have to worry about money!!! He can just buy a small apartment and live out his miserable little life In luxury!
But then he is stopped on a horrible and a dark stump in his plan. How in the 7 hells is he gonna explain it to the IRS ??????
Money laundering????
Can't he just say he found a mysterious big pile of gold and be done with it?
No, Danny . How are you gonna explain the fact that you keep finding mysterious little gold files to the tax man . Jazz says emphatically through a video call . Which is a multi dimensional cuz I can't explain why sam wont just give him the money. And btw the just assume that the vaults has a magic function to give the money to him in the local currency.
Sso from that day onwards Gotham had a new little cafe in a quiet little nook. The prices are super cheap. And it by far has the best fudge in all of Gotham. If you exclude Alfred's.
The gothamites love it. It's a favorite college hangout. Everyone is pretty sure the cafe is a front. Everyone is 100% sure of it. But in this economy who the hell cares. At least it's not nfts.
People can actually benefit from this because we can get like a whole breakfast for like 4 dollars ( an au where like Danny's 2000s world is like super cheap compared to the modern Gotham city and nobody taught the poor boy common prices of this world. Danny's thinking like how do I keep accidentally going into these rich people stores with their ridiculous prices, Ughh guess I'll have to buy this I don't want to go farther) and the quality is good too. The scrawny little twink owner sure as hell does not know much about ingredients prices or did the bare minimum study of business.
Anyway when the bats came sniffing (the scrunkly little guy was innocent blame Fenton luck) and we'll tried to interrogate the owner people actually chained themselves to the front like the worlds most confused save the trees activists.
“You’re telling me you haven’t thought about sleeping with your guy friends?”
Matsukawa narrows his eyes as he waits for your reaction. You’re unphased, mulling the question over as you take a sip of your drink. The movie the two of you are watching is paused, not even 20 minutes in.
“No, Issei, that’s weird. I don’t pick my friends based purely on sex appeal.”
He puts a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “Then what am I good for?”
You smile at him over the rim of the glass.
“Stupid conversation starters.”
“C’mon,” he presses you, nudging your shoulder. “Surely you’ve thought about someone before. You can tell me.”
He’s not trying to get you to say him, although the thought wouldn’t be unwelcome. You make no move to reply.
Issei settles back into the couch cushions, hiding somewhat from your view, and continues.
“And besides, I’m not saying that we can’t be friends because of it. It’s a bonus.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
The room falls quiet again, and you make a move towards the remote to turn the movie back on.
“I’ve thought about it.”
He hadn’t entirely meant to say that. But now that it’s out, he’s a bit relieved.
Your head whips around to face him, your expression flustered. “What?!”
Not expecting that reaction, Issei tries to think of some damage control. “Not just with you, with most of my girl friends.”
You narrow your eyes at him, not entirely sold. But, there’s also something different in your gaze. Something… almost curious. Still, you don’t reply.
“You’re freaking me out, man.” He jokes, trying to evade the weight of your gaze.
“What do you think about?”
Time feels like it slows as he realizes what you’ve asked him. He swallows hard, letting out a thick exhale. “You serious?”
“Yeah,” you reply coyly, turning in your seat to face him. Bracing your head with your hand, arm perched on the tip of the sofa, poised like you’re waiting for a little anecdote. As if you didn’t just drop a bomb on him.
He once again averts your gaze, suddenly very interested in the condensation dripping down his bottle. “Alright. Uh,” he starts, trying to think of something vague enough.
“I’d think about the way you act at the club, I guess.”
You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, so he shrugs and continues.
“You know, the way your ass looks in the dresses you wear, how it’d feel if you were dancing on me, pressed up against me.”
“Oh, c’mon. You can’t be serious.”
“What?” Now it’s his turn to look incredulous.
“That’s it?” You’re almost laughing at him, looking in disbelief. “You made such a big stink about it and that’s all you’ve thought about?”
He sits up a bit straighter, moving into your space. “Okay, you want more?”
The move makes you nervous as you bite your lip ever so slightly.
“Alright. So say we’re at this club, and you’re dancing like that, pretending to not notice the way people are looking at you. I’d take you off the dance floor, into some dark corner where it’s just you and me.
“I’d start slow, maybe kissing your neck, just waiting for you to get all breathless and needy before kissing you properly. I’d leave hickies all over,” his eyes rake over your body, lingering on your neck as if he could see the marks already, “just so all the other shitty guys would leave you alone.
“But you wouldn’t be alone, because before too long, I’d have those pretty legs straddled over mine, watching you get yourself off on my thigh in the corner of a club, just hoping that I’ll have mercy on you and help you cum before someone notices.”
When he finally finishes, the two of you stare at each other, both breathless. You start to grin.
“I guess sleeping with your guy friends wouldn’t be so bad, then.”
