#sugary4kchallenge.

[anika-ann]

Maybe (Honey)

Type: College AU, student!reader, civilian!Steve

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader (temp), Steve Rogers x reader (estab)

Word count: 6600 (here we go again)

Summary:

You and your boyfriend Steve love each other; but money’s tight. You found an unorthodox solution and decide to go through with it. Without Steve’s knowledge.   

Enter a very specific agency and Andy Barber.

A/N: I have no idea what I’m doing, but this fic is meant for donutloverxo’s sugary challenge.

Also, this work of fiction is not meant to judge anyone. I repeat – it is not meant to judge anyone or imply that SD-SB relationships or using your body as a tool is absolutely inacceptable. We respect people’s choices here.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, dub-con, morally grey, mention of cheating, cheating, praise kink, masturbation, bit of cumplay, angst, onset of a panic attack, heavy self-depreciation, eh… ooc Andy(?), rather negative (and totally inaccurate) description of SD agencies and relationships

Your index finger hovered over the button, teeth sinking into your lower lip with anxiety.

This is a terrible idea.

To be fair, Nat, your bestie for better and for worse, agreed. Then again, she had also been the one to suggest you went for it and was chilling in the nearby bed while you filled out the form, knowing what you were doing and not stopping you, so… you guessed it couldn’t be that bad of an idea.

Saying yes to this question however, probably was.

Sexual intercourse (PIV): Yes – Maybe – No

Considering you had a boyfriend, the answer should be straightforward NO.

Then again, Steve was a great part of the reason why you were signing up for this stupid app in the first place.

Ever since the wonderful birthday dinner at your family’s house, you were… not necessarily struggling with finances, but knowing you had three last months before your father cut you off his support made you already save money for the rainier days. It sucked, likely because you were maybe trying too hard. But your dad said you were a big girl now. And as the good father he was, he promised to send you the usual payment for three more months, because such a sudden change to your budget would be brutal.

Especially since you and Steve moved in together a month before that. Steve was finishing his PhD. at the university and you, being a student with only part-time job yourself, weren’t exactly great contributor to your budget.

It wasn’t that you father had been showering you with enough money to lead life in luxury, but it had been enough to get by okay. Now, you and Steve were trying to save for food – which was a horrible idea considering his body built –, for take-away coffee, wearing clothes that had seen better days just so you didn’t have to buy new ones and--- you hated seeing Steve like that. The food part was the worst, the most visible.

The night you learned about your father cutting you off, you took it as a champ, accepting it as a fact and continuing the conversation as if nothing significant happened. Later that night, Steve held you close to comfort you, assuring you it changed nothing about your relationship and that you were his everything. That night you made a silly suggestion.

“…you can’t exactly sell me to put food to your mouth--- well, technically-“

At that time, Steve’s answer was a very harsh no, and you apologized for talking stupid. Two months later, here you were.

Secretly filling out a form for a sugar daddy agency.

Natasha helped you pick, claiming this one was extremely discreet, as she knew from her cousin who had been using it for almost two years and apparently said she didn’t have a reason to complain once. In addition, there was no pressure on signing a contract until the fifth meeting and yet, the men committed themselves to paying certain sum of money for the meetings slash dates alone. No strings attached for you. Kinda.

So. It seemed you were about to become a sugar baby. Not for long; just enough to make some savings, an emergency stash so to speak. You didn’t want to fall down the hole and stay for two years like Yelena – you believed the money would be addictive. And which would be worse, Steve would find out.

Steve could never ever find out. It felt like you were cheating on him already.

You wouldn’t cheat on Steve. Ever. You loved him with all your heart and soul and he was the kindest man you had ever met. Incidentally, he was also the hottest one, smartest one and sweetest one and the second funniest one; in that aspect, he came close after Bucky, his hysterical best friend.

Steve had picture in a damn dictionary next to the words ‘perfect boyfriend’. Which was why you should just click on the damn no, because there was no way you let any other man inside you. The mere idea made you physically sick.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Natasha remarked next to your ear and you jumped in your seat with a startled yelp, your heart nearly giving out.

“Jesus, Nat! What the hell-!“

“Girl. That’s a no. You have Steve. Or can you like… imagine doing it?”

Jesus fuck, how did she know exactly what the train of your thought was?!

“You’re right,” you said, shaking your head instantly, finally settling on no. Moving to another question however, you bit your cheek. “But the chances are higher that someone will pick me, right? If I say yes?”

The silence that fell on the room was solemn, Natasha’s hand reaching out and pushing your shoulder to force you to look at her. Her eyes were wide, concerned, disapproval written all over her face.

“Yes. And it will also mean that they will want you to sleep with them. And I mean sleep with them. Bang you into the damn wall and make you like it, or make you pretend you like it. Is that what you want?”

No. Absolutely not. Your stomach turned over at the idea.

You were all for being fucked into a wall. By your boyfriend. Your amazing, wonderful boyfriend, who would have his heart broken if he ever found out. Which would probably happen, because you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye and just confessed to him.

And that would be the end of your relationship – you couldn’t have that under any circumstance.

Then again, how long would you even be able to keep this extra part-time job secret anyway? You needed as much as money as you could in a short period of time-

“That’s my girl. Leave the no.“

“But it will get me more money too, right? Faster? I don’t look to make a fortune, Nat, I just--- a few nights to have an extra money for the worst-case scenarios and… then I’ll be done with it,” you explained, trying to convince her as much as yourself.

Maybe… maybe?

“This is an awful idea. It’s fucking terrible, hun. You don’t wanna go down that road,” Nat argued, hiding her anger at you for even considering the option behind a soft frown.

“Others did.”

She sighed. “Yes. But a) you are a sweet loyal person who totally needs a connection to sleep with someone and b) there’s this little detail that you have a damn boyfriend.”

You shook your head and quickly changed your answer to ‘maybe’ at least. Natasha gave a hiss in warning.

“It’s not yes!” you protested, instantly on the defensive. “Maybe I’ll luck out. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Except for the fact that I love Steve and watching him ruin himself is--- that’s not gonna work. I’m choosing the maybe for him. For us.”

“I still hate it,” your friend muttered, but yielded. “If this is gonna ruin my OTP, I’m fucking firing you as my best friend.”

You mouth fell open in shock, feeling the mental blow deep in your stomach as if she actually hit you. She would—after you’d-

“Okay, I wouldn’t, I’d be there to give you a shoulder to cry on, ‘cause I’m with you till the end of the line or whatever, but--- just… Steve’s the guy, okay? You have this… puppy love going on. You’re gonna marry him one day and have two little carbon copies of you running around, white picket fence in the suburbs and all that. Don’t mess this up, hun,” Natasha whispered, deadly serious, just a hint of a smile playing in the corner of her mouth. “Don’t forget that his stomach might be protesting, but he’d withstand it for years for you and his heart would be happy. He’s crazy about you.”

You stared at your best friend, few tears forming in your eyes, warmth settling around your heart, because you knew she was telling you the truth. In a really cheesy way, but the truth nevertheless.

“You write those yourself?” you teased her lightly and she playfully slapped your shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Thank you, Nat. Believe me – I can’t lose Steve. And I won’t.”

You should have known you’d be eating your words in less than a week later.

Upon entering the restaurant and having the hostess lead you towards the private room, you were certain this was your punishment.

Because sitting at the table – with white cloth and everything, because this was a high-brow restaurant, you had had to at least try to dress accordingly to that – was Steve. You froze in the doorway, entirely deaf to the what the woman said to you before she left.

Your gut twisted in panic, heart pounding in your chest. This wasn’t happening. How could it--- had Nat told him? Was this a set-up? Or was Steve in the app? Impossible. But then how was this possible?!

Because it was happening. Steve was sitting at the table, expensively looking suit, fluffy hair and beard--- and your lips parted in shock when you looked at him; truly looked at him.

His hair was an inch shorter and a shade darker. He filled the suit well, but his shoulders were a little less square than you were used to; where Steve appeared a bit like a bodybuilder, this man was more like… athletic.

It wasn’t Steve. This man just looked like could as well be his twin.

You had no idea what to do.

On one hand, this was clearly a punishment, an all-night reminder that you had a boyfriend who loved you and currently believed you were having a fun girls’ night with your bestie. On the other hand, maybe you could make this work. Your nerves had been getting the best of you, still were now, but perhaps seeing a familiar face would help?

Fuck, this was so ironic. Maybe you should just leave. Or walk straight towards the table, tell the man you were sorry, but you couldn’t do this. He looked like Steve; surely he was equally nice? Okay, probably not, but at least something of him--

It was the exact moment Steve’s twin raised his gaze from his phone, scanning the room— and spotting you standing in the doorway like a dumbass.

Apparently not concerned by your hesitance, his lips curled in a soft smile and he rose to his feet, approaching you with measured steps. He was slightly shorter than Steve too; and he had a few more lines around his eyes.

“Good evening, miss,” he offered in levelled voice, causing you to gulp and finally unfreeze. You tried to smile and likely failed as you returned the greeting politely.

He had kind eyes; and despite the low-lit intimate setting of the private room, you could tell his irises were also a different shade from Steve’s. Despite the jab of guilt at remembering Steve again, you made a quick choice.

Extending your hand, you introduced yourself – with your previously chosen fake name, obviously.

The man gently grasped your hand, faking a kiss to its back. Oh no. He was being a gentleman. That was… you weren’t certain whether you liked it or not.

“Pleasure to meet you. Call me Andy. Shall we sit?”

And you did. You let him lead you to the table as if you weren’t in control of your body anymore, allowed him to pull the chair out for you and hand you the wine list while he seated himself.

Eyes skimming the list of names you barely ever heard of – with no price quoted –, your gaze flickered over the top of the menu to your companion and swiftly returned as he caught you.

You might as well say you caught him watching you, smiling with one corner of his lips higher, but unlike you, he didn’t shy away from it, quiet confidence and an air of power surrounding him.

You wondered if he knew how out of your element you were.

And you wondered, whether the knot forming in your stomach was guilt or a flicker of excitement.

Listening to Andy talking, you soon realized he also had a different manner of speaking. There was a lilt to his voice, something about the colour you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You learned things about him. That he was here for a week on a business trip, but also took whatever chance he could get to relax and enjoy the city – you did not miss the meaningful once-over he gave you – that he was an attorney, he came from Boston, enjoyed swimming and always wanted a dog.

Question was, how much of that was true. You weren’t a good liar, but you alternated what you could anyway. Andy now knew what your major was, but was told a fake minor. You picked a city close to your home, but not your hometown and complained about the winters there. Only one of the three hobbies you shared were legit something you enjoyed.

If Andy saw through the lies, he didn’t mention it. Why would he? Hell, he didn’t even know your real name and you probably didn’t know his, not yet at least. God knew if you guessed his age correctly, thinking he was in his late thirties; you didn’t want to think about it.

What you did learn and knew was true was that he had a great taste in restaurants – you legit had a small foodgasm – and that he was flirty. He complimented you several times and every time he did, you felt both pleased and incredibly guilty. During the whole meal, there was a battle raging inside you, gradually calming down as Andy’s resemblance to Steve put you at ease; you were a mediocre liar if even, but you could lie to yourself just fine. Or it could have been the wine.

“Listen, Kendra… I have a room few floors up. Would you like it to move this evening there?”

Your heart stopped in your chest before kicking in in a feverish pace, hammering against your ribcage. Your head was suddenly spinning.

Andy cocked his head to side, studying you, before an inviting smile spread his lips.

“We don’t have to, of course. But rest assured if we go, it will not stay unrewarded.”

You nearly choked on your spit, squeezing your eyes shut. The way he phrased it was almost respectful – but also very telling.

There was no describing the shame settling deep in your gut; then again, this was what you wanted. More money. And if you had to go upstairs for it… well. At least Andy seemed nice enough. He reminded you of Steve – which was both a blessing and a curse – he was relatively young compared to what you had imagined the man you’d be meeting would be. He was undeniably attractive and he clearly didn’t aim to make you feel cheap… not more than strictly necessary.

As far as you were concerned, you had also chosen ‘maybe’ with other questions; for all you knew, this could end up in a blowjob and you thought… maybe that would fly. You could do that, maybe--- forcing your eyes open, you found Andy observing you quietly, patiently waiting for your decision.

He was giving you a choice, which alone was a good sign – he wasn’t an asshole.

Or it could just be an act.

The reality might be that the moment the hotel room door clicked shut, he’d push you against the wall face-first and took whatever he wanted.

As his eyes never left you, patient but shamelessly appreciative of your looks, you took a deep breath and decided that no – Andy wasn’t heartless. He wasn’t some monster. The aura of power and confidence had one more shade to it: protectiveness.

It was ridiculous to think such of a man who was paying you to be here, but… it was the impression you got of him.

“A-alright,” you stuttered awkwardly, earning a wide smile from him, a twinkle of excitement in his irises.

“They’ll add the food and drinks to my bill. Let’s go.”

As the numbers of the floors climbed, you felt your stomach gradually sinking – and you were more and more doubtful about your decision. You weren’t ready for this. At all. Natasha was right – you needed connection… a true connection.

And as nice as Andy was trying to be about this whole thing, you couldn’t— you felt so filthy for just sharing an elevator ride with this stranger.

Entering the room only solidified the ugly feeling in your gut and the moment the room door shut behind you, Andy didn’t slam you against the wall, no. Instead, you turned to him, feeling blood having drained from your face and yet pumping in your temples.

“I’m sorry. I can’t—I should go,” you blurted out, a slight tremble to your voice and to your hands.

It was a mistake, coming up here.

This whole thing was a mistake-

To your shock, no shouting came. No anger, period. Just a disappointed sigh and that little sound made your rising panic settle, curiosity getting the best of you as you eyed the gorgeous man in front of you.

What was he even doing in a sugar daddy agency? It wasn’t like he could have a lack of female attention – or male for that matter – because he was handsome as hell and apparently rich.

“I’m not gonna stop you. I understand. I can imagine first times in such position are hard,” he explained his sentiment, causing your lips to part in surprise and a smudge of shame.

That obvious you were, huh?

“How can you tell?” you asked almost soundlessly, a huge lump growing your throat. All of sudden, you also felt terrible for disappointing him.

He only shrugged in response, a hint of a smile in one corner of his lips, almost concealed by his beard.

“I’m an attorney, honey. I have to be good at reading people.”

For the briefest moment, you acknowledged the flutter in your lower belly at the sugar-sweet endearment rolling off his tongue. Honey. And then it was gone, reality breaking through again along with the fresh guilt.

“I’m sorry. You can—you don’t have to pay the money to the agency-“

“That’s not how this works, honey,” he corrected you with a drop of patronizing, which you found yourself …. not hating. Here it was again… honey.

You wished he’d stop saying it. And that he’d the slow steps towards you as well.

“I--- I don’t know then, how to… like compensate you, I just--- I can’t I’m sorry, I’m-“ you stumbled over your words, the shame grinding deeper and deeper and-

“You have a boyfriend,” he whispered in realization, eyes widening and by some strange game of lights darkening as well, turning into a raging ocean.

“…yes. I’m sorry for all this, I-“

“Oh honey,” Andy shook his head gently as he continued to approach you, voice uncharacteristically soft for a situation you two found yourself in. “Don’t be. He’s a lucky guy, your boyfriend. I wish my ex-wife had been so faithful.”

Your gaze automatically flickered to the empty space on his left hand. Jesus. “Oh. Uhm, sorry.”

That explained a thing or two.

His irises were ablaze, watching your every move, every breath, every involuntary shiver under his undivided attention. And then… then he smiled. Or maybe it was a smirk. You weren’t sure. You just knew it got harder to breathe and he was nothing like Steve--- fuck, Steve, you needed to get the fuck out of here-

“You’re adorable. What a pure soul. Such a good girl.”

The jolt the endearment sent up your spine was impossible to ignore, causing you to shudder. Andy’s smile widened, the gap between you thinning.

“You like that, don’t you?” he queried, gently and yet. Yet it made the coil in your belly swirl and burn, hair stand on end as his aura earned a new tone – a predatory one, but at the same time… tempting. No! That was wrong! You weren’t here of your own will, not really- “You like being a good girl, don’t you?”

You didn’t realize you were backed into a wall until your back literally hit it, leaving no more space for your retreat. Andy lifted his hand, agonizingly slowly – and still, you couldn’t seem to back away from the touch you knew was coming.

Maybe… maybe the attraction wasn’t a bad thing? You still wouldn’t sleep with him, your mind wasn’t that foggy, but— you could still earn some more money and not entirely suffer for it?

The pad of his thumb was warm and soft as it skimmed over your jaw, brushing your lower lip, where it lingered, pulling it down with a minute pressure.

Besides the rise of your chest with your rapid breathing, you couldn’t make yourself to move an inch, hypnotized by the blue of his irises disappearing, the blue that should be having a drop of green in it, because you were Steve’s, you loved Steve and you were doing this for him and for your and his future.

And yet, despite everything, you couldn’t deny that there was a warm slick gathering in your underwear, heat pooling in your core and it had everything to do with the man touching you now.

“Oh honey… so pretty, so good, so… immaculate. Jesus, you have any idea how hot that is, makes me want to drag you through the mud I am…”

His free hand fell to your hip, squeezing lightly as if to examine your reaction. Swallowing against the sudden dry sensation in your throat, you allowed yourself to sink into the heat of his palm rather than avoid the touch.

A small whimper escaped your lips as his chest pressed against yours next, effectively trapping you; not necessarily forcefully, but enough to make it count. Enough to make you want more; and enough to make you want to flee.

Shit, everything was so confusing and your heart was wild in your ribcage and you couldn’t tell anymore if it raced because Andy was a ridiculously attractive man showing very evident interest, his warmth seeping into you, his cologne making your head swim--- or if it was fear, the knot you felt tighten in your belly urging you to run before this got to places he wouldn’t let you escape from.

“Stop me, honey,” he whispered, voice low and husky, hot breath fanning over your face, the only true warning you got.

And then his face was so close you couldn’t bear looking at him anymore, letting your eyelids flutter shut. His lips were slightly chapped as they brushed yours, testing the waters before pushing further. He smelled different than you were used to – but the rough sensation of his beard against your skin was familiar; painfully so.

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t back out. You didn’t respond to his advances right away either, torn—because you found yourself liking this. And that was terribly, terribly wrong. Wasn’t it?

Your breath caught in your throat as the surprisingly hard lines of his body pressed against your yours, pushing you into the wall. You felt the rumble in his chest as he hummed and it finally made you act. Breathing him in, you forced yourself to kiss back.

His response was immediate. His hand ran up your waist, fingers squeezing your ribs just under your breasts, drawing a startled sound from your lips, one he instantly swallowed, seizing the opportunity to push past the seam of your lips. You felt your fingertips tingle as his tongue met yours, swirling and caressing you expertly, your thighs squeezing on instinct as you felt the hot pulse in your core.

“Atta girl,” he praised you softly, giving you a second to breathe before he dived back in, hips grinding into yours and offering you a taste of what was he hiding in those dress pants of his. You gasped as you felt him hard against your thigh, startled and much to your dismay, aroused.

Before you could decide which was winning, he wedged his knee between yours, the defined muscles of thigh pressing against your core, one of his hands gripping your hip to lead your movement. Your head spun as he guided you to grind against him, the friction delicious as was his taste on your tongue.

His other hand cupped your breast over the thin fabric of your dress and bra, dextrous fingers finding your hard nipple to roll it between them. An involuntary moan escaped you, your hips bucking of their own volition. Distantly, you were aware of the smile against your throat as your lips were set free, his assault on your senses continued above the crook of your neck.

“Wanna see you come, pretty girl,“ he muttered, teeth playfully nipping on your skin and you gasped, the words and the slightly unfamiliar voice saying them like a bucket of ice-cold water, instantly clearing the fog of arousal.

You flattened your hands against his chest – when had they gripped his suit jacket? – pushing as you shook your head, eyes snapping open.

“No- I--- I can’t, I-“

Andy moved back an inch, giving you a minute room to breathe, dark eyes boring into yours as you left tears of shame, confusion and frustration pooling in them.

His index finger cut off your protests as it landed on your lips and for the first time tonight, you truly felt fear. He was built – he was much stronger than you. If he pleased, he could have you if any way he wanted and to him, even if you tried to resist, it would be like you never put up a fight. His eyes were hungry, want, need written all over his face and you felt your knees give out.

He caught you; not with brutal force to trap you, but to support you, that damn finger on your lips stroking the kiss-swollen flesh.

“Shh…” he hushed you, moving his fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “Shhhh, not like that, honey, I can see you wouldn’t let me.”

You shivered, confusion peaking as he kept observing you as if he was drinking you in; every detail, the no doubt messed up make-up, glassy eyes, the single tear running down your cheek. You felt physically ill and yet—you couldn’t deny the arousal smouldering somewhere inside you, waiting to be revived.

“I don’t--- I don’t understand-“ you whispered, the sound pathetic to your own ears.

Andy closed his eyes, clenching his jaw, the hands on you curling into fists. For a moment, he looked like he was in pain – and few seconds later, his eyes seemed even darker as they drilled into yours.

“So sweet, Christ, I could eat you up…” he sighed and you had no doubt in your mind that he could. “I have an offer, honey. Listening?”

Hesitating for a few breaths, you nodded. A smirk curled Andy’s lips, the pads of his fingers stroking the hollow of your throat, chasing the fear away and stoking the fire inside you instead.

“You’re gonna get on that ridiculously expensive bed and spread your legs, pretty girl.” Where did all the oxygen go, Jesus Christ? “You’ll let me see all of you, maybe touch a bit, within limits. And you’re gonna give me a real nice show. How does that sound? Can you be a good girl and come on your fingers?”

It only took you moments to weight your options – as far as you were concerned, this one was the most plausible way to satisfy you both. The cleanest way.

“Yes. Yes, I can.”

“That’s my girl.”

Except you weren’t. You were another man’s girl, but as he led you to the bed, tugging impatiently at your hand and yet not manhandling you, it was so easy to give in.

“Let me,” he hushed you as you reached for the back zipper of your dress and you obediently let your hands fall, reminding yourself to breathe when he brushed your hair out of the way, pulling as the zipper and tugging it open only half way, pushing one of the straps down your shoulder to reveal your bra – leaving you only half exposed. “Colour suits you. Leave in on like this.”

Nodding automatically, you earned a kiss to your bare shoulder, a muttered praise which dampened your underwear.

“Lie down, honey.”

And you did, suddenly excited fingers tucking the tight skirt up your legs of their own volition, revealing your lacy panties, drawing a guttural moan from Andy.

He was watching you, intense gaze never leaving the flimsy piece of fabric as he undid his belt.

The clank of the buckle startled you, because he had said he wouldn’t--- but he explained before you could question it and back out.

“Gotta take advantage of buying tickets to the front row,” he remarked suggestively, the reminder of relatively easy money making you spring into action and swallow the shame that climbed up your throat.  

Biting down on your lip, you hooked your fingers in your underwear and shuffled it down your legs just as he pulled out his cock – and your core clenched around nothing at the intimidating and tempting sight. He was big. Like, really big, but also kinda magnificent, the angry red tip with a glistening drops of precum sending fresh surge of arousal between your legs.

His lips parted as he stroked himself, leaving you helpless to do anything but feast your eyes. No matter the circumstance, there was no denying this man was insanely attractive and seeing him give himself some needed attention was an erotic sight. It was familiar too – he really was painfully reminding you of Steve.

“Touch yourself, honey.”

Closing your eyes and dipping your middle finger into your slick, yours legs jolted a bit – you craved to release the building tension more than you were willing to admit. Drawing a line up to your aching clit, a soft moan escaped you. It felt so good. And until the mattress next to you sunk, it was easy to forget you were being watched – but upon that reminder, a light brush of hand on your thigh, your hips only bucked as the coil in your belly tightened.

“That’s a good girl. Show me how sensitive you are, how much you need it, honey,” he whispered to your ear, the unmistakable rustle of fabric and the lilt of his voice telling you he was enjoying the view indeed.

It was so easy to get lost in the sensations, your own hand working you up, bigger hand occasionally skimming over your breasts, other times squeezing whenever it could reach – except for where your own hand was and it was both welcomed and driving you crazy with need. He guided your hand at some point, giving you direction to speed up, to sink deeper, “use at least two fingers, honey, to make up for one of mine”, to play with your clit.

With three fingers sunk deep in your cunt, speeding up your movements, the squelchy sounds both embarrassing and insanely erotic, you could hear him tip over the edge, few drops of his seed painting your thigh, his breaths harsh and quick, a guttural moan escaping his lips.

“So fucking pretty, honey, doing so good,” he praised you breathlessly and despite yourself, your gaze found him, his fingers still wrapped around his cock, stroking to drag his pleasure out. “Come, for me, honey. Soak your fingers and gimme a taste.”

All air was punched out of your lungs at his words and you felt the coil in your belly snap, sending you into a spiral of pleasure, your hips grinding on your fingers as the familiar intense heat flooded your veins, making your head swim.

“Gorgeous.”

The single word reached from distance as you were coming from your high, temples pulsing with the blissful rush. As you ceased your movements, body turning limp, he snatched your hand wet with your juices--- the next thing you felt was the tip of his tongue swirling around your fingers, humming appreciatively at your taste.

It was when the reality set in and your hand automatically curled into a lose fist, weakly trying to earn freedom. He licked a few more times before he let go, giving enough time to your panic to settle in.

Oh fuck this just happened. You just--- you- oh no. Oh fuck.

“You did wonderful, honey. Worth every fucking penny…”

Feeling tears gathering in your eyes, the bliss disappearing as quickly as it came, you felt your stomach turn as you tried to find your voice. “A-Andy, please, I-“

His arm pulled you to him, loosely embracing you and all you could do was to let him, too busy focusing on your breathing, tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks, soothed by a rough scratch of his beard and soft kiss to your jaw.  

“Hush, honey, none of that,” he whispered, probably to coax you. It had zero effect as your shoulders shook with the effort to supress your sobs. “You did so good. Seeing you fall apart, even if it wasn’t entirely for me… what a fucking pretty sight. Now give me one more kiss and I’ll take you home.”

“Uhm, dorms, I’m not-“ you babbled illogically, feeling his smile against our skin.

“Right. Dorms. Now be a good girl, kiss me like you mean it.”

He didn’t ask permission or requested it, taking your mouth mercilessly, forcing your own taste into your mouth. His fingers sunk into the cooling drops on top of your thigh, gathering his spent and swiftly pushing the pad of his forefinger past your entrance. He groaned in response to your gasp at the intrusion, your hips moving on instinct despite the sensitivity and his perverted actions.

“Oh, honey, the things I’d do to you…”

“N-no, please-“ you whimpered pathetically, fighting your body reaction as fresh tears gathered in your eyes.

His finger disappeared with a telling wet sound and he pecked your lips. “I know, honey. I know. Maybe next time you’ll let me. Maybe next time…”

He rose to his feet, materializing a packet of tissues from god knew where, wordlessly saying to clean yourself up. You did. Gratefully. His words echoed in your skull; a wish, a promise.

Maybe. Next time.

“I’ll take you home now,” he announced and dropped a kiss to your hairline.

All you could do was take the affection and nod, strange numbness sneaking up your veins from your fingertips, up your limbs and finally reaching your chest and head.

Once you cleaned up, you redressed on autopilot, feeling something stir inside you as put on the wet panties – and the flicker of emotion was nothing pleasant. Fortunately, it died quickly; replaced by the blissful static short-circuiting your brain and cutting it off from any emotion.

You welcomed that Andy didn’t talk in the car. You could tell he was watching you as the city lights blurred behind the windshield, causing your eyes to burn; but he stayed quiet. Not even a radio was on; or maybe you just tuned it out, you weren’t sure.

You just knew that his hand brushed yours as he dropped you off with gentle, almost concerned goodbye which you half-heartedly returned, the one word surprisingly hard to push up your throat with the lump that was forming there ever since you climbed into his car.

Natasha was awake to welcome you; you didn’t even have to ring her to unlock the room for you. She just opened the door and took one look at you--- and she pulled you inside, the door clicking shut just a second before your knees buckled and you leaned onto the wall, choking on a sob.

True to her word, Nat coaxed you into getting to bed and then gave you the promised shoulder to cry on. And fuck did you cry. Rivers. Your breaths were coming out short, tightness in your chest and nausea rising up your throat as the sobs shook your body, trembling hands gripping Natasha’s t-shirt like a lifeline. She didn’t speak besides uttering few empty comforting words.

Eventually, it lulled to restless sleep.

It didn’t take long for you to wake up with a startle, pillow damp from your tears, your pyjama – not that you remembered Natasha forcing you to change – soaked in your sweat. The ugly feeling was still sitting in your stomach, constricting your ribcage and you knew there was only one way out; even if it was the way deeper to the pit.

Reaching out for your phone on the nightstand, you dialled the only number that could be your salvation. Your heart pounded in your chest painfully in anticipation as your wordlessly prayed he picked up.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice reached your ears; rough from sleep, the endearment more confusion than anything else.

It washed over you like a tide wave, calming – and covering you like a heavy blanket, weighting you down as it quickly felt yourself sinking into it and drowning in it instead.

You sputtered a noise, scratchy in your throat, something resembling a sob and a whine and Steve’s concerned voice called your name, demanding what was going on.

Fresh tears streaming down your cheeks and you covered your mouth just in case another of those horrible sounds were about spill from your lips.

“Sweetheart? Please, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

Everything. I am. I was so so wrong. I was so bad.

Blinking away your tears as you blindly stared on the dark ceiling, you coaxed yourself into taking a deep breath, feeling your lower lip wobbling – as if you were a damn child.

Then again, with how unable you had been to see how today would turn out, you might as well be. A child. Inexperienced. Pure soul, so immaculate, Andy’s voice echoed in your brain and it made you feel everything but that.

You felt filthy; dragged through the mud your potential sugar daddy claimed he was, but that wasn’t on him. That was on you.

And you never had been more disgusted with yourself.

Steve kept asking what happened, begging you to talk to him and finally, you managed to form words.

“I—Steve,” your voice broke on his name and you had to take a breath again so you wouldn’t just go back to the unstoppable sobbing. “I did so-something ter-terrible.” You sobbed anyway as the idea of your next words being true sent you into a spiral of despair, because fuck, you couldn’t lose him. “And I’m--- scared that you’ll n-n-never f-for-forgive me.”

“Sweetheart?”

Wiping at your nose and biting your cheek at his fearful tone, you shuddered before continuing. The ominous silence stretched.

“I’m so s-sorry. I- I did it for us. I… I swear that I did--- did it for us.”

Maybe if you said it enough times, you’d make up for the fact that for a moment, it felt really good to fall apart in front of another man in much sweeter way than you were falling apart now.

Maybe.

But for now, after you told Steve everything, the dial tone as the call disconnected was all you had. You clutched the pillow soaked in your own tears, choking on a sob and prayed to all saints and Gods you knew that Steve’s kind heart had enough forgiveness for your stupid ass. If there was one person on this whole damn planet who could forgive for what you did, you thought it would be him.

…maybe.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Mics characters masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers​

So… my first fic where I kinda hate the reader? Or at least I’m a lot like WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I don’t know. Cheat fics are… yeah, cheating is a big BIG no-no for me, so I’m not sure where this came from and if it turned out okay.

Bet you didn’t expect that much angst. I like to think she never met Andy again and that they figured stuff out with Steve – they went through a rough patch, but made it work. But hey, if you want, you can imagine entirely something else.  *smirk smirk*

Also, FYI, I lost one night’s sleep, because of the moral hangover I felt with the reader. So I hope it was worth it and at least one person liked this.

Anyway. Thank you for reading!

P.S. sorry for those who feel baited by the sneak peek with Steve’s gif. That was my imaginary Steve finding out about Andy Barber, plotting murder with Bucky, because someone touched his girl. Fuck the circumstance.

[cloudystevie]

do what you please to me, i won’t resist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing: sugar daddy! andy barber x reader

word count: 3,236

summary: you always take what he gives you, diamonds and orgasms alike.

warnings: sugar daddy/sugar baby themes, dom/sub themes, daddy kink, degradation, vibrators, unprotected sex, choking, kinda restraints and if theres anymore please let me know, and andy is mean daddy in this

author’s note: this is for berry’s @donutloverxo 4k challenge🥺 congratulations baby! you deserve them all and more, thank you for being a constant positive bundle of joy on this app, i love you! 🥺💗 and don’t repost my work anywhere. minors do not interact 18 + only.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your fingers run delicately over the pastel-coloured tissue paper, crumpled up and positioned gingerly around the abundant bouquet of roses, velvet box and a minimal note.

“See you tonight.

Daddy”

Short and simple, much like him but largely unlike the lavish gifts he showered you in. You open the box with a suppressed giggle, eyes taking in the beautiful diamond-adorned necklace. Pulling out your phone, you swiped to his contact and snapped a quick picture of the necklace resting around your neck and he immediately reads it, the bubbles in the corner of your screen appearing subsequently.

Daddy: Looks beautiful. You’re going to wear it tonight, yes?

You: of course it does :). yes i will

Daddy: …

You: yes i will daddy.

Daddy: Good girl.

Shakily you sigh and collect yourself, making room for the fresh new flowers on your dining table as you prepare yourself for dinner with your sugar daddy.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

At the melodic chiming of your doorbell, you exhale, running a hand over the front of your satin dress and adjust the placement of your necklace carefully. Giving your reflection one last look over in the full-length mirror, and head over to open the door for the man you had been expecting since early morning.

“You look beautiful honey.” Andy compliments as you open the front door to reveal yourself, giggling as you accept his kiss, “thank you Daddy.” Humming happily against your lips his hand slips to the curve of your ass to pull you closer to him as he admires the diamonds adorning your neck. “And you’re wearing your gift, what do we say when Daddy buys us something pretty?” His breath fans over your face, a mix of his favourite coffee roast, a hint of his favourite cologne but overpowering every other scent was the smell of him. A deep forest smell, radiating dominance and control. It was your favourite smell.

“Thank you Daddy, I love it.”

“Good, let’s go then or we’ll be late for our reservations princess.” You nod and willingly accept the hand he holds out for you, his fingers intertwining perfectly with yours.

The car ride over is pleasantly quiet, Andy was never a very talkative man but you never minded. It was nice to gaze out the window of his Audi in comfortable silence with his hand resting on your thigh, fingers occasionally pressing into the slit of bare sparkling skin of your thigh. You look over to admire him, he looked as though he was hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves. His beard framing his face, and you let your mind wander to what it felt like to have his beard between your thighs, working you raw and sensitive just how he liked. You bit your lip and as if he knew exactly where your mind was he barely smirked, squeezing your thigh, “behave princess.”

Biting back a giggle you lull your head back to the window, viewing the fleeting scenery but your mind still somewhere else, somewhere you knew you would be by the end of the night if you had caught Andy’s tone.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

His hand on the small of your back guides you through the expensive restaurant, as the waiter leads the pair of you to the private seating area Andy always paid for. He took the time you two had together very seriously, his priority was to spoil you and offer you the only highest luxuries that you were deserving of.

Like the true gentleman he was, he pulls your chair out for you, thanking the waiter with a nod before taking his seat.

As the staff bring out your wine and food, Andy keeps his intense eyes on you the whole time. The attention makes your skin heat up, crossing your legs over the other in an attempt to make it seem like you were caught up in fixing your dress when in reality you just weren’t able to make eye contact. Andy doesn’t say anything while the staff are in the private room, even if you know how much value he puts into eye contact. Mercifully, he spares you that. But once your dinner has been served and all that is left in the room is you, Andy, ridiculously expensive food and wine, and the low candle lights and chandelier illuminating your faces he speaks-

“Look at me.”

You do.

“Are you wearing panties?” He questions.

You shake your head no. On your third dinner date, Andy had made it very clear, you were not to be wearing panties around him. Just in case he wanted to fuck you or tease you with his fingers because a man like him should be able to do as he pleases, whenever he pleases.

“Good girl.”

The rest of the dinner goes by normally, conversation always flows easily between the two of you, mostly you speaking and Andy listening but you didn’t mind. And before you knew it, Andy was tossing a few hundred on the table and you two were going down in the empty elevator. His lips attach to your neck and it catches you off-guard, you gasp loudly as his heavy warm hands roam your waistline carelessly and he grumbles, “I am going to fuck you in nothing but this diamond necklace like a real whore I paid for.”

The statement makes you whimper and heat flood your stomach, wetness already pooling at your thighs as your head slumps back to give him more space to suck marks into your neck. A clear action of marking his territory, the second you two stepped out of the elevator nobody would have a doubt in their minds who you belonged to.

The ding of the machine indicated your arrival on the main floor where staff rush to bring Andy’s car and after tipping them generously and helping you settle in the car, he’s driving to his penthouse. The tension between the two of you was almost palpable, he knew exactly what you were thinking about the whole time and he could practically smell your arousal in the air.

Similarly, Andy’s jaw was clenched, knuckles going almost white against his steel grip on the steering wheel and the most obvious sign of his arousal, his cock bulging and straining against his dress pants.

Unable to help yourself, suppressing giggles you trail your manicured fingers over his thigh, inching closer to his bulge inconspicuously- or at least you were trying to be. You squeeze once and Andy hisses, one hand shooting off the steering wheel and cupping your wrist, harshly.

“Did I give you permission to touch me?” He glowers.

You gulp, “no daddy.”

He chooses not to respond, and as fate would have it the stop light goes red, signalling the car to a steady stop. It startles you when Andy cups your face, forcing you to look him in the eye, “for the rest of the car ride, you are going to behave. And that is not a suggestion sweetheart.”

You know the meaning behind his words- Behave or I’ll make you regret it.

So, for your betterment you do. Even if technically Andy was not behaving. The entire leftover 10 minute drive he had his hand on your thigh, squeezing and dragging the tips of his fingers too close to your aching center with a feather light touch that he knew drove you crazy.

And finally, finally he pulls into the driveway of his Boston penthouse. After that, it’s a flurry of motions. As soon as you make it past the front door Andy is on you like a man starved, lips pressed against yours in a heated passion, grinding up into you as you whimper into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as he carries you to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting to fuck this little cunt all week.” He growls, throwing you onto the bed and you bite your lip and press your thighs together in anticipation as he slowly strolls to where you were squirming and whining like a bitch in heat.

His hand shoots to grab your jaw, thick fingers curling around your soft skin and slipping his thumb into your mouth while his other hand travels down your body, cupping your tits through the slippery satin material and rolling your pebbling nipples between two of his fingers. “Please daddy! Please I need it so bad!” Arching your back off the sheets when his hand curls around your waist, sending butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach.

“I know you do, little whore is always ready for me.” He mocks you, making heat flood your cheeks. “If I slipped my fingers in this pussy, I know you’d be dripping wouldn’t you slut?”

You whimper when his thumb pulls against the wall of your mouth, nimble fingers wrapping around his wrist as he plays your body like his favourite instrument. At the lack of response from you he chuckles cynically, “let’s find out.”

With that, he tears your dress off of you, ripping it in two practically symmetrical shreds, and you gasp out of shock. “Daddy! I liked that dress,” you huff, but it comes out garbled because of his thumb in your mouth.

His eyes snap up to your eyes, once as deep blue as the cerulean designer purse he had gifted you in the very beginning but now dark, and you regret your whiny tone immediately.

“You know I buy good girls what they want, not whiny little brats.” And he trails his fingers down to your swollen clit, circling the aching nub with the tip of his finger and surprising you when he delivers a harsh smack, the loud squelch from your cunt and the squeal from your lips echoing in the open room.

“That’s for being a big-mouthed brat.”

Another smack.

“That’s for teasing me in the car.”

Another smack.

“That’s for being as wet as a slut.”

Another smack.

“And that one is because this is my pussy and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to it.”

Andy had already reduced you to a quivering, squirming mess and he hadn’t even really touched you yet. He laughs again at that, and at how you attempt to reach out for him as he gets up. “I’ll be back princess, I bought something new for us to try tonight.” You can only imagine what toy Andy had bought, he was always intent on pushing your limits as far as he could. Your skin is covered in a sheen layer of sweat as you wait for him to emerge from the closet with a new addition to your already enormous collection of toys.

Andy walks out with a long velvet box and he approaches you quietly, now bare on his upper half so you take the time to admire his toned body, littered with tattoos you would never suspect someone like him to have, but fuck, did you love them. Andy was an older man, almost in his 40’s, yet he had maintained his body so well your thighs were pressing together and you knew you could probably cum just from the sight of him.

He takes your smaller hand in his, gesturing for you to open the boxe and you bite your lip and comply, gasping at the sight of the Hitachi wand, you knew these things were powerful and you also had no doubts Andy planned on using it to its full potential if his smirk was anything to go by.

“Do you want to try it? I thought it could be fun.” He spoke.

Looking up at him through your eyelashes, “yes please daddy.”

He smiles, “good girl, we’re going to have lots of fun tonight.”

You nod excitedly, waiting patiently for his next instructions.

“Now, you’re going to sit on my lap and I’m gonna use the wand on your pussy, and if it gets to be too much, you use our safeword, do you remember what it is?”

“Red.” You breathe shakily, body alight with nerves but mostly excitement for what Andy had in store for you two tonight.

“Good girl.”

And he sits down against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap and hooking his ankles around your own. His beard tickles and nuzzles the skin of your shoulder as he bites and kisses there, marking you up. You’re fully under Andy’s mercy with this position and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He clicks the vibrator to life, keeping it at a low setting as his empty hand roams your front, pulling and massaging at your tit when he puts the vibrator against your clit. You jolt up against him, feeling his bulge rub against your ass and squealing at the already intense stimulation. You whine his title loudly and he hums against your skin, pressing it against your clit firmly and you’re unable to escape the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Daddy! Too much!” You whine, head dropping back and on his shoulder, yet your hips buck towards the wand.

“Hush now, no whining.” He tuts with a dismissive shake as his thumb skims over the controls and he picks it up two notches, making you dig your fingers into the sheets as you arch your back off of him, squealing into the room.

“Yeah that feels good doesn’t it baby? What if we did this?” He ponders out loud, using his fingers to pull back the hood of your clit, exposing it to the wand directly as you clamp down almost painfully around nothing, letting out a whorish scream you would otherwise be embarrassed about but currently could not find it in yourself to care. You feel yourself on the brink of an orgasm, stomach contracting with the force of it. Your nails dig into his forearm, eyes clenching shut as the vibrations shiver through your body. “I- I’m gonna cum daddy please can I!” You sob loudly, barely able to hold yourself back and you don’t think you’d be able to if Andy said no.

To your mercy, he grunted his approval. “Go ahead, already such a mess. Cum, slut.”

Your ears pound loudly as your body clenches with your orgasm, hands scrambling around for purchase when he holds your wrists together at your stomach, forcing you through the high waves of your pleasure as your core drips down onto his pants. Your legs quiver as he keeps the pressure incessant, you cry out protests as he overstimulates you, but he shushes you by wrapping a hand around your mouth, his deep voice reverberating in your ear, “you’re gonna cum as many times as I want you to. You know why baby?”

Clenching your eyes shut as you cry out, “because I’m your little whore!”

Pleased with your submission and answer, he allows you a moment to breathe by taking the vibrator away from your overstimulated pussy. You breathe out in relief, slumping against his hard body as you collect your breath after going through one seemingly endless orgasm.

“That’s right, and now you’re gonna let me fuck this tight little cunt aren’t you?”

And then you become highly aware of his bulge digging into the plush skin of your ass. You whimper loudly, grinding yourself messily over his covered cock and lulling your head onto his shoulder, looking at him with doe eyes, “please daddy please fuck me.” Not even having to mask your voice into something sultry just how you know affects Andy: whiny and breathy and fanning on his face. And you know it works, the first time he allows himself to appear vulnerable persay, when he closes his eyes and grunts, bucking his hips up unconsciously.

Unable to control himself any longer, he flips you over, unbuttoning his slacks quickly as he mumbles unintelligibly to himself and your mind is too foggy to attempt to decipher anyway. Your legs are still twitching, makeup you had delicately applied (that he had funded) earlier that evening now messed up and he hadn’t even gotten his cock into you yet.

You gasp loudly when he slots himself above you, fisting his hard and aching cock and running it up and down your folds, both of you groaning at the contact. “D-daddy please I can’t take it anymore!” You whined loudly, body buzzing with the overwhelming need for him to fuck you.

“Then you better take this dick princess, I’m not gonna be gentle.” He grunts, barely letting you register his words before sheathing himself completely inside of you in one fluid thrust. The feel of your walls wrapping around Andy is enough to make him buck his hips even further as you dig your nails into his back, whining mindlessly for him.

He begins fucking into you with no remorse, hips slapping against hips and the squelching of your cunt echoing in the room. Andy grunts loudly, he may be a quiet man outside of the bedroom, but in the sheets when he finally had you wrapped around him and you felt so amazing? He was gonna let you know.

You squeal loudly when he abruptly flips you over, pulling out of you for a moment as he shoves your face into the pillows, head to this side and ass in the air just how he liked before shoving himself back inside of you. Plowing you into the mattress even harder now, as he slaps your already tender ass. Your cunt squeezes him even tighter in this position and it makes you sob out, fisting the sheets in your hands as the pleasure consumes you.

“Yeah that’s it, cry for my fucking dick. Good girl, such a good fucking girl.” He continues to grunt and praise you.

He can tell you’re nearing your orgasm again, your moans becoming more high pitched and erratic, walls pulsing wildly around him making him hiss and he knows you need just one final push to fall over the edge. And you don’t expect it when he clicks on the Hitachi wand, suddenly positioning it onto your clit as he continues to slam into you, obliterating your pussy. You let out a scream, walls contracting as you squirt all over him and his abdomen. Pleasure flooding your veins in searing bursts, making you cry out.

“That’s it, such a good girl, I know it feels so good doesn’t it? Daddy’s gonna fill this tight pussy up.” He warns and before you know it, while still riding your own waves of pleasure you feel his cum spurt into you, coating your walls in thick strokes as he drapes himself over your back, keeping the vibrator directly on your clit as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name into your ear in pure blissed out pleasure. He presses his lips to the back of your neck, sucking in bruises, and lazily fucking his cock into you.

Your legs threaten to give out underneath him, due to all the pleasure from the wand still incessantly buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. He wraps an arm around your torso, holding you up and rolling you on top of him, his cock still plugging his cum deep inside of you and you whine at the movements, revelling in soft affections.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead he whispers, “rest up now princess, Daddy’s not nowhere near done with this pussy yet.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[afriendlyblackhottie]

Charming

(A/N: this is for @donutloverxo sugary4kchallenge💖. There’s Cinderella-like imagery, but it’s hard telling a Cinderella like story when they’re adults so it’s very loosely based. Also if you see Sugar instead of Petal, oops. I changed it at the last minute. Thanks @fuzzy-jellyfish for the pet name suggestion. Like, follow, but most importantly reblog 💜 ✌🏾)

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, sugar daddy, daddy kink, size kink, degradation, humiliation (better to be safe than sorry), dirty talk, creampie, non/dub con (again better safe than sorry), missionary, oral (m & f receiving), swearing

Tagging: @titty-teetee @zaddychris @queenoftheworldisdead @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @mariahthelioness29 @donutloverxo @little-baby-vixen @puffyam1yum1 @brattycherubwrites @iam-laiya @whiskey-cokenfanfic @doloreshazes @thedarkplume @toni9 @golden-ariess

——————————————————————————

This was the lifestyle you’d been living for a few years now. After your stepmother cut you off following your dad’s death. It was the only way you could stay afloat as a broke college kid. All because she was holding a grudge against you that your father had a life before he met her and you’d dared to finally stand up for yourself. As much as it hurt to not have access to your childhood home and everything that came with it, it was better than being disrespected at every turn.

Usually the men you dated didn’t stick around for long. You’d get what you needed out of them and in turn they got the company they wanted. You had a few requirements, though bending the rules did happen a lot. You weren’t interested in anything long term.

That was until you’d met Steve.

When he’d approached you for this arrangement you’d been a little shocked. That America’s golden boy would be interested in such a thing. It was surprising to see a man that could have anyone he wanted, would be interested in something like this. His lifestyle made it really hard to date so this had apparently felt like an easy solution to his problem. Not like you’d ever turn down being wined and dined by a man like him.

There were a few rules that you’d made for yourself in these situations. Most of them were pretty standard for women like you. Don’t get too attached. Don’t catch feelings. Also don’t do this with someone you wouldn’t be able to have sex with because you were not about to make yourself suffer like that.

You’d had no problem keeping up with these rules before. The last guy you’d dated had caught feelings which is when you’d moved on. You weren’t interested in making a boyfriend out of a sugar daddy. He was your exception.

You really don’t know why you expected yourself to not fall for a man that was practically Prince Charming. Between all the dinners and gifts he’d given you, the two of you had probably talked about anything and everything. It can’t like you’d poured your soul out to him and vice versa.

If it had been anyone else, you probably would have distanced yourself like you’d done in the past. Except he wasn’t just anyone. He was someone that you actually felt safe with. Someone that made you laughed. Someone that wasn’t satisfied until you he knew you were happy.

The only thing that you could think of that made him any different was that he hadn’t asked for sex once. It was actually starting to grate on you. You knew there was a freak underneath that Boy Scout do-gooder persona. You just wanted to find it.

You weren’t really sure how the two of you had gone so long without having sex. You’d made out a few times, but him being the gentlemen he is had always put a stop to it moving any further.

There was one time he’d let the facade slip. You’d spent all day with a bad attitude and he was tired of it. Had pulled you over his knee and made you count to twenty as he spanked you. You’d accidentally let a ‘Daddy’ slip from your tongue during as you begged for forgiveness. Then he rubbed your ass and gave you kisses as he soothed you while you couldn’t stop calling him Daddy anytime you opened your mouth. Yet he still wouldn’t go any further. And honestly you were dying for more.

You get it. He had his whole gentleman thing going on. If people found out that a man held in such high regard for his morals and principles was a freak, who knows what they’d say. Not like you’d tell anyone. Besides he was still giving you all these things and even planning to take you to Paris without even expecting anything in return.

But you wanted him so bad it was driving you fucking crazy. You’d lost count on how many times your mind would wander to being about him and you’d end up soaking wet. It was so damn annoying. How after every date you just had to touch yourself until you came all over the toy you’d purchased with his credit card.

After the spanking there seemed to be more slip ups. Didn’t he bother hiding when he was staring at your tits. Or how he’d smack your ass sometimes when you’d walk by him. Making you jump. Yet never moving any further. You didn’t know why it hadn’t. It was like he was waiting for a written invitation.

It had stopped feeling like an arrangement a long time ago. Not that the gifts had stopped, but it became less of you asking and more so him just doing whatever he could to make you smile.

Things had even gotten lovey dovey at some point. Sometimes you slow dance to no music. He’d wrap you in his arms and just sway. It was probably the most romantic thing you’d ever felt from anyone.

Ugh what a daddy. Why hasn’t he fucked you.

It’s not like you wanted to only look at Steve as if he was a piece of meat, but you had an itch that only he could scratch. Fuck you were desperate for him to do it. Like yeah you were living in the Disney princess fantasy of your dreams, but would it kill him to throw your back out.

So you’d been doing this for six months now. Making it the longest relationship you’d ever had real or for your services. Normally you were fine with cutting ties by now, but you just couldn’t see that happening with him.

The original plan was to spend the day alone. Maybe going away together somewhere. It was kind of a big deal for you both and you wanted to make it fun. Until he was told his attendance was mandatory at this charity event gala.

He’d been so irritated when he’d come to you about the news. About how the night would be ruined and how he just wanted to spend time with you. Then you’d blurted out that you could always be his date to mortification.

It would be a big step for the two of you to seen at an event together. Especially for the two of you since you’d kind of left things as is which made you realize just how much you were hoping he’d say yes.

But Steve Rogers is dramatic. He can’t just have you ask him and have that be it. He had to buy you flowers and then ask you officially himself with a pair of earrings for you to wear for the occasion.

Even if it wasn’t ideal, it was still going to be amazing. Getting all dressed up to celebrate whatever the hell you were with a man that wanted to spoil you rotten. What more could a girl ask for aside for how bad you wanted him to throw you against a wall and pump you full. The thought sent shivers down your spine. Your kind couldn’t help, but wander there.

Especially tonight. Now that you were there getting ready everything felt so real. Your hair done perfectly. Makeup all soft and glam. Those beautiful diamond earrings he’d gifted you only adding to your look. Half ready to spend your night on his arm.

Not only were you going to have to suffer all night looking at him in his blue velvet suit jacket that made his already beautiful eyes that much more beautiful, but he’d grown out his facial hair recently. He was so pretty you didn’t know how you were supposed to not act like a horny slut around him. It’s okay you could be civilized for a few hours. You don’t know how much longer you could take.

“Petal, you ready?” He asked, poking his head into the dressing room he’d designated for you in his brownstone away from the compound.

There was something that made your heart flutter every time he called you that. Your Daddy was so fucking cute.

Although your face and hair were done, you hadn’t put on your dress. Instead you’d been sitting in front of your vanity putting on any final touches clad in your lingerie. Which means Steve got quite the eyeful when you stood up where he saw you only in your bra and panties with your heels already on your feet. He was trying so hard not to stare.

“No. Just have to put my dress on,” you replied. “Can you help me?”

He nodded before taking a deep breath. You’d purchased the set with your allowance for the occasion. Steve had all, but begged you to wear the dress after you’d tried it on. Telling you how pretty you looked. How he couldn’t wait to show off his best girl. That meant you needed to buy some pretty lingerie to go with it.

Once your dress was on you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at your reflection in your vanity. Steve wrapped one of his velvet-clothed arms around you. “You look beautiful, Petal,” he said, kissing your cheek.

You sighed and it was so annoying the way your heart had fluttered. “Thank you,” you replied. “You look very handsome.”

He smiled and sighed contently. “Oh, before I forget,” he said suddenly changing tone. “I got you something.” That’s when he let go to go back into the bedroom.

As he did that you looked yourself over in the mirror making sure everything was right. Fluffing our the tulle skirt of the dress and making sure the slit going up your legs was positioned right. Honestly you didn’t blame Steve for loving it so much. You were kind of obsessed with it as is.

When Steve came back he was holding a black velvet box. He’d given you some really nice gifts before. This seemed like more, though. “So, uh, I needed to talk to you about something.”

“What is it, Stevie?” You asked as he showed you the necklace in the box. Your jaw dropped at the beautiful necklace sitting in satin.

“Like it?” He asked.

You nodded, eyes softening as you looked up at him. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“I wanted us to have a good night,” he said as he took it from its place so he could help put it on. “So,” he began, “I may have told everyone that you were my girlfriend.”

You breath hitched in your throat at that. You and Steve had seemed to have talked about anything and everything at this point. From your wants and desires. To your fears and hopes. Yet you’d actually never discussed making things real.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah. I just... I know I should have talked to you first, but I wanted to see if that’s okay.”

You nodded and smiled. “It’s more than okay.”

He let out this breath he’d apparently been holding in. “Okay, great. Cuz I was kinda hoping that we could stay in a hotel tonight. If that’s alright.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d love to.”

He nodded, before turning you around so he could kiss the top of your head. “You look gorgeous, Petal.”

“I’m glad you think so, Captain.”

He smiled, but didn’t want to touch your hair or kiss your lips because he knew you’d end up taking even longer to touch up. He couldn’t help himself though. “Gonna be good for me tonight?” He asked after he’d pulled away.

“Mhm,” you hummed, taking a deep breath before placing a soft peck on his lips.

“I’m counting on it, Petal,” he replied in a low voice.

You’d never had to pose on a red carpet before so you were hoping you were doing okay. Steve gave you a little advice on what to do, but it was still a little nerve-wrecking. It was so nice being there on his arm.

Meeting the rest of the team was nice. Everyone was so welcoming. And you admit you laughed with them as they teased Steve for having a girlfriend. Even if you weren’t sure what you are.

During dinner, Steve kept putting his hand on your thigh. Inching a little too close to your center. Then you’d look up at him as he’d be having a totally normal conversation with someone at your table.

When you’d dance, you’d place your head on his chest as he wrapped you in his arms. He kissed your lips before resting his cheek on the top of your forehead. There was something so intimate about the way he was holding you. Especially after the way he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of you during dinner.

God you just wanted him to fuck the shit out of you. Was that too much to ask for?

You were pretty hopeful that it would happen to night. He wouldn’t have had you meet everyone at such a public event. With cameras snapping pictures of the both of you constantly if he hadn’t wanted to go a step further, right?

As the night started to wind down the two of you said goodnight to everyone before leaving. This was the first time he’d promised to stay with you all night. Usually he’d get pulled away or make up some excuse to leave. Or sometimes work would call him away. You don’t think you could handle any interruptions tonight.

“I’m so tired,” you yawned as you started to take off your earrings.

“I know, but it was fun, though,” he replied.

You nodded and then smiled. “Mhm. So fun.” You started taking off your necklace. Steve came up behind you as you pulled it off. Starting to kiss up and down your now exposed skin.

You shivered under his touch. Letting out a moan as you tilted your head to give him more access. Before switching over to the other side to do the same thing.

Then he stopped and pulled away. This weird sinking feeling started in your heart. “Wait, can you help me out of my dress?”

He stopped to turn back to you, to do as you’d asked. Letting your dress drop from you to expose your lingerie clad body. He looked at you through the mirror. You turned around to look up at him and that’s when he finally kissed you. You getting as close to him as you could. Your arms wrapping around his waist.

He was still looking all handsome and debonair without his jacket and his bow tie undone. Yet as good as he looked as he kissed you all you could think about was ripping it all off of him. So you started working at the buttons of his dress shirt. “You sure?” He asked you pulling away.

You nodded, trying to connect your lips again only for him to stop you. He chuckled and for some reason it only made you feel more desperate. He had to have been fucking with you at this point.

“Hey,” he said before pecking your lips. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

You huffed. “Do you not want me or something?”

“What? Sweetheart, of course I do.” He kissed the tip of your nose this time. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into something.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not. If anything you’re making me feel totally unwanted.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I do want you.”

“Then why do you always stop before we can start anything.”

“Because I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I don’t want you to think it’s all I want.”

“Well, I do.” You took a deep breath crossing your arms.

Steve was giving you this look you’d never seen from him before. “Watch your attitude,” he said.

“Or what?” You challenged him.

“Fine. You want me to fuck you?” He tilted his head to the side. “I buy you everything and it’s still not enough because you’re a little fucking brat.”

He crashed his lips into you. This time roughly. No more of that sweet shit he always played with you. Steve grabbed your ass smacking it and jiggling it. Making you gasp into him.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked as he pushed you back onto the bed. That’s when he started finishing undoing his shirt. “Like testing my patience. I was trying to be a fucking gentleman, but you just want to be treated like a whore, huh.”

Fucking finally. Was it sad that those words were like music to your ears. Yeah probably. All you knew was that your panties were drenched. That you wanted it so bad.

“Answer me,” he demanded, grabbing the back of your hair so you had to look into his eyes.

You nodded. “Yes. Yes, Daddy,” you blurted out with no hesitation.

“Nasty girl.” He chuckled. “Just dying for this dick, huh.” That’s when he finally took off the wifebeater that was under his clothes off exposing upper half.

He hadn’t even touched you and it was like every thought had left your body. Damn he looked so beautiful. Even more than what you’d already pictured in your head. It was possible that you were drooling.

Your eyes went down to his hands again as he started to undo his pants finally. God yes. Please oh please. You needed this so damn bad.

Finally he dropped his pants and your eyes widened as his dick finally came into view. You tilted your head trying to make sense of what you were seeing. All the day dreaming, the fantasizing, the way you’d been glanced at his crotch hoping to making out the outline. None of it did any justice.

“Shit,” you said breathlessly. Then your eyes went back to his then back down. “That’s...”

“What?” He asked.

“Can I suck it?” You asked looking at it, fuck it felt like your mouth was actually watering to get ready to take it down your throat.

He chuckled. “God, this whole time all you wanted was to be my cockwhore, huh?”

You nodded because why lie now. You would happily be his cockwhore. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” He grabbed you, pulling you to him making you kneel on the bed in front of him. “You wanna be my slut?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes. I wanna be your slut so bad.” You looked up at him, as you grabbed his dick. It felt so heavy against your palm. Your hand not even being able to wrap around it fully.

He hissed as you started working your fist up and down. Then was once again giving in as he pushed his lips onto yours. They way he was kissing you was sure to leave them all bruised and swollen. That didn’t mean you wanted him to stop.

When he did, he plucked you off the bed to put you on your knees. “Gonna be good for me and suck my dick?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nodded. There was this weight of anticipation in your chest. From how badly you wanted to taste him. How bad you wanted him to fuck you with his giant cock. How tasty it looked.

You stuck your tongue out just as he tangled a hand in your hair. Guiding you to his dick. Moaning as soon as the tip touched your tongue. “Beg for my dick,” he said. “You haven’t convinced me that you deserve it.”

It was like there was this awful ache between your thighs. Like if he didn’t touch you tonight, you might actually malfunction. You needed him so bad that you didn’t care how desperate you sounded when you opened your mouth. “Please, Daddy. I need your dick in my mouth. I want it so bad.”

He groaned. “That’s a good girl,” he said and finally you were able to start running your tongue up and down his length.

Finally you started sucking on his top before taking him in deeper. There was no way you’d be able to fit all of him, but that didn’t mean you weren’t having fun trying. You couldn’t help yourself as you put your fingers between your legs. Feeling how wet he’d gotten you just from a little manhandling and name calling.

As you felt his tip nudging into your throat, you desperately tried to take what you could. Your spit covering his length and drool coming down your chin, you pulled off of him. With a giggle you held it in your hand against your face. “It’s almost as long as my face.” As you continued to giggle.

He chuckled. “I was scared you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Then he hissed as you placing the hot open-mouthed kisses on the tip.

“Then you should make me.” You giggled all airy and cute.

Steve bent down so he could wrap a hand around your neck. “Yeah? Want me to make you? I’ll make you.” You looked up at him with those sweet eyes as he spit into your mouth. “Want me to use you?”

He forced you up, not letting you go until he could put you back on the bed. He got on top of you, kissing your sore lips. No longer giving a fuck if he broke you. He was pretty sure you’d be happier if he did. Now his goal was to break you so that you’d only want him.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you whimpered as he started teasing your opening with the head of his cock.

“You’re soaking, Petal.” His voice was all husky. He wrapped one arm around your thigh so he could push it up. Then he’d leaned down to kiss you again. This time you put your hands on his face holding him in.

“Please,” you begged against him. “Need you.”

“Don’t worry, Petal, Baby,” he replied. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” Abs that’s when he slid in home to you. Making you gasp and then cry out as he tried to push into you. “Fuck, I think I have to stretch you out.”

“Please,” you begged with a whine.

“Be patient. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna let you go without fucking you.”

Your eyes watered as he pressed the bulbous head to your hole a little deeper. “Daddy,” your chest heaved as you cried out.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he pecked your lips. Instead he slid his dick up so it was sliding between you. “I’ll take good care of your pussy. Don’t I always take care of you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Always.”

“Always buying you the best things because you’re my best girl,” he whispered in your ear as he reached down to start playing with your clit.

You moaned into him. Your stomach quivering when he felt the perfect spot on your clit. “I know, Daddy.”

“And all you wanted was my dick, huh? That’s okay. I’ve been wanting your pussy for so long.” He groaned.

“I wanted you to fuck me so bad.”

He smiled softly as his mouth started going down your neck. “Cuz you’re a slut.”

You shuddered, feeling yourself tighten like you could cum already. Then when he slipped his fingers into you like he was trying to coax it out while sucking on your nipple at the same time. “P-ple-ease,” you breathed as your legs quivered. An orgasm threatening to push you over the edge.

When he kissed down your stomach you started putting your hands in his hair. Tangling your fingers in his blond locks. As he finally got to your pussy, he dived in. Adding a third digit as he finger fucked you. Swirling his tongue around your clit before using the tip of his tongue to make nice precise patterns into it. His beard scratching at your skin, only adding everything you were already feeling.

Keeping his eyes on you as you withered against the sheets. His fingers still sawing into your pussy, pressing into your bundles of nerves. “Oh my god!” You cried as your orgasm made your lower body shake as you finally got to cum all over Steve Rogers’ fingers and mouth. Something you’d only dreamed about since you met him.

Tears started running down your face as you tried to push your hips up into him. It felt so damn good. It didn’t stop him as he just turned his attention to drinking up your juices. His hands now gripping your ass.

You jumped with a squeak like you were trying to back away. “Don’t you dare fucking run from me,” he growled before reaching up to grab your hair so that he could bend you forward so you’d be forced to look.

Letting out a squeak as he really went in. You grabbed your breasts, tweaking your nipples for extra stimulation. The moans you were letting out were so high pitched and breathy. So dramatic, but you couldn’t help it. He was just making you feel so good. “Daddy, please.” You gasped. “Need your cock.”

He sighed. “I don’t know, Petal. You might be a little too tight for me. I don’t want to hurt this pussy.”

“I don’t care. I need it.”

He chuckled, pulling away, but since you were on the verge of orgasm and he was rubbing your clit, you’d gotten so close. “I don��t fit.”

“Make it fit.” You cried out before another orgasm crashed down inside you. “I promise I’ll take it. I won’t even be mad if it hurts. I want it to hurt. I want your fat dick to hurt my holes.”

Steve groaned and couldn’t help himself as he moved his hips into the bed so that he could get some friction at least. “Petal, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I swear I want it. I promise. I’ll take it,” you begged.

He sighed before licking his lips. Clearly it worked as he moved up your body so that he could take start rubbing his leaking cock against your pussy again. “You better hope so because once I start I’m not gonna stop. No matter how much you beg.”

You nodded, scratching at his back. “I’ll be good, Daddy.”

This time as he tried to push the head in, he managed to get most of it in. Hissing at how slick and tight you felt in him. “Want me to stretch you out? Make it so your pussy is only for me?”

“God, yes!” You squealed as he inched himself inside of you.

“Yeah? You want me to stretch your pussy out for Daddy’s dick?” He grunted as he started to stuff you a little more.

You closed your eyes trying to brace yourself as he started to move his hips. He wasn’t even fully inside you and his thickness was leaving this burn as you struggled to accommodate it. You looked down to see there was still too much left. “Just do it,” you begged feeling like if you just took it all at once you’d have no choice.

“God, you’re such a needy little slut. Wanting me to slam my cock into you.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Do it.”

That’s when he started stuttered his hips giving up on trying to ease in. If you wanted him to fuck with no mercy, he could do that. Besides it’s not like you didn’t deserve it from how you were acting like a little brat.

Finally with one last really good shove, he was full inside of you. His perfect dick filling you up to the brim. Your hand instinctively went to his pelvis to try and get him to ease up a little. Steve didn’t give a shit as he grabbed them to hold onto them. “Try to stop me again and I’ll pull out and tear your ass up.”

You nodded with a whimper, already feeling like a blubbering mess as he started off with shallow thrusts. Your pussy hugging him in, not that it had much of a choice.

“You’re in my guts,” you whispered.

“I told you I’m not stopping,” he said. “This is Daddy’s pussy now. No one else is even allowed to touch it from now on. Even you without permission. You fucking hear me?”

You nodded frantically. “Y-yes, Daddy. It’s all yours. It’s been yours for months now.”

“That’s my good slut,” he cooed leaning down to kiss you. That’s when he started fucking you harder. No longer caring if he was too much or whatever. You shouldn’t have begged him to make it hurt if you didn’t want it. That was too damn bad.

“Ah!” You hoarsely screamed out. His cock felt so invasive inside of your cunt. It was also so thick it was hitting all your spots, including this really deep spot that no one else had ever been able to reach. You didn’t even know it fucking existed, but you were pretty sure he was going to leave you unable to move on even if you wanted to. “Ugh, yes! You fuck me so good,” you mewled. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop, Baby,” he grunted.

“You’re so big it hurts,” you whined. “It feels so good. Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck my little hole with your big dick.”

“You like that my dick is stretching you out?” He asked. “You’re taking me so good. Making me so proud, Petal.”

It didn’t even make sense how your pussy gushed around him just because he said that. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came.

“Yes, Daddy!” You moaned. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you chanted.

He captured your lips in his. Pushing your thighs up so your feet were in the air. This new angle only prolonging it. “Look at you making a mess all over my dick,” he cooed when he pulled away to peck you over and over again. “Maybe I’ll make you clean it up after.”

“God yes. I’ll clean up my mess on your dick, Daddy,” you breathed.

“Oh you don’t have a choice, Petal,” he said. “From now on if I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. If I want to bend you over the couch and shoved my fat dick in you, I will. And you will fucking take it.”

You contracted around him, your stomach filling with flutters of warmth. It was spreading down to your toes making them curl and up to your cheeks making them feel hot as your next orgasm was so damn close.

“God, yes. That’s what I’ve been wanting this whole time. I want you to own my holes, Daddy. They’re all yours.”

“I do own your holes, Bitch. They’re mine. You’re mine. You fucking hear me?” He finally started to falter in his movements. “Your mouth, your pussy, your asshole. Daddy’s gonna fuck all of them when he wants, whenever he wants without asking if I feel like. Even if you fucking say no. I paid for them so they’re mine.” He wrapped his hand around your neck. “Fucking whore. You stupid. Fucking. Whore.” With each pause between words he shoved himself into you roughly, hurting your pussy as he slammed against your cervix. Trying to get his point across that he no longer cared.

His true colors were finally showing. That gentleman shit dropping so quickly now that he was fucking you without mercy. This is what you’d been wanting. Exactly what you’d been hoping to be lurking underneath.

“I’m gonna cum again,” you announced with a cry as your muscles clamped down on him as if to push him out, but his dick wasn’t letting that happen. Instead he just seemed to keep fucking you almost violently.

“I’m gonna cum in your pussy, Petal. Gonna fill you the fuck up.”

“God, yes,” you sobbed. “Cum in my cunt. Cum in me, please. I need it.”

“Yeah you want Daddy to fuck you full of cum?”

You started moving your hips and your hands reached down to your close. You couldn’t help it. You needed it so bad. It felt like it’d been throbbing. “Fill me with your cum,” you begged. “I’ll be your cum slut. I want to be your cum dump, Daddy. Use my holes as your cum rag. Creampie me.”

And just like that you were cumming once again. This time stars dancing behind you eyelids which you’d tightly shut. The intensity making you wrap your legs around his waist. You put your tear stained face in his neck as you moaned.

“I’ll fucking creampie you,” he groaned as he stilled with his tip only in you as he’d been mid thrust. His cock pulsing as his seed finally started to shoot out to coat your insides. “Fuck!” He yelled before shoving deep into you again so he was balls deep as he came against your cervix.

His hips snapping back and forth as he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up into you. Until he was completely spent, resting his head between the valley of your breasts as the two of you tried to catch your breath.

When he rolled off of you, he wrapped his arms around you kissing the top of your head. “You okay, Petal? I didn’t mean to go that hard.”

You nodded and buried your head into his neck. “I’m okay,” you mumbled. “More than okay.”

He smiled. “Good,” he replied. “Because i meant every word. I hope you didn’t expect to sleep tonight.”

You didn’t get to fall asleep until the sun had already started coming up. Steve had kept to his word of making sure you were thoroughly used. He’d even tried to fuck your ass, but that definitely required way more preparation.

By the time you made it home all you wanted to do was sleep. He helped you shower since you were being kind of clingy at the moment. Not that he minded in the slightest. You just wanted to be close to him.

“Hey, can we talk?” Steve asked as you were laying on top of him as the two of you got caught up on some show you watched together.

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking up at him.

“I just want to make sure that us having sex doesn’t change anything,” he said and you kind of felt your heart drop a little. “I know you’ve told me before that you usually keep sex and emotions separate in these situations, but I don’t know if I can do that. I want more than that.”

Oh.

Oh.

So that’s why he hadn’t fucked. As if you’d hit it and quit it with Steve Rogers. As if you wouldn’t want to keep hitting it.

You let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me for a minute there.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry. It’s just we’ve spent so much time together in these last few months and I realize that I really want to be with you. Of course I’ll still spoil you, but I want you to be my girlfriend this time. If that’s okay.”

You raised up to straddle his waist so you could press your lips to his, quickly. “I’d love to be your girlfriend,” you answered, then put your hands on either side of his face so you could kiss him some more all over.

“Good.” He laughed in between each peck of your lips before bringing his to yours again. “Would it be too much to say that I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with you.”

You shook your head. You were smiling so hard, your face was starting to hurt. “No cuz I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too.”

“I hope you know you’re stuck with me forever now,” he said.

A smile spread across your face as you put your head in the crook of his neck. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

[dollslayer]

Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

____

The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

[gotnofucks]

A Man’s World

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Dub-con (at the beginning), smut, language, implied age gap, poor knowledge of law and legal system, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my late entry to Berry’s Sugary 4k Challenge (everyone go and send some love to @donutloverxo​ for being so awesome. I am also dedicating this fic to Lexi ( @bluemusickid​ ) who’s had a difficult few weeks recently. I hope you feel better my love.

Sweat was building under your top hat, the urge to itch making you frustrated with the delay. The officer before you was young, probably your age and fumbled with the papers you had handed to him. You tried to relax, almost as nervous as the man in front of you and tried to console yourself with the fact that he was far too jittery to look at you long.

No one will find out, you’re safe.

“Sir?”                                                                                  

You chewed your chip, feet tapping irregularly on the ground in agitation.

“Sir?” The officer said again, peering at you worriedly. You quickly pulled down the rim of your hat, still not used to being called ‘sir’.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” You said, clearing your throat and trying for a deeper voice. The officer handed you your papers back, all signed and stamped. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly and motioned for you to wait while your client was brought out. This was the first time you’d been out in the open alone, the fear of discovery clashing with the freedom that ran in your veins.

“Did you bail me out?” A rough voice asked. You looked up at Mr. Lane, a huge mountain of a man who towered over you. You nodded and offered him your hand to shake, wincing as his rough palms scratched against your soft ones. He looked doubtfully at you and you could understand why. You barely looked like a person who belonged in the police station, no matter as a man or woman.

“I am Mr. Barber’s assistant. He was busy with a hearing and sent me to bail you out. If you’d follow me to his office, he’d like a word before we proceed to your trial next week.” You explained, a little more confident. You knew the work, you knew the ways. You only needed to sell your lies to make your truth valid.

Mr. Lane nodded, following and entering the coach outside the station after you. He sat across from you, eyes narrowing as he ran over your soft features, the clip clop of the horses the only sound within.

“You old enough to be an assistant, boy?” Mr. Lane asked, and you scowled. Oh, how you’d like to tell him you were old enough and good enough to be not just an assistant but also a lawyer. You could be the one representing him in court and making him a free man. You should be that one. But, alas, this world doesn’t see women doing much rather than peeling potatoes and popping out a child every second year.

“I am.” You replied in a gruff tone that made it clear you weren’t about to entertain more questions. Your companion nodded, looking out the window and into the streets where peddlers screamed about discounted watches and handkerchiefs and buttons. Not many people had cushioned coaches like this, but Mr. Barber insisted one for your travels.

The journey to the office was quick and silent and you gestured Mr. Lane to follow you up to the top floor where your boss sat in his office. Some people nodded at you, now getting used to seeing you here though they didn’t stop to talk. You had never spoken much to anyone here outside of the receptionist who was deaf in one ear and considered every man under the age of 40 was a boy.  

“Wait here, I’ll let you in in a moment.” You said and had Mr. Lane take a seat on the benches outside. Then, you knocked softly and entered, shutting the door after you. Andy was sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper, and beckoned you closer without looking up from them. You walked over to him, licking you lips softly.

“Sit.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you into his lap. You positioned yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. He scribbled something in the corner of his paper before pushing it away with a sigh, turning his face to you. His eyes, bluer than the ocean at the docks, glittered at you and a small smile curled on his lips. With a practiced move, he removed your top hat and released the band that held your long locks tied together at the top.

Running his fingers through your hair, he leaned closer to press a kiss on your lips. You instinctively kissed back, holding onto his shoulder and moulding your lips to fit his.

“How did it go?” He asked, caressing your cheek softly. You fingered his collar, not looking in his eyes.

“I was worried someone will see through me.” You softly murmured. “There were so many men out there.”

Andy chuckled, pressing another kiss on your lips as his hand sneaked around your waist to bring you closer.

“There are always going to be men around. But you must remember you’re better than them. Better than any other son of a dick out there pretending he is the boss.”

You looked at him at that, taking in his beautiful face that had you smiling and crying in equal parts. You could tell exactly how that well-groomed beard felt between your legs, how those lips could make you utter the filthiest of sounds and curses and how those large hands touched you in the dark of the night.

“Better than even you?” You tentatively asked and Andy smiled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“You’ve always been better than me.” He said. You blinked and looked away, his gaze far too intimate to hold. Try as you might, you could not figure this man out. Months you’d spent with him, living, and working and being his any way he asked, and yet he was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time you met.

“Uh, Mr. Lane is waiting outside. Should I call him in?” You asked and he nodded, squeezing your side before releasing you. You put your hair up again and wore your hat, hiding your face under its shadows and calling the client in.

When a girl turns a certain age, she is expected to find the most eligible bachelor and flutter her eyelashes in a bid to secure a match. Your mother threw grand balls for your sisters and was planning an even grander one for your introduction to the society. But you had had enough of dancing with lecherous bastards with as wandering hands as their eyes. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being bound to one of them, so you took your chance and ran.

Leaving behind your quaint town, you entered the bustling city with an assortment of clothes and a heart full of hope. It took you a week to understand that this was no place for you, no place for a lady who dreamt of being her own person. No one wished to employ you, a young girl who had no business demanding pay and rights.

However, in this bustling city of strangers, you found a man who wished to own you. Andy Barber told you in no uncertain terms that he would not hire you as long as you dressed like a woman, but he also promised that he could train you to be better than any other man. Provided, you give yourself to him. You weren’t naïve enough to pretend to not know what he was asking for, but you were desperate enough to say yes. This was better than a marriage anyway. There too, a man would have parched his thirst over your naked chest, but at least here you could learn and get paid for it without being bound to him.

Andy was not unkind. As a mentor, he was strict and meticulous. He worked you hard, taught you well, gave bitter feedback but praised you just the same. As a lover, he was exacting, exploring your chaste body with touches rough and soft, demanding response and reverence. The first night you laid with him, he spent hours worshiping you. His lips, lined by his bushy mustache, traced your face and neck, roving over each contour of your body until his mouth had tasted all.

The modesty you had guarded forever was bare to his gaze, but he didn’t lust like a man who cornered women in dark alleys. He had knelt before your open legs like men of cloth did at the lord’s altar, kissing the dewy folds of your sex with so much passion and delicacy that you had indeed felt like a goddess. Never had you imagined a man to put his mouth there, not when your mother had told you it was unclean. Andy, on the other hand, tasted it like he tasted absolution in your nectar.

He taught you more than simply law. The pleasures of flesh, of learning to please yourself and your companion were lessons that took place in the dark of night. He whispered things that Satan preached in your ear, seducing you into sin that you soon came to crave.

“Touch yourself”, a command he gave often. Nothing pleased him more than seeing you bring yourself to completion with your eyes trained on him, thoughts full only of him and how his body rocked yours.

You had done a great many things with him, things that had you flustered for days on end whenever your thoughts would turn to him, but what you were doing now was nothing short of scandal. It was blasphemous, something that would ruin you way more than if people found you falsely parading as a man in the city.

“Andy!” You hissed, pushing against him to no avail. He had dragged you into the men’s room inside the courthouse, cornering you against the wall and pressing his body flush to yours. He was wearing his best clothes today, about to represent an important man in a case that had made the front page for two weeks straight. Time together had been more work than pleasure, and it seemed Andy had reached his breaking point right before the trial started.

He started working on the buttons of your waistcoat, a frenzy in his eyes. “I need to take you now. This might as well be the most important case of my career, and I’ll begin it by being inside you, and end it just the same!”

You moaned, letting your hands roam his body as he finally undid your waistcoat and shirt, frantically ripping away at the bandages that bound your breasts. As he took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, you palmed his pulsing hardness from over his pants, shivering at the thought of feeling it inside you again.

He scared you like this, for someone could walk in and see the illustrated Andrew Barber making a beast with two backs in the male room with someone who greatly resembled a man. He will be ruined. You would be ruined. And as of now, the very thought of that caused wetness to pool in your underpants.

“Get on your knees and taste me.” He urged, pulling out his cock and pumping it. “As you sit beside me today, I want you to have my taste in your mouth. One day, I’ll sit beside you too.”

You were a gently bred lady of impeccable reputation, but you sunk to your knees with the practiced move of a street woman to take him eagerly in your mouth. Oh, if your proper mother could see you, sucking a man like a whore in the damp men’s room, her teachings of propriety and modesty all but forgotten. But nothing made you feel more than a woman that receiving Andy like this. His desire, his need for you burned in his eyes and you lapped on those flames to quench the thirst in your heart.

His hand moved behind your head, easing you into taking him deeper. “Look at me” He whispered, and your eyes met his, shining with unshed tears. He did this to you, reduced you to who you loathed to be and yet loved. Swirling your tongue over his soft skin, you bobbed over his length, the squelching sounds filling the small room.

Just like always, you tasted his power and his yearning. The milky drops of precum coated your tongue, your nose taking in the smell of his musk as he groaned above you. He reduced you, but then why did you feel raised?

“Touch yourself, let me taste you too.” He ordered, and you complied. Your hand slipped inside your pants, finding your moist core. Generously lubing your fingers in your slick, you rose on shaky knees and presented your wet fingers to Andy who sucked them eagerly in his mouth. Warm, wet, his tongue took in your taste with relish.

You couldn’t stop but stare into his blue eyes, eyes that should have haunted your nightmares, but you only saw them in sweet dreams. “Kiss me” You begged, and he did. He kissed you like a man starved, like a man who could suck out your soul and draw it in himself. He kissed you like dew kissed the morning grass, like the colours of rainbow that scattered in the sky to paint it pretty.

“Tell me where you want me, how you want me.” He said, surrendering control. You stilled, hands resting on his chest. How were you to lead him when he was infinitely more experienced about the art of making love?

“I – I want you inside me.” You softly said, eyes fluttering as you shy looked away. Why was saying what you do so many times so difficult.

“Inside where?” Andy asked, tilting your chin up again. You gulped, your face and chest flushed.

“In my – in my” You stuttered, fearing to speak the word he spoke often. “In my pussy.”

You would have thought he would ravish you as soon as you said the words, instead he brought you closer and nudged your nose with his. His breath came out in erratic spurts, his need evident in his gaze. “You will put me inside you, however you want. It’s time I let you take some lead.”

Holding his gaze, you pumped his length gently before turning around and presenting him your ass. You struggled to position him, trying to place his tip at your opening. He didn’t move an inch to help you, only chuckling slightly when you huffed in frustration. Finally, you felt him at your slit, and you slid him between your folds carefully, trying to coat him in your wetness like you’d seen him do.

“What if someone walks in?” You asked, hesitating for just one moment.

“They’ll have to wait while we finish. You’re not walking out of here unsullied, so how about we hurry up?”

You pushed back into him, taking him inside your pulsing sleeve with ease. The stretch of his cock had always felt good, a pain that had a lasting effect and reminded you of him. As you moved back and forth, urging him to meet you halfway, you wondered why the self loathing never came. Andy had a way of making you feel like a queen when others may suspect you of nothing more than a whore.

“Andy” You brokenly said as he thrust inside you faster, “I want more. Please.”

He gave you more. He took over, holding onto your waist and sliding home inside you in deep, powerful strokes. You whined under his assault, jerking when his fingers found your nub and mashed it. Praises, curses, words of love and lust that had the power to destroy hearts and armies flowed freely from his mouth, as if the only thing tethering him to this earth was your body.

Your hands went to play with your breasts, a strangled moan caught in your chest. Suddenly, even when he moved inside you with such passion, you craved more intimacy than his cock could offer. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your mouth that he took in a sensual kiss. You were so close that you couldn’t decide what limb was yours and which was his anymore. In the age old dance of sensual love, you became one.

“What do you want?” He asked, and your eyes met his. He asked you this every time, and you had always answered the same thing. But today, this felt different. You were in the courthouse, a lawyer’s battleground and also the place of worship. He was more than your mentor and boss, he was also the man who you had grown to care for so deeply it could only be called one feeling.

“Inside me. I want you to finish inside me today.” You answered and his hands clutched you tighter. You’d never allowed that before, never allowed him to call you his so completely. But you felt compelled by his heat today, by the desperation he never bothered hiding from you. Once, this may have felt like a chore. Today, it was your blessing. “Andy, make me yours.”

He groaned, pumping in you with abandon and bringing you over the edge with his fingers that were running circles around your clit. You moaned loud, blubbering in pleasure that spilled from you, uncaring if someone were to walk in. His thrusts were getting irregular, hips jerking until you felt him twitch and release inside you in hot spurts. Warmth bloomed in your core, your essence mixing with his.

He hugged your sweaty body to his, the wool of his coat scratchy against your flesh. “You were mine, even before. Now, more so than ever. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll claim you in front of the world as fully as my heart has done in private.”

You felt him run his thumb over your ring finger and licked your lips. He wasn’t asking, and you weren’t answering. But one day, maybe you will. Until then, you were happy to be his beautiful secret, posing as his assistant and learning from him.

“Don’t,” He whispered hotly in your ear, turning you around swiftly. “Don’t think too much. We’ve got a case to win.”

He helped you dress again, buttoning your shirt and waistcoat with nimble fingers. He was getting back to being your boss, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him at this moment. One day it will be you in his spot, you knew it.

“Just one question.” You said, fixing his tie and smoothening the wrinkles on his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at you, softly smiling at the mischievous look in his eyes. “What will happen once I am a lawyer too?”

Andy chuckled, pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. “Whoever wins more cases gets to be on top of course.”

You exited the men’s room with him, head high as any other man’s. As you entered the courtroom, you licked your lips and smiled as you tasted him on your tongue.

[buckyownsmylife]

Oh, well, imagine - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy gets tired of living a double life 

Word count: 2K<

Warnings: smut, sugar relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon because Andy does stuff without getting reader’s consent beforehand, unprotected sex.

A/N: this was written for @donutloverxo​‘s #sugary4kchallenge! I took the opportunity to write something in the same universe as my first Andy fic, I write sins not tragedies, but this could be read by itself. Congrats on 4k, sweetheart!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The sound of the door being slammed startled me, almost making me drop the dishes I’d been washing. My eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried about what was going on. Only Andy had the key to the apartment, so I wasn’t curious as to who it was, just what had him behaving that way. In all the time we’d known each other, I’d never once seen him angry.

Still, when he appeared by the kitchen, it was clear that was the case. His chest heaved with the simple task of breathing, and when his eyes fell on me, they seemed darker. I almost felt scared - I probably would, if I didn’t trust him so much.

“Andy?” I asked, but he immediately shook his head.

“Not what you call me, princess.” Automatically, I stood up straighter, body electrified by the meaning behind his words. I knew what he wanted, even if it was clearly that more than desire. He needed this.

“Daddy.” He nodded once, clearly pleased at my acknowledgment. But there was still so much I needed to understand. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Instead of answering, he just kept staring at me long and hard, making me feel small and naked under his attention.

“Come here.”

My legs obeyed instantly, having been trained long enough to do exactly what he said without having to think about it. “Good girl.” The compliment was like some pavlovian buzzer to my poor cunt. I could feel the fabric of my underwear begin to uncomfortably stick to my lower lips, and I shifted from one leg to the other as I waited for further instructions.

“Daddy needs you tonight,” he finally began explaining, a single finger running under my jaw to make sure I’d keep our eyes connected. “Will you let me do whatever I want to you and this body?”

The perspective excited me, and I didn’t know if I was stupid for it, but I found myself nodding anyway. At the end of the day, I trusted Andy with my life. I knew he wouldn’t push me further than I could take it, and if he ever came close to it, I always had my safeword.

“Yes, Daddy.” He rewarded me with a kiss, but it wasn’t a soft one. His tongue invaded my mouth and before I could even realize what I was doing, I had to find a hold on his shirt, standing on my tippy toes just so I wouldn’t completely tip over.

“Are you excited to help daddy?” He asked, fingers already making quick work of my clothes as I trembled with excitement in his hold. He looked feverish, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, his mouth nipping and sucking and biting every inch of skin he could find.

“Yes, Daddy,” I repeated, forever his subservient servant, knowing that aiding him would bring me to pleasures I’d never known before we’d met. I watched as he licked his lips, taking in my naked body before his, the kitchen a mess of my discarded clothes and abandoned dinner, but instead of taking off his clothes, his hands went directly to his belt.

“Lay back on the floor.” It took me a full second to understand what he was saying, but thankfully he didn’t read it as hesitation. Instead, despite his eager state, he watched as I slowly lowered myself to the cold marble, stopping once I was on my knees to make sure of what he really wanted.

“Lay back,” he repeated, nodding towards me, and despite my confusion, I did as he said, gasping once my naked back met the icy stone. My nipples hardened against the air of the silent apartment and under his gaze, and I gasped when he knelt before me, hands reaching out for my thighs as he pulled me even closer.

“So, so beautiful,” he moaned, and I watched stunned as he lowered himself until he was eye-level with my navel, and I felt more than saw as his tongue stuck out and collected the wetness that was already threatening to drip from me. “And mine, all mine.”

The first time he’d said that, there was a conversation to be held right after we both came back from our highs. I needed to make sure that he remembered what this was, and he laughed when I tried to phrase it as sweetly as possible.

“I know this isn’t conventional,” he’d said, “but as long as it lasts, you’re mine. In and out of this apartment, but especially in this bed.” It didn’t take too long to realize that he was right.

I truly was his. My body responded to him in a way it’d never reacted to anyone else before. And I knew that whenever this little affair of ours came to an end, he would still forever own parts of me I’d never even realized I had before we met.

Andy’s P.O.V.

My mind was becoming hazier by the second. I needed to make sure she understood what was going to happen before I completely lost it. But first, I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t take advantage of the delicious meal laid bare before me.

“Daddy!” She screamed, fingers curling around my strands as I lapped her up, rubbing my bearded jaw on the apex of her thighs. She was everything. I had never wanted anyone the way that I wanted her. And I knew that I never would again.

It was why I couldn’t lose her.

Connecting our eyes, I pushed two fingers inside of her and immediately curled them as I searched for that sweet spot I’d memorized so many months before, knowing I’d struck gold when she cried out for me again.

“Yeah, baby… I know you like that, sweet girl. So sweet for me, aren’t you?” I knew she wouldn’t be able to answer, and I didn’t mind. I could barely speak myself. The need to have her was just too strong, and so I kept licking her pussy and fucking it with my fingers until I felt her clench around my digits, not even waiting for her to calm down as I immediately raised to my knees and worked on releasing my member from its confines.

“Better get ready, princess… I won’t be able to stop until I’m done with you.” The lust in her hazy eyes was unmistakable, but just as I was about to plunge into her, warm hands found their way inside my shirt, holding my chest to stop me. 

“Andy… the condom…” but I wasn’t having it.

“No,” I announced it, the finality in my voice clear as day as I pushed her arms down against the floor and penetrated her slowly, making sure to watch her jaw going slack as it always did at my first thrust.

When I saw that the initial shock had started to subdue and she was about to argue, I took her lips with mine, devouring her mouth the way I’d done with her pussy just seconds before. “I’m fucking you just like this, and you’re gonna take it.”

She wiggled underneath me, but it seemed more like she was going through the motions of showing that she didn’t want that than actually trying to make me stop.

It didn’t stop me. She would never be able to stop me. Not when I was in this mindset, not when I needed her so much. “I’m tired of wanting you,” I admitted. “I’m tired of wanting you, having you and then going back to wanting you again. I will never have my fill of you, I know that now. I need you.”

Her pussy clenched around me sporadically, her moans escaping her lips as she failed to speak when my hips grew quicker, my thrusts more forceful. “I need you more than sexually. I’m desperate for you, baby.”

And finally, she stopped squirming, her eyes suddenly widening in realization as my voice betrayed all of the emotions I was feeling. “I want to come home to you, Y/N. Only you.”

My confession earned her surrender. I felt her muscles relax underneath me, a sign of her acceptance of my new quest for ownership of her body, and so I could finally release her hands to run mine all over her skin.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” I whispered once the tempo became softer, but no less passionate. “I haven’t fucked her since we met.” I could see the shock in her expression, and I knew what she would argue.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I shook my head at her silliness, stroking her cheek after I kissed her one more time. I could see my future in her eyes, even if she didn’t allow herself to see hers in mine.

“I want to get you pregnant, Y/N.” And there it was. The truth and my heart, stripped of all pretense, exposed for her to see. And if I feared the rejection, the way her eyes softened before she pulled me to another kiss sealed our fate.

“I love you so fucking much.” And so we made passionate, desperate sex on the kitchen floor. I fucked her so hard, it didn’t take much to have her drooling for me. I drowned all of my worries and sorrows in her sweet pussy, making sure to worship every single inch of her body with my lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna keep you forever, princess,” I promised, heart aching just at the thought of ever losing her. “She won’t ever take you from me. Ever.” At the reminder of the reality of our situation, the fact that she was “the other one”, her body writhed underneath me, her struggle to fight back once again rising, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“Ever, baby,” I promised against her lips, silencing her cries with a deep, sloppy kiss that only ended when I needed to gather some air. “I can’t even think of having to live without you.” 

The rhythm of our hips finding one another kept up, the sounds growing exponentially wetter with each second, with each drop of her arousal that collected on her lower lips, lubricating my member and aiding my goal to fill her up until it lathered the floor beneath us.

“You won my heart,” I confessed, making sure that she’d see the honesty deep in my eyes. “You left me no choice but to fall for you. Now I won’t live without you.” A desperate cry tore from deep within her, rekindling the passion with which I fucked her. Normally I was so sweet to her, so patient. But I knew she liked this as well. She liked to be fucked like a whore, even if she was as far removed from one as possible.

“Call my name, sweet girl.” It was a plea, a desperate need to blur the lines between what our relationship was and what I wanted it to become until they disappeared altogether. “Say you are mine. Say it.”

She was drooling now, and I knew how hard it was for her to find the words I needed her to say as she succumbed to bliss right there, on the kitchen floor, with me. Still, her scream penetrated my hazy mind, adding to the overwhelming tightness that squeezed me, begging for my cum, “I’m yours! I’m yours, Andy.”

The aftermath found us breathless, with flushed chest and flushed cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful as the nervous but hopeful look with which she gazed at me. I knew what she needed to hear, and with a kiss on her forehead, I reassured her, “Let’s go to bed, princess. You won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

And as we cuddled the night away, the unspoken became clear and clear. Not tonight, nor ever again.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

You Can Be The Boss

Summary- 2.2k Mob!Steve x You x Mob!Bucky. Business Deals are done in the club most nights over liquor, drugs and you. Tonight is just like any other. You leave the stage to join your men while they deal with an ongoing issue.  Warnings- Sexual themes, smut, weapon use, drug use, threats, swears. This is an 18+ Only Blog. Written for @donutloverxo​ 4k Challenge. 

A/N- I would love to write more for this trio. Lyrics in the beginning and title taken by Lana Del Rey’s You Can Be The Boss. 

Owned Sinfully Sweet Masterlist

You can be the boss, daddy You can be the boss Bad to the bone, sick as a dog You know that I like, like you a lot Don't let it stop...

The cold steel of the pole easily slicked along your heated thighs as you spun around it, your head tipping back as the rush of the club's sultry lights turned into blurs will you easily landed on your toes. 

Of course eager men awaited at the edge of the landing, wanting a mere glance of interest from you as you worked your curves under the stage lights. Sensuous sways back and forth as the unforgiving lights created beads of sweat to roll down your back and past your bare flexing shoulder blades. 

They flashed dollar bills like you should be crawling to them, pursing your lips in a pout and begging them to stuff your panties and bra with the filth. Little did they know you were here out of sheer joy. Hooking your leg once more and pulling yourself up, a siren at her craft as you contorted your body to the pole, defying gravity with your spins. 

Casually you danced across to the end, the crowd parting easily as you eased from the stage, hungry starved men still hovered, but never quite reached out to graze you, although if you gave them the go ahead they would swarm like hungry Jackals. 

Starving blood thirsty jackals. But you were a lioness and your men ruled here, waiting for you like devils at the end of your walk, they would easily kill any that came near you. 

Your gaze lifted to them, Steve lounging back against his seat, cigar laced between his fingers as drifts of smoke curled around gold ring clad fingers, up around his face where tendrils of smoke caught in his hair before dissipating. The smoke couldn't curb the hungry blue eyes that watched you in your glittery sparse outfit making its way towards him. 

Next to him sat your other companion, in his hand expensive crystal swaying amber color liquor pooled at the bottom of the glass, the liquor would make his lips intoxicating, darts of his tongue catching the droplets and curling wickedly in greeting when he caught sight of you, Bucky was unashamed at the way he shifted in his seat, patting his thick thigh for you to perch on. 

Easing into his lap, your arm locked around his neck so fingers could run through the short crisps at the back of his head, manicured nails making him groan appreciative with a tilt of his head catching your mouth with his. 

Just as you knew it tasted of rich dirty money, your tongue lapping through the brandy and coke lacing his mouth while he took you apart. A hand grasping your ass and flexing the muscle, sure to show those hungry bystanders that you were theirs. 

Steve nearby tilted his head back to inhale his cigar and let it swirl above him before sticking the smokey cigar in a nearby ashtray. You glanced up at him from where you were nipping on Bucky's lip and he reached to pick up a tiny pill and held it up for you. Bucky yanked you away, muttering in your ear. 

“Stick that tongue out Doll.” Which you obediently did and Steve stuck the pill on your tongue, and you let it roll on your tongue for Steve before tipping your head back to swallow, meanwhile Steve’s thumb traced your lip, winking at you. 

“Such a good girl.” He praised while Bucky lifted you off his lap so you could go to Steve, his arm circling around your waist while you settled in against his chest, turning now to the guest at your table. Your eyes roamed him up and down before tilting your head to kiss Steve’s cheek, purring at him. 

“Say hi to the Chief of Police Doll.” Bucky leaned forward with a smirk, his hand possessively on your thigh dangling over Steve’s lap. You were still nuzzling Steve’s cheek before turning to your guest and swirling your fingers at him with a small grin. 

“Pretty isn't she, our Doll?” Steve trailed fingers along your collarbone and dipped into your cleavage, the chief’s eyes following with a lust filled drugged haze. Steve's hand went to your throat, his thumb stroking along your pulse as the cold rings of his bit into your skin. On instinct you purred again, tilting your head to him so he could kiss you slowly, this kiss was different from Bucky’s. More demanding, drawing out little mewls of need and his hand pressed against your hip to rock you in his lap till you settled your ass cheeks against his hard on. 

“Do you want to try her out?” Bucky cocked his head with his signature grin, his hand sweeping up your thigh to cup your mound under your dress, stroking his fingers through your panties. You tilted your head back while Steve nipped at your neck before he tilted back to watch you rotate your hips to meet Bucky's fingers. “She’s excellent, aren't you baby?” Bucky asked and you whimpered in response, pulling at your bottom lip as Bucky dipped beyond your panties stroking your folds. 

The Chief stuttered from across the table, his eyes wide in shock at seeing the Mobsters offering you up to him. “I-I can’t, she is yours and I wouldn’t ever want to cross that line.” 

Steve patted your ass. “Go on Doll.” He insisted and you moved to a stand, hooded eyes roaming the Chief as you made your way beyond the table, your fingers trailing his shoulder while giving a pout to luscious red lips. 

“Am I not pretty enough Sir?” 

He sputtered again, holding his hands up and looking warily over at Steve and Bucky, who both were watching intently, waiting. 

“No Dear, your stunning.” He tried to assure you while going back to Bucky and Steve. “I can't, she's your girl.” He said firmly and you leaned in close, running your nose over the shell of his ear, whispering softly in his ear. His fear dripped like a poison in the air, feeding your men from across the table while they admired you working. 

“You really think refusing their gift will save you Chief?” You bit on his lobe before pulling away, Bucky holding out his hand to tug you back into his lap. Steve glowered with a snarl, reaching in his suit to pull out his glock and set it on the table in front of him before picking up his cigar and dragging from it. 

“You refuse our gift, yet you feel like you can just take our warehouse in a raid?” Steve snapped out and you arched a brow at the Chief who was breaking out in a sweat. 

“I warned you ahead of time that the precinct was getting interested over that location.” The Chief tried defending himself, his hand slamming down on the table in agitation at the situation. 

You tutted while Bucky shook his head, pulling out his own blade from his suit, letting it dance in his hand lazily. “And we told you to handle it Chief. You have been paid well by us, we don’t fuck with your men, they stay away from us. Yet now we're out of a warehouse with all its goods. Not good business.” 

“Not good business indeed.” Steve said darkly and the Chief turned red in anger at their accusations. 

“I keep most of your shit under the radar, I warn you every time there is an upcoming bust in your area. I can't control everything, SHIT. I have people I work for. If i'm caught, I can do some real time.” 

Steve now just looked amused at the Chief, you stroked Bucky's cheek while the blade spun faster in his hold. 

“You think that matters to us?” Steve scoffed and Bucky flicked his wrist so that the blade flew across the table and planted in the man's shoulder before he could escape, making him gasp in surprise while Steve pushed to a stand, grabbing the glock and shoving it in the Chiefs gaping mouth, the barrel snapping against his teeth and pushing to the back of his throat, making him squeal in fear and pain, his hands going from trying to pull out the deeply embedded knife to around the barrel shoved in his mouth while Steve clicked the safety off, making his eyes grow wider and cross eyed looking down at the weapon. 

Bucky tapped your thigh to have you stand, and he moved to approach the Chief after you lifted yourself from his lap, his hand grasping the knife and twisting. Blood curled up from the wound to tinge the air with a copper hot scent. 

“This is your last warning Chief, get this shit under control. Or you will be sporting another hole in your head, got it?” Bucky hissed while yanking out the knife, making the man sink in his seat with a pained groan, sweat and tears mixing on his face. He tried mumbling out a yes, slurred around Steve’s glock. 

“Yossss” he gagged out and Steve yanked the gun from his mouth. “YES! Yes, I promise.” 

Steve settled back down while Bucky wiped his blood stained knife against the Chief’s shirt. You slid in the booth next to Steve, your hand stroking along the inside of his thigh and palming his erection that was now raging, throbbing as you squeezed lightly, making him give you a warning look. 

You couldn't help but get turned on watching them work though, licking your lips hungrily and he grasped your chin, looking at you sternly. “Behave Doll.” 

Turning back to the Chief while Bucky sat down next to you and loped his arm over your shoulder and tucking his knife back inside his suit, Steve waved his hand. “I think we're done here, be sure to think about what we said when you go back to your family tonight.” 

The Chief fisted a nearby napkin against his shoulder to stop the blood and he grunted in pain as he got up from the table to stumble away, get out of the club as fast as possible. Bucky pulled out his phone and placed a quick call. “I want you to send a nice gift to Chief Baron’s wife, make sure to leave a nice note from Barnes and Rogers in it specifically for her and her husband.” He shoved his phone away, knowing that the gift would be an excellent reminder that the Chief’s family wasn't safe either, further incentive for him to take care of business. 

Steve reached under the table to stroke you once more as Bucky had before, leaning into you to kiss on your neck, leaving a nice sting that would blossom darker later. “Fuck you are so hot when you are working.” Steve praised while sliding a thick finger in you, the rings cold in your heat, hard metal following gentle come hither strokes that had you gasping. Bucky tilted your head to kiss you while Steve continued fingering you, adding another to scissor you open. 

“Got all wet didn't she? She loves being teased in front of others.” Bucky smirked as his tongue trailed over your mouth, chuckling darkly at the needy mewl of acknowledgment you gave them. 

“Cause she's a little slut.” Steve stated, pulling his fingers out to show your arousal dripping down his fingers and shoved them in his mouth. 

Bucky yanked you into his lap, pulling your dress up around your hips and shoved your panties aside while he pulled out his cock, making you sink onto it with a cry, he fucked into you while the music in the club picked up. Dancers mingled on the stage before their table, but Steve lounged back. The last of his cigar picked up from the ash tray and relight it while he watched you ride Bucky next to him. 

His finger crooked at one of the passing waitresses who ignored the two of you professionally. You grabbed the back of Bucky's head and started arching faster while he thrusted into you with demanding grunts, pulling down on your hips harder. “Have our car pulled around for us.” He instructed and a final cry of Bucky's name had you coming on his cock and sagging forward while he finished, leaving you dripping around him. Hiding your smile against Bucky's shoulder till he eased you to sit up again, his hands cupping your face as you gave him a blissed out smile as that little pill started to take effect. 

You couldn’t help the rush the drug and orgasm gave you, spiraling through your system in the most addictive way that made you want and crave more from them, your eyes glassy in pleasure while your body hummed happily, flexing around Bucky’s cock still filling you.  

“Starting to kick in, isn't it?” He asked, referring to what Steve had given you earlier and you nodded, tilting forward to lick over his lips with a hum of satisfaction. 

“Good, cause she started something she needs to finish in the car.” Steve chuckled while moving to a stand, holding his hand out to you. You grasped it while moving to a stand, easing off Bucky’s softening cock. He tucked himself away as Steve led you from the club and out into the night, the cool fresh air rejuvenating your senses when you inhaled deeply. 

Steve opened the door for you and you slipped into the back of the limo, he followed behind. Bucky wasn't long as he climbed in and shut the door behind him. 

“On the floor Doll, you got some work to do with that mouth, going to smear that lipstick all over with my cock and leave you ruined.” Steve demanded while the limo pulled away, the tent in his slacks evident. 

Your tongue trailed along your dark red lips as you sunk to the floor, sliding your hands up Steve's thick thighs. 

Anticipation quivered up your spine as his hand cupped around your mouth when your hands rested on his belt. 

“Make sure you get me off Doll before we get home or else.” 

You knew well what ‘Or Else’ meant, with a nod you unbuckled his belt, ready to reaffirm your place as Steve and Bucky’s Doll. 

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

i can be your china doll if you want to see me fall. boy, you’re so dope, your love is deadly

summary: sugar daddy series: steve. so, i asked for help and you guys delivered, thank you! anonymous asked for wife/domestic kink. (the rest of your prompt might just be put in a part 2...)  anonymous 2 asked for artist reader and a lovely cute meeting at an art gallery. anonymous 3 asked for a respectful, gentleman steve never pushing boundaries and some vintage lingerie (@themaskismyface, I couldn’t put your request in this part bc I was already over 10,000 words in and I seriously had to cut it before I made another 25k word fic, but it was an amazing idea and I promise I am making a part 2 to this fic bc I really want to write that storyline bc I’ve never seen it in any other sd fic either!)

warnings: honestly, pretty vanilla shit in here. steve has a domestic kink for no damn reason (but we all like know he’s that bitch). so sex, vaginal, oral. mentions of bondage. that usual daddy shit that I always write.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: a bit over 12,000 🙄 (bc i have issues)

a/n: guys! i wanted to write an innocent reader bc like when have i ever? reader does not say fuck once so i think i succeeded. an exasperated gif of steve bc a bitch rewrote the beginning of this fic 7 times!

a/n 2: @donutloverxo finally, a steve sugar daddy storyyyy!

You were never reckless. Ever. You never did things just because someone had talked you into them, you never did things if you weren’t 100% sure that it was the right thing to do. Well, that was your attitude with men. Natasha Romanoff had found one hell of a loophole when she asked you to do…this.

You had had no desire to go to some expensive restaurant, so you had a date set—your first date, in nearly two and a half years—at the tiny diner, a few blocks from your apartment. You’d shown up almost a full hour before you were supposed to because you always did that and just watched the diner.

You were already two cups of coffee in after twenty minutes. You always resorted to coffee when you were nervous. And you certainly had reason to be. It wasn’t every day that you were set up on a date with the Captain America, by his trusted friends the Black Widow, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon.

You were working at this casino-themed restaurant when they found you—which had since been shut down, to your great pleasure. (Sometimes, you wondered if Steve was responsible for that.) You were in a bodysuit, pink in a sea of black, red, and white—Bucky said that was what made him see you. Topped this outfit off with miserable bunny ears—and Sam would say that was what drew his attention in, however, everyone was wearing bunny ears, so you weren’t so sure about that.

Natasha hadn’t originally been with Bucky and Sam, but she would later tell you that they had called her before they spoke to you because they didn’t want to seem like creeps. Bucky and Sam then liked to argue who saw you first, and who knew you would be just perfect for Steve. You couldn’t say, but it was Bucky that was bold enough to speak to you first.

You noticed when Natasha arrived because there were few women around who didn’t work there. You saw her red hair but forced yourself not to stare as she went to join them. Besides, they weren’t even your table.

Well, not for a while, at least. One of your coworkers came to you in a huff, anger slightly quelled by the two hundred dollar bills she was holding. “That table wants you.”

You were confused. No one traded servers like that. You were all naked, it was a dimly lit room, and everyone was always drunk. It made no sense that they wanted you, but you rushed over. If they had tipped you like that, you might have been able to pay all your bills for the next month.

They ordered a round of drinks from you and said nothing else. You were relieved. Though the switching thing had never happened, you figured in a place like that, there was only one reason it would happen. And it made you wish you were wearing a lot more than a stupid bunny costume.

As you were bringing them out their food, you felt them all watching you. You didn’t want to cower, but you certainly didn’t look as confident as you had wished you could. You stepped back after setting their plates down and asked if they needed anything else.

Bucky took that cue. “How old are you?”

Oh, you dreaded those personal questions. “Why?”

“Because you’re working in a place like this, so legal, I assume. But you don’t look as bitter and cynical as your coworkers, so I’m assuming there’s probably about an average 7-year age difference.”

“You’re correct.” He was, but you tried not to be thrown off by that. You glanced off to your other tables. No one was calling for you? You turned back. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Are you single?”

Natasha and Sam both sighed.

You started wringing your hands, clearing your throat softly. This would probably be at the cost of your tip. “I don’t think that’s relevant, sir.”

“Not for me,” he claimed. “But you know who we are, don’t you?”

You knew. You weren’t sure anyone else did. You babysat for your sister and her daughter was currently going through her superhero phase. If not for Natasha, however, you would probably be just as in the dark as everybody else.

You nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Natasha asked. “You acted like you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

They all smiled immediately.

“My friend, Steve,” Sam began, “would love a girl like you.”

Steve, as in Captain America? You scoffed. “Now I’m cynical.”

Natasha smirked. Mouthy, she always thought Steve needed a woman like that. Someone to keep him honest and on his toes. He would like the challenge, and she knew how much Steve liked his time, but loved women who were very much not of that time.

Later, after she decided that she officially liked you as her best friend’s girl, she would tell you the reason she thought you were perfect for Steve was because of the way you moved on the floor. You didn’t want to be touched and it seemed that you were the only one cunning enough to not let it happen. Your coworkers did so at the risk of not getting tipped. You played on your naive and innocent look, so when you skirted away from men with that sweet smile, they never suspected that you’d done so intentionally. You seemed smart. You seemed like a girl who could take care of herself. She reasoned, to be in Steve’s life, you had to have both those qualities.

Bucky tilted his head. “Now I’m more convinced. I think you should let us set up a date.”

“I’m not dating right now.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just not.”

He turned to his friends on his right. “Bad liar, Steve will like that.”

“I should get to my other tables—”

He faced you again. “We are going to stalk you if you don’t say yes.”

At first, you were sure, utterly hopeful, that you had heard him wrong. You checked with Natasha and Sam who looked as horrified as you felt and realized you hadn’t.

“You’re not in any danger,” Bucky promised. “We just have to figure out how to set Steve on the same path as you.”

“Okay, you didn’t need to say that, you blockhead,” Sam told Bucky.

“I didn’t want her to be scared. Don’t call me a blockhead.”

“Mission failed,” he hissed back before looking at you again. “But…he wasn’t lying. We think you two would hit it off.”

“I’m gonna go.” You didn’t wait for a response that time and told your floor manager that they were creepy and had been served. Your coworker would give them the bill, but that you were not going back to that table. He didn’t much care if there was no scene caused.

When your shift was over, you walked outside in the freezing New York weather in nothing but a trench coat and your stupid costume. Waiting for you was Natasha, and she saw you hesitating to move further out of the building.

“Can I walk you home?”

You wanted to say no. Not in a million years, but she smiled, and you didn’t want to be rude to her. You didn’t want to be rude to anyone, ever. It was a flaw.

“Look, I won’t tell my friends where you live. And I’m sorry about earlier, but if I could just explain, I think you’ll understand their social awkwardness. Besides, I’m an Avenger. You’re safe with me.”

That was true. “Okay…thanks.”

She scoffed. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You felt compelled to explain as you both started down the sidewalk. “I don’t usually walk home dressed like this. I was scared so, thanks for being here. That’s what I meant.”

“Why are you dressed that way now, then?”

“Someone stole my clothes.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“They always turn up eventually, but some of the other girls don’t like me too much. I’m quiet, so they think that I don’t like them. That’s not true. I don’t judge anyone for working here, and some of them are strippers as well. I don’t mind that at all, but they’re used to a lot of hate, so I understand.”

“Are you always this nice?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“No, that’s just not something I’ve seen a lot of. You know, except for Steve.”

“Right, so…?”

“Ever since things have calmed down for us—wait, did you get snapped?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“And you’re still this nice? Did anyone you know?”

“Yeah, my whole family, basically. Except for my dad.”

She eyed you for a moment. “Well, ever since things have calmed down, Steve has been on edge. He seems restless, like…like he needs something to take care of. We thought you were perfect for that. An arrangement. Kind of.”

“An arrangement?”

“He doesn’t like the exact terms; he’s disgusted by this concept. But basically, a sugar daddy.”

You stopped walking. “You want Captain America to be my sugar daddy?”

She smiled, linking her arm in yours and pulling you down the sidewalk again. “I know it sounds weird—”

“It sounds more than weird. I’m sure he doesn’t need to pay someone to spend time with him.”

“No, of course not. We only just talked him into this. Our thought process is that he’s a tad cynical. He doesn’t like modern dating, but you don’t strike me as modern. I bet you’ve never even been on a dating app.”

You made a face. “That’s how women end up dead.”

She smiled. “You’re adorable, I think he would adore you. But my thought was also that if he had even just one bad date, he would throw in the towel. See, he’s kind of insecure. Hasn’t done the whole dating thing since he got out of the ice…and he still remembers how things used to be. Before he was Captain America, and skinny and weak, and in his words, a burden, and how all the women just wanted Bucky. I think he still feels like a burden, so the money is kind of an incentive. That makes sense to him.”

“Well…it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Well, I hope this will. You could quit that job. Come on, you know you hate it.”

“It’s good money.”

“This is better.”

“I don’t want to take Captain America’s money.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for this. I’m not worried about you leaving after getting some expensive diamond that you’re just going to sell off later. Please consider it.”

You were silent for a while, until you reached the crosswalk and had to wait for the signal to turn. “Was he being serious when he said he was going to stalk me?”

“He loves Steve so much,” she explained. “He hates to see him without a partner, without someone who sincerely appreciates him and knows how great he is. We honestly just think the two of you would hit it off.”

“I’ll meet him,” you decided. This was Captain America, it wouldn’t be the worst date you’d been on. Besides, you doubted he would be interested in someone as quiet and soft as you, he was a superhero. But what was the worst that could happen? You figured there would be no chemistry, and then Bucky wouldn’t have to stalk you. “But I’m not quitting my job.”

“No, of course. That’s totally up to the two of you to discuss.”

Three mornings later, and there you were. This was stupid, and you were never stupid. At least, not often. You weren’t sure that this could all be explained away by being scared of Bucky’s threat. Maybe you were tired of being single, too.

When Steve showed up, you didn’t immediately recognize him as the man whose face had been scattered across magazine covers and all the news channels. No, you had seen this man a mere three nights prior.

He looked surprised when he saw you at the table, but pleased. Very pleased.

You stood up immediately. “I’m sorry, what?”

He smiled and held his hand out to you. “Steve Rogers. Nice to see you again.”

You didn’t take his hand. “What the hell is going on?”

He gestured for you to take your seat again and after staring one another down and realizing that he wasn’t going to budge first, you did so. “I’m not overly romantic enough to believe in fate, but this is a little coincidental.”

“You look like you need a shot.”

You needed probably at least four. This was your first official showing, with your paintings in a real art gallery. There were so many people walking all around, staring. Judging. So yes, you needed a shot.

The unfortunate part of your life was that you had to go to work soon, and you couldn’t call in. There was undoubtedly already someone waiting to replace you on Friday nights. Your manager wouldn’t hesitate for a second. If you weren’t a person who relied on every cent of a paycheck, then maybe you wouldn’t care so much.

But that was not your story. You were a broke art student, struggling to pay for anything. Well, that was the case before this job. Now, at least you had money for coffee a few times a week, meaning you couldn’t lose this job. Finding something else like this would be impossible.

Your friend honestly was trying to help. It wasn’t her fault that you couldn’t drink to get rid of some of these nerves. But she never had to deal with this. Her parents supported her career path and helped whenever they could. She didn’t have to work while she was in school.

Now, she had her gallery and tried to help as much as she could. You were a sophomore and she practically forced you into handing over some paintings so she could sell them. You were immeasurably grateful, but still, she just didn’t get it sometimes.

“I have some in my office.”

You shook your head. “No, thanks.”

“Fine, how about just a glass of champagne?”

“That’s okay,” you declined. “I don’t think alcohol will make me any less nervous. And I have to work.”

“Really?” she frowned. “I wanted to go out to celebrate after this.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no way I can get out of it. Friday is good for tipping. On average, I make $564 these nights. And I need every cent of that.”

She sighed. “You told me you would be fine.”

“I will be,” you assured. “I just can’t miss work.”

“What if you got sick?”

Your eyes widened. “That cannot happen.”

“That’s not fine, babe. Look, you need to start selling your work here all the time. It was an open offer, okay?”

“I know, I will,” you promised. “I’m just a little busy with finals right now. I promise I’ll settle in for the summer and I’ll paint something that I won’t make you put in the back.”

“Fine, but then I must kindly request that you stop looking so nervous. No one is even looking at your stuff because you made me put it in the back. Just that one,” she gestured off to the wall at your side. “And I’m pretty sure they can all sense that you are looking at it and they are too scared to go over there.”

That did make you feel better, somewhat. You were a bit of a perfectionist when it came to your art, but you were also a people pleaser. It was on short notice that she told you that she wanted to sell some of your work in her gallery and you had absolutely no time to do anything new, but you didn’t want to tell her no because you didn’t want to disappoint her. So, you said yes, but asked her to put it in the back, and now you were sure you were about to have a heart attack.

You were probably about to apologize, worried that you were getting on her nerves with your anxious behavior. You were naturally a nervous person, which wasn’t exactly a quality that made you a lot of friends.

But before you had the chance to say anything, a man was standing right next to you both. He was speaking, not that you could process his words after you saw his face. He had longer blonde hair and a dark, trimmed beard that did not hide how chiseled his jaw was. Who looked like that? Why was he here? And not that you had a lot of experience with expensive clothing, but his suit was expensive. It was odd because he didn’t look like the rest of the men at the gallery in these suits, he was just a tad more…rugged.

Your friend cleared her throat and you looked at her. She arched an eyebrow, and your stomach was immediately twisting. Oh, god. He’d said something and you, like the idiot you were, had no idea what it was.

“I’m sorry?”

“I was asking about a painting,” the man answered. “I believe I just heard that you’re the artist.”

Oh, no. No, no. You were seriously about to have a heart attack.

“She is,” confirmed the person that everyone knew was the gallery owner. You couldn’t even accuse her of lying.

You turned to the wall where your painting was. Why hadn’t you just said no when she asked? You should go to therapy and learn to create boundaries for yourself.

“I really like it,” he elaborated.

And just like that, you were sure your face was literally on fire. “Thanks.”

“Are you an interested buyer?”

Your eyes widened at her. He looked rich, so no, he was not interested in your incoherent assignment from last semester that you’d completed under the influence of a lot of NyQuil. You’d been sick all week and art professors were surprisingly unwilling to give extensions.

“I am,” he claimed, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

He pulled out his card and handed it to your friend.

She smiled as she swiped it away. “Great, that’ll be $564—”

“No, please, it’s not that much.”

“It is,” she asserted, sauntering away.

“I’d pay more,” he promised, gaining your attention once more. “Trust me when I say that you’re underselling your work.”

Unlikely. “You don’t have to pay that much. I’m a second-year art student. My friend is just…trying to look out for me. I’m going to tell her that is too much.”

He caught your arm before you could move. “I was an art student once. Time at a university means nothing when you’re talented, and you are.”

That was nice to hear, even if you didn’t necessarily buy it. “Thank you… I felt completely invisible here tonight.” Oh great, this was the part of your nervous process where you were going to start talking and not stop. “You’re the first person to ask about anything I’ve done.”

“I was standing there for nearly half an hour, I’m sure I scared everyone away.”

You doubted that someone who looked like him would scare anyone away, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed him before.

“Do you have anything else here?”

“Oh, no, please. You’ve already spent so much. She charged you nearly three times what I was selling it for. And she talked me into that high of a price in the first place, she’s very pushy when she wants to be.”

He scoffed. “Something tells me you respond to that better.”

Before you could ask what that meant—and you would, your mouth currently had absolutely no filter—your friend was walking back with his card. “She does.”

He never took his eyes off you as he tucked it away, smiling when he got his answer.

“She made me hide it away in the back of the gallery in a terribly lit hallway so no one could see it.”

“Will you show me?” he asked you.

How could you say no to him after what he just did for you? But you hoped he wouldn’t try to buy anything else. Clearing your throat a little, you nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He held his arm out to you and you linked your arm through his. He was a little pushy, but not in any way that had you wanting to call the police or anything. Admittedly, that might have just been his eyes tricking you. They were so blue.

Like a proud mother, your friend watched with a huge smile as you led him toward the back of the gallery.

“I’m Steve,” he informed.

Oh, right. Normal people introduced themselves when meeting someone new. Especially if that someone just paid all your bills. You told him your name back, even though you were sure he knew because it was on the stupid painting. You were just talking for no reason at this point.

“Well, here they are,” you gestured down the hall, pulling away from him. If you went to look at your paintings, you would notice one billion flaws, and then you would make a fool of yourself probably.

He walked along the row of paintings. “Why paint things you don’t like?”

It wasn’t judgmental, it seemed like something he could sympathize with given his understanding tone. “Assignments… I didn’t have time to paint anything new. She kind of just threw this on me, and I have this bad habit of not wanting to disappoint people. I think she knows that by now.”

He hummed.

“I don’t hate them,” you promised. That probably wasn’t a good selling point. “This just isn’t what I want to do. I like…darker colors, less…pastels.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I see they still prefer their pastels.”

“You were a student here?”

“It was quite a while ago,” he confirmed. Abruptly, he turned to you. “Would you like to get coffee with me? I have a business proposal, sort of. But to be clear, I am asking you out on a date.”

“Coffee?” you repeated. “Me? With you?” Why was someone who looked like that asking you out? “Oh, um—” Your phone started to ding like the clock in Cinderella. The ball was over, it was time to get in your pumpkin carriage and go straight to hell. Or work if you were being technical.

He moved closer to you, still glancing at the paintings along the way.

“I’m sorry, I would like to…but I have to go to work.”

His eyebrows pulled together slightly. “Right now?”

And this was why you didn’t date. When they asked what you did, that was usually when the conversation was over. “Yeah…I’m a server at a bar, late hours. But thank you for asking. And thanks for the painting.”

He smiled a little. “No problem.”

You had had no idea who he was that night. All the things you’d seen or known about Steve Rogers did not match the image of the man that you met at the gallery opening or the man standing in front of you. His hair was longer, a tad blonder than you had thought. He also looked older. At the time, you weren’t even sure Captain America could age.

“You said you worked at a bar…” he reminded.

“I don’t normally tell people that I just met where I work.”

He hummed.

“I didn’t know…you didn’t tell me, at the gallery, who you were.”

“I don’t normally tell people that I just met who I am before I ask them out.”

You narrowed your eyes. Wow, Natasha wasn’t lying. Who wouldn’t want to date Captain America? Well, you could list a dozen reasons, but you were not normal. He probably didn’t even know that all the people in their right minds would kill to date him if given the chance.

“I apologize if I’m late…” he began, eyeing the mugs in front of you.

“No, I’m just always early,” you informed. “Like, always. I don’t know why.”

He smirked, showing the time on his phone. “Yeah, that makes two of us. I’ve never met someone who is earlier than me, though.”

“Yeah, it’s just a weird habit of mine.”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” He didn’t want to be too forward, but Natasha was right. You were cute.

You noticed that he had folders in his hand then. A lot. That had you thinking back to the gallery and his phrasing when he asked you out. “Wait, was this the business proposal that you had for me when you asked me out the other night?”

“Yes.”

“So, you just meet someone and then immediately ask them to do this…like, arrangement…thing with you? But you had no idea that it was me when Natasha set this up. So, not even 5 days later and you were already going to offer your “business proposal” to someone else?”

“You are correct. Why?”

“That seems so fickle.”

He scoffed. “Well, I—”

“And okay, that whole ‘I look like I respond better to pushy people’ thing is so condescending now.”

“I did not mean it in a bad way, and I apologize for coming off condescending.”

“How did you mean it?”

“You just look like a sweet girl, that’s all. You look like you like to be…helpful. To whoever, however you can.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Well, I’m not sweet.”

“Natasha thinks you are and what Natasha thinks, I tend to agree with.”

“I’m not sweet,” you insisted.

“I disagree,” he countered easily. “If not a tad bratty, but that’s okay. That’s how I like my women. If I wasn’t worried about scaring you off by being too forward, I would tell you exactly how I intend to make you behave.”

Okay, in your defense, it had been a very long time since you had sex. You crossed your legs and he smirked, he knew why. No, this couldn’t happen. You wouldn’t let it. You knew exactly how to put a stop to this. “Well, I’m possessive. You can’t be seeing other women.”

“I’m not interested in an open relationship. I’m interested in you.”

Or not.

He noticed that you no longer looked completely argumentative and gestured to the folders he’d set on the table. “So, I’ve done quite a bit of research on this.”

Oh. Right. Should you have done research? You were too mortified to even google “sugar daddy”.

“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time,” he elaborated. “I think we should talk about a lot of things before we decide to proceed with this. If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” Still, this would not be the worst date you had ever been on even if it did turn into an interrogation. You weren’t sure why you were so bothered. You weren’t even here for serious reasons. You just wanted to prove that nothing could come of this so Bucky wouldn’t stalk you.

“Have you ever done something like this before?”

“No, never.”

“And what are your expectations from this?”

“I honestly don’t have any. I know that’s weird, and I know I’ve had time to think about it, but I don’t expect anything from you. I just told Natasha I would meet with you. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“Have you? Ever done this?” You figured Natasha wouldn’t share that detail with you.

“Uh…I went on a date. Once. It was a learning experience. I kind of just jumped into it, that’s a bad habit of mine. And I don’t expect anything from you, to be clear. I don’t expect you to act a certain way, dress a certain way. You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to do. Okay?”

Well, that was relieving. You nodded. “Okay.”

About an hour in, the table was covered in papers. You both had had too much coffee and you were simply too nervous to eat. He insisted on at least ordering you some toast, and you’d eaten most of it, so at least you knew he was a considerate person.

He’d asked about your family. You figured he didn’t want an unstable partner just trying to work out her issues with her father. Your parents were…something else, but you certainly weren’t trying to date anyone like your dad, or anyone that was going to try to fix all those insecurities courtesy of your mother. Your answer must have pleased him because he continued.

He wanted clarification on your job, exactly what you did. Natasha told him the other girls didn’t like you, so he wanted to know why. He also wanted to know if you ever did anything about it. You could tell he was amused, if not also confused, by the fact that you hadn’t ever sought out any type of revenge.

“Do you like working there?”

“I hate the outfits, the people, the staff. But I’m able to pay my bills, so I don’t like to complain.”

“Can I ask why you said yes to this?”

“Um, well, partially because Bucky told me he was going to stalk me if I didn’t.”

His mouth dropped slightly.

“So, I just said yes…to save him the trouble. You know, I’d hate if he went out of his way and there was no connection. Or whatever.”

“He said he was going to stalk you?”

“At least he was honest about it. He didn’t want me to get scared, like, if I noticed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you scoffed. “It’s not something any woman wants to hear, but at least you know he cares about you.”

“He’s…”

“Antisocial, Natasha said.”

“To put it lightly. He’s…had some problems in the past. That’s not as public as the rest of our lives.”

“It’s okay,” you promised.

He sighed. “Bucky is kind of my top priority, sometimes. Sometimes…I have to be distant because he needs my complete attention. Could you handle that?”

“With an “I’m not dead” text every now and then, yes.”

“And what are you getting out of this? What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Your friends made a compelling case. I’m just a little confused.”

“Yes, sorry. Please, I’ve asked a million questions and you’ve hardly asked any. Whatever you want to know.”

“Why would you ever need me?”

“Well, that has to be answered after I ask one more question. I know you said you’re possessive, but I think you thought that might be a deal-breaker for me. So, honestly, do you want no-strings, or could this possibly be a relationship?”

“I’m not exactly a no-strings person.”

He smiled crookedly. “That’s what I need. I want to be with someone, I guess. I never have been. Thought it was time I tried it.”

“But why an arrangement?”

“I thought it would make me feel better. I feel like I’m not great in a relationship. I’m asking you all these questions and I can’t imagine what I could possibly provide for you. Except for money. You hate your job, I would pay for everything. You could quit. You could work on your art. Whatever you want.”

“How often would I see you, Bucky-times aside?”

“Regularly,” he assured.

“Dates?”

“Stark has his parties. I would ask you to be there.”

“How available do you need me?”

“That might…change after some time. It might also fluctuate. We can always reevaluate.”

You eyed the papers. “Are you going to have me sign something?”

He smiled. “No.”

You turned your attention back up to him. “So?”

“So, if you’re willing, I’d like a trial. Three months. You can take time to think about it.”

“I don’t need time.”

“No?”

“You seem nice. Where I work, I rarely meet nice guys.”

He scoffed. “Okay. I do feel the need to inform you, I am possessive. I will ask you not to date anyone else. Are you okay with that?”

You had actively avoided dating up to that point, but that was a choice. The idea that someone else would be in control of that made you hesitate. “I’m not sure.”

“You ever had a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Anything else qualified as a relationship?”

“Yeah. A boyfriend. It was a while ago.”

“He wasn’t possessive?”

“No. He never had reason to be.”

“I find that hard to believe. Someone as beautiful as you, you must get attention.”

Your face felt hot, and you hoped you didn’t look as caught off guard as you felt. “I guess he just didn’t care.”

“His mistake. From the looks of it, he made a few…”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you were okay with that. He was looking at you differently now. More critically, not in a bad way, but in a serious way. Something changed. Something made him want to proceed.

You wouldn’t lie. Month one had you wanting to throw in the towel often. It wasn’t so difficult to speak to him, to text him any chance you got, and you genuinely did like his company. He was nice and funny, and smart but it seemed like he was completely unaware of that. He just wasn’t like other men.

But the first snag was the credit card. See, first, he needed to know where you lived. That was a huge compromise itself, you didn’t like men knowing where you lived. Your experiences had been made up of pushy men with no respect for consent. You had an alarm system and were on a first-name basis with campus security and many police officers that worked in this area.

The moral of the story was that you were secretive. You didn’t like to jump into relationships, but Steve asked you to be open. You agreed to this trial just the same as he did, you could at least match his energy. So, you showed him your apartment.

Before he was about to leave, he handed you his credit card. You were blurting out refusals for at least three minutes before he got you to calm down enough that he could speak. That was also non-negotiable on his part. He promised it was only for emergencies. For now. But it was a requirement that he knew you would be taken care of even if he had to be out of town or tend to Bucky-related issues.

He would be depositing money into your account otherwise. What he felt was a necessary amount. You checked once, really fast, and felt sick for the rest of the day. You’d told yourself that you would never see that much money, so for it to just be there, was unsettling. Sometimes. Not exactly in a bad way. It just took some getting used to.

The second month was easier. There was a shared level of comfort there. That was why he started to accompany you on these shopping sprees. Every Tuesday. He didn’t try to push you into going to the more expensive stores but insisted that you buy everything you even glanced at. You were frequenting your usual spots and spending until he was satisfied.

He took you to dinner at least once a week, those were mostly the Bucky weeks where you didn’t see a lot of him. But at least one evening, he was all yours. His phone was turned off and he was very present. That was what made you start looking at Steve differently.

You still weren’t sure why you were in this. The money was great, but because you were on trial, you were still working. Essentially, nothing in your life had changed, but the closer you got to Steve, the more you thought you could end up liking him.

Was that allowed? He was your sugar daddy, or he would be, and you just weren’t fully aware of what that was supposed to mean. You certainly didn’t want to ask him out of fear that you would sound like you were getting way ahead of the plan, so you simply took it day by day.

This was a plan that was getting increasingly difficult the more you realized how genuinely beautiful Steve was. And what was the extent of your physical relationship with him? Kissing. And never even long enough that you would classify it as making out. He put his arm around you, he held your hand, you sat very close to one another when you were spending the night at your apartment.

But obviously, no sex. You’d gone extended periods without sex before, that wasn’t new, but you had never been in the constant presence of a man that looked like Steve. It was confusing also, no man you’d ever spoken to this long hadn’t already tried something.

By month three, you were worrying. Sometimes.

On one hand, he was talking to you a lot more. About him, his life. Work. Bucky. He’d even opened up to you about Peggy a little. In return, he did want to hear about this former boyfriend of yours. That was when you realized he hadn’t been exaggerating about being possessive. You were on his lap during this storytime and his hands lingered, he kissed your lips, your face, your neck. It was meaningful, meant to convey something. What, exactly, you were not sure.

But that was it.

You went to the first Stark party with him around two weeks before it was time to reevaluate whether this was going to last. That put a lot of pressure on you. You knew that if you couldn’t hang out with his friends, that this was going to be over.

Sam and Bucky were nice, the most talkative. They kept insisting the entire night that Steve thank them, and that would prompt the argument of who saw you first. Steve promised this would be a fight that he wouldn’t hear the end of until the day he died.

Wanda was sweet. Steve warned you that she could read minds. That made you doubly nervous, but she smiled enough that you were sure your internal ramblings weren’t making her dislike you.

Peter was there for a while before he had to get home to his aunt, super sweet and made you feel a lot less out of place due to his apparent nerves. Clint was with Natasha for a couple of hours, he never came over to see all the fuss surrounding Steve’s date before he had to get home as well.

And Tony himself wasn’t too bad. He thoroughly enjoyed poking fun at this entire situation, which you had not been prepared for.

Steve stayed close and you felt protected, his arm around your waist almost the entire night, so a few jokes from Tony weren’t too unbearable. Besides, he didn’t mean it in an unkind way, that was just his sense of humor.

You were most surprised by Natasha. She had greeted you, but that was it. You felt the rest of the night that she was eyeing you and Steve. There were no conversations, and she didn’t get too close to the group.

When you asked Steve about it on the drive to your apartment, you wondered if you had done something to make her dislike you—that was your biggest worry of the night, that you would do or say something stupid. It was so unlike the way she spoke to you the night she had convinced you to meet Steve.

He assured you that Natasha was simply protective of him and you didn’t want to be annoying, so you let it drop.

You invited him into your apartment, but he had things to do back at the office. He promised to take you to breakfast, so that was enough for you. You were just insanely insecure for a long time after that, and it didn’t help that he wasn’t touching you.

The final two weeks sped by and there was a lingering heaviness in every single conversation you had with him.

Was this about to end? He mentioned it only once. He wanted to go out to dinner that night to discuss how you both felt. With that approaching conversation, you analyzed just about everything he did and said. You looked for any hints that you could get, which were nonexistent but kept you up until 4 in the morning all the same.

The morning of, he had a dress delivered to you. It made you smile, but you did stop to consider that it might be the last time you experienced that. Steve was so kind and spending time with him didn’t make him seem any less perfect than the media had convinced you that Captain America was.

He was genuinely perfect, and you couldn’t imagine a single reason why he would choose you over all the women who were throwing themselves at him. You saw how everyone stared when the two of you went out, you noticed the flirting staff and you didn’t blame them at all—you would probably do the same if a man looking like that walked into the restaurant.

But you had resolved that you weren’t going to let him dump you without sex. It wasn’t fair to judge an entire relationship without the physical aspect. He should know the entire story of you before he made any huge decisions.

So, you put on the dress. It was a tight, long slip with cutouts at the waist in a dark wine color. Underneath was the lingerie set that you had all but scoured the entire internet for in the entire past month. The lingerie from Steve’s time wasn’t particularly beautiful, but lingerie inspired by his time was.

In nude satin with black lace detail, the bra, the panties, the garter belt, and the stockings. You felt like you were a burlesque dancer, but hey, if that was what he was into. And if he wasn’t, you were going to cry. You had never used a garter belt before and you were running late—long story short, you had snapped your skin several times.

When Steve picked you up, it was just like any other time. It wasn’t his fault; he wasn’t doing anything wrong. You just wished he would give you some idea about how he was feeling. However, he didn’t.

By the time the food was brought out, you felt like a pile of nerves. He filled the silence, told you about his day, his entire week since you’d only seen him twice. It was a Bucky week, and you didn’t mean to sound insensitive, but it was the most inconvenient week it could have happened.

Dinner was nearing its end and he hadn’t said a word about the arrangement. You realized then that he was searching for something. From you. An indication that you wanted to continue. Of course, always the gentleman.

“Are we doing dessert tonight?” he questioned.

If you did, you would talk yourself out of this. You shook your head.

“Oh…okay…I’ll get the check the next time I see our server.”

“Okay.” You moved your purse onto the table so you could slide around the booth seat next to him. He had the booth for the Avengers usually, but he liked bringing you, too.

He looked confused, but then you moved closer. You grabbed his arm, both hands wrapping around one of his. He smiled then, assuming this was the end of it. “You’re beautiful, and in that dress…”

You glanced down. “I like it, thanks.”

“Knew you would look perfect in it.”

“I like the high slit,” you informed.

“Yes, I enjoy the view.”

You hummed, dragging his hand in yours up the opening of your dress. You felt him tense up the second he felt your stockings.

“We should probably discuss a few things first.”

“Or we could wait.”

He shook his head firmly. “No, we should do this first.”

You figured you knew why and let him go. “Yeah, okay—” You were just about to slide away back to your seat when he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“A new contract is in my car.”

You were surprised that he had already done this on his own. Normally, he waited for your input on everything, that was why, you assumed, that he had yet to have sex with you. “Now you want me to sign something?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t follow the agreement that you signed to, I get to creatively punish you.”

Your eyebrows shot up and he smirked. Steve Rogers had you at dinner, in a dress that wasn’t the most revealing thing he’d ever put you in but certainly wasn’t modest, and was talking about punishment. Like…sexual punishment. That quickly took a turn.

“Drop the innocent act. I have it on good authority,” he settled his hand on your thigh, thumb teasing the skin under the slit of the dress, “that you’re not that innocent.”

You felt your face get hot and he smirked at your silence.

“I want to change a few things. First, new apartment. I don’t like how far yours is away from me.”

“Fine, but I’m paying for rent with my allowance.”

“Fine, then I’m raising your allowance.”

You gave him a flat look and got a smirk as a response. “What else?”

“Second, quit your damn job and spend this weekend with me at your new apartment.”

You scoffed. “It’s extremely unprofessional to quit without giving two weeks. I think I’m going to need more incentive.”

His hand moved up as he leaned in close, lips at your neck and fingers sliding over your cunt through your panties. You shuddered and he kissed and licked your skin. “I have a small proposal, what if I just took your underwear off now, no one would even know—”

“No,” you whined, pushing him away with the side of your body before you leaned away. “You have to see what I’m wearing.”

His hand had slid back down to your thigh. “Why? What are you wearing?”

“Lingerie.”

“Obviously.”

“Took me forever to find.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it looks a little 1940s inspired—”

He stood up, pulling you out of the booth with him. He moved around to pick up your purse and placed it back in your hands along with the keys. “Wait in the car, I’m going to pay the bill.”

Steve was speeding. You had never seen him drive even kind of recklessly. He was completely focused on the road and getting to this new apartment as quickly as possible. You would have laughed, if you didn’t have a reason to do just the opposite.

You were in the seat next to him, looking over the contract. It was one terrible thing after another. It was a major compromise in terms of your independence and autonomy. “You want to hire me a driver?”

“For safety.”

“What kind of safety?”

“Are you familiar with Princess Diana?”

You made a face. “Why are you familiar with Princess Diana?”

“Sam and Bucky were watching the Oprah thing, never mind that. It makes sense. You’re going to be spending more time with me if you sign, people will see us together. I’m not always going to be here. I just need to know that you’re safe.”

“Steve—”

“So, you haven’t made it to that point yet,” he muttered.

You briefly narrowed your eyes at him before turning back down to the page and skimming madly. He wasn’t only giving you a higher allowance, but a minimum of what you needed to spend monthly. You were going to argue that.

He gave you a list of prioritized emergency contacts. If he was unreachable for some reason, the list went Natasha, Sam, Wanda, Tony, Bruce, try the list in order again, then Peter, try Bruce one more time, and still, if none of them were available, he wanted you to try to reach him through Bucky. He needed your approval to give his friends your number, and you hated that anyone would think of you as weak or fragile. Was that what being in a relationship with Steve Rogers reduced to?

He wanted holidays with you. After discussing your family situation, he realized quickly that you wouldn’t be going home for those days. New Years’, Valentine’s, the 4th—you accidentally snorted when you read that—Halloween, and Christmas. He left open the opportunity for more days if you celebrated something that he did not. And though he did not require the day of your birthday, he would get one weekend that month to spoil you as he saw fit.

He wanted your acknowledgment that these rules were mostly for your safety and if you didn’t meet them, after signing this contract, that was a violation. He would then be allowed to punish you. Below that was a small list of punishments that he preferred, and you needed to check off which ones you were okay with. Spanking with his hand, belts, or paddles, bondage, choking, edging, orgasm denial for extended periods, forced orgasms/overstimulation. This meant that a safe word was needed, and he wanted it documented.

If he happened to mess up this relationship, for the remainder of the contract, he is allowed to try to convince you to give him a second chance. If he failed by the end of the one-year mark, he would willingly let you go.

Well, that one was odd, but typical Steve. He was always so concerned with how he would ruin this by not being available, not keeping you interested. These insecurities were completely unfounded.

The last rule, he wanted you to call him daddy. Non-negotiable in the bedroom, encouraged outside the bedroom but not if it made you uncomfortable. That one was… Yeah, okay. You hadn’t given that much thought before.

You set the contract on your lap and glanced out the window. He was taking you closer to the tower, but Steve didn’t stay there full-time, so you could only assume his apartment was nearby. You were rarely ever around this part of town, but there were several gyms, several cafés, and many shopping centers.

“Problem?”

You turned back to him, just watching. He continued to stare at the road. His hands were tight around the steering wheel, you worried it would break in his firm hold. He was nervous, not meeting your eye but pretending that the reason was that he was driving.

“Blueberry.”

His eyebrows pulled together but he didn’t voice his confusion.

“That’s my safe word,” you asserted. “And I’m into all possible punishments, but I’m hesitant about the bondage part. I want to feel like I’m close to you, and I’m not sure how I can do that if I can’t touch you.”

“We’ll take that one slow. But, I must point out, if you follow the rules, you’ll never have to find out.”

You snorted. “Cut my spending requirement in half.” He opened his mouth to argue but you quickly cut him off, “And you can buy me anything you want, I won’t complain.”

“Okay, fine. Anything else?”

“I want to spend one week a night at your apartment. We will stay in, just a calm date night. Once a week. Minus Bucky weeks.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

The apartment was huge and cold, exactly what you thought of most over-priced living spaces. He turned on the lights for you but then he was off scurrying about the entire place. You were left alone to explore.

The floors were hardwood, that was why you could hear every step he was taking. The windows were ceiling to floor, at least ten in the living room alone. You knew it would look beautiful in the fall and winter, whenever it rained or snowed. He hadn’t bought any furniture, of course, he would want to make you consciously pick things out and spend his money.

The kitchen was massive, enough room to cook, enough room to spend time in. There was a fridge, a microwave, and an oven all in black. You wondered if you could talk him into buying new ones in different colors.

He had disappeared down a long living room to the right. Off to the left was a bathroom. You made your way to it, turning on the light. The countertops were marble, the tub was big enough for the two of you, which you were looking forward to.

You heard him moving again. “Steve? What are you doing?”

“There has to be a pen here somewhere!” He made his way back out to the kitchen and started looking in drawers. “I set you up an art studio, I know I bought pens, too. Everyone needs a pen, you know?”

“Why do you need a pen?” You turned to the mirror, eyes moving over the length of your dress. You wanted him to tear the stupid thing off, but you were now starting to wonder if you were going to have to do that yourself.

“I want to sign it before we do anything.”

“You think sex will change my mind? Or your mind?”

“No, no changing minds… Look, call me old-fashioned but I want to sign before we have sex.”

You sighed as you yanked your dress down your body. You kicked it off to your side and reached into your bag for your red lipstick. You rarely ever wore lipstick; it was so hard to get off yet smudged easily. Next, you grabbed the pen you kept stashed there. Your heels clicked loudly as you made your way back to him.

“Here.”

He quickly turned to you, determined expression immediately going blank. He blinked several times before he cleared his throat and took the pen. “Where did you find this?”

“I always carry a pen. And paper. I’m a terrible driver and I’ve had to leave people notes after I hit their car.”

“You’re not allowed to drive anymore,” he blurted out. “I’m adding that to the contract right now.” He turned away, brow furrowing as he looked over the contract again. You could see how tense he had suddenly become in the hard line of his shoulders and his clenched jaw.

He scribbled his name over the pages several times before holding the pen out to you. Once you took it, he stepped aside several feet. He was trying to keep his distance, worried he might not be able to wait if you got too close.

“I don’t know…” you began.

His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? You don’t know what?”

“Maybe I want to negotiate on a few things.”

“Anything you want, just tell me.”

You laughed a little. “Are you only saying that because of what I’m wearing?”

“Probably, yeah. Take advantage of me, I’d do anything you asked right now. Just please sign the god damn contract.”

“A year?”

He nodded quickly. “Just a year.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll talk. We’ll reevaluate again.”

“Okay.” You turned forward and signed the point acknowledging you were giving yourself to him for a year. A few things were the same, no dating anyone other than him being the most important. That had seemed like such a heavy commitment originally, and that was only three months. Now, you were happy to give a year of your life to Steve.

The next page questioned your safe word, you tapped the pen to your bottom lip.

“What?”

“Safe word.”

“You said blueberry,” he reminded. “Not sure why.”

“It does seem odd. What if I forget it?”

“Who would forget a safe word like blueberry?”

You shrugged. “What do you think it should be?”

“Please just write blueberry.”

You smirked as you wrote it down.

“You’re being mean,” he accused.

“No,” you scoffed, “I’m just making sure that this contract represents my best interests.”

“No, you’re trying to push me. If you continue to push me, I’m going to have to push back.”

You looked back over your shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow. “And what are you intending to do to me?”

“I haven’t decided yet… Admittedly, I’m having problems thinking straight right now.”

You laughed and looked back down at the contract. You checked all the boxes next to punishments. “How, exactly, are you planning on ruining this arrangement? Do you have another arrangement on the side?”

“No, of course not. I don’t know, okay? I promise I had no specific examples, I just wanted to be sure.”

You turned back to him and he sighed, groaning your name. “You are going to have to work on your patience.”

“I have wanted to fuck you since the day I met you,” he asserted. “Please, sign the contract.”

“First, I want you to acknowledge something.”

He huffed. “What?”

“I like you.”

He waited, then his brow furrowed once more. “What?”

“That’s it, I just want you to tell me that you know that, that you believe me when I say you’re doing a lot better than you think you are. I’m very happy, Steve, I like spending time with you, I like the arrangement that we have. You haven’t messed up yet and I doubt you ever will.”

“Okay, I believe you,” he assured. “But I’ll believe you more if you put me out of my misery now.”

You smiled, turning back around. “All right, my name here.” You signed underneath his. “And then what—”

He grabbed your shoulders and spun you to him, lips crashing down on yours. He held you tight, his hand spread out on your back to keep your chest pinned to his, his other hand on the side of your face. He didn’t mind that your lipstick was getting everywhere, smearing over your skin and his.

When he pulled away and looked down at you, you were both breathless, panting, staring into one another’s eyes. It was the most intimate moment the two of you had shared yet. He allowed you to push off his jacket and yank open his dress shirt, buttons scattering all about. His belt was next, and you remembered that it was one of the items listed on the contract.

“Out of curiosity, what does a girl have to do to get spanked with a belt?”

He grabbed your ass hard, pulling you forward to kiss you again that he didn’t pull away from until your lips were swollen and his were stained thinly in red. “Don’t worry, sweet as you are, I know you’re a brat. You’ll find out soon enough.”

You smiled and pulled his pants open as you lowered to your knees.

He gripped the counter with both hands and stared down at you, lips parted, chest moving with his deep breaths.

“Daddy?”

Surprise flickered across his face and he was stunned silent.

“Don’t damage my counter,” you joked.

“See? Bratty as hell and the ink hasn’t even dried.”

You scoffed, pulling his pants down. You’d noticed the sizable bulge pressing against you when he was kissing you, but you hadn’t anticipated how big he was going to be. His cock was right in your face as soon as he was free from all layers of clothing, and you wasted no time opening your mouth for him. He pushed his cock in slowly, only pausing when you gagged, until he was sure you couldn’t take any more of him.

This color of lipstick did something to Steve. Seeing your red lips wrapped around his cock was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. “Baby, you are so fucking pretty like this.”

He used your mouth, but he really was the sweetest about it. He kept cooing praises at you, petting your hair, pulling away quickly any time you were choking on him. He didn’t intend to finish like this, and the moment he worried he was too close, he was pulling you back onto your feet.

He picked you up to drop you back down on the counter. His fingers pulled your underwear aside, feeling through your folds to check if you were wet enough to take him. Of course, you were. Of course, you were such a good girl, just so eager to take his cock that you would get wet just from having him in your mouth.

He kept the material of your panties out of his way and pushed into you. His free hand gripped your hip hard, it was almost unbearable how tight you felt around him. You laid back, propped up on your elbows because you wanted to watch him.

The panties were a lost cause, your arousal mixed with his would stain the delicate material, and when he finally finished inside you… His hands touched you everywhere, through the material of the overpriced set that you now were happy you had worked so hard to find. He looked entranced by you, like he was lost in your existence. If some ugly 40s themed clothing did that, you would make this a habit.

Shameless noises poured out of your parted lips, moans, gasps, mewls, and he loved every single one. Steve wasn’t huge on verbal praise, ever since he’d been having sex, he much preferred the uncontrollable praise. He preferred the babbling, the crying, the coming. The things that only he could pull from another person, and he knew that was the case with you. He knew you’d never been appreciated like this, worshipped. And he would, every day you let him, he was going to devote all the time, money, and energy he could on you.

You reached out to him when you were coming and he pulled you up, arms wrapped tight around your waist. You set your forehead in the curve of his neck, hands gripping his biceps desperately.

“Who’s making you feel good, baby?” he urged.

“You, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Wanna come, gorgeous?”

You nodded quickly. “Please, daddy. Please make me come.”

When you fell apart, your nails dug into his skin, and he didn’t mind one bit. The way your entire body tensed up, the small noises tearing from your throat, and the way you got even tighter around his cock were indescribably beautiful. It didn’t take long for him to follow you, and like the good girl you were, you continue to grab at him, plead with him to come inside you, and your hips always angled up just right to get him in even deeper.

It took him several minutes to come down, and you were patient the entire time. You ran your hands through his hair, or down his arms, his stomach, appreciating the muscle there. You started to kiss his neck, along his collarbone, up his throat and to the underside of his jaw.

He pulled back to look at you, sighing. “This was very poor planning. There’s no furniture here.”

You laughed. ���The tub is pretty big.”

His eyebrows rose. “The bathtub? You want to sleep in the bathtub?”

“I just want to sleep with you. Location isn’t that important.”

He hummed. “We can try it until it drives me crazy, then I’ll drive us to my apartment for the night.” He pulled out of you carefully, kissing you as he did so. He pulled his pants back up and then picked you up again. He carried you to the bathroom and somehow managed to get both of you in the tub without ever letting you down.

“I think it’s comfortable,” you insisted.

“That’s because you’re laying on me,” he pointed out.

You smiled up at him, very happy in your place on his chest, curled up with your legs reaching the middle of his thighs. He was right, the only reason you liked this situation was that you were using him as a body pillow.

One thing you had quickly learned about Steve Rogers was that he had this insane domesticity kink. It had started with just cooking, it was one of the most natural actions you could think of. Nope, Steve felt much differently. He never let you finish, he always had to have you right there in the kitchen. Cleaning was similar, you never managed to finish your task before he had you bent over the edge of the bed, the couch, the table.

You would admit, you started to take advantage of this when you had finally put your finger on exactly what it was. Before that, it had seemed so random, it seemed that he just wanted you every day, at least three times a day—that took some getting used to, having sex that much. You’d never been with someone who wanted you like that, so unconditionally, so pure.

Three more months flew by without a single issue. The two of you easily fell into this pattern. He was at the apartment more often than not, and when he couldn’t be, you worked on your art. And when he came back, he never failed to bring presents.

Steve liked to spoil you with jewelry, and he liked you drowning in diamonds. He liked watching you moved around the apartment without a scrap of clothing, but covered in necklaces, rings, bracelets, that one pair of diamond rose earrings he got you after you let him tie you up the first time—not punishment, just experiment.

He obviously liked to dress you. He liked watching you put on whatever it was that he bought you. Depending on how the following date went, he would either peel your outfit off slowly or watch while you did it. He loved you in white and pink, but there was just something about red and blue that did it for him. Seeing you in colors that everyone related to him, seeing you marked even if it was subtly, was heaven.

He liked to give you bags because you liked getting bags. You had just about every color by now, he was starting to bring home patterns. He usually brought those to you when he had to leave the country, which didn’t happen often, but enough that you decided you wanted a collection.

And the shoes, that was all him. He could pretend that it was for you, and you obviously loved when he brought you shoes, but it was mostly for him. The only evidence you needed to prove that was that he liked to have sex with you immediately after you opened the shoes. He tried to be discreet about it, he would want you to try them on, “to make sure they fit”, and then you would be naked underneath him.

So, three months later, you decided it was time to spoil him a little. He loved eating you out, but you didn’t always let him. The only reason being that he was utterly insatiable. There was a behavior mishap, it was completely unimportant what you did, but either way, you ended up on the bed with his mouth at your cunt until you were pushing him away. Then, because he was not done, he had to tie you up. Your wrists were handcuffed to the headboard and he went back to devouring you. In the moment, it was overwhelming and painful. When you woke up the next day and couldn’t walk right because your legs were still shaking, you knew you liked it a lot more than you let on.

You made dinner, and you started early enough that he would not be able to come home early and interrupt your plans. The outfit for the night was a floor-length nightgown with long puffy sleeves, a faded yellow shade, completely sheer. Steve had appreciated the 40s gesture, and you were waiting ever since for the opportunity to do it again.

When he came home, he had a shopping bag for you. Typical.

“No, put it away,” you protested before he set it on the kitchen table. “It’s about you tonight.”

“You can either open this bag now, as you know how much I enjoy giving you gifts, or I’m going to have to take pleasure in something else. Which, hint, includes me ruining your elaborate plan and fucking you right now.”

You sighed. “You’re getting less and less patient by the day.”

“Maybe because you’re getting more beautiful by the day.”

You tried to give him a flat look as you approached the bag, but he still gave you that fluttery feeling when he called you anything of the sort. Gorgeous, stunning, the words just fell from his lips so sincerely that you were starting to believe him. In conclusion, Steve Rogers was not doing your ego any favors.

“What is this even for?” you inquired.

“Three months.” He beamed. “Great minds, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agreed. Sighing, you turned back to the bag and peeked inside. You were never surprised when you saw a flash of pink, it was his go-to whenever a Stark party was coming up. The thin slip you pulled out of the bag was the glitteriest piece of clothing he’d ever brought you, made complete by diamond straps. “Daddy, what could I possibly need a dress like this for?”

He got closer to you, arms snaking around your waist.

“Behave,” you warned. Carefully, you set the dress down and grabbed both arms to keep them from wandering anything strategic.

“Well,” he kissed your cheek, then nuzzled his face into your hair, “I was thinking we should take a trip.”

“Where?”

“Paris. Every artist needs to see Paris.”

Yes, everyone who went to an American art school had had that fact hammered into their brain. The art around the city, the museums, you’d wanted to go to Paris since you were 16. You quickly turned back to him, eyes wide. “Paris?”

“This weekend?”

You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck. “Yes!”

“Good, don’t pack any clothes, I’m just going to buy you whatever I please anyway.” He pushed you back with his hands on your waist. “Now, baby doll, what did you have planned for me.”

“Dinner.”

“Hmm. You mean you?”

“No,” you scoffed. “Dinner, actual food—”

“I think I’d prefer you.” He picked you up only to set you back down on the table, pushing the bag out of your way.

“No, you should eat first! It’s going to get cold!” But he was already sitting down, and you were already pulling up the sheer skirt of your dress over your legs. You laid back as soon as you were exposed to him and he finished adjusting his chair. “Honestly, I slaved over a hot oven all day for you.”

He scoffed. “We can reheat it.”

“Well, fine.”

He grabbed your calves where they dangled over the edge of the table and placed them on the table, spreading your legs wide. He started by kissing your thighs, teasing you by getting within centimeters of your cunt. His mouth laid open, wet kisses all along your skin until you were squirming. “What do you want, baby?”

“Eat my pussy, daddy.”

He smirked. “Remember when you were such a good girl that even getting you to say that was impossible?”

“I’m still good,” you pointed out.

“You are the sweetest, baby, but I like to think I’ve corrupted you at least a little.”

And wasn’t that a hilarious concept? Captain America corrupting someone? If you weren’t living it, you wouldn’t believe it. He had given you such a shameless, wanting attitude about sex. It wasn’t that you were ever ashamed of your sexuality, but you had never been so reliant on it. The two of you, since signing that contract, had a record high of eleven hours without sex.

He woke you up in the middle of the night hard, and sometimes you would wake him up after a particularly vivid dream. He joined you in the shower when he could, and sometimes you got up early just to meet him after his run. You would separate most days because he had to work, but he was always home for lunch and dinner. Like you said, insatiable.

Finally, he buried his face in your pussy and your hands pressed to the back of his head. He kept his hands around your thighs just in case you tried to pull away from him, he wasn’t taking it easy on you tonight, he rarely got to do this, and he was going to taste you until he was satisfied.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @kleohoneyao3​ @cevans-fics​ @gotnofucks​ @sweet-pieces-of-nothing @dbnightingale24​ @first-jumper-tris46

[donutloverxo]

Sugary 4k challenge masterlist

Thank you for all your wonderful entries. Challenge is still open till 30th April. Click here to join.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Andy Barber

A man's world by @gotnofucks

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Do what you please to me, I won't resist by @cloudystevie

Summary: you always take w,hat he gives you, diamonds and orgasms alike.

Maybe (Honey) by @anika-ann

Summary: You and your boyfriend Steve love each other; but money’s tight. You found and an unorthodox solution and decide to go through with it. Without Steve’s knowledge. Enter a very specific agency and Andy Barber.

Something sweet by @kleohoneyao3

Summary: Andy doesn’t mind flashing his cash to get what he wants. It always pays off in the end.

Strength in-between the breaks by @sweetlyscared

Summary: After witnessing a crime, you’re brought in to testify. You catch the eye of a certain lawyer, and soon after the case was wrapped, he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse.

Oh well, imagine by @buckyownsmylife

Summary - The one where Andy gets tired of living a double life .

Rest of my life by @quietmyfearswith

Summary - While interviewing for Mr Barber's company's you catch the CEO's eye. He stalks you down and then sexy times ensue.

Chris Evans

Sugar by @buckybarnes101

Summary - Your sugar daddy Chris finally realises he's in love with you and wants you to be truly his.

Recommend a daddy by @nbarnes

Summary - When Addison runs out of money and is about to lose her house, her friends Auora and Sydney recommend to her a sugar daddy. Of course, there is one thing that is different to the other sugar daddy companies; there is a romantic relationship available.

Mike Weiss

Taste the riches of the earth by @the-iceni-bitch

Summary - You’ve been Mike’s sugar baby for a while, and as much as you want to deny it, you’re addicted.

Steve Rogers

Charming by @afriendlyblackhottie

Summary - Steve Rogers is a your sugar daddy. He takes care of you in every single way you can think of 👀👀

Clandestine meetings and stolen glances by @cruelfvkingsummer

Summary - Who knew Steve Rogers had kept such a pretty little secret? Or, the one where you were Peggy’s young, promising assistant until you became Steve Roger’s doll.

Daddy's intentions by @ironlady1993

Summary - Years after Thanos fall, the Avengers continue protecting the world. With new and younger members, Steve Rogers decided it was time to retire completely. After passing the Shield to Sam years ago, he stepped back as ‘Captain America’ focusing on his life for the first time after he woke up from the Ice. He could finally let his dark side, he so desperately had to hide, out. When he found Y/n, he could finally free the hungry beast in him, planning on turning her into his perfect little wife. And he knew how he would trap her into his arms forever.

i can be your china doll if you want to see me fall. boy, you’re so dope, your love is deadly by @chrisevansgoodgirl

summary: sugar daddy series: steve. so, i asked for help and you guys delivered, thank you! anonymous asked for wife/domestic kink. (the rest of your prompt might just be put in a part 2...)  anonymous 2 asked for artist reader and a lovely cute meeting at an art gallery. anonymous 3 asked for a respectful, gentleman steve never pushing boundaries and some vintage lingerie

Paper rings by @our-marvel-universe

Summary - All Steve ever wants to do is take care of you. 

Sweeter endings by @dollslayer

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

Misc.

You Can Be The Boss (Mob!Steve x reader x Mob!Bucky) by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Summary - Business Deals are done in the club most nights over liquor, drugs and you. Tonight is just like any other. You leave the stage to join your men while they deal with an ongoing issue. 

Ransom Drysdale

Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend by @simsadventures

Summary - Ransom buys you a gift and you surprise him when you wear it for the first time. Safe to say, it’s a very good surprise for both of you.

"it’s dark but just a game”, that’s what he would say to me by @chrisevansgoodgirl

summary: sugar daddy series: ransom. some spoiling, some fighting, some drunk ransom.

Private lessons by @glazedhoneywriting

Summary - Ransom Drysdale is the fuck and leave em type, a trail of broken hearts behind him but with such sexual skill, he ought to have learned it somewhere. And when his past pops up in a bar, Ransom is reminded of how he got so good at sex and who taught him the ropes.

Robert Pronge

i could be yours, i could be your baby tonight, topple you down from your sky forty stories high by @chrisevansgoodgirl

summary: sugar daddy series: robert pronge. your dad has a long list of interesting employees, robert being one. (very light sugar daddy, more so the beginning of the relationship bc you know, he’s a murderer and that’s complex to work around).

[our-marvel-universe]

Paper Rings

This fic is written for my babe Berry aka @donutloverxo  Congrats on the milestone!! Divider by @whimsicalrogers

Also pat on the back for me cause I got a fic in well before the deadline and that never happens. Like who am I? 

Steve x Reader

Summary - All Steve ever wants to do is take care of you. 

Word Count - 1.9k

Warnings - None? just a heaping hot pile of love and fluff. 

AO3 Link

A/N - Steve’s job isn’t specified so this could be an AU if you want to look at it that way! He cuold easily be CEO!Steve or whatever. 

Steve decides to take the long way home. He’s definitely excited but he’s also nervous and needs time to get his head straight. The jewelry store bag in his hand feels like it weighs 1000lbs even though the ring inside isn’t very heavy. It’s natural what Steve is feeling, after all he’s finally proposing to you, the love of his life. It feels like a long time coming even if some people would argue you haven’t been together long - but those people don’t matter. Honestly they never did. All that matters is you. As long as Steve has you he knows everything will find a way to work out. No matter how tough things get, no matter what life throws at the two of you, as long as you’re together you can survive anything. 

He knew it from the second he saw you. Standing off to the side in the coffee shop digging through your oversized bag looking for your wallet. As you both later discovered you had accidentally left it home but that was ok cause Steve took care of it. He always took care of you. From the moment he met you it has been his sole mission in life. If it was up to Steve you would want for nothing. He would pay all the bills and hire maids and a chef so you never felt the need to lift a finger. But alas his girl likes to have independence. So the housekeeper only came once a week and you flat out refused a chef. You knew how to cook and when you didn’t feel like it there was take out. 

Steve’s house never felt like a home until you were in it. He was over the moon when you moved in with him. When you first started dating you would never let him see your apartment. You always insisted on meeting him somewhere and when he walked you home you always said goodbye on the street. Eventually he found out why, crying into his shoulder one night you finally admitted the truth. There were 6 of you cramped into a tiny apartment. One of your roommates literally slept in a closet. The landlord had found out and the whole lot of you were getting evicted. Steve was furious - not at you but at your situation - you living like that was unacceptable. His girl deserved the best. A space to call her own, a sanctuary. In that moment Steve was reminded once again how he would do anything to protect you. So he did exactly that and invited you to move in with him. At first you promised it would just be temporary but Steve assured you, he wanted you to stay. He always wanted you to stay. Some people said moving in after knowing each other for only 2 months was crazy, but Steve had been certain, he never had any doubts when it came to you. 

You gave Steve everything he ever wanted in a partner and he was able to take care of you in every way possible. He took care of all the bills. He helped pay off your debt so you didn’t have to worry. His financial support allowed you to leave your job. You’d been there 2 years even though you hated it. They treated you poorly and paid you about the same but it paid was a job so you toughed it out. Now you no longer needed to worry about rent or bills so you quit. Which gave you more time to pursue your real passion. 

Writing was your dream. It was all you ever wanted to do. It was what you were supposed to be doing the day you met Steve but instead you had spent the whole day getting to know each other. Your jobs in the past had left you exhausted, both emotionally and physically leaving no time for writing, but once you met Steve all that changed. 

Steve supported you full heartedly. So he took care of everything allowing you to focus on making all your dreams come true. Of course you still worked. You walked dogs using one of those apps, and occasionally worked in a thrift store you liked to shop at. Some other odd jobs here and there, editing and freelancing when the mood struck. But every job you took was because you wanted to, not because you needed to. And now you'd done it. You finally finished your first book and it was picked up by a publisher. Soon you would be a published author. 

God Steve was so fucking proud of you. It had been a few weeks since you first found out the news but you were still over the moon and so was he. His girl's name was going to be in print. Seeing the joy on your face, well he hopes you're at least half that happy when he gets down on one knee later tonight. 

Or maybe it won’t be tonight... he’s still not sure how or when he’ll do it. He knows you don’t want a big proposal….so he’ll just keep it simple. Maybe while you eat dinner? Or while you're watching a movie? Yeah maybe the two of you can watch your favorite romantic movie and when it’s over and you're feeling all dreamy from watching a sappy love story he’ll pop the question? No, maybe not. Oh maybe he can ask in bed when you’re winding down for the day.. Or no, definitely not Steve knows better to interrupt you while you're reading… but maybe he can catch you before you open the book?

Oh he’s got it!! You’re rereading one of your favorites right now He bought you a used copy from the second hand bookstore you went to on the first day you met. He can slip the ring between the pages right where you left off.  A proposal tucked between the pages of a love story, what could be more romantic? 

It’s a cozy night. You’ve already showered, a headband holds your hair back and you’ve got on one of Steve’s old sweatshirts,  and some fuzzy socks. You’ll lose the socks before you go to sleep but you like them while you read. Steve watches you from the bathroom sink. His heart is pounding in his chest. You seem to be lingering before you start reading. Jesus did you know? Were you going to say no? Steve shakes his head trying to clear the negative thoughts taking shape. No you loved Steve, and Steve loved you. You had spoken at length about what you want your lives to look like. The two of you had planned out your entire future together - through whispers late in the night curled around one another. In the kitchen - him at the counter watching you cook dinner, the both of you smiling and wide eyed at the possibilities. Outside pointing and hypothesizing over couples and families you saw. He knew you wanted this too. The both of you did. This was the start of your future all you needed to do was say yes.

Rubbing the lotion into your skin you think. Should you keep with the book you're reading...or maybe start with another one? You’re going to finish this one of course, it was your favorite. You’re a little less than halfway through but maybe there's an update on that fic you love. You’ll check and see then go back to your book before bed you decide. 

Steve’s brushing his teeth while he watches you reach into the nightstand and he feels his heart skip a beat. This is it! You reach into the drawer and your hand ascends with your tablet. Steve feels all the blood drain from his face. He quickly jumps into action rising out his mouth before he calls over to you hoping you can’t hear the panic in his voice.

“Hey doll, whatcha doing? I thought you were working on that book you love?” Steve focuses on his reflection in the mirror waiting for your reply.

You glance up at him before waving your hand. “Ohh I am but there’s a fic I want to read first, I might pick it up after. If not there’s always tomorrow.” You shrug not thinking anything of Steve’s comment. 

 Tomorrow!? No, Steve couldn’t chance it. What if you decided to read while he’s not home? What kind of proposal would it be if he wasn’t there to actually propose? He has to get down on one knee and...shit. Steve’s racking his brain, he’s starting to sweat, when he gets an idea. 

Leaning as casually as he can against the doorway he clears his throat and shoots a shy smile your way, “Aww doll I was hoping you would read to me'' Steve holds his breath waiting for your answer. He hopes he can convince you to open the book long enough to find his note.

You shoot Steve a curious glance, lips pursed eyebrows furrowed. It lasts only a moment before you decide to give into his request. “Sure Steve” chuckling you put your tablet away and grab the book while Steve quickly and quietly grabs the ring from where he had it tucked away. 

You open the book and see slipped between the pages on top of your bookmark is a note with your name on it. You flip it over and there clear as day in Steve handwriting it reads

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

And I would love nothing more,

Than to spend the rest of my life with you. 

Your face furrows in confusion when you look up to ask Steve what’s going on you find him down on one knee. Eyes wide in shock you are absolutely speechless as Steve looks intently at you from his spot on the floor. 

“I know I’m not as good with words as you are doll” Steve swallows as he continues on “But from the moment I met you, I knew in my bones we were meant to be together. All I ever want to do is take care of you and protect you from anything that could possibly wipe that smile off your beautiful face. I love you so much baby, I need to make you happy for me to even have a shot at being happy. I want nothing more than to call you my wife. So what do you say sweetheart…?”

You are absolutely stunned. Shocked silent. When suddenly a switch flips in your head and tears begin streaming down your face “Yes, yes of course yes!” 

Throwing your arms around your new fiancé you kiss him fiercely pouring all the love you can into it. Steve responds back just as passionately, desperate to get his hands on you. He's caressing you as his tongue tangles with yours and the two of you break apart long enough for him to slip the ring on your finger. 

Your breath catches as the light shines off the beautiful ring he’s gotten you. “Steve it's stunning'' You gasp, happy tears flowing from your eyes you look up as he begins to wipe the fallen ones from your cheek. 

“I love it, thank you.” you say leaning up to capture his lips once again “I love you so much Steve” You sigh against his lips. 

“Love you more than anything doll” Steve says kissing down your neck as he rolls you under him. 

The two of you spend the rest of the night locked in each other's embrace whispering sweet nothings as the sounds of your love echo through the room.

"Going to the chapel and were gonna get maaaarried" Yay for tooth rotting fluff!! I'm not a big fan of grand proposals I like sweet intimate ones. What do you think? Would you rather a skywriter and a marching band? comment below and let me know!

[hettiesworld]

Name of fic: I Recommend a Daddy

Pairing: Sugar daddy!Chris x OFC (Addison)

Plot summary: When Addison runs out of money and is about to lose her house, her friends Auora and Sydney recommend to her a sugar daddy. Of course, there is one thing that is different to the other sugar daddy companies; there is a romantic relationship available.

Warnings: Foul language, sexual themes.

Author’s note: This is part of @donutloverxo Sugary 4k Challenge. Of course, it is not part of my Chris x Addison series fic, “Best Thing I Ever Had”, just to be clear. My OCs are not famous, neither are the celebrities in this.

Word count: 1641 words.

“Rory! Sydney! Need your help quick!” Addison called out to her friends whilst running from her spare bedroom to her own, her handbag in one hand and her purse in the other.

“What is it Addy?” Sydney asked her, trying to braid Aurora’s hair.

“I have no money! I am gonna lose my house --” She started to freak out, breathing heavily. Just like the talkative person that she was. Until Auora stood up from her sitting position.

She placed her hands on Addison’s shoulders.

“Addy. Calm down, it’s okay, just do what we did. Get a sugar daddy.” “A sugar daddy?” “Yeah.” Sydney added on, also standing up, phone in hand. “Have a look. This is my sugar daddy.”

The picture on Sydney’s phone was of a 50 year old man. She could tell by the wrinkles on his face. Addison cringed at how old he was.

“And this is mine.” Aurora beamed as she picked up her phone, showing Addison her one. He looked, at least, 30-something years old.

“How old is he?” She asked Auora. “51. And he is Syd’s brother!” Aurora exclaimed. “What? How is he one? I have met him loads of time and it looked like… no offence, but he looked like he didn’t have a lot of money.” Addison explained.

“Meh. Something about a relative having a lot of money and I didn’t get anything. So I got Jeremy to help me.” Sydney replied. “But I don’t mind if my brother didn’t help me, I got to meet --” “--Yes, you got to meet Jeremy, we know. But that doesn’t mean you get to kiss him or something…” Addison interrupted Sydney.

She out her handbag on the bedside table and sighed, collapsing onto the comfortable water bed.

“Actually…”

Addison sat up and was shocked at what Auora was going to say.

“Wait… you’re in a relationship with them?” Addison exclaimed, putting on a confused face.

Both Sydney and Auora shrugged their shoulders, basically saying that they were.

“It’s kinda complicated. It’s a polyamorous relationship. He can date other girls. That’s the business of the sugar daddy company they are part of.” Sydney explained.

Addison thought to herself, ‘Does she need a sugar daddy? She was losing her house and she didn’t have a lot of money…’ Sydney already had Addison’s laptop up, with the sugar daddy website on it, flashing in her blue eyes.

“Go on. Pick one!” Sydney encouraged, placing the laptop in her lap.

Addison sighed and looked over the website. She repeatedly denied every single one she looked at until she found a 39-year old man picture on there. Let’s just say, Addison was definitely interested in him. His name was Chris and he was from Boston, Massachusetts. 

“Ooh… He looks interesting and hot! Go on, message him!” Aurora said to her, instantly clicking on the messaging app within the website. “Rory! Why did you do that?” Addison condemned Aurora. “Look! He messaged you!” Sydney added.

Mr. Evans: Hello Addison. Are you interested in my offer of being your sugar daddy?

“Reply Addy, reply!” Sydney and Auora both exclaimed at her.

“Okay, okay. Just leave me alone. Let me message him.”

Addison: Hello, Mr Evans. I guess I am interested in your offer. Mr. Evans: Please call me Chris. Now, tell me. Why are you coming to this website? Addison: I am going to lose my job and my friends suggested this website. It could help me with my financial problems. Mr. Evans: I will gladly help with your money issues. We should meet up, but if you’re living far away, we should meet via webcam. Addison: I would like that.  Mr. Evans: Just give me your Skype details and I will contact you soon.

Sydney and Auora screamed with glee as Chris accepted the offer. Addison sighed at them before giving Chris her details.

“Now we wait.”

It was a few days afterwards and Addison was alone, in her bedroom. She was waiting for Chris to call her via Skype. Then, it happened.

“Hello?”

Addison looked up from her phone, as she was playing Candy Crush Saga.

 “Oh my… I am so sorry! I didn’t know you called me!” She yelped, making Chris laugh from the call.

“It’s alright. I’m guessing you’re Addison then?” He asked her.

“Yep. Sorry I was playing Candy Crush. And please, call me Addy. My friends call me that.” “Got it. What level are you on?” Questioned Chris, titling his head and then sipping a beer. “I’m on… level 182.” “That is cool. I’m on level 543.” “What? How?!” “Practice.”

They both laughed.

“Anyways… You have financial problems?” He then asked her, having a notebook and pen in his hands. “Yeah I do. A few days ago, I had no money in my bank account. I’m getting evicted soon cause I can’t pay my rent…” Addison rambled on as Chris nodded understandably, writing down what she was saying. “I am so sorry. Well, if you accept my offer, then you will be able to live at my place, accompanied with me and my dog, I will be able to pay everything off. All you need to do is give me company. Do some chores around the house, that sort of stuff.” He explained.

Addison thought for a while.

“I do need money. Okay, I accept.” “Great! You can start in 2 days. Just come to my address in Massachusetts and we will do the contract and important stuff. Get packed and I’ll see you then, okay?” “Okay! Thank you so much Chris!” She hung up.

2 days later, she flew from London to Boston, Massachusetts in the USA.

It was a city of wide avenues and small places to sit and eat, to relax as folk went about their day. There were the sky towers in the centre, what was once thousands of homes now took up less ground space than an old shopping mall. The rest was parks and wild spaces, a chance to walk among nature or enjoy the trails on bicycles or horseback. Yet perhaps Addison’s favourite thing was the river that flowed through the centre, crossing the bridges, pausing just to look at the view I saw every day and loved all the more.

She arrived outside a white-ish house, just outside the city.

There stood a tall man, about 6’ 0”, with short brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, 2 buttons undone. He also wore brown shorts and white sneakers. “Addy! You came!” Chris smiled and welcomed her with open arms. She stood out of the fancy car. She was wearing a pretty flowery dress with matching blue shoes with wedged heels. Bright red sunglasses, her blonde hair flowing in the cool wind. In her hand, a beautiful leather handbag.

Addison pranced over to Chris, trying not to fall over in her shoes.

“Chris! It is a pleasure to meet you.” Her London accent was clear as day as she gave him the usual posh greeting; an air kiss on each cheek. “You too. How was your flight?” He asked her, being a true gentleman and bowing, kissing the back of her hand. “It was luxurious!” Addison smiled at him, blushing at the gesture he gave her. “Please! Let me give you a tour!”

The house Chris lived in looked quite expensive. She was surprised that he had a drawing-room (or a living room to you guys). The drawing room had a snug and huggy feel to it. The dining room, which was next to it,  was Chris’s in-home cafe, one where all the chefs and wait staff cooked for a living.

Upstairs, the bedroom she was staying in was just tidy enough to show that she cared about the space and just messy enough to show that she was able to let her creativity roam free. It was her goldilocks zone, perfect for how she was, especially for an inspiring storyteller like her. The en-suite next to it was a place of washing, of nurturing our sanity with the sensation of warm water and aromatic soaps. For the body must feel loved and cared for, for then it feeds back these messages to the brain and begins to set up a positive cycle of wellness.

After the tour, Chris let his personal servant takes Addison’s luggage to her bedroom as they stood in the massive hallway.

“Please make yourself at home. You are staying here. Any questions?” He asked her. “No. Not that I can think of.” “Good. Let’s meet in the drawing-room to discuss the contract.”

They both walked into the drawing-room and sat next to each other, with a big pile of papers, which is basically the whole contract. It was halfway through the signing.“Okay… time for section 5, which is relationships and sex.” Addison choked as he said that. “S-sex?” She faltered, coughing as her drink went the wrong way down her throat.

“Yes… you okay?” Chris helped her by patting her back. Apparently, that doesn’t help at all but Chris didn’t know that then.

She hummed in response as she put down her drink, leaning back as if it never happened.

“You alright now?” “Yep. Carry on.” “Okay… Now, are you fine with us being in a polyamorous relationship or do you want a ‘just friends’ relationship?” Chris asked, reading off the paper. Addison pondered to herself.

“Can I think upon it? I don’t want to be in a relationship without any romantic interest in each other…” She mumbled. “Yeah, of course. It would be cool to go on a date to see if we do have a spark.” He suggested, placing the contract down back onto the table. “I like that idea.” Addison smiled at him, blushing.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

i could be yours, i could be your baby tonight, topple you down from your sky forty stories high

summary: sugar daddy series: robert pronge. your dad has a long list of interesting employees, robert being one. (very light sugar daddy, more so the beginning of the relationship bc you know, he’s a murderer and that’s complex to work around).

warnings: mentions of guns, murder, mentions of other murders. sexual content, vaginal, oral, bondage, choking, hair-pulling, spanking. daddy kink obviously. there is a questionable scene with a dub-con vibe going on, but not in the way you would expect.

pairing: robert pronge x reader

word count: about 11,100 (and don’t even as me why it’s so long. for nothing, let me tell you. and i had to cut out so much bc it was so long)

a/n: not a r*pist in this story bc i’m just kinda not interested in writing him that way. lana lyrics bc she’s the reason I even have a daddy kink, so.

a/n 2: @donutloverxo (I blame you that I feel any type of way about this man. to be perfectly honest, I actually think he’s very attractive. someone needs to help me, thanks.)

You never thought your first time was going to be some sweet, romantic scene that reminded you of any movies, but this…this was so far out of the realm of what you had thought was possible. You, a virgin—a complex matter in itself—were bent over the knees of who you presumed was a serial killer—right? What were the exact qualifications of that label?

Your skirt was the only thing you still had on. He’d torn your shirt off the second he got you in the bedroom, and you weren’t wearing a bra or panties. Your shoes had been lost along the way, in the huge struggle you were putting up, trying to stop him from taking you anywhere. One might have ended up outside the house.

He had bent you over his lap and then tied your hands together behind your back. You were furious but since he was obviously in control, you decided not to voice your displeasure. You were simply waiting, trying not to move, trying not to make too much noise.

He liked this. He liked making you wait for what he was going to do to you. Technically speaking, you weren’t exactly an innocent party in all of this. But still. Was there no grace given to the virgin who only ever had boyfriends that were too scared to touch her because of her father?

Apparently not.

He smacked you once and you yelped, surprised, stunned that he actually did it. He didn’t lift your skirt, maybe that was his way of not going too hard on you. It wasn’t like he was going to win any awards for chivalry, but it made you smile anyway. For a second. Only a second. Because what the fuck?

You never told him he could do this to you. He was incorrigible and you were regretting your attraction to him immediately. Anyone else who dreamed of touching you like this, who even thought it, usually ended up disappearing.

How had your father missed him? Oh, right, you were responsible for that, too. You’d been lying to him since you were three. It was all the practice you needed, and now there you were being spanked by a violent man who was much older than you. Perhaps you should write a cautionary tale to children everywhere. Perhaps you could start with the warning to be wary of all ice cream trucks.

You soon discovered that that first hit wasn’t hard at all, he had held back quite a bit. The second hit, even over the material draped over your ass, stung horribly. Your eyes watered, you cried out, and he had to hold you down because you were attempting to move off his lap.

He let you settle before the third hit, as if that was supposed to help. It didn’t make anything hurt any less, and it didn’t stop your burning skin. The skirt was no longer helping, it was just an added layer of irritation.

This happened several more times and it was clear what he wanted. However, you would not beg him to stop, you would not beg him for anything. Truly, he could fuck off and the second he tried you, you would tell him as much. You clamped your mouth shut through it all, not that you were quiet, but it was the only defiant measure you had left.

It wasn’t until you were breathless, body bent loosely over his lap, your face pressing into his leg for just an ounce of comfort, that he spoke. “You could always say you’re sorry, princess.”

It took you several seconds to gain control of your own body back enough that you could speak. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby girl?”

“Fuck. You.”

He laughed and you had to try so hard not to shiver, it was honestly a terrifying sound. “Such a god damn brat. Who let you get this way, hmm? Doesn’t matter, I suppose, because you’re going to be taught a lot about manners and behaving with me.”

“And who’s going to teach you?” you prompted.

“I don’t have to behave—”

“Right, because you’re a man,” you interjected. “Because you’re sexist.”

“I can’t have this conversation again,” he huffed. “Stop being so god damn sensitive.”

“Me?” you shot back. “I’m sensitive?! You’re throwing a temper tantrum because I—”

“Shut up or I’ll gag you.”

You immediately fell silent, and he scoffed.

“Of course, the threat of not being able to talk is simply too much for you.”

That wasn’t necessarily sexist in nature, but you knew him well enough that you knew it was how he meant it. You were keeping track, and you would collect what was owed to you from having to deal with his antiquated stereotypes.

He spanked you at least a dozen more times. You had stopped counting the hits, but instead counted down from 100. It was anger control and the serious amount of brain cells it took you to be able to count backward in this state was a huge distraction from the pain.

You only felt his fingers touching you for a second before he shoved two of them inside you. You gasped, once again attempting to pull away from him, it was a stretch but not an unpleasant one. He set his free hand down on your back and pinned you there, pulling his fingers out almost completely before pushing them back in.

“Daddy,” you whined. You wanted to tell him to stop. What the fuck? After what he just did to you? He did not deserve to touch you like this.

“And just like the brat you are, you’re fucking wet. Because I was spanking you. Nice to know that that’s something you enjoy—”

“I don’t!”

He moved his hand away from your cunt and lifted you by your shoulders to toss you back on the bed. You hissed as soon as your ass hit the mattress, and you shifted to try to move some of your weight off it.

He leaned over the edge of the bed, face just inches above yours, blue eyes staring deep into yours. “Oh, baby girl…” He kissed your cheeks, which you hadn’t realized were wet from tears, but they were. “You took that so well.”

Really? You cried. It hurt like absolute hell, weren’t you supposed to enjoy it? You immediately felt overestimated, but it was nice to hear him finally praising you for a change. As opposed to his usual routine of telling you that you were too curious, that you talked too much, that you didn’t take your safety seriously.

“You sure you didn’t like it?”

“Well…” You weren’t too sure now. You were wet, so didn’t that mean that you did? And it was him…he would never hurt you too much. You knew that, even if you were currently furious with him for being such a fucking dick.

“We’ll try it again,” he decided. “Later. I promise I’ll be gentler, okay?”

It didn’t seem like there was any harm in that. Gentler, you

liked when he was gentle with you. It spoke to that slightly narcissistic part of your soul that responded to being treated well by him when you knew he was such a cruel man that wasn’t gentle with anyone else. You nodded. “Okay.”

He smirked as he moved to the closet, returning with more rope. It was red this time, the one around your wrists was black. Why did he have so much rope? The pictures of his wife didn’t give off the idea that she liked sex at all, let alone this type of sex.

“I don’t like being tied up,” you claimed. There was this twisting in your stomach. Maybe you had trust issues—it wasn’t as if they weren’t warranted here, with him.

He arched an eyebrow. “How would you know that?”

It wasn’t that he was wrong, per se, but you did not want to be tied up anymore. He’d already bound your hands; you couldn’t hit him. What else could he possibly tie up? You didn’t want to find out.

He climbed onto the bed and you tried your hardest to crawl back, but your stupid hands were digging into your back painfully. He grabbed one of your legs and yanked you down, closer to him. “You were just so good for me, don’t mess it up.”

See, no one knew you were here. Once again, a mistake made by the one and only you. Not even your friends. What kind of person was partaking in a physical relationship with a man like this and just didn’t say anything?

He folded your calf up to your thigh and started tying. You did not like where this seemed to be going. He did so with the opposite leg and then looked up at you. “Too tight?”

Honestly, no. You didn’t like it, but that wasn’t what he asked. You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

He leaned over you again, pants brushing against your wet pussy. His hair fell forward, onto your shoulders or the bed around you. “Still not sorry?”

“Not at all.”

He tsked. “And to think, I just went shopping for you. To show you how much I appreciate your patience, show you how much of a good girl you’ve been lately… And then you go and mess it all up.”

So, on the list of things you would never try again, attempting to break up with him was at the very top of the list. It wasn’t that you stopped being attracted to him, it was…well, it was a million and one complicated things.

Very simply, he was wrong, you were right.

This morning, after he picked you up and hadn’t said a word to you, you wanted to end it. You never wanted to see him again. Unfortunately, your emotions stopped you from realizing that was probably the last thing you should ever say to a man like him.

“What did you get me?”

“You wanna see?”

You nodded.

“I don’t know…” he pretended to think about it. He stared at you, eyes moving over your face, but nothing was given away in his expression. You’d come to realize that that never meant anything good.

“Are you going to fuck me, daddy?”

“Yes.”

You tried not to look too pleased with the answer, mostly because you knew he was going to make you work for it. But hell, this was what the fight was all about. This was two months of waiting for him to touch you, that was all you wanted at the end of the day.

“If you want to come, you better start behaving. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“Speak,” he ordered. “When I ask you a question, you use words to answer me.”

You swallowed. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Okay, I have a couple of rules. First, you can’t say no to daddy.”

“I won’t.”

“Second, you keep your legs open for me. No matter what.”

No matter what… That made you feel a bit nervous, but were you going to argue in this position? “Okay, I will.”

He moved off you and to the closet.

You wondered if your father would blame himself. When, if, he found out, would he hate himself for suggesting that this man drive you to school? You remembered that day, and you didn’t blame him. No one ever could have guessed that any of this was going to happen.

You had been running late that morning, trying to sneak alcohol into your bag for you and your friends, and your dad was threatening to revoke your allowance if you were late for school again. You had pitched a fit after he’d told you about Mr. Freezy. The last thing you wanted was to show up to school every morning in an ice cream truck.

Dr. Henricks usually drove you on Mondays, but he was “missing”. Because your dad didn’t let you drive. You were a college student, possibly the only one your age who was able-bodied with access to a car, who didn’t know how to drive. Because, according to your father, it was dangerous.

Regardless, why they called Dr. Hendricks a doctor if all he did was drive you around was beyond you, and why he was “missing” was a mystery, too. You didn’t ask questions anymore; it wasn’t like you ever got any answers.

Mr. Freezy hadn’t been around too often before that day, but often enough that you remembered him. Another name that you hadn’t understood. When you were a child, you’d accepted that it was just because he was pretending to be an ice cream man. As you got older, you realized that most of them didn’t have names. He’d started showing up a lot more when you were 16, but you were long past sneaking around and trying to eavesdrop on your dad’s meetings at that point.

Your tantrum was silenced with your father’s credit card. You headed out with the task of convincing Mr. Freezy to take you and your friends shopping. You’d never spent more than a few minutes in the same room as him and never alone. You always took that to mean something—there were a few employees that your dad didn’t trust to leave you alone with. You’d always figured Mr. Freezy was one of them and his appearance seemed to be all the explanation you needed. Not that he was an unattractive man, but something was certainly off.

He was impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel until he noticed you coming. He hurried out and opened the door for you without a word. His long hair was loose today, the same ugly glasses on his alarmingly aesthetic face. The only time you saw him without was when he was wearing sunglasses. He always wore the loudest shirts, this time an orange floral pattern button-up, tucked into tight, dark pants. He liked showing off his body.

You clutched the strap over your shoulder nervously. “Were you promoted or demoted?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve never had to drive me before. So, promoted or demoted?”

“Transporting your father’s most precious belonging? I’d assume promoted.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wow, I’m more important than drugs and other stolen expensive items?”

He shrugged a shoulder, gesturing to the seat. “Suppose. Not that I agree.”

You tried to hide your smile as you climbed in. “Thanks for the honesty.”

He gently closed the door and jogged back to the driver’s side.

You settled in the set, tossing your bag down. “Why does it smell like bleach in here?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” He started the truck and pointed to the house. “Say goodbye to your father.”

You turned to see him watching out the window. You waved, he smiled at you and did the same. Mr. Freezy was staring in the mirror as he backed out of the driveway. “So…are you picking me up, too?”

“Far as I know.”

“I need to go shopping after.”

“Nope, your father told me you try this shit with everyone.”

You pulled out the credit card. “Well, I threw a tantrum over you taking me to school, now I get to go shopping.”

He scoffed, looked purely delighted at the idea of you not liking this. “You don’t want me driving you?”

“Nothing personal, I just wanted to go shopping. So, you’re taking me and my friend after school is out.”

He sighed. “Is it gonna take long?”

“No,” you claimed. But you knew it was going to take as long as you wanted it to. No one rushed you, certainly not this guy. He wasn’t scary like some of the others.

He scoffed. “Right, because women don’t take hours shopping.”

“Don’t be sexist,” you warned. “Or I’ll tell my dad you’re not allowed to drive me. Promotion over before it started.”

“That’s not sexist, don’t be so sensitive.”

“Yes, it is,” you argued. “To place every single person of the same gender in a single category is sexist.”

“So, you’re not a bad driver?” he teased.

You glared. “That’s not funny.”

“You really don’t know how to drive? How old are you again?”

“Why? You wanna teach me?”

He scoffed. “That is not how this is gonna work, sweetheart. I do what your father says, not what you say. I’ve heard from your other drivers—the whole bratty routine isn’t going to work with me. I assume it helps that they also wanna do some pretty disgusting things to you, but—”

“Are you gay?”

He fell silent for a moment, turning to narrow his eyes at you. “What?”

“Everyone wants to fuck me,” you pointed out. “Either because they genuinely want to fuck me or because of some weird psychological hate they feel for my father that translates to wanting to fuck me. You just implied you don’t want to.”

“I didn’t imply—”

“So, you do?” You wouldn’t mind. All your father’s friends wanted to, sometimes it made things a lot easier. Not that you’d ever let any of his ugly, sleazy friends lay a hand on you, but you pretended you would. If they did this one thing for you, as you liked to claim while batting your eyelashes. Then, you let your father know they made you uncomfortable and they were gone.

“No. I said I didn’t imply that, and that’s because I didn’t get the chance to. Don’t interrupt people, it’s not cute. And don’t talk back to me, I won’t tolerate this attitude, you understand me? I’m the driver here. You irritate me, I’ll take you straight home.”

“So…are you going to be driving me from now on?”

“That’s how your father made it sound.”

“Do you know why?”

“Questions irritate me.”

“I guess they would irritate me too if I didn’t know the answers.”

“I never said I didn’t know.”

“This sounds like a demotion. You’re a chauffeur that’s left out of the loop.”

“Your other drivers are doing other shit.”

“More important shit,” you theorized.

“No, I’m doing the most important shit right now. They’re doing less important—you know what? Don’t try that again.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t try anything.”

“You think you’re real smart and you may be, but that’s not gonna get you any points with me.”

“Okay…what will get me points with you?”

“Behave. Do what I tell you to do. Stop with the questions.”

“Can I ask one more?”

“That was one more.”

“Please?”

He sighed. “Fine, ask, but I might not answer.”

“What should I call you?”

“Mr. Freezy.”

“I don’t want to call you that.”

“That’s what everyone calls me.”

“I don’t want to be ‘everyone’.”

“What do you want to be?”

You contemplated, then shrugged. “How about a friend?”

He snorted. “You wanna be my friend?”

“Why not?”

“You can call me Mr. Freezy,” he said again. “We’re not friends. I work for your father and that’s all this is. Call this strike one on your part. I hope your second attempt at getting me wrapped around your finger is going to be more creative.”

You did have quite a knack for that, it was why your father always had to switch out his “associates”. You were extremely amused by him thinking he was in some way immune. You had all sorts of charms and knew which ones to use to get every single man you’d ever encountered “wrapped around your finger”. He certainly wasn’t special.

“That your boyfriend?”

You glanced at the man behind the wheel before peering out the window. Your group of friends was already cracking up over your new means of transportation. Anne, whom you’d met on your first day in ballet class, was your best friend. Morgan, who was the newest addition, a transfer at the start of the semester but a seamless fit. Charlie, who would smack you if you called her Charlotte, was in your English class your first year and always seemed to want to drink. And yes, your boyfriend in question, Adrian.

“How do you know my boyfriend?”

“Your father has files on everyone you know. You had to know that.”

You huffed. “I didn’t know he made it a habit to show people… But yeah, that’s him.”

“Looks different.”

“Yeah, he’s changed a lot ever since my father started paying him.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Paying him?”

“To be a perfectly respectable boyfriend. He can’t get into trouble, including when he’s not with me. He also can’t give me alcohol or drugs, can’t do anything at all, ever. Not that it’s hard for him, he stopped liking me a long time ago, but doesn’t want to lose the money.”

He stopped the truck a few feet past your friends, turning to you. “Why are you with him, then?”

You pulled your bag off the floor. “Thank you for driving me, Mr. Freezy.”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You’re not going to answer me?”

“We can trade answers.”

“You think you can bargain with me?”

You shrugged. “If you want to know.”

“I don’t, I was just making conversation.”

“Okay, well, I’ll see you at 4.”

“Be punctual,” he directed. “Not a minute late, or I’m not taking you shopping.”

You didn’t stop pushing for his name, not until the day he said to you ‘call me Mr. Freezy or call me nothing’. You stopped speaking to him altogether and a mere four days later, he growled his name to you as you were getting out of the truck for school. Maybe then, it was Robert’s fault that this all happened.

He came back with a thin chain in his hand. You were only confused until you saw the clamps. He sat down next to you and dropped the chain on the bed, but you kept your gaze on his.

Your breath caught when you felt the smooth tip against your nipple. He glanced up at your face, checking to see if you were okay enough to continue. Apparently, you were since he let it close. It didn’t hurt. Or maybe it did, but you kind of liked that it was him doing it.

He closed the second one and then his fingertips trailed between your breasts down to the loop where the two chains connected, you felt it pull slightly as he continued to descend, and that was how you realized there was a third chain.

Wait… Oh. He pressed one of your thighs down firmly, a reminder. You can’t close your legs. You held your breath, you thought it would hurt less. As soon as the clamp took hold of your overly sensitive skin, you gasped.

“You’re okay.” He let his hand trail up, along your slit until he set his hand over your stomach. He kept you pressed down, watching your face, waiting for any protest.

This did hurt. You didn’t want to tell him that, though. He never seemed to care about anything if it didn’t match up with exactly what he wanted. Admittedly, you saw that tiny soft spot he had for you. You just didn’t want to test it, you wanted to delude yourself into believing that he would put you before himself. You hoped you’d never have to find out for sure.

You squirmed around on the bed.

“Don’t move.”

“It hurts.”

He hummed. “Yeah, that’s the point. Or do you not remember how we got here?”

Well, that certainly depended. He probably wasn’t referring to the first time you kissed him. He had been teaching you to drive. A few random mornings, he wouldn’t force you to go to school. He would drive you out far into the middle of nowhere, far enough that you should have been scared but you weren’t.

Since he knew that if you went home with as little as a bruise that your father would kill him, he always sat behind you in the driver’s seat. His legs were spread wide, you were nearly on the edge of the seat but sometimes you did manage to scoot back a little. He would move the gear shift for you, adjust your hands on the wheel, and tap your knee when he thought you were going too fast.

The morning, you could tell he was tense. See, you had noticed a pattern. Whenever you didn’t wear a bra, he didn’t force you to go to school. He took you out to learn to drive—it was getting old, and he promised he would bring you a real car to practice on eventually.

That morning, when the truck stopped, you asked a question that had been on your mind since that first day. “Do you kill people for my father?”

“You don’t ask people that.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been working for your father for how long?”

“I think…nine years.”

“So, you can assume I’m good at my job. You think that includes telling my business to every spoiled princess whose father I’m employed by? Theoretically, if I did and I told you that, I might have to kill you then to keep that level of quality work. Correct?”

“I guess so.”

“So, tell me that you know that was a stupid question that you’re not going to ask me or anyone else ever again.”

“Okay…it was a stupid question.”

“And?”

“I won’t ask you or anyone else.”

“Jesus, you wanna end up dismembered in some guy’s trunk? Why does it matter anyway?”

You shrugged. “I was just curious.”

“Curiosity…” he prompted. “Finish it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Killed the cat.”

“Good girl.”

You wouldn’t mind him calling you that under drastically different circumstances. You hopped up onto his thigh and he immediately went rigid.

“What are you doing?”

“You didn’t ask me how my night was.”

And he always asked. Because you always asked. You would ask how his night went, then his day prior to picking you up from school. He never answered with more than one word and always turned the questions on you to distract you from your interest in his life.

He sighed. “Okay, how was your night, princess? Did daddy buy you another horse or something?”

“I went to bed early.”

He snorted. “Right. Because you’re such a good girl.”

“Well, I touched myself and thought of you.” This was a lie. Mostly. You did touch yourself and you did think of him a couple of times, accidentally, but really, Morgan was the one who wanted to come over to watch porn. “Am I still a good girl?”

“Seriously, what are you doing?”

You shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Look, I need to take you to school. I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“What did I tell you about asking those kinds of questions?” he demanded.

Instead of saying anything, you leaned in and kissed him. It was literally only a brush of your lips over his before he flipped out. He grabbed your waist and move you aside before he bolted.

Okay. Not the reaction you were expecting. You waited a while before making your way out to him. He was lingering at the back of the truck, smoking a cigarette.

“My dad said you didn’t smoke.” That was one of your first complaints when he told you Mr. Freezy would drive you. You hated smelling like smoke. But your father promised, this man didn’t smoke. Yet…

“He doesn’t know everything about me.”

You simply pressed your back against the truck, staring at the floor while you thought of something to say. Okay, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Yes, he was married but he didn’t like her at all.

“What the fuck was that?”

You shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?! Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He only continued once you had done so. “That can never happen again. Do you understand me? Ever. You’re not allowed to touch me, okay? And you’re going back to calling me Mr. Freezy—”

“I want to go to school. Now.” You stormed around the front of the truck and got into your seat.

He finished his cigarette before he made his way back. You were turned away from him, arms and legs crossed. It was clear that you didn’t want to speak with him, and he was thankful for it. When he finally pulled up to the school, you left the car silently without a single word to him.

He arched an eyebrow, prompting an answer.

“Well, do you think you’re at all responsible for this situation?”

He scoffed, an exhausted sound. “All I want to do is take care of you, you know? Make sure you’re okay. Make sure you’re behaving and not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger.”

“Seriously? That’s what this is about?”

“What else would it be about?”

You didn’t answer that because you felt like your tongue was just burning to make him angry.

“You don’t wanna talk?”

“I never said that. I just don’t know how to answer your stupid question.”

“My stupid question. Because you’re so smart. The smartest spoiled brat I’ve ever met, honestly.”

You gave him a flat look.

“Fine, if you have nothing to say, I can think of a better use for your mouth.” He stood up again and stopped at the side of the bed, moving his pants out of the way.

If he thought you were going to argue, he was stupid. Which you’d long ago discovered that he wasn’t. He hadn’t been working for your dad for this long for nothing.

“Open up, sweetheart.”

You adjusted yourself, just slightly onto your side, but you didn’t close your legs. He looked almost disappointed that you hadn’t broken one of his rules. That didn’t surprise you. He was still clearly furious with you.

You opened your mouth for him, and he grabbed a handful of your hair before he slowly slid his length down your throat. You stared up at him, enjoying how weak his expression got as he watched himself push in and pull out of your mouth. He only stopped when he heard you gag, then he was pulling out, enjoying how soft your tongue felt against him.

This was only the second time you had done this. With him. Ever. You liked it the first time but not being able to touch him felt so impersonal. You wondered if that was also part of your…punishment, as he had referred to it when he pulled you out of his trucking and dragged you inside his house, all while you were screaming at him at the top of your lungs.

Either he had no neighbors, or they were just like him. No one came out. No one wanted to make sure that whoever was causing the scene was okay. You wondered if they were used to this. Did he regularly bring screaming women back to his home? You had never asked what he did when his wife had failed to satisfy him. Part of you worried what the answer would be.

You could admit, maybe you were more to blame than him. But maybe it was your dad. He was the one that employed him, he was the one that let him drive you to school, and he was the one that called him when you were kidnapped. That was when things had changed.

After the failed kiss, you were closed off completely. Two weeks, you didn’t wear a single revealing skirt or tiny top. You knew he found you physically attractive, but you no longer believed he had a right to see you that way. You no longer wanted to gift him with your beauty if he was going to pretend that he didn’t want you to kiss him. He did. You knew he did. He wanted a lot more than just a kiss. And it was weak of him to pretend otherwise.

When you were taken it was because you had gone out to dinner with Charlie. Her dad worked with your dad sometimes, so their family was one of the few that your father trusted with you. You liked being at Charlie’s more because her father let her do things on her own. Correction—had let her. Before everything.

Honestly, it wasn’t some traumatizing experience. They didn’t lay a hand on you. Well, minus one mishap, but not more than that. They drugged Charlie’s drink because hadn’t expected that someone would be with her because she usually had dinner alone on Thursday nights. When you were pulling her out to the car, just about to call her dad for help, that was when you were ambushed.

It wasn’t a normal situation, you were lucky. You knew that. But Robert refused to acknowledge it. As far as he was concerned, it was a risky situation. It didn’t matter what happened or didn’t, what mattered was that you had been taken at all.

He saw your attention drifting from him and wondered what you were thinking about. Probably that night. That was what he spent most of his time thinking about. You were a naive fucking child sometimes. You weren’t scared about what had happened, and you weren’t scared about the possibility of it happening again.

When he got a call at two in the morning, he had known it was going to be your father, but he had not anticipated any of what happened next. His wife next to him was complaining about being woken up, so he took the call downstairs. Your father, in an alarmingly calm tone, informed him that you had been kidnapped. And fuck, he wasn’t surprised. You walked around with that god damn attitude acting like you were better than everyone. He was only surprised that it had never happened before.

But then his stomach had started twisting. He knew the kind of men in his line of work, any one of them would kill, and more than likely have, just to get their hands on a soft, sweet little thing like you. And he knew what they would do to you when you got mouthy. It made him sick, imagining you bruised up like that. And hell, he knew exactly what they had more than likely already done to you. It was probably the first thought that crossed their mind as soon as they saw you. A woman as beautiful as you, he assumed it was what most men thought about when they looked at you.

He remembered what you had been wearing that morning and it made him mad. A skirt, for the first time in a long time. He had been imaging running his hands up and down your thighs all day, and he was furious to think someone else would get to. It also made him furious that you wouldn’t want it. He was livid thinking about you being touched after you said no.

He’d never given this business much thought before. He knew what he was. A creep. A psycho. The worst of the worst. But he’d never raped someone. Had he had the occasional sick thought? Of course, he wasn’t immune, but he would never violate someone like that. It was weak, in his opinion. The only thing men held over women and he wanted to be much more creative than that. He didn’t kill because he liked to, that was irrelevant. He killed because he was asked to, and he was good at it. End of story. Being good at rape wasn’t his brand.

That was why your father called him. He appeared strong and collected at first, but as the conversation went on, Robert could tell this man was desperate. He’d known Robert worked everywhere and never minded, never asked him to be a rat or a double agent. But he was asking now, and under any other circumstances, Robert would have said no. It was bad for business and all that.

But you didn’t deserve this. You weren’t part of this, and it was a mistake that anyone would try to make you part of it. He gave Robert the name of who did it, they’d already called and made their demands and hadn’t given the location yet. Robert knew the location; he’d been there several times for the drop-off and the occasional clean-up. Robert told him he would take care of it. When he said it, he had believed that he was going to get out of there as pure as you had gone in.

He had a long history with the family who took you, her especially. Marcella was beautiful, he assumed. She wasn’t his type, but maybe she was once. She kind of looked like his wife and since he couldn’t stand to look at her, Marcella didn’t get an unbiased opinion. Unless she was on a job with him or in his way, he didn’t think about her much.

She wanted to bargain, unsurprisingly. What threw him was that she wanted sex, but he didn’t mind. It was just sex, he’d fucked his wife, and hell, he hated her. Marcella wouldn’t be a problem if that meant getting you and your friend out safe—and under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t give a damn about your friend, but he knew you wouldn’t leave her behind.

Marcella knew something was different immediately. He never was one to be sent on a rescue mission. He was a skilled killer, nothing more. He tried to explain it away with money, but she kept talking about you. She kept trying to bait him. She called you a perfect doll, said she could tell that you were a virgin, other things that made him want to snap her neck.

When she brought you out, he started at your legs. You had a bruise on your knee, but he had noticed that when he was dropping you off earlier. Your shoes weren’t scuffed, the skirt you wore wasn’t wrinkled, meaning no struggle. Your tiny shirt was still tucked into the waistband and he couldn’t see your nipples, so your bra was still in place. Your arms and hands were clear, no broken nails, your hair looked fine, no bruises around your neck.

But he felt his hands balling into fists when he saw the red mark across your cheek. It didn’t look like you had been crying so he figured that was all you had to endure, but it was more than enough to make him see red.

Marcella made some pathetic remark about how good you were, how you hadn’t disobeyed a single order—that was good; later, he saw himself lecturing you, telling you what to do and what not to do if this ever happened again.

According to Marcella, he was free to take you. The other one, your friend, he had to earn her. She brought him closer to you, where you lay on one of the desks in the newly remodeled room. The location had once been abandoned, but everyone in his line of work knew how convenient the basement was in this building. Of course, these people bought it.

She said, “I want to watch you eat her pussy.”

The expression on your face was almost unreadable. You didn’t look scared originally, you had that same face when he had yelled at you after kissing him a while back. He knew what it was after a moment. Insecurity. He had truly convinced you that he didn’t want you like that.

You argued, said he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want. First, he did want you. He had been imagining how you would taste for a long time. Second, he did have to do whatever Marcella said. That you were stating otherwise was a testament to how much your father had shielded you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he claimed, and maybe that was the wrong choice of words. You were a virgin, not that he could ever forget, but sometimes, he did forget how big of a deal that was to some people.

He was angry again. The exact thing that he had wanted to avoid, you being touched by someone like him, was the only way he was going to get you and your friend out of here. But he was also selfish. He could have gotten out of this. If anyone ever asked why he didn’t, he would claim it was because he didn’t want to start problems with Marcella’s family.

The truth was that you were irresistible. He wanted to make you come, he wanted to devour you, show you what it was supposed to feel like. He wanted to be the first man who ever came close to you like this, and he wanted you to remember it, him, many years later. When you were off with some boyfriend, husband, whoever managed to sneak you away after gaining your father’s trust, he wanted you to still be thinking of him and missing how he made you feel.

“It’s okay, he insisted.

Marcella was amused by you, by how little you knew about how sick men were. Robert was sure there wasn’t a man on the planet that wouldn’t fuck you if they had the opportunity, he was not immune to it. Wanting you.

“It’s okay,” he repeated. He brought one hand to your shoulder, but you tensed. With his opposite hand, he removed his glasses and set them on the desk. “It’s okay.”

You reached out to touch his face with both hands. He felt your hands lingering on his jaw, fingertips pressing into the facial hair there.

“Okay?” he whispered. “Just lie back.”

You still looked unsure, but Robert leaned in and kissed you before you could say anything that he would end up regretting. You relaxed then, some of the tension he felt in your shoulder slowly ebbing away.

He pulled back, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pushing you down with his hands around both shoulders. He didn’t move his hands until you appeared comfortable. “You’re okay?”

You nodded.

“Okay. Just remain calm.” He had no idea what to say to you, what you needed to hear to be okay with this. He had no idea if he was being discreet about this, about the want he was feeling for you.

You pulled your skirt up just slightly and he caught your shaking hands. “Just relax.” He moved them off to the side before taking his hands and placing them near your knee. His palms slid up, catching the hem of your skirt until it gathered over your pelvis. You were wearing white lace panties that made him painfully hard.

He touched them against your hip bone. “I’m gonna take them off.”

You nodded, now staring up at the ceiling.

He pulled them down slowly, carefully getting them over both of your high-heeled shoes. He glanced up, sighing softly when he saw your bare pussy. He’d always known you hadn’t been touched, but he wasn’t naive enough to think you were completely innocent.

Marcella told him to get on his knees and he did. He carefully brought your legs over his shoulders, trailing kisses up your thigh to warn you where he was. He didn’t want you to be caught off guard for a second.

You felt his lips and the rough, shorts hairs press against your skin and you started a little. He kissed you over and over and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Up and down your slit several times until you had wet his mouth and he was spreading your arousal all over your skin.

The smell of you was enough for him. If he died right then, he wouldn’t have minded. But that didn’t stop him from getting greedy the longer he was at your pussy, just kissing, teasing. He wanted to work you up, it was always so easy with virgins. His hands slid up your legs out to your hips where he grabbed you and jerked you down further.

To accommodate his size, your legs spread and your pussy opened up to him. You gasped softly, hands trying to find purchase on the desk, but there was nothing for you to hold onto. He took pity on you, that was all it was when he took your hands in his. It certainly wasn’t him attempting intimacy. He had long ago given up on faking that part of himself and thankfully, his wife had also stopped asking for it. He was fine being what he was. He simply felt bad for you, that was all.

He linked his fingers between yours and you squeezed his hands tight. His tongue dipped out, just small random licks up and down, up and down. He touched your clit barely and your hips jumped, your hands tightened more, nails digging in so hard he knew he would bleed, and you whimpered.

And that fucking whimper did something to him. It was the sweetest, smallest sound he’d ever heard. Maybe it was that you were just so delicate in his indelicate world. Maybe that was why he was so addicted to you. He liked what you were, how unafraid and optimistic, how sweet and naïve, and he felt this primal need to protect you from everything that could change you.

He let his tongue move down until he could slide it into your entrance. You gasped and instinctively pulled your joined hands up. He pulled them back down and pinned your arms flat against the desk. You tasted better than he thought you would, he couldn’t stop pressing his tongue into you. He knew it was a tease, he knew he should just make you come, get it over with, but he couldn’t do it.

He flicked his tongue up hard, no more teasing. As he touched your clit, your hips jolted and your head rolled back. You tried to say his name, but no real words were leaving your mouth.

His tongue became quick. He always knew when he touched your clit because you would whine loudly. You were a woman who had never been pleased and he loved that he was going to be the first to satisfy this gorgeous pussy. Those gasps and screams and whimpers kept him going, blocked out all the rest of the world.

He’d forgotten Marcella. He’d forgotten that he was eating the pussy of his boss’ daughter and that if that boss ever found out he was going to be murdered horribly. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to be getting you home. All he cared about was you coming in his mouth.

You were soaked, dripping down his chin. He didn’t mind, the last reminder he was going to have of your pussy was if you managed to get on his shirt. He began gently sucking at your lips, letting his tongue dip out to soothe you when you were shaking and crying out, and pulling so hard against his arms. You weren’t stronger than him and you would have bruises if you didn’t stop, but he didn’t care about that either.

He didn’t care about anything but getting you off. He knew it wasn’t going to take long to get you there once he wrapped his lips around your clit, so he was now also guilty of relishing in this. He was guilty of dragging this out longer than necessary. He could make a virgin fall apart in a couple of minutes, but he wanted to devour you, to destroy any chance you had at being pleased by some idiot your age.

You had somehow managed to wrestle one of your hands away from his. You brought it to the back of his head, fingers winding in his hair to yank him in further. That was something he would never forget. He began kissing you again, teasing you because he wasn’t like everyone else. You didn’t just get to order him around. “You need me to make you come?” he asked, lips brushing against you as he spoke.

“Yes,” you blurted out.

“Want it so bad, don’t you?”

You gasped your answer. Yes.

As soon as he sucked your clit into his mouth, you shrieked loud enough that Marcella laughed. He wanted to turn around and strangle the hell out of her, but he wouldn’t pull away from you if his life depended on it. He let your other hand go to grab your hips.

You were pulling his hair with both hands. He knew you’d always liked his hair.

Once your hips started to roll, your cunt grinding against his face, he knew this was the end. He knew that your pussy was going to be the death of him. He pressed his hand down on the center of your stomach, pinning you down onto the desk. He rubbed his face against your center, pulling at your skin with his lips the entire time until you were sobbing out pleas. Finally, he sucked your clit back between his lips.

A noise caught in your throat as you were coming, hands tightening in his hair, back arching painfully. Almost immediately, your cunt was clenching, desperate to be filled, as he continued focusing on your sensitive button.

Your hands moved away from his head, reaching up for anything. You were looking for a way to get away from him, overstimulated, shaking, throbbing, needing.

“Robert,” Marcella scolded teasingly. “Give her a break, she can barely handle it.”

He knew she was right. He shouldn’t overwhelm you, not after the first time. He knew he should get on his feet and get your ass back home. He gave you just a few more licks and kisses, and then he was standing.

He felt that same need he had before. To protect you. He sat you up and hugged you to his chest, rubbing his hand along your spine as you worked to catch your breath. “Get the other girl.”

“Why so fast?” Marcella wondered.

Right, this was why he never negotiated.

“I think I changed my mind,” Marcella claimed. “I think I want to watch you fuck her before I give you the other one.”

He turned down to look at you. “You still okay?”

You nodded, but he noticed that you finally looked scared. You didn’t want to have sex with him, and he didn’t blame you at all. It wasn’t going to happen.

He pressed a brief kiss to the top of your head and then pulled you into his chest. He could tell you were surprised at first, but you eventually relaxed against him.

It was silent for several seconds before he yanked his gun out of his jacket pocket and shot Marcella. You startled again, trying to push away from him to see what was happening. He only held you tighter, there was no reason that you needed to see that.

When he pulled you off the desk, he wouldn’t let you turn around. He simply moved you to the exit, carrying you because your legs weren’t working either from shock or having just been eaten out, he wasn’t sure.

It was freezing and dark and he didn’t want to leave you alone, but he was not going to let you go back inside. He shoved you in his truck and pulled out the gun from his waistband. Your blank stare communicated that you had never used a gun—seriously? He opted for a knife instead before disappearing back inside.

Once he had you both in the truck, he drove several blocks over and pulled over suddenly. He could still taste you and it was driving him insane. He thought a cigarette might change that.

You apologized to him when you’d finally gotten too impatient and joined him outside. He wanted to laugh. What the hell were you sorry for? The answer was as naïve as he would have expected. You were sorry because of what he had to do, you had convinced yourself that he hadn’t wanted it, that he hadn’t enjoyed every second of it.

You called him out. You pointed out the gun, why hadn’t he killed her before he ate you out? He didn’t answer, which was probably what emboldened you so much. You didn’t let him push you away that night. Instead, you took your shirt off, then your bra, and you tossed them both back into his ice cream truck.

He tossed his cigarette aside and stepped out in front of you, tapping you against the side of his truck with his hands pressed to it inches away on either side of your body. He thought he could make you back down, scare you into pulling away from him. All he saw was determination on your face.

He took your waist in both hands and you gasped. He yanked you forward and ducked down, his mouth closing around one of your nipples. You wrapped around him automatically. Your arms around his neck, hands in his hair again, and you jumped up to hook your legs at his hips.

He pressed you into the side of the truck harder, massaging the bulge in his pants against your bare pussy. He bit down on your breast hard, sucked your nipple indelicately, and then licked over it to soothe any pain he caused. He alternated between your breasts without pattern, leaving your skin wet and sensitive, made worse by the biting cold of the outside.

You were rolling your hips, pressing yourself against his cock, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Not after wanting this for so long, not after tasting your pussy. He pulled you down abruptly, turning his body slightly but keeping a tight hold on you.

“We can’t do this here. I gotta get daddy’s princess home. He is worried sick, I’m sure.”

“You’re hard,” you pointed out. “What would my daddy think?”

He abruptly grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back as he wrapped a hand around your throat. “I’m your daddy now, baby. You don’t have to worry about what anyone else will think. Understand?”

Your eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them. He’d always wondered because the innocent act didn’t quite suit you. So, he always wondered what type of shit you were into. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“You understand you’re mine now?”

You nodded.

“No more letting your friends touch you,” he cut you off before you could ask how he knew about that, “no more of that pathetic boyfriend, no more touching your pussy without my permission. And you’re gonna stop being such a brat.”

“Or what?”

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t try me.” And all you did was smirk. “You’re gonna get me killed, you know that?” Again, before you could talk, he interrupted. This time it was with his mouth on yours.

He finished thinking about how your breasts had felt under his hands and mouth, the sounds you made. He pulled out slowly, giving you the chance to swallow because that was what he always demanded. Every drop of his cum was meant for you, not the bed or the sheets.

His hand curled under your jaw and you looked up at him.

“Will you take it off?”

“The clamp?”

“It hurts.”

“The one on your pussy?”

“Yes.”

He reached down, finger pressing to your aching core. “Right there?”

You were squirming again. “Please?”

He pressed down firmly, swiping over your clit several times. “Please take it off?” he taunted, then shook his head. “No.”

You narrowed your eyes.

That was what it was all about. You were a brat. You wanted to be in control because you’d been in control of everyone your whole life, but he wasn’t going to let you be. This, whatever was currently happening, only started in the first place because you were acting up.

He’d given you a phone so he could stay in contact with you without your father knowing. His one rule was that you never left the house without it, that you never went anywhere without it because if he needed to, if you were ever in danger again, he would be able to find you. At the time, you’d said yes.

For two months, everything went smoothly. Or so he thought. He spoiled the hell out of you, dipped into that savings account he had been adding to since long before he was working for your father. He bought you lingerie that he wanted to see you in. He bought you jewelry even though you could more than afford it yourself. His plan was to slowly get you to stop relying on your father so much. He wanted you to rely on him.

It had seemed that it was working all those times that you would send him pictures and he would call you those moments that he could get himself away from his wife. You certainly didn’t seem to have a problem when he was telling you how to get yourself off over the phone. But you, as mentioned, were a brat. You didn’t like how cautious he was being with you. As if your father wouldn’t put a hit out on him the second that he as much as suspected that there was something going on. That was when you broke the phone rule.

It’d been after this huge fight that you’d started on the way to school. You ended it by telling him that he didn’t need to pick you up because you were going to Charlie’s. As in the person you had been kidnapped with. Nope, not happening, which he told you.

Long story short, it did happen. And to make matters worse, you ditched your phone. You’d somehow managed to stash it in his truck before you left in the morning. When you texted him on your original phone, he knew something was wrong immediately. It only took him three hours to decide he was going to track your phone and damn, no words could ever adequately describe how mad he had been.

That led to this morning. He was driving you to school, but never had any intention of taking you there. He was fed up with the attitude, the recklessness, the sheer stupidity. Your father was no longer cutting it, he deiced. He was getting old and couldn’t take care of you, and that meant that Robert was going to have to.

You had been silent most of the drive but after a little poking on his side, you announced that you wanted to be done with the relationship. Did you honestly think that he was going to let you just walk away? After he’d told you that you were his? You agreed, it wasn’t his fault that you were so god damn innocent that you didn’t understand the extent of the promise you made.

“I have something that I need to check on,” he announced.

“Don’t leave me here like this.”

“Baby, the sooner you understand that you don’t tell me what to do, the easier this will be for you.”

“Don’t leave me here!” you repeated. “You’re insane!”

He grabbed the center ring on the chain and yanked on it on his way out. You gasped, body going taut from the pain. Smirking, he shut the door behind him.

“Ass!”

When he came back, you were furious. The clamp on your clit was aching terribly and your nipples were close behind that on the pain scale. Your legs and arms were practically numb. You’d long ago just given up and rested on your back, your ass stinging, knuckles digging hard into the small of your back.

He was hard again, you couldn’t miss the bulge in his pants. He started to undress, simply watching you.

And all you wanted to do was make one thing very clear. “I’m still not sorry.”

He smirked, making his way closer to you. He removed his glasses and set them on his wife’s bedside table. “You’re beautiful, baby.”

“What did you have to check on?”

“Business. Don’t talk about business in the bedroom, not when I’m about to fuck you.”

You ignored him. “Business…was my dad calling?”

“No.”

“Then what business?”

He climbed up onto the bed toward you. His hand was around his cock, ready to push into you. “Why do you care?”

“I just want to know.”

He said nothing, and you felt his heavy length rest against your cunt. Any sensation there was too much, but that didn’t seem to deter him at all. He ran the head of his cock along your slit, never failing to move the clamp.

Each time, it pinched your skin painfully. Each time, your body spasmed from the pain. He pushed in with the tip and you gasped, but all he did was keep going until his pelvis was flat against yours. One hand rested on your torso, between your ribs, hard enough to hold you down.

It hurt, but maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was the clamp. You were wet, so wet. He just slid right in, but you still felt stretched. It was the first time you’d taken anything more than a couple of fingers. It didn’t hurt, or maybe it kinda did. You might have been numb, at least a little. You wanted him this close. How could getting what you wanted hurt? So, maybe it didn’t.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered to himself as he pulled out. He saw his cock covered in your blood and it just did something to him. He was your first, and he intended to be your last. He wanted to make you so dependent on his cock that you wouldn’t be able to go days without begging him for it.

You had been playing with the idea ever since he brought you here. To his house. His empty house. Now, you felt overwhelmed with the idea that you didn’t know everything. He was inside you, and that had to count for something. “Did you kill your wife?”

His eyes flickered to your face and his hand slid upward, between your breasts until he could grab your neck. “What if I did?”

You knew immediately that if he hadn’t, he would. He could. There was nothing emotional that was stopping him. There was nothing like morality that would make him choose another path. “Tell me. If you fucking did it, be man enough to tell me.”

“The answer is yes. Did it last night because I decided I wasn’t going to go another 24 hours without your pussy.” He pushed back in hard, and your scream caught in your throat. “Did it right on this bed. Strangled her.”

“Did you fuck her, too?”

“Jealous, baby?”

“Not at all.”

He hummed, then looked back down. He leaned over you, rested all his weight on one arm as his hips picked up pace and he squeezed your neck a little.

“Was that the business?” you choked out between gasps and strangled moans. “Whatever you had to check on?”

“No.”

“Well, what was it?”

“Stop talking.”

“You just told me you killed your wife. Is there anything worse than that?”

“Yeah, what if I paid someone to kill your father?”

All you could do was stare up at him. He wasn’t serious, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a motive. Your dad had been the reason that everything between the two of you was always so complicated. “That’s not funny.”

He continued fucking you, harder now. It was starting to feel different, maybe better. You were still trying to differentiate between all the sensations, and it seemed impossible. You felt like everything inside you was getting tight, each time his cock slammed back into you, tighter.

He was a murderer. You shouldn’t enjoy fucking a murderer. You shouldn’t be able to look at his face and find him beautiful, find him anything less than terrifying. You shouldn’t be so weak for the cock of a man who just killed his wife and possibly killed your father—Robert never lied to you. Yet, there you were.

“Oh, daddy—fuck, daddy!” You dug your head back into the mattress, angling your lower body up to meet his thrusts. There was so much tension in your body, you just needed it gone. You’d never felt anything like this. It wasn’t just an orgasm.

He closed his hand tighter around your neck, the small choking noises were drowned out by his grunting and the wet sounds of your pussy gripping his cock tight—fuck, you were so tight. He hadn’t had a virgin pussy since he was 19, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. He remembered them all, and none compared to you.

When you were coming, screaming as well as you could, body shaking, your pussy gripped him harder.

You had never come like this, wrapped around someone and the newness of it all left you dizzy. Not long after, he finished inside you and as soon as you were full of his cum, which you could feel, hot, heavy, wetter, you consciously recognized the immediate addiction to him.

He stayed over you, just staring. His hand moved up and he touched your face, your parted lips, your glowing cheeks. You felt hot under his fingertips, certain parts of your skin damp. He tucked some hair behind your ear and then sat up.

He pulled out of you silently. You saw his cock covered in cum and blood, white and red, and your face burned. Right, you’d nearly forgotten it was your first time. “What are you doing?”

He moved off the bed and to the closet without answering you. When he returned, it was with diamonds. This chained choker with a single dangling diamond heart. He put it on you and then collapsed onto the bed beside you. With no skill at all, he wrestled with the ropes and by miracle, he had you free.

Once your hands were in use, you quickly pulled the clamps off you, gasping at the pain. Your skin there throbbed, the numbness replaced with pins and needles.

He didn’t give you any time to pout over it, he grabbed you and pulled you onto his chest.

You touched the choker, smiling. You ignored your turning stomach because you liked the jewelry. You ignored the fast pounding in your chest because you liked your skin pressed to his, you liked that he was holding you. You ignored your racing mind and your suspicions that he had been completely honest about what he had done to his wife and your father.

“Thank you, daddy.”

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @kleohoneyao3​ @cevans-fics​ @gotnofucks​ @sweet-pieces-of-nothing @dbnightingale24​ @first-jumper-tris46

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

"it’s dark but just a game”, that’s what he would say to me

summary: sugar daddy series: ransom. some spoiling, some fighting, some drunk ransom.

warnings: ransom. mentions of edging. mentions of piercings. mentions of literally every other kind of sex. very slight public sex. i mean, i guess angst, but like not. drunk ransom being a danger to everyone, but especially himself.

word count: around 8,400

relationships: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: did i need to write this? no. does anyone actually like ransom? also no... i just sincerely couldn’t be stopped. for the record, no cheating is in this fic. also, why do lana songs work so well for ransom? bc he’s a glamourous bitch.

a/n 2: @donutloverxo my last fic starring your fav. just kidding. but really, this is my last sugar daddy fic. i had two others planned that are partially written but will not be done and a bitch does need to start taking her final projects seriously.

Send me a picture.

You begrudgingly climbed out of bed to make your way downstairs. Your father was in the living room, sitting on the very edge of the couch with his hands pressed to his face, his elbows digging into his knees as he watched the news and acting like he had any idea what a difficult life was like. Your mother was in the dining room, magazines, laptop, her purse, and a cocktail surrounded her. She was laughing and talking loudly into her phone, meaning she was drunk.

Both were sufficiently distracted.

You went to the kitchen and grabbed a chair to put in front of the refrigerator. In the cabinet above, that was where the alcohol was. You were playing a drinking game with yourself. The text, send me a picture, was not a rarity and on the bad days, you received it so many times it could get you drunk.

After one shot, you decided a second was a great idea. That was the only reason you decided to be difficult, it just went straight to your head. It gave you the crazy idea that being a problem would get you anything. (Other than a sore ass.)

Why?

It took two entire minutes for the short response to come through—but you knew he had been struggling for those two minutes to come up with even that. Why?

Yes, why? You were not going to back down from the question. You wanted to know, if not just because you were simply a curious person. Why a picture, why not a video? Why now, why not earlier or later? Why am I your preferred coping mechanism?

The next response was much quicker. You’re not.

That simply had to be untrue. He texted you once a day at least, several dozen times when he spent time with his family. Well, ask nicely.

Instead, you received a Venmo notification. Three hundred dollars was gifted to you from the ever-so-kind HRDT-1988—okay, noted; apparently, being mouthy did pay off sometimes.

What do you say?

Well, after last week, and how sweet you had been simply because it was the anniversary of his grandfather’s death, you’d made some good money. You didn’t need to be any more of a brat.

Thank you, daddy. Give me just a sec.

And I want to see your face this time.

Of course. Ransom owned you, basically. It happened three months into this…thing. You didn’t care at the moment. You didn’t mind that he asked for a nude picture with your face in the shot. You didn’t even feel that twisting sensation in your stomach after you had sent it.

Because you trusted Ransom to be Ransom. No, you didn’t think he was too good to show off your pictures, it was that you knew he was too possessive. If he had his way, no other man would ever see you naked.

You peeled your clothing off and climbed back into bed. You weren’t teasing because you knew it would just put him in a mood. There was a signal he gave when he was okay with you teasing, but you had yet to receive it. Ransom appreciated obedience above all else.

You had to be prompt as well. You took only a few pictures and chose the best.

It was around three minutes later that your phone alerted you with another Venmo notification. You never checked how much he sent you, you just knew it was always way too much.

Now I want a video.

Typically. Of what?

Remember the present I gave you yesterday? You can open it now. Put it on and I’ll call you soon.

Ransom enjoyed giving you presents that you weren’t allowed to open immediately. It used to drive you mad but now you were used to it. After three hours of edging one time because he thought you were flirting with a bartender at some gross bar that he took you to, the rest of his tricks paled in comparison.

Inside the box that you stashed away in your closet lay a thin, slinky black romper. It barely covered your ass and the cut down the front was so low that you would fall out of it if you leaned over. You hurried to the bathroom to brush your hair and put on just a little bit of red lipstick.

You patiently sat on the bed in front of your laptop waiting for his call. You were nervous. Kind of. Excited, also. Ransom was cruel and you worried sometimes how much you liked that about him.

He rarely told you to wear black, so you weren’t sure what to expect from him. At parties, he liked black dresses. For dinners, tiny black skirts. Never here. But in the bedroom, he preferred different colors to match the ways he wanted you.

In pink, he liked to bend you over his knee and spank your ass and bury his fingers in you until you were sobbing for his cock.

Red, he would tie you up, knowing it frustrated you immensely when you couldn’t touch him. The things he would say, the way he would tease you. It brought tears to your eyes and your face always felt impossibly hot even hours later.

Purple had him ordering you on your hands and knees so he could fuck you into the mattress until your whole body was nearly numb, until your arms and legs gave out and you were flat against the bed. Until you were both covered in sweat and exhausted.

Light blue made him leave bite marks all over your skin, particularly your ass and inner thighs. He’d never drawn blood, but sometimes he threatened to. You tried not to respond to those.

Dark blue inspired the use of some props, the paddle, the riding crop—you had been worried the first time he used both, but he was good at always making sure he wasn’t too rough with you.

In white, he wanted you on your knees while he was sitting on the edge of his bed or a chair, choking on his cock until he was sure you were on the verge of passing out.

Green was for the money play, making you “earn” your allowance, fake angry accusations that you were just with him for the money—you had used the safe word a couple of times that first time he suggested it, but he was so perfect with aftercare that it was one of your favorites now.

But black? You weren’t sure yet. You had never explored the color black.

You didn’t have more time to dwell because your laptop was sounding off with his call. You answered it immediately.

“Hey, baby.”

He was in his bedroom, the one at his parents’ house. That meant that he was close to you. He lived halfway across town, so it was often that he would spend time at their house. You weren’t allowed to point that out. Any time you pointed out that Ransom might be attached to you, he always tried to dissuade you from those beliefs.

The laptop was on his lap, meaning he could pull himself out of his pants if he wanted. If you asked.

“Hi, daddy,” you returned. “How are you today?”

“Better now. Get up and let me see you.”

You excitedly got back onto your feet and twirled slowly for him. “I love it, daddy, thank you.”

He hummed. “Points for manners, I suppose.”

You sat down. “Did I do something wrong?” An act, he was in a mood. He’d trained you well to his vocabulary, his tone, his schedule. Right now, the noncommittal “I suppose”, the passive voice, and that he’d been at lunch with his parents were all pointing to one thing: you were in for it.

“You took a little long to reply.”

Purposefully. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“I know, baby, but I have to teach you a lesson, don’t I?”

You nodded. You would have it no other way.

“What do you think I should do?”

You hesitated, despaired at the idea that was about to come out of your mouth. But if you didn’t say it, he was just going to be harsher in his punishment. “Well…maybe you shouldn’t let me come.”

He thought it over. “That sounds tempting… I’m not sure it’s enough. What are you willing to do for me?”

“Anything,” you promised and immediately regretted it.

He smirked. “That was what I wanted to hear.”

“Well, I—”

“You would get the tattoo for me?”

The tattoo. The tattoo… The tattoo. But saying no was against the rules. At least unless you used your safe word. Not that you weren’t currently debating. “Daddy—”

He scoffed. “I’m going to get you to say yes one day.”

You weren’t so sure about that. When he first brought it up, you didn’t want to do it. A year later, you still didn’t want to do it. At first, it was the fear of him basically wanting to brand you. You liked him leaving marks on you now, but you were not deluded enough to think that Ransom Drysdale was going to keep you as his sugar baby forever. A tattoo was forever, it just wasn’t the smartest idea.

“You know what else I want, let me see them.”

You slipped down the straps of your romper and pulled the material down until your breasts were exposed. You knew the direction that this was about to take, and sadly, you weren’t feeling as opposed as you once were.

“Want to make me happy, baby?”

The answer was always yes. Ransom, when he was happy, was perfect. Not that you disliked him when he was in his moods. It was just that your favorite Ransom was sweet Ransom—as rarely as you got to see that.

You nodded.

“Daddy wants you to pierce them.”

You had originally said no to that, too. It had never been something you were interested in. Now, you were only worried about one thing. “You won’t be able to touch them while they’re healing.”

“And that will be fucking torture. But after they heal—fuck.”

Fuck, he was right. “Will you come with me?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

“Okay, then yes.”

“Such a good girl. I might have to let you come just once as a reward.”

He didn’t. After that agreement, he told you to go get your favorite vibrator. You sat before the computer with your legs spread, leaning on the headboard. He watched you for an hour, an entire 60 minutes. He told you to set the vibrator to your clit, but that you’d better pull it away if you were going to come.

So, black was that.

It wasn’t as if you had never said yes to Ransom before without fully considering the situation, but this had to take the cake. He wanted to do it the very next day. So, you were frustrated because he didn’t let you come and now nervous because you heard that this particular piercing hurt. Like, a lot. But you would never say that. Ransom’s favorite hobby, so it seemed was to tease you.

You were lying table, the plastic sticking to your skin every time you moved, top pulled down just under your breasts, in a freezing room. Ransom was next to you, and you knew that his restraint was quickly slipping. Your piercer, Moira, had gone to get the jewelry you selected.

“Daddy,” you scolded gently, pushing his hand away as it moved toward one of your breasts.

“Baby,” he warned. Your body was his and it seemed like you needed the reminder. He would gladly provide that.

“I just meant…not here.”

He glanced at the door before taking backward steps toward it, smirking at you.

“Wait, don’t—”

“She won’t mind. I come here often; she’s known me for too long to give a fuck about anything I do.”

“You come here often?” Ransom Drysdale frequents a tattoo and piercing place? For what? “With other women?”

His hand was on the doorknob, but he froze at your words. “Come on, we don’t talk about things like that.”

“Right, sorry,” you sighed. But no, you weren’t sorry. You had every right to ask that question, especially considering what he had originally asked you to do. “But I think I should know. How many of them have you had branded?”

He turned the lock and walked closer to you again. “Don’t do this, you know I don’t like fighting with you.”

“I don’t want to fight,” you pointed out, “I just want to talk.”

He was at the edge of the table, staring over you. “I don’t want to talk. Not when we could occupy our time with much more pleasant activities.”

He’d seen you naked hundreds of times by now, but it suddenly felt different. You felt like he was staring at you like a mad surgeon would, like he just wanted to take you apart slowly.

He climbed onto the table.

“Wait—”

He continued to move up your body, pushing at your shirt and mouth pressing to the skin just under your navel.

“Please, wait—”

But he didn’t, he kissed up your torso over your shirt and between your breasts as he settled most of his weight on you. He successfully pinned you down, there was no way you could move away from him.

“Daddy, please—”

“Please?” he repeated against your collarbone. He dragged his lips down to your breasts and you shuddered. “Please, what?”

His tongue flicked over your nipple and if not for his body on top of yours, you would have arched your back. Your eyes rolled back, and your hands came up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

It took some getting used to when you first started seeing him. Ransom was always handsy in public and too rich that no one was going to tell him shit. Sometimes, he would drag you into bathrooms, empty rooms, and he would do whatever he pleased with you. Afterward, no one made eye contact with you and they pretended they hadn’t just heard Ransom ruin you.

However, the last thing you wanted to be was just a number. You had never thought this was permanent, but it could be special. You wanted to be special to Ransom because he was special to you. You wanted him to remember you because you had made different memories with him.

You hated when he took you to his favorite restaurants because at first, everyone looked at you in pity. They knew it was just a matter of time before he got rid of you. After a year, now it just looked like they were taking bets. But also critiquing the hell out of you. They wanted to know what made you so significant. And you knew it was nothing. You knew he had gone on dates with prettier, smarter, funnier, more interesting, but for some reason, you’d lasted longer.

Probably your unwavering submission.

There was an abrupt pounding on the door. “Ransom, don’t be a dick. I’m getting off early today and I need to finish this appointment before my next tattoo session.”

He groaned as he climbed off you, taking his sweet ass time walking to the door to let her in. She was tall, with porcelain skin, icy blue eyes, purple hair, and at least a dozen tattoos that you could see. You saw her and immediately wondered, she was pretty…but the way she looked at Ransom, you figured she had a lot more self-respect than you.

She glared at him as she moved to your side and took a seat, he closed the door before he came to your opposite side. “He tells me you’ve been with him for a year…”

“Uh, yeah…a year, a few months now.”

“Why?”

He scowled at her. “Because I can fuck her better than anyone else.”

She rolled her eyes and then glanced at you, identifying immediately that even you couldn’t come up with a reason. It was a mystery at times, but he was sweet. Sweet enough to keep you around, at least.

“You partially blind?” she teased.

You scoffed. “No.”

“Huh…think it’s a brain thing?”

“Maybe,” you admitted.

“Okay,” Ransom cut in, “Can we get this done? Thought you were in a hurry.”

She moved around in silence and he started touching you again. First, it was just your face, small strokes against your cheekbone as he told you about the dinner that he was taking you to that night. Originally, he was going to take you to his place and watch movies with you, but his family had roped him into something or other. You were used to that by now.

Then he moved down and started tracing your lips, all while staring into your eyes. He started to recap all the drama from the night before. Of course, Joni had started picking at him immediately upon his arrival. You didn’t blame her; he was such an ass to his family. Then Linda, as he was now calling her and would until he stopped being so angry at her, was saying he needed to get serious about his life. He needed to settle down, get a job, think about his future.

“Settle down…” you muttered. “Maybe you could hire someone for that.”

“Ha, ha,” he leaned over you and gave you a rough, quick kiss. “Very clever.”

You smiled. “Then what?”

“Oh, the usual…” Richard was agreeing with her, Walt was making his unwarranted comments. That eventually drew Richard’s irritation toward Jacob, and the two men then started comparing sons. You wouldn’t tell Ransom, but you were pretty sure he still held the crown until Jacob had access to a gun.

“Okay,” Moira began, and Ransom fell silent. “Ransom, get out of the way, you’re in the light.”

With a noticeable pout, he stepped back.

“I’m just going to clean your skin,” she sneered at Ransom, “then we’ll mark where I’m going to pierce you.” She did so quickly and directed you to stand. She used her pen to make the marks on your nipples and stepped back. “That look right?”

“Yep,” Ransom claimed.

She made a face at him. “Like you would know.”

He rolled his eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Okay, babe, back up on the table.”

You climbed up and laid down once again.

“Okay, I just need you to breathe the entire time, okay? People try to hold their breath and they think it will help, but it will not. Breathe through it.”

“Okay.”

She glanced at Ransom and arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

He sent her a bitter smile and then moved closer to you again. “Nervous?”

“No.”

“A little?”

“No, not at all.” You just didn’t want him to know, honestly.

“Okay, well, you were supposed to say yes, and I was then going to offer a solution. Let’s pretend that you did say yes, because see, I do have a solution.”

“And what would that be?”

“An orgasm.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah, he has this theory,” Moira informed. “He thinks it won’t hurt if he makes you come.”

“Okay, cool, test it out on someone else,” you snapped.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just open your legs for me and let me try it out. It’s a theory, okay? Don’t you want to be part of the initial experiment? You like science and all that shit, right?”

“Telling you to not drink with your prescription painkillers after you broke your ankle last summer is not liking science, it’s being smart enough to listen to professionals.”

“Don’t you want to help people? You’re into that shit, aren’t you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Helping people, how?”

“Imagine, all the sad people who can’t get piercings because they are terrified it’s going to hurt—”

“I’m one of those people,” you hissed. “Now, shut up, you’re not helping!”

He just stared at you for a moment, you never spoke to him that way. He knew then that you had to be nervous since you, possibly the smartest woman he knew, damn well knew that taking that tone would normally get you bent over his knee.

“Okay, I understand you’re tense—”

You cut him off with a glare.

“Just let me try it,” he pleaded. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll buy you something stupid and expensive.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to Moira. “He told you that he wanted to try this?”

“He’s been talking about it for a few months. Told me that he was so close to getting his girl to agree to get a piercing or tattoo. I applaud you for holding out this long and I hope you get everything you want in life for having told him no for an entire year. He deserves much worse.”

Ransom glared at her again.

Okay, now, maybe you were a small and petty person…but you had been convinced that Ransom had to have been seeing other women the entire time you were seeing him. It just didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t be. This did not disprove that, however, it did provide evidence that you were getting exactly what you wanted. Special, unique memories. He hadn’t done this with anyone else and maybe this was weird, but now you were on board.

“Okay, fine. Just do this, I want to go home.”

He excitedly climbed onto the table and lifted your hips over his lap, separating your legs but holding onto your skirt. You liked that about Ransom, he wasn’t some idiotic man who could not conceive the idea that a woman would steal you away from him. He was serious about no one else seeing any part of your body that he felt ownership over—that meant anything covered by your underwear. Not that he didn’t enjoy dressing you in barely-there clothing and showing you off to his friends.

He started first, hand sliding up your thigh until he reached your pussy. You shifted a little, eyes closing as you breathed.

“Okay, like that,” Moira instructed. “Just please remember to keep breathing.”

Long story short, you did breathe. Ransom did make you come, once just seconds before the first one, and because he knew it didn’t work the first time, he told Moira to wait until you were finishing the second time to proceed with the final piercing.

You were panting, arm pressed to your forehead, and they were both watching you curiously. Moira knew, by the tension in your hand that was gripping Ransom’s forearm, his theory had not worked as far as you were concerned.

“Well?” Ransom prompted.

“No,” you snapped. “Ass.”

He gave Moira a look. “Give us a moment.”

“This is my room.”

“Well, get a different one.”

“My god,” she muttered, tapping your arm on the way out. “Okay, honey, left you all the pamphlets on the counter. Call me if you have any questions. Ransom, don’t touch them.”

When the door shut, you finally opened your eyes to glare at him.

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I thought it would work.”

“You just made me come twice in front of a fucking stranger because you thought it would work?”

“Don’t be a prude. She pierces and tattoos all kinds of body parts, she was fine.”

“You are such an ass, and I am not going to dinner with you tonight.”

“Look, I get that you are upset because you’re in pain, but enough with the attitude. Also, yes, you are going to dinner with me. You can’t let me deal with those people alone.”

“These really hurt, Hugh.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

He wasn’t going to do shit to you today, and you felt okay in taking advantage of that. You were not allowed to call him Hugh, ever. The only other time you tried it was in the middle of an argument and he had you choking on his cock before you had even fully understood what a huge mistake you had made.

You shoved at his forearm. “Hugh.”

“Stop it,” he warned.

“Why, Hugh?”

“I’m going to have to punish you if you don’t stop. And trust me, the headache Joni is going to give you with all that bullshit essential oils talk will dull this pain.”

“No, I am not going with you.”

“Yes, you are. And if you tell me no one more time, tonight is not going to be as fun as it could be.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “I am not having sex with you tonight. I am in pain, Hugh!”

“Okay, okay,” he sighed. “We’ll go to dinner, then we can watch the scary movies.”

You laid there, glaring up at the ceiling. “You don’t care about me.”

“Yes, I do,” he argued.

“Or my feelings, or the fact that I am in a lot of pain right—”

He cut you off by shoving two of his fingers inside your pussy, your words stopping immediately just so you could moan. He leaned over you, careful not to touch your chest as he kissed you. He curled his fingers up hard, slowly, each time getting your body to jerk forward, desperate for more, desperate to be filled with his cock.

Your hands came up to his face and you pushed his away. As he sat down, you climbed on top of him and wrestled his pants out of your way. The entire time, he never stopped fucking you with his fingers and you were seeing stars, either from the pain or from your impending orgasm.

You didn’t stop until his cock was out and you were situated over his lap. He moved his fingers so you could slide down on his length. You wrapped your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against him, taking his cock deeper each time.

“Come on, baby, leave some marks.”

He loved letting you leave marks, scratches, bites, hickeys, because Linda fucking hated it. Linda, more accurately, hated you, and that was probably another reason Ransom had kept you around this long.

You kissed him, catching his bottom lip between your teeth. You had bitten him hard enough before that you left a bruise once. It hadn’t been intentional, but it wasn’t like he was wrong when he said that he fucked you better than anyone else. Ever since then, Ransom did whatever he could to get you to leave behind all types of marks.

Ransom had you in the thinnest black dress without a bra. Why? Because it was very clear that your nipples were now pierced. As soon as Linda saw you, she was already downing her glass of wine, but when she saw that, she started to choke.

Ransom smiled at you and then kissed you until his family was complaining. Joni swooped in the second he pulled away from you.

“Oh dear,” she sighed, “we don’t blame you. He’s just such a beast, isn’t he?”

Yes. You were trapped in a conversation with Richard, Joni, and Meg when you realized it had been a long time since Ransom annoyed you. Searching the room for him, you found that his mother had taken him aside and was hissing things at him as she tried to adjust his shirt to hide all the marks you’d made on his neck. He looked immeasurably pleased with himself.

You were free of him until dinner started, the rest of his family members taking up all your time so Linda could continue to harass him. But as soon as the family had gathered around the table, he was already shamelessly touching you. It started with his arm around your shoulders, then his opposite hand in your lap where you were toying with his fingers and tracing the lines of his palms.

Comparatively, it was tame for you and Ransom, but Linda still glared the entire time regardless. As everyone engaged in their typical conversations, more bickering and thinly-veiled provocation, Ransom relayed his conversation with his mother to you.

“See?” he pressed. “Harlot has a nice ring to it.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not asking you to get my fucking name on your ass or something.”

You snorted. “What tattoo do you even want me to get?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, don’t waste your time because it’s never going to happen.”

“We will see,” he insisted.

You shook your head at him. “Ransom, after today, never.”

“Never say never.”

“Don’t, you know I hate that saying. You just said never. You had to say ‘never’ to say, ‘never say never’, you are saying that you should ‘never’ say never, it’s hypocritical and stupid.”

He scoffed. “I’m just saying, eventually, I convince you to do everything I want. Like, today, for example.”

“I wanted to do that, you didn’t convince me to do anything.”

“Oh, please.”

“How about we get matching ones?”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, if I’m going to permanently disfigure my body, you should have to do the same.”

“Tattoos are a disfiguration?” he challenged.

“They are if you’re the reason behind them.”

“Don’t be complicated, baby. Tattoos on men look different.”

You made a face. “Don’t even try that.”

“I don’t want tattoos.”

“I don’t want a tattoo.”

“It would look hot on you, it just wouldn’t make sense on me.”

“Well, baby, if you’re not going to compromise, neither am I.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“Y/N,” Linda called out, gaining your attention. “What have you been up to lately? Are you still unemployed?”

Her son paid you for pictures of your pussy. Though you couldn’t put that on a job application, it was hardly unemployed. So, you simply smiled and nodded. “Mhm, still looking for the perfect fit.”

“Is Dad still unemployed?” Ransom shot back.

Richard hardly did anything when it came down to it, not that Linda would ever let him. She had no faith in him, and you didn’t think she was being unreasonable. He’d tried to flirt with you at least 7 times over the past year, obviously, the man wasn’t all that intelligent.

His parents glared at him.

“Ransom, don’t be a dick,” Joni scolded. “Everyone here works hard.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “How are those lawsuits coming along, Joni? Get anyone to settle yet?”

You pinched his thigh and leaned close to whisper. “Calm down, no one has even started eating yet. We have at least two more hours here.”

“I’m just wondering what your plans are,” Linda explained.

You set your hand to Ransom’s thigh to communicate that he better at least remain on his best behavior. It shouldn’t be too hard since his best behavior was anyone else’s worst behavior. “Honestly, I have none. At all. Not a single thing planned out.”

She gripped the wine glass in her hand tighter. “I need you to understand, this is a family of excellence.”

Ransom snorted.

“My son, though he makes mistake after fucking mistake, is supposed to be doing something with his life right now. You are younger than him, you are simply not in the same stage of life as him. He needs to start getting serious—”

“Linda,” Harlan cut in. “We don’t need to have this conversation in front of guests.”

“No, we do because this guest is ruining my son’s life,” she barked back. “My son should be married right now, or at least seriously committed to someone. He should not be wasting his time with you, who, let’s just be honest, will leave him as soon as someone with more money comes along.”

You looked at Ransom. “Does anyone have more money than you people?”

He considered that. “No one as attractive as me.”

“Point,” you admitted. “But are they better in bed?”

He gave you a flat look. “No. No one else is into the weird shit you’re into—”

“Okay,” Linda snapped, “I was talking, and I’m not finished. I will not be finished until you realize that this relationship is pointless and is making everyone miserable.”

“I kinda like it,” Meg claimed. “If they break up, can we swap her out for Ransom?”

“I would second that,” Harlan echoed. “If we wanted to vote on the matter, or something.”

Meg smiled at you and nodded. “Marry him and then kill him. You can stay in the family like my mom and me.”

“That does sound pretty tempting,” you said.

“Okay,” Ransom cut in before Linda could say anything else. “I actually have a surprise. I was going to wait until after dinner, but since some people insist on people in my business, why not now?”

“I swear, if it’s an engagement ring,” Linda muttered, turning to Richard.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and started shaking his head.

You turned to him. “Obviously not a ring, but is it jewelry? I’ve been wanting a new necklace for a while.”

“Not quite.” He reached across the table and Meg tossed him a set of keys. He held them out to you.

“Your…keys?”

“Your keys,” he corrected.

“My keys? What do you…?” You trailed off one second, then you were on your feet the next second. “You got me a car?!”

“He got her a car!” Linda screeched to Richard.

“Parked it out front,” Meg informed.

You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dragged him through the house. Even in your skin-tight dress and stiletto heels, you were on a mission that no one could stop. You shoved the door open and rushed outside.

Ransom was following only to catch you if those heels decided to give out on you.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the tiny sleek, baby pink sports car. “Oh my god!” You turned back to him. “You bought me a car?!”

“Yeah.”

“You bought me a pink car?!”

“It appears so.”

You ran back to him, throwing yourself into his arms. “Daddy, I love it so much! Thank you, thank you.” You pulled back just to grab his face with both hands and kiss him. This. This was what Ransom did. Not just spend money on you, though that was enjoyable every time, but it was always so personal. He knew what you liked, and he paid attention to the smallest details that most people wouldn’t even remember.

“So…tattoo?”

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “Maybe.” How could you say no after this?

“I’ll ask again after you see inside.”

“Inside?” you repeated, pulling out of the hug to hurry back to your car. You eagerly unlocked it and tore open the door. “Holy shit!” Inside was the same color, only everything was sparkly or furry. And whatever couldn’t be pink was either silver or black.

That was around the time that the rest of the family had gathered outside.

“Oh, god,” Donna breathed, sneering at the car.

“What an interesting color choice,” Joni started, unsure of how to proceed because clearly, she was not a fan.

“Enough, enough of this madness!” Linda yelled. “He is cheating on you!”

Almost everyone groaned. Seriously, what an unoriginal way to get a couple to break up? You expected much more from a woman as rich and dramatic as Linda.

“He went on a date with Cassidy last Friday!” she insisted.

Last Friday. Ransom had planned to take you out to dinner, but he canceled last minute. You knew Cassidy, she had stalked you on social media for months before you and Ransom were even officially…whatever it was that you two were. As far as you knew, she was Ransom’s only serious relationship, in fact, she had ended it. But no, he would not do that.

Yet, he remained silent. His entire family was staring at the two of you and he said nothing. You turned back to him expectantly and he looked very much like a puppy that had just been kicked. He had long ago perfected that look because he knew it always worked with you.

Not this time. “Did you go out with Cassidy?”

“Baby,” he started, “Listen—”

“Are you fucking serious?!” you demanded.

“No, listen to me—”

“You are unbelievable! After today, and you’re still fucking trying to talk me into the tattoo? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you a fucking sociopath!?”

“No, you need to calm down—”

“I don’t have to do anything! You went out with her; I should fucking kill you!”

At that time, most of the family had the decency to start heading back inside. Meg and Jacob first, pretending that they had a truly riveting conversation with Harlan that needed to be finished back in the house. Donna, Walt, and Joni were relieved that they didn’t have to be the firsts to move and quickly followed the children.

Linda stayed until Ransom shot her a glare. “Ugh, fine. I’m going to be watching from the window anyway.”

You didn’t care what he said, nothing was ever going to make this situation okay or even somewhat forgivable, but you had a right to know why.

He stepped closer once his mother was gone, but you stepped back. “Stop, are you seriously going to let her get under your skin like that?”

“It’s not your mother that did this, Ransom. You lied to me. You went on a date with Cassidy.”

He was stunned that you used his name. Sure, you had called him Hugh earlier and that always annoyed the fuck out of him coming from you, but it wasn’t the same. Ransom. He hadn’t heard you say his name in so long. “Jealousy is not a good look on you, baby.”

Nope, you were done with him. You were more than just done, you were never going to speak to him ever again. Literally, not another word. The keys in your hands felt heavy enough to get your attention. Right. Car. You now owned a car. You did what any other furious, petty person would have.

You jumped into the car and locked it. It only took you a few seconds to figure out how to get everything started, and Ransom was already yanking on the door handle to try to get it open. Because that was logical, your mother was right, he was an idiot.

Without even a glance in his direction, you were speeding off in your brand new pink car. And yes, you angry cried the entire way home. What should have been a beautiful moment where you celebrated your new car and Ransom was marred because he was a complete dick.

So, no one could ever accuse you of making fully thought-out, well-planned decisions, but this was something else entirely. You’d left your purse at the Thrombeys’ mansion, and well, it wasn’t like you could go get it. You were sure that Ransom had taken it anyway and was surely holding it hostage.

Problem was, inside your purse was your god damn phone. However, you were an optimist. At least Ransom could phone-stalk you, right? Speaking of holding things hostage, your car was currently locked up in the garage and your keys were stashed under your bed. He would get that car back over your dead body.

At the end of the day, you were in love with it.

It had been four days and you were still moping around in your bedroom, refusing to tell your parents why. Your cynical—but correct—mother assumed that it was about Ransom. It annoyed her to no end that you would be wasting time feeling anything for that man, at least that was what you heard her tell your father when you tried to sneak downstairs for food.

It was four nights later that you were innocently in your room, just watching a movie when you heard knocking at your window. Rightfully so, it scared the hell out of you since you were on the second floor of the house.

You tiptoed to the window, carefully pushing the blinds aside to see if you could see whoever was out there before they saw you. Why you hadn’t thought it was Ransom was more of wishful thinking. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why couldn’t he just let this entire fake relationship die with dignity?

But seriously, how the hell was he at your window? You tore your curtains aside and shoved your window open. “What the hell? What are you doing up here?”

He leaned away from the window a little and stumbled back a few steps, and that was when you realized he was drunk.

You grabbed onto his arm. “Ransom! How the hell did you even get up here?!”

“I had help.”

“Help!? Who would help you?!”

He thrust his arm back dramatically and you leaned around him to see a snickering Meg and Jacob in the front seat of Meg’s Jeep.

“Oh my god, you could have died. Get inside, right now.”

“Okay,” was all he said.

You kept a tight hold on him as he struggled to climb into your window, and only let him go when you had seated him on the floor. You shut your window, pulled the curtains down, and then faced him again. “Okay, you have to be very quiet. My parents are home and if they know that you are in here, they are going to freak out.”

“You weren’t answering my calls.”

“I don’t have my phone.”

“Oh, right… I have your phone. At my house. That’s why Meg and Jacob were laughing so much.”

“You being here is not okay. And being at my window instead of the front door is super not okay. You could have really been hurt, you could have hurt Meg or Jacob.”

“They just held the ladder—”

“You climbed a ladder drunk?!”

He nodded.

“That’s not okay, Ransom!”

He put his finger to his lips and shushed you.

Your eyes widened at him. “Excuse me?”

“You just told me to be quiet, but I’m pretty sure everyone in the world heard you because you are yelling really loud right now.”

“I’m calling your parents to come get you.”

“No, wait—”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I have something to say.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“But it’s really, super important.”

You huffed and sat on your bed, facing him. “Fine, you should just say it. Not that it matters because you lying to me is never going to be okay. I trusted you and you lied to me, and why? It wasn’t like I thought you weren’t screwing other women. But why the fuck would you buy me a car then?”

“Because I’m not fucking anyone else.”

“Except Cassidy.”

“No, not even her.”

“Then why did you go out with her?”

“You have to promise you’re not going to get mad.”

“I’m already mad and nothing is going to change that.”

“She was pregnant.”

Your eyes widened. Pregnant. Even if she was just about due, that would be 9 months. You had been seeing him longer than 9 months. “How is that supposed to help anything?!”

“Not Friday. She wasn’t pregnant then, she was pregnant about two years ago. And…she thinks it was mine.”

“It?” you snapped. “Ransom, what the fuck? You know how I feel about useless fathers—”

“She got an abortion.”

“Wait, wait…she thinks it was yours?”

“Yeah, she was cheating on me.”

“Then why did you go out with her?!”

“It was…it would have been her due date on Friday. She gets weird around that date sometimes… It didn’t feel right telling her that I couldn’t see her, and it didn’t feel right explaining this all to you over the phone.”

“So, you decided to do it drunk? Much better, great idea.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If you had told me this the other day—”

“You wouldn’t listen.”

Okay, he had a point there, but no. He was still totally at fault here, you were not going to apologize for reacting the way you did. “Because you lied to me, and you didn’t tell me about it after. Your mom had to tell me.”

“I’m sorry, things were going so well with us. I didn’t want you to worry about nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“It is nothing because I don’t even have feelings for her anymore.”

You rolled your eyes. “I really doubt that.”

“No, I have feelings for you.”

“Don’t, okay? You were my sugar daddy, we weren’t even really dating.”

“Yes, we were,” he argued. “You know we were, you’re just trying to make it seem like it wasn’t that serious. But it was. It was really serious.”

“We shouldn’t even be having this conversation while you’re drunk, okay?”

“You’re still mad.”

“Yes, I’m still mad. I’m mad that you got me the most perfect car, that you made me get these fucking piercings, which still hurt, by the way, that you were trying to talk me into the tattoo, and you had lied to me not even a week before.”

“But I have feelings for you.”

“That doesn’t fix everything.”

“Does this?” he quickly sat up and started pulling his shirt over his head.

You stood up, turning your head and throwing your hands out in front of you. “Are you serious?! You’re trying to have sex with me right now?”

“Nooo,” he sighed, and you heard him noisily sit back down on the floor.

You turned to him cautiously, letting your hands fall as soon as you saw black ink standing out harshly against his pale skin. Your name. The blank ink on Ransom’s chest, on the left side no less, was your name.

Your mouth dropped.

“I got it done tonight.”

“While you were drunk!?”

“No, I wasn’t this drunk a few hours ago.”

“Oh my god, Ransom. You are going to regret that in the morning.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not ever.”

You rolled your eyes. “I cannot believe you did this. All of this. I cannot believe the lying, the car, and now this fucking tattoo.”

“Well, I wanted this fucking tattoo.”

You glared. “No, you didn’t. You just don’t like being dumped.”

“Ha!” He pointed at you. “So, you admit this was a real relationship?”

“Was,” you relented. “Not anymore.”

Huffing again, he rolled over so he was on his hands and knees.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He was quickly crawling toward you and you were so caught off guard that you didn’t start moving until it was too late. He wrapped his arms around your legs and sat down next to your feet.

“Are you crazy?! Let me go.”

“No. Not until you forgive me.”

“I will never forgive you.”

“Then I’m never letting go.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ransom…”

He turned up to you. “Please? I’ll buy you another car. Two more cars. A car and a house. A car, a house, and a puppy—”

“Stop, you don’t have to buy me things—”

“I like buying you things.” When you said nothing, he started to reach upward, until he had his hand in the pocket of your jeans, then he was tugging you down.

“Stop it,” you scolded, but he didn’t. “Ransom, stop it.”

“Stop calling me Ransom.” He continued until your hands were in his reach and then he tugged you down and practically tackled you onto the floor. “I’m not letting go until you forgive me.”

“Get off me!”

“No.”

“You’re insane!”

“That is probably true.”

“Ugh!” You finally stopped struggling in his arms and just laid there, letting him crush you to the floor. “You’re such a jerk.”

“I know, but I’m really sorry about it.”

“Yeah, until you’re sober.”

He leaned up so he could stare down at you. “No, I’ll be sorry then, too. I was sorry since the second you drove off.”

You were less interested in what he was saying at that moment and more interested in your name over his fucking chest. “Did it hurt?”

“Kind of.”

You huffed. “Ransom…”

He sighed, exasperated. “I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“That’s your name. Are you seriously so drunk you don’t remember your name?”

“If you give me another chance, I will never lie to you again. I will never go on a date with anyone else, not just Cassidy, but everyone else that I know. Man or woman, they can call fuck off.”

You snorted. “Okay, that’s a little dramatic.”

“I really like you, baby. I was lost these past few days not being able to see you or talk to you.”

“Okay, if I agree to give you one more chance, will you get the fuck off me?”

He nodded, smiling. “But you have to pinky promise.”

“Okay, but for the record, if you ever do anything like this again, I’m going to tell your family about everything that has happened since you stepped into this room. You’re like a five-year-old, Ransom.”

“Deal.” He sat up and held his hand out to you.

It took you a moment to help him figure out which finger was his pinky, but he seemed satisfied with your promise, nonetheless. “Also, I am not getting a tattoo for you.”

“That’s okay. I’m going to convince you too when we’re married.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh, now I’m marrying you?”

He nodded. “Mhm.”

You snorted, the thought of him recalling this conversation in the morning was hilarious. He would be terrified that he was showing even an ounce of commitment. “Great.”

“You’re really pretty in white.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you tired yet? Can we just,” you gestured to your bed, “Sleep?”

He considered it for a moment. “Only if you stop calling me Ransom.”

“Fine.” Getting him off the floor and onto the bed was another grand task. And when you decided to get him a glass of water and aspirin, he freaked out and accused you of trying to leave him. Once you reminded him that this was your bedroom, he seemed calm enough that you could escape to your bathroom for ten seconds.

Thankfully, he was unconscious the second you had settled onto the bed next to him. He just rolled over, laid his head on your stomach, and then he was out like a light.

Fuck.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @kleohoneyao3​ @cevans-fics​ @gotnofucks​ @sweet-pieces-of-nothing @dbnightingale24​ @first-jumper-tris46

ransom tags:

@la-cey​

[donutloverxo]

Sugary 4k challenge

Banner is from Lover's album cover

I haven't hit 4k followers yet but I was just too excited for this! Hopefully it's okay.

I love reading stories about sugar baby/daddy relationship so I thought why not a challenge with that theme! What constitutes as a sugar relationship is totally up to you. The sugar aspect of it can be subtle or overt. It doesn't have to include a daddy kink if that's not your thing.

Some rules -

Smut writers and characters must be 18+. No incest, toilet stuff, bestiality, etc. Noncon and dubcon are welcome but please use proper warnings.

All fics must be reader inserts/oc. Your reader/oc can be paired with Chris Evans or any of his characters. RPF is welcome.

Minimum of 400 words. Original works only please! If you decide to make it a series make sure to tag me in all the parts.

You do not have to be following me. Tag me in your post and use the tag #sugary4kchallenge. If your fic doesn't get a reblog in 2 days please dm me.

Deadline is 30th April '21. Let me know if you need an extension.

Please add a ‘keep reading’ after the first 300 words or so if your fic is more than 500 words.

I reserve the right to not reblog a fic.

Maximum of 5 stories per writer.

Tagging some writer under the cut. No pressure ❤

@nekoannie-chan @navybrat817 @anika-ann @andybarberslxt @angrybirdcr @angrythingstarlight @avintagekiss24 @awhitewolfandhisvibraniumshield @queennatbat @quietmyfearswith @whohaveibeenletting @worksby-d @whateveriwant @river-soul @the-soot-sprite @the-soulofdevil @uncafeavecbarnes @iwantutobehapppier @ozarkthedog @our-marvel-universe @speechlessxx @drabblewithfrannybarnes @firefly-in-darkness @geniedetails @holylulusworld @honeyloverogers @holy-stevie @holacia2 @hevans-angel @kellyn1604 @kaminorogers @kidney9-9 @xbuchananbarnes

@capsameriicanass @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @buckyownsmylife @bluemusickid @blackmissfrizzle @mianorth @syntheticavenger @nakedrogers @sunstalgia @suntrastar @sunflowercaptian @brooklyns-boys @the-iceni-bitch @sultrygoblin @slothspaghettiwrites @afriendlyblackhottie @sweeterthanthis @kleohoneyao3 @saiyanprincessswanie @starlightcrystalline​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @awesomerextyphoon @ironlady1993​ @steebsbabygirl​  @sweeterthanthis​ @selfcarecap​ @malloryharris​ @americasass91​ @smediumsmeatbae​ @cloudystevie​ @fangirlovestuff​ @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @chrissquares​@honeygingergemini​ @smutsonian​ @justagirlinafandomworld​

[buckyownsmylife]

Six-Sentence-Saturday: sugardaddy!Andy Barber

This is for a one-shot I’m writing to try and take part in the #sugary4kchallenge! It can be read as being from the same universe as I write sins not tragedies, but it’s basically pwp with Andy in an angsty mood because his wife figured out he had a sugar baby and threatened to ruin their relationship, not knowing Andy would choose reader over her any time 😭

If there’s anything in my WIP list you want to see a six-sentence preview, today is the day to ask me for it!

And so we made passionate, desperate sex on the kitchen floor. I fucked her so hard, it didn’t take much to have her drooling for me. I drowned all of my worries and sorrows in her sweet pussy, making sure to worship every single inch of her body with my lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna keep you forever, princess,” I promised, heart aching just at the thought of ever losing her. “She won’t ever take you from me.”

[buckyownsmylife]

Posting schedule - March 25/April

Updated schedule of all the fics I already have ready for the foreseeable future 🎉 I reserve the right to push back any of these dates as if I finish something new, I’ll adjust it according to how much people have told me they want to read something 👍

As a general rule and as my guiding posting schedule, series updates are on Tuesdays and new oneshots are on Thursdays, so that’s going to be respected 😉

I also always try to post updates for all of my series every Tuesday, but I’m only going to update this when I have the next chapter ready to be posted, so that’s why for now I don’t have any updates scheduled for next week.🌼

As for the other fics on the list:

Like we did is a John Winchester request I got a while back for him hearing the reader pleasuring herself and then joining her

Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber is my submission to @donutloverxo​‘s #sugary4kchallenge, and is set in the same universe as this fic, but doesn’t really depend on it to make sense

Mob!Wolverine is a noncon ft. gunplay one-shot I started writing because I imagined Logan as a mobster and then couldn’t get the idea out of my mind.

Yes, my Jake Gyllenhaal request is the follow-up of my cuckold!Tom Holland tales! And it’s even steamier than you expect it to be!

This is it for now, I’ll post more updates as I finish writing more stories/chapters!