Part One in a series of Pete’s Place regular one-shots.
main masterlist | meet the regulars
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairing: Andy Barber x female!reader.
word count: 803 | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚
warnings: daddy kink, prostitution (kinda), light smuttiness, andy being sweet (although not really).
this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.
“Knock, knock,” Andy called out, stepping into the dressing room where you were finishing up some final touches to your liner, eyes lightening up at the reflection of a large bouquet of roses in his arm and a large, sleek black bag dangling from his hand.
You whirled yourself around, liner clattering amongst the mess of the vanity. “Chanel?” You gawked, a grin breaking out.
Andy had a habit of showing up with gifts; clothes, jewellery, flowers, whatever he could think of for his favourite girl of the week, but you had managed to keep his undivided attention for well over a month now. Had he been any other man in the club, you would’ve already propositioned him, offering yourself for a night, but he was too close with Pete; although the more attention he gave, the more you found yourself toying with the risk.
“For me?” You feigned surprise, “I could never— Gimme, gimme, gimme—“
Andy chuckled as he strolled over, bag outstretched towards your grabby hands and pressed a soft, brief kiss to the top of your head. You leaned up as you shook the box open, grinning and letting your lips ghost against his— the closest you had ever gotten to kissing him before. Each gift, each kind word, each longing look; every new tale you heard from the girls about how attentive he was in bed, how calling him ‘Daddy’ kept him hard for hours, how he rambled filth when he was close… it all just kept shoving you past a line you were trying desperately not to toe.
“You know I love spoiling you,” Andy said softly, pulling the chair from the neighbouring vanity closer so he could perch next to you as you pulled out the small, intricately designed black bag. “I chose something simple, didn’t know exactly what you would like—“
“Bullshit,” You giggled, cutting him off which resulted in a bashful smile spreading across his face. “You knew I’d love it.”
“Yeah, I did,” Andy laughed, placing the roses on your vanity and reaching for your hand, thumb rubbing over the dainty diamond ring he had gotten you the week before.
“I love it,” You told him honestly, placing the bag back in the box and carefully placing it down on the floor. “And I love the roses, you always know exactly what to get me.”
“Think I’ve earned a little one on one?” Andy asked, hands moving to your hips as you got up, resting your hands on his shoulders for a moment before letting them cross behind his neck, hand bending up to card through his hair.
“Pete doesn’t let me in VIP, and… I don’t really feel comfortable—“
“Oh! No! Not that,” Andy quickly cut in, eyes wild with fear that he’d caused you any kind of discomfort. He slid his hand up and down your back while the other massaged the meat of your hip. “Not that I wouldn’t want— Ah, fuck. I know that’s not your thing. I just wanted some time with you. What about after—“
“I can’t,” You replied woefully, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the deep red of the VIP rooms. “Pete doesn’t allow it. I’m sorry.”
“What? I can’t even buy you dinner? In your free time?”
“You’re a club client,” You explained, your eyes locked on his. “Pete’s client. I’m not…”
You trailed off, staring at him for a moment. His blue eyes were kept on yours, waiting earnestly for you to continue talking. His white shirt, ruffled from his day stuck in an office, clung to chest; taunting you with the defined muscles that hid underneath. The hands heavy on your body clouded your senses and made the devil on your shoulder jump for joy when the last of your resolve broke.
“Fuck it,” You murmured, more to yourself than to Andy.
You slid yourself into his lap, not giving either of you a second to think, before you slotted your lips against his and immediately melted into him. His hand found the back of your neck, keeping you anchored to him as he slid his tongue against yours, and used his other hand to rock your hips down against his.
“Let Daddy have you, baby, please. I’ll be so good to you,” Andy begged, almost breathlessly against your lips as your eyes flicked towards the door to ensure you were still alone. “Please, pretty baby—“
“Do you know where I’m staying?” You asked, letting a small smile slip when Andy hastily nodded, his hands coming up to cup your face, trying to pull you back against his lips. “Meet me there, park around the back.”
“Can’t wait, Sugar.” Andy sealed your fate with another swift, messy kiss before reluctantly letting you slide off his lap. “I’ll see you on the floor,” He said softly, standing and leaning down to steal a final kiss before rolling out his shoulders and loosening his tie a little as he headed towards the door. “Bye, baby.”
“Bye, Daddy,” You teased.
“I will fuck you right here on this floor,” Andy threatened quietly, finger pointed out to you, turning in the doorway before taking a few steps back and disappearing with a grin.
Pairing: Andy Barber x Female!Reader
Word Count: 4,683
Summary: It was hard to believe that once upon a time, Andy Barber was a stranger to you. Because now? Now he was your everything, just like you were his.
Warnings: Mob AU. Explicit language. Established relationship. Flashback. Mob boss!Andy. Reader is a delicate thing with a rough history. Boss/employee relations. Reference to non-con touching. Touch avoidant. Allusions to past abuse and forced sex work. But also a good amount of fluff and affection tbh.
A/N: I am beyond tickled that this Andy won my recent poll. He’s the one I’ve been most eager to write, but there are so many other stories and babes that I know deserve my attention, so it was hard to commit to him. Thank you for giving me an excuse to indulge and also expand this verse. I hope you enjoy this ❤️
P.S. Andy made his debut in mob enforcer!Ari’s story, but you don’t need to read that to read this.
It was getting to be that time of day when you were starting to flag.
As hard as you worked, as supportive and helpful as you wanted to be–especially to Andy–your brain could only handle so much.
Especially when you were running on barely a few hours of sleep last night.
So you finished the final must do on your list for the day, closing your laptop with a small swell of relief as you rose from your seat at the small table in the corner of Andy’s home office.
It was one of your favorite rooms in the manor, and not just because you spent so much time here with Andy. The decor was traditional–and expensive–a myriad of dark woods and butter-smooth leather. The walls were lined with built-in shelves, stacked with books and dotted with expensive pieces of decor, and even some antiques that probably cost more money than your brain could comprehend.
But your favorite personal touch were the two pieces of framed artwork hanging behind Andy’s desk. They were abstract and colorful, and each time you got swept away staring at them, you swore your eyes gleaned a completely new shape or scene or meaning behind them.
Andy once told you the story of how he had won them in a bidding war at an antique auction after months of tracking down any artwork he could find by his late mother’s favorite artist.
It seemed like such a small thing about himself that he had shared with you–but it showed the kind of man that Andy Barber was.
Devoted. Determined. Strategic. Patient when it counted most.
And never willing to give up.
You smiled as you slowly made your way to where he sat hunched over his executive desk, still deep in his own work despite the approach of early evening.
It was traits like his devotion and patience that had finally won you over completely–despite how gun-shy you had been at the mere idea of anything more with Andy.
With anyone, really, given your history.
But even you couldn’t deny that the more you got to know Andy, the more time you had spent with him, the more the thought of something more had taken root in your brain and began to flourish.
And now here you were.
Clocking your proximity, Andy finally pulled his eyes from his computer screen, straightening in his leather-back chair. His gaze softened as it landed on you, his lips tilting up at the corners into your favorite smile.
“All done for the day?” he asked, pushing his seat back and making room for you, because he knew you well.
So Andy didn’t bat an eye when you nodded in response to his question before slowly sinking to the floor, until you were sat between his feet and resting your cheek against his knee with a soft sound of contentment.
“I rescheduled your meetings for tomorrow to next week, like you asked,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering as Andy reached out and began to gently pet your head. “And I ordered flowers for Ari’s mother for her birthday next week, too.”
“Thank you, honey,” Andy murmured, his fingers teasing along the shell of your ear and making you shiver. “You take such good care of me, of all of us. I bet you even reminded Ari of his mother’s birthday, just to be safe.”
Your cheeks warmed, because Andy was right, and his tone was so fond colored with the kind of tenderness–just for you–that made your insides swoop and flutter. You hid your face against his leg, your insides fluttering some more at the sound of Andy’s quiet, husky laugh.
But speaking of Ari, something tickled your brain, something that made you frown as you tilted your face up and opened your eyes, your gaze shining with worry.
“How are things with the art gallery?” you asked. “Is the business owner next door still causing you trouble?”
Andy’s eyes danced at the mention of the woman who owned the tea and bookshop next door to his new business. “She’s nothing to fret over, honey. Ari’s taking care of her.”
At that, you nervously gnawed on your lower lip. As much as you had come to accept the fact that Andy was a mob boss–and sometimes had to do ruthless, unsavory things–he treated you so well, and was so loving, that it wasn’t an issue for you.
In fact, it provided a sense of security that you had never known until Andy–the fact that you now had such a powerful and competent protector.
But still… you didn’t like the idea of Ari hurting anyone, of the things you were sure he had done and was capable of doing. No matter how respectful and protective he was of you.
You didn’t wish his dark intentions on anyone, even someone who had proven to be a thorn in Andy’s side from day one.
But then again, given the rivals and competition he usually dealt with, this woman’s antics were almost… charming.
“Don’t look so worried,” Andy hummed, gently caressing your cheek. “He’s dealing with her in a way I’m quite certain she enjoys.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh.” Your eyes widened enough to make Andy laugh. “Well… good. I know the gallery is your pet project and the first business that you’re genuinely excited for.”
“And it’s the perfect front for arms dealing, which drives the most revenue, so really it’s a win win.”
You hummed in agreement, once again sinking against Andy as he continued his light touches and caresses. His fingers danced along the tension in your shoulders, moving slower and pressing firmly, until you were making a quiet sound of relief as the knots of tension seemed to melt away into nothing.
“You slept fitfully last night,” Andy said.
You nodded, leaning into the cradle of Andy’s palm that now rested against your cheek. He tilted your face up so he could get a better look at you, observing the shadows beneath your eyes with a small frown and furrowed brow.
“More nightmares?” he asked.
This time you hesitated, but only briefly, before nodding again.
You didn’t hesitate because you wanted to hide your struggles from Andy, or because you were embarrassed he had of course noticed the state of you, but more so just because you hated to think about your nightmares, and the things from your past that caused them.
At your admission, and the way your shoulders hunched and curled just a little, Andy’s touch instantly became more intentional. His hand moved to grip the back of your neck, squeezing in that way he knew melted your brain and made all of your anxiety dissipate.
Of their own accord, your hands lifted so you could cling to Andy’s thighs, pressing your forehead against his knee and nearly curling around his leg like a koala–greedy for his touch.
Even after all this time, you still couldn’t believe it, the way Andy’s touch affected you–in a good way. That you loved it and often needed it now.
Because there had been a time when you thought that you would never enjoy the touch of another again…
18 Months Ago
“Another month in the green,” Andy said, sounding pleased as he scrolled through the financial slides on the tablet he held.
“Bet you’re fucking tickled that you went all in on the club with me,” Lloyd Hansen preened, sinking back in his desk chair and giving Andy a shit-eating grin. “I told you this would be a money maker. There’s nothing like it for miles and miles.”
Andy hummed, setting the tablet on Lloyd’s desk, his face serious as he eyed the other man. “And I bet you’re fucking tickled that I gave you permission to set up shop in my territory.”
Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, you made me work for it and go in halfsies with you, so.”
“You’re welcome,” Andy smirked.
Lloyd scoffed, opening his mouth to likely fire back something Andy would make him regret, but before he could speak a word, his office door flung open and you were forcefully shoved inside.
You squealed as Lloyd’s head of club security–the brute–gave you another shove that had you nearly face planting into the thick, expensive carpet.
“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t to be interrupted?” Lloyd snarled at said brute.
“Sorry, boss,” he grunted, giving you a lethal glare, “but she caused a scene out on the floor.”
Lloyd’s eyes snapped to you so quickly that you flinched.
“Did she?” The chill in his voice had you cowering in dread as the security guy quickly ducked out of the office, pulling the door closed as he went and shutting you away with your prickly boss.
You were too terrified of Lloyd, and too distressed after what had happened out on the night club floor, to notice the stranger sitting across from Lloyd’s desk.
“This is the thanks I get for hiring your cry baby ass?” Lloyd hissed as he rose from his seat.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hansen,” you quavered as he rounded his desk and stalked closer. “But… I, I told you, I don’t like to be touched and one of the men out there, he grabbed me and–”
Lloyd didn’t stop his approach until he stood toe-to-toe with you, causing you to visibly tremble as you hugged yourself tightly and kept your head ducked low, your eyes fixed on your feet.
“You’re in a fucking night club, toots, dressed like that, might I add–“ Lloyd scoffed.
“You made me–“ you countered weakly.
“It’s called a work uniform.”
You thought that was a stretch as you eyed your outfit which wasn’t much more than a pair of metallic booty shorts and a sorry excuse for a shirt that nearly had your breasts spilling out the top.
And you weren’t even one of the cage dancers, you were just a server.
“You told me you needed this job, that you were desperate for work,” Lloyd growled.
At that, your head lifted, your gaze frantic as it met Lloyd’s. “I am, I do! Please, I’m sorry–“
Lloyd shook his head. “I can’t have you out there causing a scene anytime the clientele gets a little handsy. That’s part of the job. I mean, what the fuck did you think you were getting into working here?”
“Please, sir, I need this job. I don’t have anything else or anyone or–”
“Oh boo fucking hoo,” Lloyd sneered, dipping his head close and making you recoil. “I gave you a chance. I was more than generous. You get paid well. You get benefits. And this is how you thank me?”
Your chest hitched, a sob working its way up to your throat, because he was right. You had been so obviously out of your depth when you had shown up here for your interview, but you had also been beyond desperate for the gig, for a steady income, to survive.
And now you had gone and fucked it all up because you couldn’t just do what all the other servers did and acclimate to your environment.
“Get out,” Lloyd enunciated slowly before straightening. “And don’t come back.”
“No! Please!” Your voice was pitched with hysteria as panic flared within you.
Because you couldn’t lose this job.
“I can… I can do something else! Anything else!” you cried, trailing behind Lloyd as he turned his back on you and sauntered toward his desk. “I can tend bar or or do inventory or–”
He whirled on you suddenly, making you squeak as you walked right into him and then sharply drew back as if you’d been burnt.
There was a mean glint in Lloyd’s eyes as they slowly trailed over you, in a familiar way that had your belly sinking and your skin crawling.
“The only other use I have for you wouldn’t be ideal since you don’t like being touched, cupcake.” Lloyd made a lewd gesture with his fingers and tongue to get his point across, giving a mean laugh as you hugged yourself tightly and stumbled away from him. “That’s what I thought. I have no use for you. You’re useless. So get fucking gone.”
He turned away, clearly dismissing you, his words reverberating in your head loud enough to drown out all of your panicked thoughts.
Because you were useless.
Your tears finally fell as your devastation consumed you. You would be out of your shitty apartment within weeks if you couldn’t make rent. You’d be back on the streets, needing to do whatever it took just to get by.
You shuddered with dread just thinking about it. Especially in this city.
But you had nowhere else to go. No one to turn to.
You had nothing.
You were nothing.
“GET OUT!” Lloyd’s holler made you snap back to the present moment.
You physically jumped at his raised voice, whimpering before turning on your heel to scurry out of his office, but a quiet, unfamiliar baritone made you freeze in place.
“Wait.”
Lloyd huffed. “Really, Barber? You’re undermining me in my own club?”
“Our club. And I’m not undermining you. Just because you don’t have a use for her, Hansen, doesn’t mean I don’t.”
The tiniest, weakest flare of hope flickered within you as you turned and looked at the man who spoke, not nearly as bold in your gaze as he was.
Even though he was seated, you could tell that he was tall, his posture straight and confident, his shoulders broad beneath the dark suit jacket he wore. His skin was fair and flawless, his face shadowed with a dark, meticulously kept beard that matched the floofy swoop of his brown hair.
But it was his dark blue eyes that made your own gaze linger, and widen.
Because you realized that the stranger wasn’t watching you with a lecherous look like most men you’d come into contact with. His gaze was shining with something new and unfamiliar–sympathy, and calculation.
“Take her out to the car,” he nodded, and another man you didn’t even notice until now materialized from the dark corner of the office.
He was the biggest, broadest man in the room. His hair dark and long enough to curl around his blue, denim shirt collar. He was so big, in fact, that when he stepped toward you, you whimpered again, cowering at the sheer size of him.
“He won’t hurt you,” the stranger with the pretty blue eyes promised. “Go on. We’ll speak once I’m done here.”
You swallowed hard–nervously–but you were nodding before you even realized it, your body picking up on the softness in his tone and gaze before your brain did.
It made zero sense, especially given your history, but you trusted him, instinctively.
So you turned, grateful when the man you assumed was his bodyguard didn’t touch you as he corralled you out of the office and down the back hallway of the club.
Once you were tucked away in the dark, luxurious SUV parked out back, your mind started to spiral again, all the frantic noise inside your head blaring on a loop.
What were you doing?
You didn’t even know this man.
If he was in business with Lloyd, you couldn’t imagine he was much better.
But then you remembered the softness in his voice when he spoke to you. In his gaze when he looked at you.
He saw your fear and desperation and it seemed like maybe he actually wanted to help you.
Lord knew you could use that right about now.
You were startled from your thoughts as the back door opened and the stranger appeared, climbing in beside you. You noticed how he seemed intentional in keeping some distance between you–in respecting your personal space.
It was such a far cry from Lloyd and pretty much every other man you had ever met, that you felt a lump swell in your throat, and you had to look away from his intent gaze to blink the tears from your own.
“What’s your name?” he asked gently.
You took a breath, peeking over at him as you murmured your name.
He gave you a small smile, introducing himself in return. “I’m Andy Barber, it’s a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.”
Your lips trembled into an almost hopeful smile.
“You need work?”
You nodded fervently, so much so that you made yourself dizzy as you breathed, “Yes, sir.”
“Do you have any skills or notable experience?” Andy asked.
And just like that–you wilted.
Because you didn’t. You barely had an education, and your resume was laughable–just a string of odd jobs that never lasted long, and the kind of years-long gap that would make any eyebrow raise.
The only thing you had to offer was what Lloyd alluded to back in his office.
Yourself. Your body.
But you couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t. Not again. Not even if it was your choice this time.
You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t.
Andy’s quiet voice broke through your internal spiral–your mindless mental chant–as he told you, “You know, I didn’t start out at the top. I came from nothing. But someone with means saw potential in me. They gave me a chance. So I’m willing to do the same for you.”
And there it was again, that tiny flicker of hope sparking to life in the deep recesses of your tarnished soul.
“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’m very good at reading people, and I think you’re someone capable of loyalty, and that I prize most above all. Skills can be taught, knowledge can be gleaned, but loyalty? Trust? Those are innate and of the utmost value, especially in my world.”
You looked at Andy again and couldn't help but shiver. His poise, his confidence, his direct gaze.
You weren’t quite sure who he was, but you knew that you had somehow stumbled your way into the path of someone important. Someone powerful.
Someone who maybe, if you earned his trust, if you made him proud, he would keep you safe.
And that, to you, was of the utmost value.
So you took a deep, shaky breath before whispering, “I can be loyal.” You swallowed before continuing, “And I can work real hard, no matter what you ask of me,” your voice faltered. “Except… I don’t… please, I’m not–“
Despite your fumbling, Andy seemed to understand where your mind had gone. What fear overtook you now.
You saw him reach for you–perhaps his intention was a comforting touch–but he must have remembered you didn’t like to be touched, because he pulled up short and his hand retreated, resting on his thigh instead.
“That isn’t what this is,” he said gently.
“Okay,” you squeaked, sinking beneath the weight of your relief. “Good. T-thank you.”
You peeked over at him again, feeling unsure but also a little mesmerized. Because Andy Barber was beyond handsome. In fact, he was beautiful, but his eyes… your gaze couldn’t stop returning to his and the softness that resided there.
No one had ever looked at you that way before.
Without vile or cruel intentions aimed your way. Without malice or greed. Without the promise of pain, or worse. So much worse.
“Well, this seems pretty cut and dry to me, and genuinely the most pleasant interview process I’ve ever experienced,” Andy said. “So, you’re hired.” He winked, looking delighted when that got a quiet giggle out of you.
But the sound of your amusement cut off abruptly as the car began to move, and you jolted upright, panicked.
“Relax,” Andy soothed, his fingers twitching against his thigh like he was once again resisting the urge to reach out with a comforting touch. “We’re just driving you home, and then you can come to my place tomorrow and we can discuss how you can best support me,” Andy explained. “Where do you live?”
You didn’t respond for a moment, not so much because you didn’t trust him–didn’t know him–but because you were embarrassed by the answer. But after a beat, you gave it to him anyway.
Andy didn’t wrinkle his nose in disgust or make a judgmental remark like Lloyd had when he read your address on your new hire paperwork. He just relayed the address to his bodyguard, who was driving, before sitting back in his seat.
“Would you be open to relocating?” Andy asked, clearly taking you by surprise. “If I have you assisting me daily, it makes the most sense for you to live on my property.”
“I…” you hesitated, not wanting to spoil this gift so soon after receiving it.
Especially since you had no other prospects.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you said carefully.
Andy’s eyes sparkled at your diplomatic answer. “You wouldn’t be. Most of my staff have quarters at my manor. Like Ari,” he nodded toward the beefy man in the driver’s seat. “Same with my personal chef and butler.”
“Oh,” you murmured, nervously wringing your hands together in your lap.
Because it seemed like Andy had a whole staff under his employ. Not to mention a manor.
Again, you couldn’t help but wonder who he was, whose orbit you had been drawn into.
“Can I think about it, please?” You asked, not wanting to give up all of your minimal autonomy at once.
Not wanting to make what could be a very life-changing decision before you knew Andy better.
“Of course,” he replied easily. “I can show you around tomorrow to help inform your decision. How does that sound?”
“Very generous.”
Andy shot you a small smile, and your belly swooped at the sight before you quickly looked away, your leg jiggling with nerves as Ari steered the SUV onto your street.
The vehicle eased to a stop at the curb just outside of your dingy apartment building, and you found yourself unable to look at Andy–to risk seeing the pity in his eyes.
“Here, why don’t we exchange numbers?” Andy suggested, fishing his cell phone from his inner jacket pocket.
You pulled your own dated device from your back pocket, quickly fulfilling his request before clutching your phone between your sweaty palms.
“I’ll send a driver to pick you up tomorrow at eight thirty, does that work for you?” Andy asked.
“Yes, but you don’t need to,“ you objected. “I can take the bus, or–”
“It’s a safety precaution on my end,” Andy assured you. “I don’t give out my home address to many. Not in my line of work.”
He winked to make light of something serious, and you once again found yourself wondering what–exactly–was Andy’s line of work?
What were you getting yourself into?
But you just as quickly shook that thought away, because this opportunity–Andy’s kindness–it was all you had, and it was truly a gift.
No one had ever done something like this for you before, had given you a chance, a helping hand in a moment when you needed it most.
And you wouldn’t waste it.
So you nodded, mustering a smile despite your anxiety as you told Andy, “I’ll be ready tomorrow at eight thirty.”
“Perfect,” he smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He watched as you opened the car door and slipped outside, hesitating before you turned back to him. Because a new feeling was overriding your nerves now.
Gratitude.
You felt so very thankful for this unexpected opportunity. For Andy’s empathy and belief in you.
You weren’t used to getting help or lucky breaks.
You weren’t used to anyone caring about you in any way at all.
It must have been written all over your face too, all these thoughts swirling inside of you, because Andy’s features softened as he watched you, another one of those small smiles cursing his lips.
“Go get some rest, honey, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Your belly swooped at the term of endearment, and you lingered for a moment, wishing you were good with words, that you could articulate how grateful you were, how much this meant to you. But you finally settled on a very earnest, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”
“No need to thank me. And call me ‘Andy.’”
Your insides fluttered at his request, and you nodded. “Goodnight, Andy.”
“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching your retreat.
Despite the way you hurried up the front steps and into the entryway, the SUV seemed in no rush to depart, instead idling at the curb until you were safely inside.
You scurried up the four flights of stairs to your unit in a daze, your brain trying to process everything that happened tonight. You were out of your new job at the club, but it seemed like something better could be awaiting you.
Thanks to Andy.
You were terrified to really get your hopes up, because so rarely did things go your way, but this time, weirdly, the excitement–and anticipation to see Andy again–was something you just couldn’t shake…
“Come here, honey.”
The sound of Andy’s voice brought you back to the present moment, your hazy mind surfacing from one of the few pleasant memories you had.
Blinking owlishly, you glanced up to find Andy watching you in soft amusement, his big hand held out toward you.
You slipped your hand into his, allowing Andy to pull you first to your feet, then into his lap.
His arms circled you in an instant, tugging you close as his lips pressed a kiss to your forehead. As you went pliant against him, resting your cheek on his shoulder, he murmured, “We’re going away for a long weekend.”
Your head snapped up in surprise. “We are?”
Andy smiled as he caressed your cheek. “Well, as long as you want to, but it’s why I had you clear my calendar tomorrow. I think some peace, quiet, and nature will do you good.”
You couldn’t suppress your giddy smile if you tried. “We’re going to the lake house then?”
Andy’s smile was more of a grin as he nodded, “I know it’s your favorite.”
“Thank you, Andy!” you squealed, nearly bouncing in his lap as you hugged him and pressed a kiss to his beardy cheek.
Andy’s eyes twinkled at your sweet excitement. As you went to pull away, his fingers caught your chin, staying your retreat as his eyes ignited in a way that had a surge of warmth pooling low in your belly.
Slowly, his gaze meeting yours and not shying away, Andy pulled you in for a real kiss. The kind of kiss that made it impossible to catch your breath because you could feel with each and every press of Andy’s lips against yours how much he loved you, cherished you, wanted you.
You were nearly panting once he pulled away, your eyes dazed enough to make him smile.
“You never need to thank me for taking care of you,” Andy hummed, touching his lips to your forehead. “For treating you the way you deserve.” His next kiss warmed your cheek, then he placed a final kiss on the other before pulling away at last. “Why don’t you go pack?”
“I will, in a little while, but first, can we just…” You sank against him, loosely clinging to him as you nuzzled your cheek against his chest. “Stay like this for a little while?”
“We can stay this way for as long as you want,” Andy promised, his big hand touching your back before settling into a slow, soothing rhythm–up and down, up and down–making you go even more pliant against him.
Humming your content, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, truly feeling your exhaustion for the first time all day.
But you felt something else alongside it, something that–once upon a time, but not so long ago–you never would have thought you would ever feel…
As Andy’s soft, musky scent filled your nose, as his warm, reassuring touch smoothed up and down your back, as you tucked your face against the crook of his neck and breathed in as deep, you felt truly and unequivocally safe.
🥹 You guysss. I love them SO hard. I would be so beyond grateful and delighted if you took a moment to drop me a comment or reblog with your thoughts. Pretty please! With a naked Andy and Ari on top?! 😘
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Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, so please don’t do that. It only takes a moment to show a little love. Thank you 🙏🏻
I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘
Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️
WARNING: Now, my blog is 18+ but for a warning, this entire collection is about consuming cannabis and fucking. Just so ya know. If that's not your bread and butter (or if you are a minor) please do not read. I am also not super knowledgeable on the subject... this is just my brain + google <3
The WIP poll went out and Ari won the first story... kicking off the new year correctly 😌 if you want to join my taglist drop me a dm!
Weed Dividers by @/kodaswrld here | MDNI/ Banners by @/saradika-graphics
Story banners for each are by me, sourced on Pinterest, Google and Canva and made in Canva
Navigation
Pot ☆Ari Levinson x f!reader ☆ 3.9k
Summary: You go to your friend's dealer and get the deal of a lifetime.
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Space Cakes ☆Jake Jensen x f!curvy!reader ☆ 4.8k
Summary: After eating two brownies, Jake goes on a trip with you by his side.
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Grass ☆ roommate!Curtis Everett x f!reader
Summary: Your roomie convinces you to take a hit, leading to some fun in the kitchen.
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Hash ('Stache) ☆ Lloyd Hansen x f!reader
Summary: You ate an edible without knowing what it was and Lloyd teases your for it.
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When I Get Low, I Get High -☆ Steve Rogers x F!reader
Summary: Captain America catches you smoking on the roof of the compound.
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Cigarettes & Feelings -☆Bucky x f!reader
Summary: You and Bucky can't ignore the effect you have on eachother and all it takes is one walk home and a joint to change everything for the better.
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High Life ☆ Fwb!Ransom Drysdale x f!reader
Summary: Another meet up with Ransom starts off normal and almost finishes as such until he says something you can't unhear.
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Munchies ☆ Colin Shea x f!reader
Summary:
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Mary Jane ☆ Bob Reynolds x f!reader ~2.5k
Summary:
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Wacky Tobacky ☆ Steve Rogers x f!reader x Bucky / Stucky x reader
Summary: You're usually a quiet person but after doing a blunt rotation with two super soldiers on a dare, they get more than they bargained for.
Word count: 2.4k
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Reefer ☆ Jack O'malley x f!reader
Summary: Jack O'Malley owes you money and then some. This story is about the "then some."
Banner by me, made in Canva w/ Curtis' pic sourced on Pinterest. Dividers by @/kodaswrld and MDNI/Reblog Banners by @/saradika-graphics
WARNING: This fic not only contains smut but also consumption/use of marujuana. If that's not your bread and butter (or if you are a minor) please do not read.
Additional tags/warnings: roommates to lovers (back with this again ik), blowback, use of a bong, inexperienced reader (with the bong lmao), making out, p-in-v (wrap it), creampie, inebriated fucking/fucking while high, sex while standing, standing carry, fucking in the kitchen, mutual masterbation, post-sex cuddles, petnames (sweetheart, bunny)
Not beta'd and I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.
Summary: Your roomie convinces you to take a hit, leading to some fun in the kitchen.
Word count: ~3k (on mobile sorry)
A/N: sorry it took so long! I had ideas for two other fics while doing this one but there's going to (hopefully) be a double whammy of the Green Collection this weekend 👀
Green Collection | Curtis Everett Masterlist | Navigation
Coming home from a long day at work was nothing short of bliss, especially knowing your roommate was home. Curtis was a perfect roommate, an all-round great guy too, which was why you enjoyed spending time with him when you could.
Curtis worked odd hours, which meant that on your days off he could either be sleeping or at work, however, you both had a system that benefitted you both; he cleaned, you cooked and prepped lunches, both of you would take turns to do laundry. This meant that you didn't have to worry about anything pile up of dishes and Curtis didn't have to eat noodles five days a week and take out on weekends.
The times that your days off synched up, you'd usually do something together. Be it shopping, or a movie, it didn't matter. The only thing you could possibly think of that would make Curtis a bad roommate was the fact he smoked grass on his days off.
He was kind enough to light a candle or to smoke in his room if you were home, and despite the smoky smell, you didn't mind. He had a high-stress job so it was nice to see him relax at least once a week. You couldn't blame him for wanting to take the edge off.
On your way home this particular day, one of your best friends called you up, asking for you to join them for cocktails at a bar across town.
"Can't," you say, fishing in your bag for your keys. "Curtis is off and we've already agreed to watch a movie."
You can hear the groan on the other end of the line.
"You mean your boyfriend?" Your best friend sneers.
"He's not my-" You begin defensively before backing down. "We made plans last week. I can't just ditch him."
"If he's not your boyfriend, you can."
You want to snap at her that you can't; you made a commitment to Curtis first... but part of you knows she's got a point. Even it is a miniscule point. Curtis was a great roomie. Reliable. Fun to be around.... hot.
You shake your head as you pull your keys out. "I can't."
"Alright," she chuckles. "Have fun with your hot roommate. And tell me if anything juicy finally happens."
You frown at your phone as the line goes dead, cheeks warming as you open the door to the apartment. Curtis is leaning against the kitchen counter, grinder in hand, bong already set up beside him.
"Hey," He greets with a short nod.
"Hey." You reply, feeling your chest tighten. He's in his cosy clothes but, sweet mother almighty, he looks delectable. Baggy, dark wash wash jeans that hang low on his hips, tight white t-shirt with a light oversized grey patterned hoodie with a deep v-neck over it and, of course, his signature black beanie. You wished he didn't look so hot; it would give your best friend less ammunition saying he was the reason for your lack of a boyfriend.
"Leftovers were good." Curtis says watching you unload your bag and place your dirty tupperware in the sink. "Thanks."
You can hear the grinding of metal on metal as Curtis twists his grinder.
"It's no problem." You grin, turning on the sink tap and unloading an ungodly amount of dish soap into the bowl. "You need to stop thanking me for it though, Curt. I've been doing it for months."
"Yeah, I know." He grins back at you and you have to steady yourself against the sink so your legs don't give out. "But I want you to know I'm always grateful for it."
Stomach full of butterflies you turn back to the sink, dipping your hands into the hot suds and wishing whatever God was listening to throw you a boon. The flick of a lighter and the bubbling of the bong snap you from your explicit thoughts and you're lucky enough to catch Curtis blowing smoke rings before the smoke disperses.
Fuck me.
You don't know if it's a curse or a wish at this point. Curtis catches your gaze and offers you the bong, large hand over the mouth of it trapping white smoke in the chamber. You shake your head and hold up a soapy hand.
"No thanks."
"Just one drag. Try it." He wiggles the bong at you with a sweet, begging expression. "Please?"
Pursing your lips you consider your options. You'd never done it before, so the opportunity to try it in a safe environment with a 'professional' was a good start. On the other hand, you didn't know how weed would affect you. Would you be a drooling mess? Would you not remember a thing? Would you, as your best friend had described, be so fried out of you mind you would just lie on the sofa and have a minor existential crisis?
You can't lie and say you hadn't been tempted before now but Curtis made it look so easy. The thought of embarrassing yourself in front of him nagged at your brain but the want of the experience under your belt won out. You'd be safe with Curtis. Existential crisis and drooling be dammed.
"Fuck it. Fine." You sigh, taking the bong from him and holding it awkwardly; scared to drop it and unsure how to hold it correctly.
"Hold the top and the base." Curtis instructs with a smirk, watching you frown worriedly as you changed your grip. There's something phallic in the entire procedure that makes your cheeks heat and you feel entirely stupid for thinking it.
"Put your lips on it." Curtis' voice sounds low and breathy, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to steel your thoughts.
You move to do as he instructed but you're obscured by a stray piece of hair that won't move out of your way no matter how much you shake your head. Curtis chuckles and you can feel warm fingers brush along your forehead, removing the stubborn piece of hair, and tucking it behind your ear. His eyes meet yours as you peek up through your lashes, bottom lip pouting against the lip of the bong. The kitchen suddenly feels a lot hotter and you don't know if Curtis can feel it too.
"Try again." He says quietly, trailing his fingers through your hair as he pulls his hand away. You hadn't even noticed his fingers lingering against your skin but now that they were gone, you wanted them back.
Placing your lips into the mouth of the bong, holding it tight, you meet Curtis' eyes expectantly. Curtis' lighter flickers to life as he burns the ground weed on the other side and after a few seconds, instructs you to suck in as much air as you can.
You try, you really do, watching the smoke twist in the chamber and burn your lungs as you take the deepest breath you've possibly ever taken.
But it still ends with you coughing and sputtering.
"You need to take it into your lungs." He says, patting your back softly. "You don't have to do it quickly. Just like taking deep breaths."
You nod your head as he flicks his lighter again, waiting for your signal (another nod) to light it again.
"Now, inhale."
You breathe in and the bong bubbles angrily, putrid smoke invades your lungs and makes your mouth drier than a desert. Your lips break away from the bong and you cough hard, your lungs screaming at you as you try to breathe. You try to suck in as much air as possible, feeling lightheaded as you continue in your coughing fit, letting Curtis remove the bong from your grasp. Once your breathing is finally steady, Curtis is already blowing another smoke ring smirking over at you.
"You did alright for your first time." He chuckles.
"Show off." You whisper hoarsely, giving him a watery eyed glare.
Curtis clicks his tongue dismissively and lifts your chin gently with one hand, thumbing tears from your cheeks. His thumb lingers a moment, brushing the softness of your skin before he moves his hand away to light the bong for another hit.
"You'll get better with time." He says nonchalantly, sucking in smoke. You're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Maybe there was a God offering you a boon.
"I don't wanna do that again," you grumble, your voice still raspy. Curtis exhales slowly, no smoke ring this time but he looks over at you curiously, as if contemplating asking you something.
"What?"
"I could always give you secondhand smoke?" Curtis suggests, inhaling the smoke again. When he breathes out, he pushes the smoke towards you, but you srunch your face at the smell. Curtis laughs at your cute expression.
"You've got to suck in the smoke."
"But it smells gross." You whine. "Is there another way we could try?"
"Actually..." Curtis' eyebrows raise as an idea forms and he beckons you closer. You shuffle forward, an inch or so between you.
Curtis lights up the bong again, and holds the smoke but before releasing it, he takes your chin in his hands delicately and kisses you. You gasp in surprise and Curtis takes the opportunity to blow the smoke into your mouth; you cough and sputter less this time but your lips tingle from the kiss. Curtis watches you closely, waiting for your reaction.
Your mind draws a blank; fuzziness setting in and you don't know if it's him or the contact high but your smiling up at him regardless.
"Could we keep doing that?"
Curtis breaks into a radiant grin. "Yeah. Of course."
The kisses start gentle and tender; sweet pecks that make your body feel tingly and light. It works well; after every kiss you inhale the smoke he blows into your mouth, slowly getting used to the feeling of his lips against yours and having him so close.
Then one kiss lingers for longer than a moment.
You're both a little breathless, only millimetres apart when you break for air, and it takes one millisecond more for your eyes to meet before the floodgates open. Curtis' lips crash into yours, and you welcome them, his arms wrapping around you in a crushing embrace. Your hands rip his beanie from his head and toss it somewhere on the floor, raking your hands through the short, soft buzzcut. Curtis rumbles a chuckle but doesn't stop kissing you.
There's a harsh clink as Curtis sets down his bong and his hands begin to freely wander up and down your sides. Mimicking his actions, you allow your hands to feel along his chest and collarbone. It's harder than you expect; thinking there'd be a slight softness under all his jumpers, not that you care either way. Your hands slip under the layers of his jumper; mapping out every defined muscle your fingers trailed moments before. Muscles twitch under your touch and Curtis sucks in a sharp breath, hands squeezing at your hips.
"This okay?" You ask quietly, gently running your palms downwards against his hot skin, stopping above his belt. Your gaze flickers to his, waiting for confirmation to continue. Which it does - in the form of a low groan as he cranes his neck to kiss you quickly.
"It's more than okay."
Your head's already starting to feel heavy but you can't tell if it's because your being kissed senseless or if the smoke has finally hit you. A large hand knots in your hair, the other making quick work of unbuttoning your jeans, a thick finger dipping under the fabric of your panties to rub tight circles against your clit. You gasp in surprise, your own hands fumbling with his belt as you try to concentrate, but that's all that Curtis needs to push his tongue further into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Curtis' tongue is hot and tastes like the smoke that made you gag not five minutes ago but you don't care; taking a hit of him is better than any bong.
"Already wet for me, huh?" He murmurs against your lips, index finger swirling your clit with your own slick. A moan hitches in your throat making him chuckle, peppering more kisses along your cheek. You can feel your pussy squeeze around nothing, a familiar sensation building between your legs.
His kisses are sloppy but no less passionate. Curtis chases your mouth with his at every pathetic whimper you make in an attempt to keep yourself quiet. You, on the other hand, are a breathless mess as you manage to undo his belt and jeans. Palming over his cock teasingly gets you a firm press against your clit that makes your thighs squeeze around his fingers.
"Don't tease, bunny." Curtis murmurs, nipping along your jawline, making you shiver. "That's not fair."
"Eager?" You tease softly but Curtis pulls back slightly, looking down at you. His pressure and swirling against your clit pause and you grind your hips slowly for some relief.
"Maybe. Is... Is that a problem?"
"You know damn well it's not." You huff impatiently.
Curtis' nostrils flare and he curses, tugging his hand from your jeans and removing his jumper and white tee in one movement, discarding them to the floor before moving to shove his jeans down. You quickly follow suit, adding your shirt to the pile as you wiggle out of your jeans. You don't have time to react when Curtis' mouth finds yours again, more feverent and desperate than before. His fingers tug your panties down your legs and you shyly step out of them, allowing his fingers to slip between your folds and caress your now-aching clit.
You inhale sharply when his thumb grazes your clit, two thick fingers teasing and your cunt's entrance. Curtis' other hand grips the back of your neck, holding you steady when your legs start to tremble and you mewl his name so breathlessly.
Your hands tug his boxers freeing his cock; eager to touch him - finally - and eager to please him. One hand pumps in rhythm to his stroking fingers, the other gently cupping at his heavy balls while your own thighs clench like a vice around Curtis' fingers; struggling to stay standing at the attention he's giving your clit.
"Look at me," He says firmly, voice strained, blue eyes locking with yours. "Look at me when you cum."
"Fuck fuck fuck." Each curse becomes higher in pitch before you let out an airy sigh as your first orgasm ripples through your body. Your eyelids are heavy but you keep your eyes fixed on Curtis' face, a smirk of satisfaction on his swollen lips. His thumb swipes your clit slowly as your body comes back from the orgasm-high. You feel extra elated. Your body feels like every nerve is alert but your muscles are entirely relaxed.
There's a kiss to your forehead that leaves tingling ripples across your skin. Then another to your cheek. Then to your neck...
Your skin prickles to gooseflesh, breath hitching again, dragging your thumb over the tip of Curtis' cock to coat it in his own precum. Curtis' moan is so close to your ear and it's lewd. You'd never have guessed he'd be loud during sex. Curling your head into his neck, you nip along the prominent vein, illiciting more and more filthy noises from Curtis until he slips two fingers into your dripping pussy.
"Oh shit," you whine as your walls clench around his fingers. The stretch isn't painful by any means, but the fullness as his fingers move and curl is euphoric. But any further moans are smothered by his mouth on yours, his fingers spreading you open easily to explore your pussy.
"Curtis," You pant when you're finally granted a gasp for air, trying to focus on pumping his cock and holding off your orgasm. "Bedroom?"
"No." Curtis growls. "'M too impatient. Here will do."
Before you can ask him what he means, he squats down and wraps his muscular arms under your knees. He peeks up at you, placing a gentle kiss to your stomach that makes you shiver and your heart thud violently.
"Hold on to me, sweetheart."
That's the only warning you get before your feet leave the ground. With a yelp, you fling your arms around his neck, holding on until Curtis is back at full height and supporting you in his arms like it's no big deal. You can feel another rush of arousal as you watch the veins in his arms twitch under the strain and the brush of his leaking cock against the backs of your thighs.
Your knees are bent, legs dangling over Curtis' thick arms helplessly, with his large hands groping your ass as he repositions you over his cock. You've never been fucked like this before and you know damn well that gravity is about to work wonders with skewering you onto Curtis' cock and let out a shaky sigh of contentment.
"You ready bunny?" Curtis asks, the fat head of his cock pushing against your dripping cunt ever so slightly. "Because once I start fucking you, I'm not stopping."
"Yes," you nod, biting at your lips to contain a whorish moan. "Fuck, Curtis, please."
Curtis lowers you onto his cock slowly, watching your lips part is ecstacy as his cock slides into your cunt with welcomed ease. Your moans of need are sweet and sultry as he splits you open in the middle of your shared kitchen, toes curling as gravity helps his twitching cock nestle deep inside you.
Once buried to the hilt, Curtis sighs in delight, your walls fluttering around his cock like he'd always imagined. His large hands grope at the flesh of your ass, kneading the muscles as he flashes you a panted grin. You shift in his grip with a shy smile and squeeze his hips with your legs.
"You feel like heaven, bunny." Curtis murmurs, canting his hips upwards into you. Your ass bounces against his thighs, your arms straining as you try to hold onto his neck. Your maneuvered quickly in his grip, your body moving upwards so you can pretzel your arms behind his neck, fingernails clawing at his shoulders, his cock never leaving the warmth of your cunt. Once anchored to him properly, Curtis begins to cant his hips frantically, fucking you into oblivion while you whimper and moan as you cling to him.
"Look at me, sweetheart." Curtis pants and through your fucked-out haze you manage it. There's the satisfied smirk again, his eyes red-rimmed and blown wide but sparkling nonetheless. Your lips are wet and swollen from the kissing, from biting back moans, and Curtis loves to see it. To be the cause of it.
Wet slaps echo against the kitchen walls and your starting to lose control, moaning his name louder, your pussy constricting tighter and tighter, splashing your delicious cum over his legs, balls and cock.
"You look so good getting pounded like this." He muses, watching you hiccup another moan. His eyes trail to your tits, watching them bounce in time to thrusts, loving how you milk his cock so eagerly. He wished you'd smoked sooner or at least wished he'd made a move sooner, had he known that you'd be just as eager for him as he was for you. His eyes flit back to your face. Every part of your face is contorted in pleasure; eyes red, glazed and half-lidded, lips slightly parted and your eyebrows that in-between of surprise-frown as you try to withhold coming again.
"C-Curtis - I - I'm-" you breathing is heavy, you can't even form a thought as he bounces you on his cock and it makes Curtis' balls tighten.
"So am I bunny." He grunts out quickly, fucking your tight pussy harder. More slapping sounds coupled with your half-scream of pleasure echo through the apartment. "You just hold tight okay? Don't think of anything else but this cock."
You hum and nod - barely - you're already too lost to pleasure to even care. Curtis curses when your nails dig into his shoulders. He can feel your cunt convulse desperately as your orgasm begins to rip through you and you shout his name almost in a panic.
"I got you," He coos, his thrusts slowing only slightly as he tries in vain to postpone his release for a few moments longer. Soaking his cock again sends him over the edge and he cums hard when you softly whisper his name repeatedly as you go limp in his grip. His cum is warm and sticky as it slowly drips from your pussy but you're too busy drowning in post-orgasmic bliss to care.
Your head rests against Curtis' shoulder as you catch your breath, the kitchen now quiet apart from your breathing. Your legs wobble when Curtis sets you down gently, wrapping those strong arms around your waist once more, fending off the chill of the kitchen for a few moments longer and placing tender kisses to your neck and shoulders. The silence is comfortable and you push away thoughts that could potentially ruin your night; what did this mean for you both? Was it a one time thing? Did you want it to be a one time thing?
"You were..." Curtis begins but trails as his head buries itself into your neck. "Fuck, that was amazing."
"Speak for yourself." You breathe out, arms still wrapped around his neck as you lean into him, desperate to stay as close as possible before reality kicked in.
You liked Curtis. You knew Curtis. And clearly, your little crush wasn't one-sided otherwise you wouldn't be standing in the kitchen naked right now. However, from the depths of your mind, slow worries began to rear their ugly heads; telling you a relationship with Curtis could still blow up in your face, especially since you already lived together. That seemed like speed-running the dating process just a tad.
Curtis' snort startles you from your thoughts and you glare up at him.
"You're thinking too loud, bunny." He smirks and then, as if it were second nature, lifts his head to capture your lips in a quick peck.
You'd only just regained your breath and it had been stolen all over again. You lean into him more, letting the kiss linger like the one that had kick-start this whole thing. His lips are warm now, not searing like they had been, and you're drawn into him, chasing his lips as he retreats his head.
"Sleep in my bed tonight." He murmurs, giving you a squeeze. His eyes twinkle in the light and the faint smirk he still wears makes your pussy throb all over again. "I'd like to wake up next to you at least once before we decide on what to do next."
"If my legs work." You joke half heartedly, your heart fluttering wildly against your ribs. You're not happy at the squeak that escapes you as Curtis lifts you easily again, half over his shoulder as he pads to his room before throwing you onto the bed. You bounce along the mattress with a laugh, wrapping yourself around Curtis when he crawls over you to pepper kisses over your face again. His eyes are still glassy, but there's a sweet look that sends shivers of desire throughout your body.
"I was doing all the heavy lifting," Curtis teases into the crease of your neck. "My legs are all achy."
"Aw, want me to kiss 'em better?" You tease back, squealing when he rolls you on top of him, gasping when you feel his cock twitch between your thighs.
"Nope. I want to watch you do all the work this time, bunny." Curtis grins up at you with a squeeze of your hips.
Despite your brain swirling lazily with questions, your high brain was far more interested in round two.
At least you'd have some very juicy updates for your best friend tomorrow after all.
Part of the Green collection & winner of this WIP poll
Ask and ye shall recieve! Buckle up buttercups, this is my first fic of 2025.
Banner by me, made in Canva w/ Ari's pic sourced on Pinterest (very basic ik). Dividers by @/kodaswrld here
MDNI/Reblog Banners by @/saradika-graphics
Pairing: Ari Levinson x f!reader
WARNING: This fic not only contains smut but also consumption/use of marujuana. If that's not your bread and butter (or if you are a minor) please do not read. I am also not super knowledgeable on the subject... this is just my brain + google <3
Tags/warnings: SMUT, consumption/use of marujuana, p in v (wrap 👏 it 👏 up 👏), corruption kink, Innocence kink (if you squint) slight age gap (reader in their 20s Ari his 30s), praise (good girl), petnames (pretty girl, sweetheart, baby girl, baby, honey), reverse cow girl, sofa sex, vaginal fingering, teasing, soft!dom Ari, cum play, creampie, multiple orgasm
Not beta'd and I don't give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, copied or put through AI!
Summary: You go to your friend's dealer and get the deal of a lifetime.
Word count: ~3.9k
A/N: Now that we're through all those warnings; I can now formerly introduce to you the Green Collection. My first idea was actually for Jake and from there it spiralled but the majority voted Ari instead ☺️ I don't know if I should put it to a vote again or just surprise you with whose next? this has been in my brain all week and I'm on holiday Sunday (woohoo)
Oh and if you haven't seen, I've got a taglist going - just drop me a dm if you're interested! - x
Navigation | Green Collection | Ari Masterlist | Next
No names.
At least, no surnames.
That was apparently a rule of thumb when dealing with dealers. Not like you were stood outside his house (very awkwardly) or anything. Your friend gave you a thumbs up from the safety of his car.
That was the other rule of thumb; never go alone.
You grimaced at him and wiped your sweaty palms against the rough of your jeans, beginning to slowly regret ever mentioning that you wanted to try pot. Said friend in the car said they knew a guy who knew a guy who could help you out, so long as you went with them to get their pick up.
Not much could be said about Ari, other than he was a dealer. You'd asked but you'd been met with a shrug and a "he's a dealer. I get my stuff and bolt."
With your lips pursed into a thin line, you gaze up at the house. It looks inconspicuous next to the others. It's big and homey-looking with a well-kept lawn and a nice (but not expensive) car in the drive. You wonder if dealing is all he does, or maybe this is a friend's house, or perhaps it is his house but dealing is just the side gig. When the door opens you're still expecting a twenty-something year old with red rimmed eyes and a beanie opening the door, or a super scary guy decked out in tattoos. Joke's on you for making assumptions like that.
Ari is tall and muscular, taking up a good ninety-percent of the doorway with his broad shoulders. Long, brown hair fell in waves around his neck and, much like the lawn, his matching beard was thick but well-maintained and the loose light blue cotton shirt he wore complimented his eyes beautifully. You supposed he could look scary if he was angry and frowning, however, with his amused grin as he looked down at you he just looked like an over-sized teddy bear. But maybe that was the point.
"Can I help you?" He asks casually, his eyes scanning you.
"Um, I'm looking for Ari?" You can feel yourself shrink a little under his gaze, he was intimidating regardless of being teddy-bear like or not.
"That'd be me." He confirms. His blue eyes meet yours, challenging you to ask him what you're so nervous to ask.
"C-can I come in?" You stammer out quietly.
"Why?" He presses, making you squirm on the spot.
"Ah, I, erm..." you begin to panic. You can't say drugs - you'd sound stupid and what if he was secretly a cop?
Ari snorts and you look up at him with saucers for eyes. He's grinning, no laughing, at you. Your cheeks begin to burn as you pout at your feet. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"
"Very much so." He moves out of your way, letting you step through the door. "Come on in."
"Not what you were expecting?" He asks, leading you through to the kitchen where the curtains are drawn and there's multiple small bags with what looks like dried herbs inside them.
"N-no." You answer honestly. Your eyes fix onto a drawing on the fridge; a colourful child's drawing where the "people" are mostly vague shapes before looking back at the table quickly.
"At least you're honest." Ari chuckles. "This is your first pick up, I can tell. It's alright, I won't bite."
You wring your hands and wipe them onto your jeans. "Sorry."
Ari snorts again has collects two of the bigger bags and hands them over to you, watching as your carefully hide them into your purse. "Don't apologise. Do you even smoke? Or is Gabriel making you run errands for him?"
You look sheepishly at him; from what Gabriel had said, you weren't expecting this much conversation.
"I haven't tried it before and want to. Gabriel said he'd bring me when he came next."
Ari nods pulling an impressed expression, almost surprised by your naïve honesty. He picks up a small rectangular pack from the table
"Want me to show you how to roll?" He wiggles a pack between his fingers and looks at you expecting an answer.
"Um..." You shift on your feet, feeling a little out of your depth. It would be helpful to know but why would he be offering? Gabriel said it should be in and out and you can already feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket. Then again, Ari seemed nice and you couldn't deny that there was something enticing about the way he seemed to be interested in you. "Sure."
"Right answer." He winks at you and you can feel heat rush to your cheeks. "Hold out your hands."
He pulls out a paper from the pack. It's thin and almost transparent and he places it gently between your fingers so that you hold it in a v-shape, his fingers brushing against yours. He picks up an additional bag sprinkling the herby substance down the centre of the v and your nose crinkles at the smell. It's strong, too much like BO for your liking.
"Awe," Ari coos playfully at you. "It's alright, you'll get used to it."
You puff your pink cheeks in a half-pout. There's something oddly alluring to the fact he likes to try and catch you off guard, teasing and toying with you, and it annoys you that it's working for you.
With his fingers over yours he moves the edges of the paper up and down, before rolling it on itself leaving one edge sticking upwards. He moves the paper towards your lips with a curious look.
"Stick your tongue out." He murmurs and you obey without hesitation. Ari's eyebrows shoot upwards and he smirks. "Good girl."
Heat and shame wash over you as he glides the paper over your tongue and smooths the final edge flat. He inspects your handiwork before handing the blunt to you upright.
"Not bad. Consider this one on the house," He says and before you can take it he moves it out of your reach. "On one condition."
You blink at him. "Um. Okay."
"Next time Gabriel wants his pot, I want you to pick up for him again." Ari's lips tug upwards at the corners, flashing you a flirtatious smirk that makes you feel giddy.
"Sure thing." You nod clearing your throat as he walks you back to the front door. "I-It was nice to meet you."
Ari's eyes sparkle down at you as he opens the door, leaning in the doorway again as you exit. "You too. See you round, sweetheart."
You give him a nervous smile goodbye as you skitter back to Gabriel's car, feeling Ari's eyes follow you the entire way down the drive.
You see Ari again about two weeks later, when picking up Gabriel's next order as promised. The kitchen looks the same as you'd left it, the only addition a blunt that's gently billowing smoke left in an ash tray.
"Been practising?" Ari asks, taking a seat at the table.
"I - yeah!" You get a little too excited and clear your throat adding a quieter "Yeah."
Ari seems happy to see you so enthusiastic and drags the chair next to him out from under the table, patting the wooden seat. "Take a seat and show me."
You're aware of how close you are to Ari when your knee brushes against his and you fight to stay calm. He hands you the papers and watches closely as you pepper in the weed between the paper folded in your small hands; so careful not to spill a single stem. Then you roll tentatively, like he'd shown you before, peeking up at him as your tongue drags along one edge of the paper. The chair creaks as Ari's hand tightens it's grip and you hear his breathing stop for just a second. For a moment, you think you've done it wrong as you seal the blunt over but Ari breaks out into a grin, releasing the back of your chair and letting his hands slap against his thighs.
"You've learnt quickly sweetheart." He sighs, picking up his discarded blunt and taking a quick drag.
"Can I keep this one too?" You ask curiously, admiring you're work as Ari begins to sort through the stems on the table in front of him. His blunt hangs out of the corner of his mouth and his eye brows raise in your direction. The term smoking hot was never more accurate.
"What are you gonna give me for it?"
It's a loaded question and you both know it. Heat grows between your legs and you shift in your seat next to him.
"What... do you want?"
"Ah. Ah. I asked first." He tuts, winking at you. You shift your legs again.
"W-well." You clear your throat, feeling hot all over. "I don't think I'm smoking my joints right - I'm not getting the feelings that Gabi describes."
You peek up at him, feeling stupidly bashful and naïve for even thinking of asking him this, but the rush of being around him is too addictive. Ari's eyes don't leave yours, patiently waiting for you to continue.
"So I was wondering if you'd show me how?" You ask with soft pleading eyes, adding a hasty; "Please?"
"You wanna rent me?" Ari chuckles, looking over at you as he puffs out a cloud of smoke. "Whore me out?"
You fight a blush even though you don't find the idea unappealing. "N-not what I meant."
"Tell you what, since you asked so nicely," he sighs, running a large hand through his hair. "I'll take you up on that if-"
He pauses, setting his wrist down on the table with the blunt still smoking between his fingers, turning to face you fully. "You kiss me."
Now your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, lips parting slightly as if you can't believe your ears or your luck.
"O-Okay." You wet your lips nervously, leaning closer to his face. Your eyes drop to his lips for a brief moment before you push forward, colliding your lips against his. Beard scruff brushes your cheeks and your lips tingle and soon enough there's a large, warm palm on your neck that eases you closer against his body. You relax enough to open your lips wider, letting Ari run his tongue over your lips before he slips into your mouth. He tastes like smoke and temptation and you hum happily into his mouth, letting your lips move against his.
Your hands find perch on the thigh closest to you as you lean into the kiss, the tough muscle beneath your palms flexing under the material of his jeans. Ari's palm cups your cheek, his thumb brushing the faint curve tenderly as he kisses you, sending your brain and pussy feral. By the time you remember to breathe again, you're already light headed.
"It's yours." Ari's voice is thick and he takes another drag. He blows out the smoke long and slow, his blue eyes peeking at you and how you're watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to do something more to you. "I'll show you how to smoke next time and make sure you have the high of a lifetime."
"Thanks." You puff, leaning back and removing your hands from his leg.
"No more waiting on Gabriel either - I'll give you my number." With the blunt hanging from his lips Ari holds out a palm for your phone which you willingly give, you stomach swooping with excitement. "I'll text you when I'm free."
You can't contain the small smile that graces your swollen lips. This whole game of coy cat-and-mouse had you ready to jump his bones from the moment you met and the longer it continued the more you were struggling to keep cool.
You were so glad Gabriel had such a hot dealer to introduce you to.
The next time you see Ari is the following week.
You didn't want to seem too desperate texting him too soon but you couldn't stop thinking about your brief, but seemingly eons long, make out session. Luckily, Ari texted you first after three days inviting you over whenever you wanted for your smoking lesson, but due to work commitments, you had to postpone until the Friday.
Knowing you probably wouldn't just be smoking, you opted to wear some light make up and your lucky thong; paired only with a tank top and a short skirt. If the last two visits were anything to go by, you weren't sure how long your outfit would stay on.
The Uber to Ari's was silent, your head already spinning and you gripped the handles of your back pack filled to the brim with snacks. You hadn't wanted to come empty handed when he was still technically doing you a favour.
Even if he was going to fuck your brains out regardless.
You were less awkward now as you stood outside Ari's door and far more nervous. The cool air kissed your legs and your pussy fluttered with each passing thought of Ari's wandering lips and hands and if he'd tease you in more ways than one tonight or purposefully make you wait - or beg - for him to ruin you.
When Ari finally opens the door, he almost does a double take. His eyes are glued to the hem of your skirt, showing off the tops of your thighs. You can't complain, your eyes are glued to his body too; his tight white t-shirt that wraps around each muscle and his grey sweatpants that have a definite outline of his cock.
You swallow your drool and clear your throat. Ari blinks back to life and grins at you.
"You look good," he says stepping aside to let you through. You edge past him and peek up to smile coyly.
"Thanks."
"I've set up on the sofa. You want anything to drink?" Ari asks, closing the door and locking it behind him, following you through to the living room. "You can drop your stuff wherever."
"Um, no. I'm good, thanks." You drop your bag at your feet. You're back to standing awkwardly again, playing with the hem of your skirt, trying to think of how to start.
Ari walks past you to his sofa and throws himself back into a relaxed position, his eyes never leaving yours; his long legs spread open wide. As he'd said, there's a lighter, some papers, an ashtray and a small bag of pre-ground pot lined up next to him.
Ready for you.
"Alright then, let's get started." He says voice low, patting one of his thighs. "C'mere pretty girl. Show me what you've learned."
You inch towards him, letting his hands find your hips and guide you backwards onto his lap. His hands are warm as they run over your skirt, nudging your legs to straddle over his knees, spreading you open to the living room before you. You gasp quietly, shifting against his large, hard cock against your ass as Ari pulls you backwards, pressing your back into his firm chest. Your heart beats so fast it's almost non-existent; you'd wanted to be ruined and it looked like Ari had been on the same wavelength too. You can feel your pussy gush with need as you try to keep your breathing steady when the small baggy and papers are waved in front of your face.
"Roll us a joint, baby." Ari purrs, his breath fanning against your neck, making you shiver. Blushing, you take the weed and papers, balancing them precariously in your lap as you make up the joint and letting Ari's hands run up and down the expanse of your thighs with ghost-like touches.
"You're so good at that now." He praises, his chin digs a little into your shoulder as he watches you roll the joint. "Such a fast learner."
"Mm." You hum, jumping when his fingers dip under your hem and trace patterns against your inner thigh. Your clit throbs as Ari chuckles, his fingers inching higher but stopping before they're right where you want them to be. "Had a good teacher."
"Stop rolling." Ari commands gently, and you turn to look at him ready to stick your tongue out.
"Ah-ah." Ari shakes his head with a smirk. "I'm not gonna seal it with that. Not when I have you sitting in my lap like this."
Before you can ask what he means, his fingers dip under the material of your thong and run the length of your already-silky folds making you stiffen and bite down onto your lips to keep a pornographic moan from spilling out. Your walls pulse as Ari's nimble fingers work at your clit gathering more of your arousal before removing them entirely, leaving you to whimper pathetically at the loss.
He runs his wet fingers along the bare edge of the joint before cleaning them up with swift licks of his tongue.
"That's the good stuff," he rumbles. "Seal it over."
You do as he says, your brain clouding with lust as his other hand squeezes your thigh like a brand.
"Put it in my mouth, honey." Ari parts his lips for you to gently place the joint between his lips. The lighter flickers to life with one firm stroke from Ari's thumb and he raises it to the end of the joint, taking two quick inhales until the embers glow before tossing the lighter aside again.
You watch closely as he takes a long drag, moving the joint between his fingers as he swallows the smoke and then blows out two smoke rings. You squint at the sting of the smoke but can still make out Ari's smirk.
"Tastes fuckin' good." He teases, making your cheeks go more red. "Go on, take a hit."
He holds the blunt to your lips and you tentatively take a drag, coughing a little as you try to mimic him swallowing the smoke. Ari snorts at your attempt and kisses your nose, making your heart flutter incessantly.
"Good but you can do better." He holds the blunt steady for you. "I want you to take some long drags while I fuck your sweet little pussy okay? Long drags - and hold that smoke for five seconds each time."
You gasp at his words and nod firmly, taking the blunt end between your lips as Ari reaches under you to pull his cock free of his sweats. You can feel the a delicious squeeze around nothing as Ari runs the tip of his cock over the flimsy material of your thong before yanking it to the side. His cock is as big as you'd seen through his sweats, but there's a scalding heat to it as he taps the head against your clit, making you almost whine out your exhale of smoke one two seconds too early.
"Now, to me." He leans over your shoulder, lips parted and you immediately let him him take a drag of the joint. He shifts you in his lap, sighing out his smoke as he slides his cock into you, impaling you onto him. His hands hold your hips in place as he leans back into the pliant leather, groaning loudly as your walls clench around him to accommodate to his size.
"Shit, baby girl," he huffs. "You're fuckin' perfect."
You puff out what little smoke you managed to breathe in, moaning loudly instead as Ari bounces you on his cock. You're leaning back enough to be able to see exactly what he's doing; ramming his cock so far into your pussy his balls smack against you. Your toes curl and your thighs start to strain under the pressure of being stretched wide over his legs.
You try to take more drags but you're interrupted by your own moans and the mess Ari is making of your pussy already. Your walls milk his hard cock and you could swear for a second you saw stars as a familiar tightening in your abdomen signals a fast-approaching orgasm.
"Ari," you pant squeak his name as your pussy clamps around him, the wet sounds becoming louder and louder. "I think- hng - I think I'm gonna cum."
"I know sweetheart, I can feel that tight pussy squeezing me." Ari's fingers press into your hips as his pace continues, a loud groan erupting from his throat. "Take another drag for me first."
You suck on the joint hanging loosely between your fingers, taking a long gulp of smoke.
"Look at me." Ari growls out, a hand sneaking further around your waist and lower. As your eyes lock with his, his fingers find your clit, sending sparks across every nerve in your body. A smug grin crosses Ari's face as your eyes flutter and a moan rumbles in your chest before giving you another command, "Blow."
You breathe out the smoke into his face as he breathes it in, your eyes drooping to half-lidded pleasure.
"You look so beautiful doing that." He snatches the joint away from your loose hands and presses it into the ashtray, despite there being plenty left. He catches your curious look and smiles. "I need to focus on you, honey and I don't need you dropping your hard work."
Ari's fingers find your clit again, drawing tight circles as he fucks up into your tight hole. Your pussy spasms and you moan, your arms reaching for something - anything - to keep you steady as he fucks into you harder. The slapping sounds that echo around the room are drowned by your curses and groans as your second orgasm draws closer.
"You're doing so good for me, sweetheart." Ari murmurs into your ear. "Just knew I'd like you. 'M gonna enjoy having you around to fuck and fill-" Ari's words are cut off by a short grunt, followed closely by quick gasps for air as he cums inside your shuddering pussy. You follow suit, heaving for breaths as you gush over his cock again.
"Stay right there," He urges softly, pulling you against his chest. Slipping his softening cock from you and placing kisses against your neck, he murmurs "I'm not quite done with you yet."
One had runs fingers along your slit, jumping between teasing your oversensitive nerves to pushing his cum back into your leaking hole. With his other, he hands you the lighter before picking up the blunt again and holding it to you to light for him. Your hands shake as you reach over to light it, your poor legs convulsing over his as he strums your messy cunt without a care in the world.
"That's my good girl." Ari presses feather-light kisses against your shoulder and you whimper, trying to focus on lighting the lighter. You flick at the metal furiously and on your fourth attempt, a flame flickers to life and Ari lights his joint in the flame before taking a long drag and blowing the smoke away from your face. He looks like a dragon hoarding his treasure; smoke billowing from him as you turn in his lap and bundle closer, dripping all over him.
Ari watches you with a warm grin plastered to his face, his eyes are glassy, red rimmed and a little puffy as he offers you a drag. It's a small drag, no coughing or sputtering this time, but the weed seems to be taking effect because your body sways and you can't stop smiling up at him. Ari only laughs and urges you to lie further on top of him, running a large warm hand up and down the length of your back.
"You should wear skirts more often, sweetheart." He rumbles, taking another drag, his softening cock twitches against your bare pussy and you sigh with delight. "Although, this one might be ruined by the time I'm finished with you."
So I watched London (2005) for the first time today. Not my favorite CE character, but I would totally hand my virginity on a silver plater to this man.
Also, I want to note that Chris's performance in this movie is incredible. I wish we got to see more of this now in his career.
They’re beautiful, captivating, popular, and always in demand. Meet the talent at Peak Models, an agency that personifies perfection. (aka a model AU featuring various CE fictional babes 😘)
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Oral sex (f receiving). Unprotected sex. Slight cum play. Shy!Reader. Soft!Ransom. Overstimulation. Soft!dom!Ransom vibes. Slightly rough sex. Breeding kink if you squint. Eye contact kink. Aftercare. Model AU. 18+ only! 🥵
$ log - you fetch case-aid from paul diskant at the cost of his data and his own dignity!
$ warn --nsfw --gn!reader --dom!reader --sub!paul --mean!reader --manipulative!reader --blowjob --deepthroating --verbal-teasing --power-imbalance --power-play --degradation --messy
$ wc -w 0.9k
$ cd masterlist
$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger
The air in Paul’s office was thick with the sterile scent of old paper and expensive cologne, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from beneath his office desk. He sat stiffly in his leather chair, his knuckles white as he gripped the mouse, his eyes darting frantically across the glowing monitor.
He was supposed to be reviewing high profile criminal dossiers, but his entire world had narrowed down to the sensation of your mouth working rhythmically against him.
Every time he tried to click a file to transfer to your USB, a jagged, stifled moan escaped his throat. You were being deliciously cruel, using your tongue to swirl around the sensitive head of his cock, knowing exactly how to make his hips twitch involuntarily.
He let out a pathetic, high pitched whimper as you sucked him deeper, his breath hitching in a desperate attempt to remain silent.
"Just... the homicide files..." he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice trembling as he fought against the increasing stimulation.
"And don't forget the crime scene footage too, Disco," you murmur, your voice a low, hoarse vibration that seems to rattle his very bones. The nickname is a taunt, a playful jab at his composure, and you see his eyes widen in a flash of desperate heat before you dive back down, burying his length deep in your throat.
The sound of the mouse clicking becomes erratic, a frantic staccato that mirrors the pounding of his heart. Paul is a mess; his professional veneer is crumbling faster than the data is transferring. As you increase the suction, pulling with a relentless, rhythmic pressure, a loud, uncharacteristic whimper breaks from his lips. He bites his hand to stifle the sound, his eyes rolling back as he stares at the progress bar on the screen.
"Fuck... Y/N, please..." he gasps, his fingers trembling so violently he nearly misses the folder for the forensic evidence. You don't let up; instead you intensify the friction, using your tongue to swirl around the underside of his shaft while your hands squeeze his thighs, anchoring him in place.
He’s teetering on the precipice of a total loss of control, his breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches that sound like a man drowning. The progress bar for the crime scene footage crawls forward with agonising slowness, a digital torture that matches the exquisite tension you're building.
"Almost... there..." he wheezes, his head falling back against the leather headrest as a particularly deep, swirling suction from you sends a jolt of pure electricity through his spine.
He lets out a choked, guttural sound halfway between a sob and a groan as the transfer finally hits 100%. His hips lurch upward, seeking more of you, his composure completely shattered by the sheer sensation of you devouring him while he tries to maintain the facade of a serious detective.
You decide to push him past the point of no return. You increase the tempo, your throat tightening around him in a relentless, pulsing suction that leaves him absolutely helpless. Paul’s composure doesn't just crack; it disintegrates.
He lets out a long, broken whine, his fingers clawing at the edge of the desk as his body jolts, spilling himself deep into your mouth. You don't miss a single drop, swallowing him wholly with a predatory grace that shows him exactly who is in control of this entire operation.
Without a second thought for his dignity, you shimmy your way out from beneath the desk. You don't even bother to clean him up; you want him to feel the mess you've made. You casually fix your uniform and wipe a stray smear of him from your lip, your eyes fixed on the glowing USB light.
"Oh, well done, sweetheart," you coo, the words dripping with a mocking, honeyed tone. You watch with predatory satisfaction as he sits there, trembling and breathless, his crisp suit disheveled and his cock still glistening and uncleaned, a stark testament to your dominance.
He looks utterly pathetic, a serious-repped detective reduced to a whining, sticky mess by a few minutes of your undivided attention.
You reach out, your fingers grazing his heaving cheek in a gesture that looks affectionate to anyone watching, but feels like a brand to him. "I'll keep in touch during the investigation," you add with a wink, your voice smooth and entirely unbothered by the chaos you've just wrought.
Grabbing your USB with a triumphant smirk, you turn on your heel and saunter toward the door. You don't look back, not needing to see the look of stunned, lustful frustration on his face.
You leave him alone in the silence of his office, drowning in the scent of his own arousal and the scent of his own arousal and the crushing weight of his own helplessness. He’s left staring at the empty space where you just were, his chest still heaving, his mind a frantic blur of stolen data and the lingering, electric sensation of your mouth.
You've taken everything you needed, the files, the power, and his dignity leaving him nothing but a broken, whimpering shell of a man, completely at your mercy.
༊*·˚ main materlist | pete’s place’s opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings & future pairings:
pete brenner x female!reader.
lloyd hansen x female!reader.
ari levinson x female!reader.
curtis everett x female!reader.
steve rogers x female!reader.
jake jensen x female!reader.
(and others that will be revealed at a later date.)
word count: 9083 | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚
warnings: implied abusive relationship, homelessness, alcohol, general sadness, advances, pete being a scumbag.
this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ notes:
two years later and the first chapter is finally here.
i really have missed you all dearly and i'm so excited to share this with you.
the second chapter will kick off the darker elements, but enjoy the set up! and i promise to not take two years to give you the second chapter.
as always, please tell me what you think, i really enjoy hearing your thoughts, opinions and guesses on whats coming up next.
adore you, mwah!!!
all mistakes are my own. already had to go back and take out a section. that's what i get for not separating my notes from my actual writing. whoops.
A year after you packed brown boxes scrawled with black ink, clothes stuffed into various bags, and the hope of your true love, into the back of your car, to move across the country to live with your ex-boyfriend, you find yourself one night in a heart pounding screaming match. Thrown dishes, broken glass, picture frames on the floor. The remnants of a lost love etched by the sounds of your cries into the tattered walls of the home you shared.
With pleading cries, tear stained cheeks, and heart in your throat, you’re grabbed and shoved out the door in nothing but a pair of sweats, and shirt with a coat being darted at you whilst you laid on the ground. One too many hours were spent afterwards pounding your fists against the front door, begging to at least have your purse so you can get a hotel room.
Just as you were about to leave, looking down at your battered, red hands from pounding on the door, your purse dropped out of a window; the contents spilled onto the grass below. With a sigh, either sadness or relief; you weren't sure which, you bent to pick up your scattered belongings, cursing the man during.
Luckily, you had everything you needed; cash, ID, and your shitty, overused phone.
You called around for a cab, numb fingers shaking as you pressed the blurry numbers, but with it being Friday night, you were looking at a long wait so instead, you decided to cut your losses and walk to find the nearest hotel.
The downside of moving, and being essentially trapped within the same four walls for months on end, is that you quickly found yourself lost– and being lost on Skid Row was the last place you wanted to be. You willed your tears to not fall after you walked by tent after tent, stranger after stranger, clutching your purse tight, old keys spread between your fingers, and finally found yourself outside a rundown hotel. You laughed to yourself in disbelief of having to head inside and get a room; but nonetheless, you did just that.
Lying on a dingy bedspread, surrounded by more nicotine-stained walls, you muffled your cries behind your hands and slowly fell into a somber slumber and wondered just how the fuck you had gotten yourself here.
Over the next few days, you walked around, getting to know your surroundings and applying for jobs left and right. You were forced to ration your food while you looked around for cheaper hotel rooms. You were trying your hardest to avoid the sprawls of clubs begging for dancers but after finding yourself downtrodden as you’re dismissed after applying for yet another job and getting immediately dismissed, and it was then when you were suddenly blinded by a huge, purple neon sign:
Pete’s Place.
Underneath a small notice hung from the sign read: Dancers Apply Within.
You looked around and whined quietly while you watched patron after patron enter the club. Two heavily built doormen eyed you. You shook out your bundling nerves, hung your head and followed the thump of the bass into the belly of the seedy club. You handed over your last twenty bucks to the red-head woman that was sitting behind a platformed desk, smiling sheepishly and giving a small nod before pushing through the curtains that framed a doorway. Purple and blue hues guided you into the belly of the club where you found red booths filled with drunk bodies that circled small stages. Girls with perfect form swirled around the pole, capturing the attention of everyone inside.
‘’And who might you be?’’
You turned to find a man staring intensely, glass warm in hand, sharp suit and sea-blue eyes. Your mouth hung, mind blank for a moment before sputtering out,
‘’Oh, I– I’m looking for the owner– I was hoping to… Audition…’’ You trailed off as the man began to circle you, fingers pried away your coat slightly, gaze wandering over your body. Calloused fingers tilted your chin upwards while he inspected your face before a slight smile appeared on his lips. ‘’If you’re still looking for dancers.’’
‘’Oh, we’re always looking for new girls, Sugar.’’ He gave you another once over before grinning, voice low and honeyed, ‘’Yeah, you’ll do,’’ He concluded, hand dropping from your chin before he began to walk away. ‘’Follow me.’’
‘’I take it you’re the owner,’’ you inquired as you followed the man to the other side of the club and down a dimly lit hallway, smiling back at, what you assumed was, one of his girls. ‘’You’re Pete?’’
‘’That’s me,’’ he confirmed as you’re led into an office. ‘’Gonna need to see ID, need you to sign a couple contracts, and for you to take your clothes off,’’ he quickly fired as he sat himself in his chair and threw a small stack of paper across the table.
‘’Contracts?’’
‘’All my girls sign to stay loyal to the club, I don’t need anyone running off and taking my profits with them– helps limit competition, and I need to see what I’m working with here, you’re not exactly gonna be wearing a winter coat out there. Usually you’d come during the day, work the pole but, I got three of my regular girls out tonight, so it’s your lucky day.’’
‘’Oh,’’ You answer simply, pausing before a moment. ‘’Right, yeah, lucky me– Of course,’’ you stumble out as you reach into your pocket and slide your ID on to his desk before peeling your jacket off and taking in a heavy breath before lifting your shirt over your head and sliding down your skirt with shaking hands.
‘’You got any experience?’’ He asked simply.
‘’Uh, no,’’ You answered, kicking your skirt to the side, fussing with your hands due to having no idea what to do with them. ‘’I’ve never done this before.’’
You dropped your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. When you finally looked back up, Pete was lounged back in his desk chair, eyebrow raised with a slick smile on his face. He didn’t look disappointed, he looked delighted, like the idea of a novice seemed to amuse him. Pete stood with a long intake of breath, leaving his station and stepping around the desk and moving towards you with a slow, almost predatory grace. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander the same way he did, eyeing the well tailored suit that left nothing to the imagination, large biceps crinkling the fabric as he crossed his arms. You let out a small gasp as he began to circle you, hand reaching out to smooth down your back, fingertips ghosting your sides. The floorboards creaked with each footstep until he was standing back in front of you. He reached out a hand to pluck at your bra.
‘’Loose this,’’ he instructed casually.
You gave a shaky nod, reaching behind to unclip your bra, slowly letting it fall down your arms before it was discarded on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You eyed him shyly, unsure if you were wanting the ground to swallow you up or if you wanted him to reach out and touch you.
And touch you, he did.
The back of his hand stroked down your stomach, knuckles grazing the softness of your lower belly. Nerves began to take over, you felt yourself trembling a little, and you knew he felt it by the way his mouth poked up at the side. Although, he was very obviously attractive, the bile still rose in your throat when you felt a familiar warm ache tug at your legs.
‘’I-I’m a hard worker,’’ You said hesitantly, desperately needing to fill the silence.
‘’Hard worker,’’ Pete snorted, lips tugged up in a mocking smile. ‘’I don’t care about your worth ethic, Sugar. I care about the view.’’
‘’And?’’ You probed.
His hand slipped around to your back, pulling you in close as he stared down at you, eyes flickering across your face.
‘’Views are good,’’ He judged. ‘’You’ve certainly got a… Desperate innocence vibe going on. Guy’s are gonna eat that up.’’ He nodded as he stepped back, moving back towards the desk, propping himself against it. ‘’Here’s the deal: You’re gonna show me what you got, so I know whether you’ll need a few days with some of my best girls to work on those skills. Doesn’t mean you can’t work, but it means you’re limited to laps, and it’s just a bit less money. Base pay at the end of the week, tips are handed in and the house takes a cut and redistributed back to the girls. Be good to me, and I’ll be good to you.’’
You stood awkwardly nodding, arms crossing over your chest which made Pete laugh.
‘’Drop ‘em,’’ He ordered, wagging a finger downwards. ‘’Just me and you, Sugar, how are you supposed to handle it being out there? Put ‘em down.’’ You complied as Pete carried on explaining: ‘’Pay the door, same way you did to get in, but my girls pay half to work. You gotta give to get in here, baby. VIP is for my more seasoned girls, better money, but we’ll talk about that further down the line. The contract…’’ He reaches behind himself to grab the small stack of paper. ‘’...Is so you understand that every single cent that your hand touches goes through me. No making deals with my clients, no outside work with the men that step into my club. That’s what VIP is for. There’s no need for you to be bent over in the back of some rented Bently, okay? You fuck me and you’re back on that street and you can’t go to any other club.’’
You nodded. ‘’Didn’t plan on it.’’
‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised. ‘’Or, you will be, when you sign.’’
‘’So, I would start tonight?’’
He nodded and rattled the paper.
With some hesitancy, you took the paper and the pen that quickly followed and stepped around him to lean and sign the dotted line, looking back up to find him staring down at you. He slipped the contract off the desk and stood straight, moving around the other side to slide into a locked draw before grabbing his glass and wandering over to a small couch in the corner of his office. He sat down, thighs spreading open, gaze locked on yours as he took a long swig of the amber liquid that sloshed in the crystal.
‘’Come show me what you got, Sugar.’’
You let out a shaky breath, attempting to rid your body of the nerves, as you slowly stepped towards Pete’s open thighs. You turned in a fluid motion, hoping to God that it looked good, and lowered yourself onto his lap. Using the muted thumping from the club's belly, you began to wind your hips, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. The cigarette smoke that clung to his suit assaulted your senses, mixing with the alcohol on his breath, making your head spin. Your eyes closed, breathing unsteady as you continued your dance. You heard the soft thump of his glass being placed down and soon felt his fingers on your chin, guiding you to look behind.
Your eyes fluttered open and were met with his intense gaze. Your breath hitched as his hands then found your waist, helping to guide you into a better rhythm. He hummed low in his throat, taking in a deep breath as his other hand slid over your thigh, goosebumps following in a traitorous line.
‘’There we go, just like that,’’ He coached, voice low and breathy. ‘’Gotta look at ‘em, Sugar. Gotta make sure they feel like the only man in the world, but they don’t touch you like I am, okay?’’ You begged your heart to slow as his hand smoothed over your stomach, heavy and strong. ‘’You’re good, Sugar, but you’re not ready to be out on the pole yet. You gotta put in some work, gonna set you up with one of my girls.’’
He tapped your thigh and motioned for you to stand. He followed suit, getting to his feet and looking down at you. He swept a stray lock of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear.
‘’You can work tonight. You got anything to wear?’’
You shook your head. He let out a little laugh.
‘’Didn’t come very prepared, did you, Sugar?’’
‘’I– I used my last 20 bucks to get in here. I didn’t plan on coming in–’’
‘’You did what?’’ He questioned sharply, eyebrows raising. He sighed when you nodded your head.
‘’S’why I really needed this to go well. I promise I’ll get better–’’
‘’Yeah, yeah, I don’t care about that right now,’’ Pete cut off. ‘’Where are you staying?’’
‘’The hotel at the end of the street, the–’’
‘’Yeah, the shitty one. How long have you got the room for?’’
‘’Three more days,’’ You confessed.
The room suddenly felt smaller, the silence was heavy with the weight of him knowing the situation; with admitting just how fucked you were. You searched his expression, he didn’t look even the slightest bit sympathetic. He looked like he had just found a really good loophole in his contract that made a smirk tug at his lips.
‘’Totally broke? Not a dime?’’ He asked, and nodded his head and let out a slow hum of contemplation when you confirmed. ‘’Alright. I can help.’’
You reached down for your shirt as he walked to his desk.
‘’I can’t really have you sleeping on a park bench. I need my girls at their best, so, here’s what I’m gonna do.’’ He sat down at his desk, elbows resting on the wood, his gaze getting more intense as he lingered on you as you dressed.
‘’I’m gonna give you… An advance, you could say…’’ He trailed off, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a book and an envelope. He plucked a pen from a pot and clicked it before flicking open the ledger, and scrawling inside. ‘’I’m gonna take a little bit more of a cut until it’s paid off, but it means you can pay your door fee, you can eat, have a roof over your head and have a bit of time to work on those skills. It also means, you won’t actually have to work tonight if you’d rather rest up and spend the day practicing.’’
‘’Are you sure?’’ You raised a brow. ‘’Why would you–’’
‘’Consider it good faith, taking a chance,’’ He quickly interjected. ‘’Shows how sure I am that you’ll be one of my best.’’
There was a look in his eyes, predatory, and you weren't sure if he was throwing you a lifeline or a noose. ‘’What do you say, Sugar?’’
He held out the envelope. You hesitantly reached out for it, feeling like you were signing a deal with the devil. Your eyes locked on his as your fingers gripped the paper, an easy smile pulling at your lips in response to the smirk on his.
‘’’Atta girl.’’
You lowered your head, looking down at the dusty patterned carpet. The weight on your shoulders felt heavier than ever, but at least you could get a decent meal.
‘’I really don't have to work tonight?’’
‘’Nope,’’ He said, popping the ‘P’ and reaching over the desk to hook a finger under your chin as he stood, drawing your gazes back to each other. ‘’But, I wouldn’t mind a ‘thank you’.’’
He didn’t release his hold as he guided you around the desk, the smell of stale cigarettes, alcohol and a woody aftershave assaulting your senses again. Your heart kicked up speed, like someone had set off a tiny jackhammer in your chest, as you stepped into his space. You lifted onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, sucking in a breath and praying that it’ll be enough to please him. His touch moved to the side of your neck, his hand heavy and splayed across the column as he leaned down.
‘’S’that all I get, Sugar?’’ He teased, hushed and sickly sweet. ‘’Not got anything else for me?’’
You swallowed the lump in your throat and opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out. You took to shaking your head instead and gripped the envelope tight and pushed it against his chest as you turned your head. Your eyes closed and shoulders sagged when he let out a laugh, dropping his head to your shoulder and releasing the hold he had on your neck.
‘’I’m fucking with you,’’ He chuckled darkly. ‘’Go on, get out of here before I decide to charge you for breathing the same air as me.’’
You stepped back, a small smile tugging at your lips and you reached for your bag from the floor.
‘’I’ll walk you out, actually. Need to check on my girls.’’
He walked to the door, swinging it open and motioning for you to step through. As you did, his hand found the middle of your back, heavy and guiding. The thumping base hit you as you walked back into the neon-lit chaos of the club, the night still in full swing. Pete nodded to several men on the way to the exit, hand slipping to your waist, pulling you close and keeping a tight grip and by the time the cold night breeze hit you, his warm palm was sitting on your ass.
‘’I’m gonna be here at twelve tomorrow, I want you here,’’ He instructed, guiding you to face him, his voice taking on a sudden professional coldness. ‘’Do not be late, hmm?’’
You nodded. His eyes scanned you one last time, sea-blue eyes still holding that uneasy glint that made your stomach turn and your toes curl.
‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised with a tap to your backside before stepping away. ‘’See you tomorrow, Sugar.’’
You sucked in a breath and began your walk back to your hotel, the envelope weighing down your bag and filling your throat with bile. The neon sign buzzed in your ears as you watched the purple hue on the sidewalk fade. The rest of the walk was a blur, your mind filled with the flashing of lights, the booths of men, the smell of smoke and sweet drinks and the terrifying anxiety that clawed at your chest when you thought of having to sit in those men’s laps, strip down on a pole, vulnerable and exposed, for the sake of a roof and warm food; all while owing a man you’ve just met.
The next day, you made your way back to Pete’s Place.
The seedy club seemed less terrifying in the daylight. The neon sign hung unlit, the velvet red rope enclosed the open air and not the multiple bodies of men waiting to feast their eyes on women who couldn’t give a single shit about them, and Pete… Stood with his hand in his pocket, the other lifted to his lips as he took a long drag of a cigarette, eyes gleaming as he caught your eye.
‘’There she is!’’ He greeted, cheerful and honeyed. ‘’My new favourite, fresh and ready for the day. How’d you sleep, Sugar? Room booked for a little longer?’’
You nodded, ‘’All secured for the next two weeks, and I’m gonna go and get some groceries when I’m done–’’
‘’Yeah, sounds all golden, Sugar,’’ He laughed. ‘’One of my best is waiting inside for you. She’s gonna show you the ropes, how to shake that ass good enough to empty some wallets for me. I’m gonna come and see you in a few hours and see how you’re getting on and hopefully we’ll get you on that pole and not stuck in laps.’’
With that, he stepped out to the curb as a black Sedan pulled up.
‘’Off you go,’’ He ordered.
You nodded once again before heading inside of the club.
You searched the club’s belly for the woman but she was seemingly nowhere to be found until you made your way into the dressing room. The atmosphere was stifling despite it being empty. It stunk of hairspray, multiple different perfumes blending together and smoke. The vanities were a thing of chaos, make up strewed, rollers and different hair tools. Rails of sequins and fishnets and a wall of lockers that were decorated in different styles, showing off the aesthetics of each woman that owned them.
You turned to leave when you bumped into a woman, already kitted out in something Pete would absolutely have chosen, she gleamed brightly, seemingly genuinely happy to be here.
‘’So, you’re the new little lamb Pete picked up?’’ She asked sweetly, cigarette hanging from her lip and adjusting the band under her bust. She moved into the room and towards the railing of clothes with a grace and confidence you prayed to acquire as quickly as possible. ‘’I’m Rachael, Pete’s asked me to show you how to not get eaten alive tonight.’’
She plucked a simple, sheer black slip and held it out, ‘’Let’s see if you can actually move, or if you’re just a pretty little lamb.’’
After you changed you gave yourself a second, third and fourth glance over before she playfully rolled her eyes and pulled you out to the club floor and towards one of the smaller side stages. She left to flick on the club lights, shy under the sunlight that waved through the balcony windows and clicking around inside the DJ booth until the bass rattled through the floor. The polished chrome gleaned under the purple and blue lights, cold and intimidating as she made her way onto the stage. She demonstrated multiple moves with an effortless ease, her heels clicking softly against the platform floor, fluid and languid.
‘’You see, it’s not about dancing, not really,’’ She said as she swirled around, leg hooked around the pole. ‘’It’s about the tease. You never give it away all at once, you gotta make them ache for it. You gotta make ‘em think that if they throw just the right amount, they might just get a chance to touch you, have your attention.’’
You nodded watching her closely.
‘’Now, get up here and try a basic spin. Just copy exactly what I did.’’ Rachael slid down and stepped off the stage, motioning for you to step up.
‘’I’ll try my best,’’ You said earnestly.
‘’Your best doesn’t pay the bills, honey. Confidence and ass does.’’
You stepped onto the platform, the polished surface feeling slippery beneath your heels. You wrapped your hand hesitantly around the pole. You attempted the spin she had demonstrated, but instead of a fluid glide, your foot caught the edge of the stage and stumbled. You cursed yourself as she smiled and waved for you to try again which while the second attempt was better, the grace Rachael had exhibited was nowhere to be seen. She circled you like a hawk, eyes watching every move, often reaching out to make you arch your back more, to drop your shoulders, to reposition your legs.
‘’You’re like a newborn lamb, stop thinking about it so much,’’ She giggled, sweet and light until her tone suddenly turned serious. ‘’Never look them in the eye for too long. Makes ‘em think they own you. Keep it light, fleeting, make them chase it,’’ She coached. ‘’The pole is a tool, it’s your friend, use it to hide what you don’t like and highlight what you do like. Use it to your advantage. Do not fear it.’’
The next few hours passed in a blur of twirls, clicks of heels and red knees. Exhaustion clung to your skin, damp and slick under the spotlights, the sun dipping behind the clouds casting a golden glow into the club as you spun and dipped for the hundredth time, finally gaining some semblance of control of the cold metal. Rachael gleamed and squealed when you would find your footing, hit a dip in time to the music and get through at least a minute without a stumble.
You were trying to follow another of Rachael’s demonstrations when a familiar voice cut through the air and drifted its way over to the stage. Pete had returned, leaning against a pillar on the far side of the club floor, drink in hand and watching with an amused glint in his eyes, tracking you carefully.
‘’What a clumsy little thing you are, Sugar. Tell me, baby,’’ He said, a tinge of playful annoyance coating his words as he sauntered forward and towards the edge of the stage. ‘’You always like this or is it the thrill of being in my presence?’’
Rachael rolled her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.
‘’She’s getting there, she’s just… A little cautious… Shy– It’s cute!’’ She defended, a sweet grin as she returned the kiss to Pete’s cheek and then looked back at you with a wink.
‘’I don’t need cute, I don’t need cautious. I can’t sell that,’’ Pete spoke, short and to the point. ‘’It doesn’t make me money. Desire does.’’
He made his way to the base of the stage, looking up at you. The spotlights casted deep shadows across his face, making his eyes seem black. You let out a breath as he eyed, not as a person, but as a product that was ineffective. He rapt his knuckles on the platform floor, his voice dropping,
‘’Get down here.’’
You practically leaped from the platform, steading yourself on his arm as your footing faltered, your chest heaving from a mix of exhaustion and nerves. Up close, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses, your head spinning as he pulled you in closer. He looked you up and down, shaking his head with a disappointed frown. You couldn’t help the shakes that swam under your skin as he peered into your eyes. He walked you back slowly, the back of your thighs digging into the edge of the stage.
‘’Look at you,’’ He began to scold gently. ‘’Shaking like a leaf, like you’re waiting for the firing squad rather than a paycheck.’’
Pete then reached up a hand, finding the back of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the dip at the base of your skull, forcing you to keep your gaze on his. The amusement was long gone and replaced by a demanding, icy intensity. He leaned his head down, breath hot against your cheek.
‘’The men that come through those doors do not pay for ‘nervous’. They pay for a fantasy. A fantasy of a woman who knows exactly how to drive them crazy. If you walk out there looking like a lost puppy, they’ll smell the fear, they’ll take advantage, and then you’ll owe me for that nice advance I gave you and I’ll want it in full and I know sure as shit…’’ He leaned down further lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered in your ear. ‘’You don’t have it, and we’ll have to work something else out, won’t we?’’
He released you abruptly, and you fell against the edge of the stage, willing the tears to stay at bay as he stepped back and guested at Rachael and then towards the stage.
‘’Keep working her. I want her ready.’’
The next two hours were full of exertion, exhaustion, sweat and damn near tears until it finally came time to go back to your hotel to rest up for your shift. Rachael seemed happy with where you managed to get to, she had taught you how to use your shyness as a weapon, how to perfectly arch your back and how to breathe through the nerves but whether Pete would end up sharing the same feelings was still to be determined. Your muscles ached and cried out with each step back to your hotel, palms raw from the friction of the pole, and the fear of ending up on the street sat heavy in your stomach along with the feeling of feeling less like a woman and more like a piece of property, catalogued and highly priced.
The night swept in with a heavy tension, the club hummed; scattered voices from the line outside as you walked through the front with a nod to security and a crisp ten slipped into the hand of the woman on the door. You shucked up your bag higher on your shoulder, watching as the staff at the bar moved with a frantic energy, attempting to keep up with the hoards of men tapping their fingers for a drink while their eyes leeched on the dancers at the pole.
You made your way to Pete’s office, rapping your fingers on the doorframe and smiling when he looked up at you with a grin.
‘’Hey, Sugar, what d’ya need?’’ He asked, stepping from around the back of his desk and moving towards the door.
‘’Is it okay if I borrow an outfit for tonight? I didn’t get a chance to run and grab anything– Maybe a pair of heels as well?’’
Pete nodded, ‘’Yeah, take what you want from the rails in the dressing room, shoes are underneath. Just make sure they’re returned or I have to charge you for it.’’
‘’Thanks,’’ You replied sweetly.
Pete then pressed his hand to the small of your back, leading you towards the dressing room. The girls were in full swing, the clatter of make up and the clicking of straighteners and curlers mixed with their laughs and banter as they applied finishing touches.
‘’Alright, my lovely ladies, this is Sugar,’’ Pete addressed loudly, adopting the nickname he gave you as your dancer name without giving you a chance to argue about it. ‘’She’s the newest addition. Be nice, look after her, she’s a shy one… And get out there and make me some money.’’
You felt cornered as the other dancers scanned you from head to toe, receiving a mixture of curiosity, warm welcome and cold competition. You wrung your hands together as Pete stepped away to grab an outfit from the rack, bending to snag a pair of shoes and walking back over to you. It may as well have been a collection of strings rather than an outfit; baby pink and covered in sequins.
‘’You’ve got twenty minutes and then I want you on that stage,’’ He ordered, firm but oddly sweet. ‘’I’ll be watching from the balcony booths so don’t fuck this up, alright, Sugar?’’
You hummed in agreement as he bent down, presenting his cheek to which you quickly pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Pete grinned and gave a wink, and without saying another word, he laid a soft tap on your ass and walked out the door, leaving you with a tightness in your chest and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You walked to a spare vanity, setting your bag down and started at the reflection, finding a girl you barely recognised anymore. Even more so once you had changed, the baby pink set Pete had chosen, clung to every curve and valley, and left nothing to the imagination. The soft colours contrasted painfully with the dark circles of fatigue which you had tried your best to cover with multiple swipes of concealer.
You wondered if this is exactly how Pete wanted you; looking like a daydream on the verge of a deep, dark nightmare.
‘’Hey,’’ A voice spoke, drawing you away from your thoughts, and you looked up to find a woman standing behind you, a smile on her face and dressed in green. ‘’He’s really trying to push the ‘barely there’ look tonight, isn’t he?’’
You nodded, a shy smile on your face as you smoothed down the outfit.
‘’I’m Crocki. Like, crocodile. Pete found a stuffed crocodile in my bag once– totally forgot it was there, and hasn’t let me live it down since,’’ She laughed, genuine and comforting. ‘’Just do your job, keep him happy and you’ll have no issues. Most of the girls here are really nice. They just wanna make their money and dip. It’s not all bad, okay?’’
You nodded again, struggling to find the words to speak, nerves were eating at your vocal cords and tugging at your throat.
‘’I’ll see you out there, you’ll be great, don’t worry,’’ Crocki reassured, giving a comforting rub to your arm before disappearing out of the dressing room.
The other girls soon left, leaving you on your own. You took another minute to breathe deeply, eyes closed; the thumping of the lion’s den pounded in your ears.
The transition was jarring to say the least; one moment you were safe in arms of bulb lights, perfume and mirrors and the next you were willing your footing to not falter as you stepped into the club’s belly, the music shifting and deepening into something primal, visceral. The lights were a bruised purple, the smoke from cigars and cigarettes acted as a map to the men huddled around the stages and perched in the booths. It merged into a hungry roar and you were the meal.
High above the main floor, a singular familiar figure leaned over the railing, elbows propped against the metal, swirling a drink with keen eyes locked on your every move. Pete gave you a grin, nodding towards the stage, that predatory glint on full show; it crawled over your body like a physical touch, sending a shiver down your spine and forming a lump in your throat.
You made your way to the stage as another dancer collected the cash from the floor, the crowd dying down a little as the smell of alcohol, flashing lights and the sea of hungry eyes waited in a subdued anticipation as you climbed the steps and clicked onto the stage. You smiled weakly at the dancer as she passed you and gave one last glance at Pete before gripping the pole.
A heavy, industrial beat slammed into the room, the bass rattling the panels of the stage as your body began to react to the rhythm. The sequins caught the strobe lights, sending shards of glitter and gold dancing on the floor and faces of the crowd. You focused on the pole, remember your tutelage, hiding your sloppy footwork behind the pole and using it as a grounding point amidst the chaos, spinning and arching your back.
The atmosphere shifted to expose a raw hunger, men leaned forward, their eyes fixed on your every move. You earned whistles, dollar bills and captivated silences from others. You dared to glance again up at the balcony, finding Pete still stood in the same spot, watching you with an intensity you just couldn’t pinpoint, the cigarette in his hand glowing a cherry-red as he took a deep drag and blew out the smoke slowly. It didn’t seem like he was looking at you like just another dancer; more like an investment he was ready to wring out for as much cash as possible.
The next song started, giving you no time to recover, switching to a slower, haunting ethereal pull. The lights dimmed a bit further, the purple lights casting a shadow across your body which helped you feel more hidden. You relaxed a little, finding a hidden ease in the slower, more languid movements. You transitioned into a slow descent on the pole, body arching, a softness that was stark against the grit of the club. The air felt thick and charged as you locked eyes with Pete once again, a smug satisfaction written across his face as he stubbed out the cigarette and took a swig from his glass.
As the song reached its end, you gave a slow swirl around the pole with a lingering, new found seductive grace, and slowly dropped to your knees. Your chest rose and fell heavily, hand still gripping the pole as money rained and Pete grinned. He didn’t move an inch, his stare was like a physical weight, like he was claiming every inch of your skin by his force of will.
You stayed in that pose for a short moment, before getting to your feet, and quickly scooping up the bills. You didn’t dare to give another look towards Pete as you left the stage. The adrenaline hummed through your veins, crumpled bills sticking to the sweat of your chest as you made your way back to the dressing room to have a moment to gather yourself before heading back out to the floor.
The transition from the blinding lights, to the grim reality of the backstage area was discordant and bleak, but the weight of the cash in your hands felt like a small victory, one worthy of essentially selling your soul. The other dancers glanced with small smiles and nods of newfound respect. As you reached your locker to stow your earnings until the end of the night, the door to the dressing room opened with a slow, deliberate creak. The girls quickly cleared out, pressing kisses and giving hugs to Pete as they exited.
He stood in the doorway, suit jacket hung over his arm, hair disheveled and shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his large biceps bulging under the thin fabric as he crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. He looked less like the shady business man you met the night before and more like a predator who had decided to stop watching and start pouncing. He didn’t say anything at first, simply stared at you, eyes seemingly peering through you and the way you clutched the money in your hands.
‘’Quite the show, Sugar.’’ His voice was low, dangerously sweet. ‘’Didn’t know you had it in you. Proves hard work pays off when you really want something.’’
He stepped into the room, the click of his shoes sounding like a countdown. He stopped just inches away, his presents suffocating and overwhelming; the scent of bourbon and expensive tobacco enveloping the air around you both. He reached out, fingers sliding under your chin to keep your gazes locked.
‘’You enjoy the attention, baby? The money make you move like that?’’ He asked in a hushed tone, breath ghosting your cheek. ‘’You playing me, Sugar?’’
You shook your head, ‘’Beginners luck, I guess.’’
Pete let out a soft, dark chuckle. The grin didn’t reach his eyes as he grazed your lower lip with a gentle, but possessive pressure.
‘’Beginners luck,’’ He parroted, husky and contemplative.
He didn’t release the hold on your chin; his grip tightened, ensuring you couldn’t escape his eyes. It was heavy, stripping you bare more effectively than the skimpy bundle of strings of your costume ever could. He seemed to be savouring the simplicity of your answer. He then shifted his weight, pushing you back against the cool metal of the lockers. The heat from his body crept over your skin, pricking at your senses as he leaned down, his voice barely a whisper.
‘’You’re a terrible liar, baby. I saw the way you looked at them; saw the way you looked at me.’’ His lips grazed your ear, his other hand gripping at your waist, bringing your middles together, eliciting a muted gasp that settled in your throat. ‘’You played the room, the hunger… And now, you’ve got me wondering how much more of that ‘luck’ you have hidden away.’’
He looked down at your hand as he stepped back, his expression shifting to something more demanding; the softness vanishing and replaced by the cold authority of the man who owned your entire being.
‘’Hand it over, Sugar,’’ He commanded, gesturing to the cash bundled in your hand, palm up and waiting.
You placed the money in his hand and sighed as he counted the bills with a rapid, well seasoned motion, eyes flicking over the amounts. The soft snap-snap-snap of the bills drummed in your ears and drowned out the muted thump of the bass as you waited with bated breath to see how much your cut would be.
Once he reached the total, he folded the bills and stuffed them into his pocket and then reached out to pull a smaller, measly stack from the other, holding it out to you with a satisfied grin. You took it, splaying out the few bills between your fingers, a lesser amount than what would even be considered a fair pay, but regardless of your feelings you looked up and smiled with feigned gratitude.
‘’I had to deduct your newcomer's fee, and the prime slot on the main stage, of course,’’ He said casually, arms folded across his chest again, he watched for your reaction with a cruel sort of curiosity. ‘’An investment in your future here. You understand, right, Sugar?’’
You nodded with a strained smile. He didn’t wait for you to say anything else, he turned his gaze towards the door, checking you were still alone, before he looked back at you with that same predatory, hungry gaze.
His voice dropped to a low, purr. ‘’You’ve got a lot of potential, Sugar. I can’t wait for the day I get to be on the receiving end of it.’’
He reached out again, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you flush against him for one last, possessive moment. He lingered, nose brushing against your temple, taking in a small inhale and making your heart jump in your chest.
‘’Get back out there, Sugar.’’
Pete released you abruptly and sauntered out the room, door clicking shut behind him. The tension that had brewed broke instantly and you exhaled sharply, unaware of the breath you had kept clutched in your chest. The silence in the room felt a thousand tons heavier than the atmosphere on stage, the few bills in your hand felt like a slap to the face; the feeling of the effort you had put into being stage-ready felt wasteful and sour. You wondered if this was going to be worth it, if you should keep putting all you had into pleasing a man who wanted you rob you blind and keep your livelihood wrapped in his hands.
You were pulled out your thoughts by a group of dancers making their way back into the dressing room, some giving empathic glances.
‘’Welcome to Pete’s Place, babe. Hope you like pennies,’’ She said simply, a tight smile on her lips.
Another was re-applying her eyeliner when she spoke; ‘’Don’t let him see you cry. It’s like he smells it, like a shark.’’
She didn’t offer anything else; in this place, empathy seemed to be a luxury only a few could afford. They all continued their routines like the small conversation never happened, the sounds of brushes and small talk the only sound in the room. You stuffed the cash in your bag, shutting the locker with a frustrated slam before sucking in a sharp breath and heading back out into the club.
A few hours later, after spending the rest of the night in laps and grinning sweetly at horrible men, you moved in front of your locker as you changed, movements mechanical as if all parts that were human had been stripped away and shoved inside a box. As you pulled on the clothes you had arrived in, you felt a cold knot forming in your stomach; the desperation that had dragged you through the club's doors was starting to form into a quiet rage.
As you stepped out of the club and into the night's cool air, the neon sign flicked overhead and the meager amount in your pocket laughed at you as you sulked back to the dingy hotel room. The click of the lock sounded like a gavel, finalizing your sentence of struggle. You slid down the door, the cold wood pressing against your spin as you melted into an exhausted puddle. You stayed there for a while, staring down at the carpet, breath coming out in ragged hitches as the adrenaline of the night wore off.
You looked down at your shaking hands as you mulled over the contract, the debt, the sick smile on Pete’s face— his hands, his arms, his smell. You groaned and covered your face with your hands, hating how he continued to invade your thoughts despite the hatred that pooled in your guts.
With the adrenaline long gone, it left behind the crushing weight of exhaustion. You let out a long, suffering sigh as you got to your feet. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that your first big night wasn’t just a hurdle to get over, but the beginning of a slow, wretched descent into Pete’s sordid world.
The following weeks were a blur of exhaustion and frustration. Every night followed the same pattern: the blinding lights, the squeak of the pole, the hungry eyes; the exhilarating rush of the dance, the red knees, bruises and blisters and the crushing disappointment at the end of the night when Pete handed you your pitiful earnings. Pete became increasingly bold with his touches, promises of bonuses were always tied to how much you were willing to tolerate his advances in the office, and having to deal with his monetary retaliations when you refused.
The heavy bass vibrated under your feet, tickling your toes through your high-platform shoes. Your hands clutched at the cold, silver pole as you delicately swirled yourself around. The past few weeks your skills had improved; although, not enough according to Pete; though you were dead sure that his thoughts were an excuse to pull you into his lap for impromptu lessons.
You kept your gaze loose, swinging from patron to the girls sat in laps with glowing smiles and fingers twirling through their hair as the grasped dollar bills. Blue and purple hues danced over your body as your hips swayed the best they could in time to the beat as you prayed for the song to finally be over.
The interest in you was dwindling; the allure of a shiny new girl was fading fast and you were no longer receiving tips just for being there. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, but you damn sure hoped it’d last long enough to pay your bill at the hotel. You had five days to come up with three hundred bucks, and by the measly few dollar bills in your pocket and the couple of fives on the floor; things weren’t looking good.
You made your way into the dressing room after your set, finding girls in various stages of getting ready and touching up their hair and walked over to Rachel's chair.
“Can I talk to you about something?” You asked, standing behind Rachel's chair.
“Yeah, anything, babe.”
She set her brush down and turned back to face you.
“I know I need to get better on stage, but how did you get Pete to let you into the VIP section?”
“You have to pay, didn’t he tell you that?”
“Yeah, I know that, but he keeps wanting me—“
“Oh, yeah, you need to pay him. Treat him well, look after him…” She trailed off as you looked completely lost. “Head, Sugar. The man wants head. Just do it. You’re gonna be doing more than that in VIP.”
“I thought it was just more private—“
“Nooo. No, no, no,” She snickered, grinning brightly. “They want more than just a dance, which is why you’ve gotta pay Nick to get through the door because they have to work harder to keep you safe.”
“I have to pay security?” You whined, throwing up your hands. ‘’Am I gonna have to start paying to breathe?’’
“Pay, tip, all the same. He’s really explained none of this to you?”
You shook your head as she gave an empathic smile before tapping your arm as she passed you to leave to go out the club floor. You stood for a moment, trying to find any other way to survive the next week that didn’t require sulking into Pete’s office and grovelling for another loan. You let out a pained groan when you realised you had no other choice.
You trudged into Pete’s office, heavy heels weighing down your steps as if trying to pull you back from your impending doom.
‘’Pete, I have a favour to ask,’’ You spoke sweetly as you stepped into his office.
‘’Shoot,’’ Pete replied, sorting through papers on his desk, brows knitting together as he discarded one after another, letting out huffed sighs. ‘’Quickly, now. Things to do,’’ Pete prompted sharply.
‘’I– I don’t have enough for rent– Well, the hotel bill–’’
‘’You’re still there?’’ Pete paused, eyeing you with a slight disgust. ‘’Why are you still there?’’
‘’Yeah, it’s cheap and no point wasting time finding somewhere else,’’ You explained, sighing and wringing your hands. ‘’I was wondering if you’d let me work in the VIP section, the girls said they make more money–’’
‘’Not happening,’’ He cut in sharply, pulling on his suit jacket.
‘’Why?’’ You asked, feeling already defeated and slightly offended.
‘’Because you refuse to do what the other girls do in order to work in VIP,’’ He snorted, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a familiar envelope. ‘’Gotta treat me like a VIP to get to the VIP’s, Sugar.’’
‘’I really need the money,’’ You pleaded.
‘’Work harder,’’ Pete said bluntly. ‘’Learn how to actually dance, you’ve gotten better, but the shy, innocent, little baby out of place act isn’t gonna get you far, it doesn’t last long–’’
‘’Yeah, I know,’’ You muttered under your breath.
‘’What was that, now?’’ He questioned, making you shrink as if you were a child that had just been scolded and before you could say anything else, he waved a hand; ‘’Doesn’t matter. Look, you’re no good to me if you end up on the street and get swiped and thrown into a van, so I guess I can loan you the money.’’
‘’Thank you,’’ You gushed, rushing over to him and placing your hand on his forearm. ‘’Thank you so much. I swear, I’ll work it off for free–’’
‘’I’ll just take a higher cut until you’re paid up. Not much good to me either if you don’t have the energy to stand on the stage and do whatever it is you do. And it means you can spend more time here working on your skill… Oh, do you need more lessons, sweetheart? I’m always available for practice, you know that, right?’’
‘’I just need to work on my confidence, but thanks for the offer, Pete,’’ You said earnestly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and taking the envelope. ‘’And thank you for the money. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’
‘’Oh, you’re not done. It’s barely 1 A.M.’’ Pete huffed out a short laugh, hands stuffed in his pockets.
‘’I’m really tired and I’m just not getting any attention,’’ You replied, exhausted and pouting to hopefully gain a little sympathy.
‘’So work for it,’’ He commanded and guided you out of the office and departed with his usual tap to your ass.
You parted from him at the dressing room doorway, watching him as he disappeared into the club, the money feeling sickly heavy in your hand. You huffed as you sat in your hair, stuffing the cash into your bag and shoving it under your vanity.
‘’My advice,’’ Crocki said, matter-of-fact but sympathetic. ‘’Stop borrowing money from a man that already underpays you. There’s better things you can do.’’
‘’You can always find work on the side,’’ Alexa said, fiddling with a curl that wouldn’t sit just right.
‘’I thought we couldn’t go to any clubs. None of the restaurants or anything I can do during the day want to hire me. I mean, I get it, all I have are stripper outfits and a leather jacket,’’ You huffed as you threw down your makeup brush, smoothing out the edges of your eyeshadow with your finger.
‘’Not talking about another club, not talking about waitressing,’’ Alexa laughed. ‘’The girls do home visits, parties, entertainment; others do more. You just gotta talk to Pete, he sets it all up.’’
‘’I don’t think I could do that, I can barely give a lap dance, and plus, I asked about VIP, he won’t let me unless I sleep with him.’’
‘’He ain’t bad in bed,’’ Rachael smirked, hand on the back of your chair as she popped her hip, her brow jumping teasingly.
‘’I sleep with him for free,'' Navy cut in, giggling as she joined Rachael, smoothing a finger over her lip gloss.
‘’I did not need to know that,’’ You groaned, a little laugh. ‘’Seriously, how am I supposed to be alone with these men?’’
‘’Because here you’re surrounded by people, you’re both watching and being watched. You might find it easier within the privacy of someone's home. You could make some serious money,’’ Alexa explained, standing and fluffing her hair.
‘’Come on, we better get back out there,’’ Crocki probed, shooing you up and out of your seat.
It was on a rainy Tuesday night that an opportunity presented itself in the form of a man who eyed you all night. You were finishing a slow, grinding set when the man dressed in a charcoal suit with a look of wealth and hunger in his eyes approached the edge of the stage as you were collecting the cash. He didn’t toss any himself, but he leaned in with a low, urgent plea:
‘’You’re breathtaking,’’ He breathed hotly. ‘’I have a private booth, if you want to join me. I can pay you for your time, more than whatever that boss of yours would give you.’’
You contemplated, knowing the rules were explicitly clear: No off the book dealings. Then you thought of the dwindling cash in your pocket, your overdrawn account and the money you already owed Pete. You knew it was risky, but you found yourself offering a different deal.
‘’Not here. Write down your address and I’ll come get it from you after I give a few dances,’’ You instructed quietly and then motioned for the man to leave.
The man nodded frantically, excitement crossing his face and his gaze lingering on your body before he stepped away, blending into the crowd and up to the balcony booths. You navigated to the dressing room with a sharp focus, not paying any mind to the other dancers as you quickly stuffed the cash away and made your way back into the club and passed the time on a few laps before making your way up to the man. He slid his address in with a wad of twenties and you spent a song or two in his lap before rushing to change and leave.
You hailed a cab and met him back at his apartment.
With that single night, that simple exchange, began your secret hustle– right under Pete’s nose.
The following weeks became a dangerous dance of their own. You honed your art of your side hustle. You began to keep a mental note of regulars that eyed you with the specific, desperate hunger; the ones who had more money than sense and a certain distaste for Pete’s heavy-handed management. With folded bills containing addresses and phone numbers, the whispers of something more and thick envelopes pressed into your palm at the end of your nights, your stash began to grow.
You had to be careful how you spent your money, having excuses at the ready when you showed up with new outfits and shoes, passing it off as second-hand or cheap online purchases. For the first time in a long time, you felt a shred of agency; you were no longer having to beg, no longer having to be a victim of Pete’s scraps– you were creating a life of your own. However, the risk grew with every encounter, having to be wary about where you met them, how you kept in contact, keeping yourself hidden from them inside the club.
The most dangerous part though, wasn’t the logistics; it was the change in your own demeanor. As the list grew, so did your confidence. The desperation that once made you easy to intimidate was quickly replaced and you started to look at Pete with a secret, mocking amusement and no longer with fear.
Friday night was a blur of shimmering pale blue lace and the suffocating scent of cigars. Pete had suggested the outfit, claiming he just knew the attention it would attract and sadly, he was right. It drew in a specific breed of predatory men. You felt less like a dancer and more like a piece of sordid art that was subjected to lingering touches and hungry whispers. You spent time moving booth to booth, lap to lap, your movements fluid and hesitant, playing your usual role of the trembling innocent to practiced perfection while counting the seconds until the night was over.
As the night progressed, you made your way back downstairs, heading over to the bar to grab a drink of water when you caught the eye of possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen; the kind of man people wrote about, the type that you thought couldn’t possibly exist.
The man was an absolute mountain of a human being.
He had to be an easy six-foot-nine, he towered ridiculously over the other men at the bar, his broad shoulders blocking out the purple lights behind him, casting a halo around him. His open flannel showed off his tight black shirt, stretched thin over his muscle. His face was set in a stony, grumpy expression until he noticed you were looking right back at him which made him break out in a grin as you stepped closer to him. You took in the thick beard, long hair and sucked in a sharp breath as a warmth spread over your stomach.
You smiled shyly up at him and offered out your hand to him, and happily let yourself be guided into his space as he spoke in a low rumble which vibrated in your chest.
‘’You’re the new one,’’ He stated, wetting his lips as he pulled you closer.
The smell of expensive sandalwood and aged leather clung to him, making your head spin as he leaned down to hear you in the deafening noise of the club.
‘’Hi,’’ You said breathlessly, ‘’I’m Sugar.’’
‘’Hi, Sugar,’’ He replied, voice gravelly and honeyed. ‘’I’m Ari.’’
There was a look in his eyes, predatory, and you weren't sure if he was throwing you a lifeline or a noose.
Love this line!
You lifted onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, sucking in a breath and praying that it’ll be enough to please him.
I just know the innocence of this fucking delighted him lol.
Me at that ending:
Ahhhhh! The atmosphere you’ve created is so vivid and immersive! I love seeing Sugar evolve too. While I love her side hustle for her, I’m also scared for her. I just know Pete is gonna find out and there will be hell to pay 🥲
Pairing: Dark Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader (Princess)
Summary: Forced here against your will, your only goal is to burn this whole institution to the ground. But your adviser has his own ideas about how your time at Rogers Academy is going to go.
Word Count: ~2.5k
Warnings: Dark fic, patriarchal dystopia, intense sexism and misogyny, manhandling, brief spanking, references to non-con animal play, mouth washing, gags, explicit language All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Okay, yes, it's technically Tuesday, but my accidental break from this series was longer than I expected, and I'm having (minor) surgery today, so I'm giving myself a little treat to focus on both before and after.
Bigger thanks than usual to @paperweight91, who was so good through all of my health issues at encouraging me when I was able to work on this and reassuring me when I couldn't. 💜💜💜
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
You went completely dead weight as you were dragged down the hall by two “hall monitors.” What a crock of shit. You were grown women, not children. You didn’t need constant supervision. Well, you thought to yourself with a smirk, maybe you did. Since you’d been forced here against your will after a marriage you’d also been forced into, you weren’t going to make a single thing easy for these fuckers. They’d rue the day they accepted you into this “school.” Right. Brainwashing institution more like.
You’d done your research. You knew exactly what they did inside these walls. You’d met someone at the last protest you’d gone to whose sister had been sent here. They said she’d come out of it a shell of her former self. Well. That wasn’t going to be you. You were going to do whatever you could to stay yourself and burn this place down in the process. Fuck this place. Fuck your husband for sending you here. And fuck your family, most of all, for selling you to him in the first place.
You felt one of the men holding you falter, and you cackled. “What the fuck, man?” He whined to the other one. “How’d we get the shit detail?”
Idiot Monitor #2 tugged up hard on your arm, and you grimaced but didn’t cry out. “Shut up and just get her to the office so we can be done with this shit.”
You flailed your whole body as much as you could in their hold, just to make it that much harder, and you felt Idiot #1 almost drop you. “Bitch!” he yelled. “Why can’t you just walk?!”
You grinned, bright and feral, but your satisfaction was short-lived as the three of you finally came to a stop in front of a heavy oak door. Idiot #2 knocked, and when there was an answering grunt from inside, opened the door and threw you in, slamming it shut behind you. You landed on a plush rug, surrounded by mahogany and leather, right in front of a large, opulent desk. You looked up to find a man standing tall behind the desk, gazing curiously down at you. He had dark hair, slicked back on top and shaved on the sides, with a mustache that was trendy right now for men trying to prove something. It looked fucking stupid. His blue eyes pierced into you, and you scrambled back, trying to keep as much distance between the two of you as you could.
Your first instinct was to go straight for the door. Let them try to chase you over this entire campus. But when you turned the handle, nothing happened. You tried again, a little more desperately, but still, the door wouldn’t budge.
At a soft chuckle, you looked back over your shoulder at the man, Mr. Hansen, you presumed. Your “adviser.” What a joke. He grinned at you, his eyes sparkling, and held up a little black remote. “That door will only open with my say so,” he said. “So why don’t we cut the shit and you sit down so we can get started, Princess?”
You would do no such thing. You turned around to face him, but kept your back pressed against the door, as far away from him as you could physically manage. “That’s not my name!” you growled at him. It was what everyone had called you since you’d entered this hellhole, and you were done with it.
He shrugged like none of this mattered as he came out from behind his desk. You slid a few feet down the wall in the opposite direction, trying to keep as much distance between you as you could. “It is while you’re here,” he said calmly. “See, the whole point of this place is to make you a brand new version of yourself. Whoever we want you to be. And that starts with your name. Besides, I think Princess will suit you by the time I’m done.”
A chill went through your whole body. This place was so evil. You took a deep breath. They wouldn’t change you. You wouldn’t let them. “Fuck you!”
He laughed, loud and uncaring. “Not until I’ve got you declawed, baby.”
Your stomach flipped in revulsion. “You can’t fuck me. I’ve already got a husband.” Showing any loyalty to the asshole you were married to made you sick, but if men only ever respected each other, then you’d use it to your advantage any way you could.
But he just grinned. “Oh, I know,” he said. “I talked to him. Seems you’ve been causing all kinds of trouble.” He took another step in your direction, and you slid down the wall another few feet. “Disobedience, disrespect, aggression. Did you really attack him with a butter knife?”
You didn’t answer, just moved further down the wall as he took another step closer, your eyes carefully tracking his every movement.
“Well, either way,” he said to your silence with another careful step, “he’s tired of it. He’s ready for the submissive little doll he was promised. That he deserves. And he doesn’t care how we achieve that. So that means I can fuck you into submission or spank your ass raw or any creative little thing I can come up with. Whatever I want as long as when you go home, you bend over and take it like a good little cunt and say thank you after. Which you will, because I’m being paid a shit-load of money to make sure you do.”
You swallowed nervously, still inching away. An unfamiliar panic settling in your chest. The only good thing about being married was the way your status had protected you from other men. But if that was gone now… You tried to hold onto your bluster, your rage. You couldn’t let it slip now. He wouldn’t cow you. So you opened your mouth and spoke without thinking. “Yeah? Those are a lot of big words for someone who hasn’t even gotten within ten feet of me yet.”
He took a moment just to observe you, as you held your hands out in front of you to hopefully ward him off. “You’re right,” he said, then stretched his neck to one side until it cracked. “I’m not here to talk at you. I’m here to make you obey.” And then, without another second of warning, he lunged across the room.
You tried to scramble away, but you realized too late that he had you cornered up against a filing cabinet. You tried to pivot on one foot, switch directions, and go back the way you’d come, but you stumbled, and he caught you easily. You tried to lash out, use your legs as he pinned your arms behind your back, but he moved too fast, and before you knew it, you were being slammed chest-first down onto his desk.
You hollered and screamed and fought as much as you could, but he still made quick work of restraining your arms with cuffs you hadn’t noticed attached to each of the far corners of his desktop. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered as he kicked your feet apart as far as they would go so that you lost all leverage. Then he strapped them to the legs of the desk, so that you were basically a bent-over starfish.
You let out a guttural scream and then, “Fuck you! Let me fucking go, you stupid cuck! I’m gonna fucking kill you! I’m gonna rip that ugly mustache right off your face!” You tugged wildly on all of your restraints, but there was no give. The only thing that moved as you tried to flail was your ass.
As if you’d called attention to it, Hansen flipped your skirt up to expose you to the room. He landed three quick, stinging smacks to one butt cheek. “Calm the fuck down!” he ordered. You heard a drawer open and close behind you, and then the crinkling of plastic. “The fucking mouth on you,” he exclaimed. “That isn’t how good girls talk.” And then, the only warning you got was the feeling of him leaning over you before something was shoved into your mouth and then strapped behind your head.
It wasn’t a ball gag, you knew that much. Too square and a weird texture. Not soft, but… malleable. Then the taste—antiseptic and clean in the worst way—hit your tongue, and you knew exactly what it was. Oh god, he’d shoved an entire bar of soap in your mouth. You tried to spit it out, forgetting that it was strapped to you, but all that did was work up a lather. And gagging only made it worse.
“You know,” he said, crouching down so he was at your eye level, “Rogers has always sworn by these soap gags to wash out bad girls’ dirty mouths. And I have to admit, watching you foaming at the mouth right now, I’m starting to see the appeal.” You tried to thrash again to no avail as he stood back up. “Oh, relax. It’s completely non-toxic, see?” He waved the foil wrapper in your face. “Specially manufactured to go into the filthy mouths of whores just like you.”
You thrashed and grunted, unable to stay down even when you knew you’d been beat, even when the awful taste of soap filled your mouth and leaked down your throat. You refused to let him think he’d won, think you’d ever give up.
He perched on the edge of his desk, right next to your face. You futilely tried to pull away. You’d never stop trying. He rested one hand on the base of your skull. “Alright,” he said, “now that I finally have you quiet, here’s how things are going to work. I’m not stupid. I know you’re going to keep fighting me. But every time you do, I’m going to knock you down, just like this. And the longer you keep fighting the inevitable, the more creative I’ll get, the more fun I’ll have, until I finally break you. Which I will. There’s no question about that.”
The hand on your skull, pet you gently, trailing down your neck. Out of everything that had happened so far, that was the thing that revolted you the most, those gentle touches. Him thinking he had any right. Just as you started to try to buck him off, the gentleness disappeared, and he grasped your head harshly, forcibly turning it to the other side and angling it so you were looking into the corner of the room. Your confusion lasted only for a second before your eyes focused in on what he wanted you to see. A large dog crate with heavy bars. Big enough for a person on all fours. Big enough for you. You couldn’t control the way you whimpered in fright. You hated yourself for it immediately.
At the sound, he immediately went back to petting you, slow strokes down your back now. “Yeah, I brought that in specially for you. To get us on the same page right away. To help you understand how things work here. You want to be treated like a lady, you need to act like one. You act like a child, and I won’t hesitate to put you over my knee. And if you act like an animal,” he leaned down so that he blanketed your back, his weight pressing down on you, and whispered right in your ear, “then I will fucking treat you like one.”
You reacted immediately, pulling at your restraints even harder than you’d done before, the cuffs cut into your wrists painfully, but you didn’t fucking care. You’d cut your own hand off before you let him do that to you. A sound escaped your mouth, around the soap, that you could only describe as guttural, feral. Animal.
Hansen laughed as he stood up, uncaring, amused. “You’re so big and tough, aren’t you?” he grinned. “Yeah, we’ll see.” He walked around behind his desk and checked his tablet as you continued making as much of a racket as possible. “Oh, look at that! It’s lunchtime. Thank god, I could eat a horse.” He looked at you, cocking his head to the side. “And you need some time to think, doncha? Yeah. You’ve got a big decision to make.” He reached down to stroke one of your hands, even as you unsuccessfully tried to twist it in order to claw at him. “Yeah, you’ve gotta decide if you’re gonna spend tonight in your nice little room upstairs,” he paused as he walked back around so he was standing behind you, one hand palming your ass as soon as he was close enough, “or down here in my cage. I’ve got a feeling which one you’ll choose,” and you could hear his smirk, even if you couldn’t see it, “but I’ll give you a few hours to think about it anyway. I’ve got a busy afternoon full of personal grooming consultations. We’ll do yours right here, I think, once I’m done with everyone else. I’m betting that’s when you’ll give me your answer. But I can give myself a little preview now,” he said, as his hand slowly moved from your ass around to your front to palm your mound through the barely there thong you’d been forced into that morning. He laughed again as soon as he felt you, loud and obnoxious. “Oh yeah, I fucking knew it. We’ll definitely have to do something about that bush.” And then, still laughing, you heard his footsteps leave the room and walk down the hall.
Left alone, your breathing quickened. He couldn’t actually leave you tied up here with soap in your mouth for hours. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. You would get out. You would get out. You would get out.
After several minutes, footsteps echoed down the hall again. He was coming back. It’d just been a pathetic attempt to scare you. Well, it hadn’t worked, the fucking loser. He wouldn’t break you.
The steps stopped right at the still-open door. There was another loud laugh, but it wasn’t Hansen. You realized, as a pit formed in your stomach, that it was Idiot #2. And Hansen hadn’t pulled your skirt down after he’d flipped it up, so your bare ass was on display for anyone who walked by. And then you heard the unmistakable digital snap of a phone camera. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, and you could feel his leer burning into your backside. “God, it’s gonna be so good to watch them break you.” And then with another chuckle, you heard him walk away.
But they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t break you. They wouldn’t they wouldn’t they wouldn’t.
For the first time, as all you could see was the dog cage in the corner, its door open and ready, it felt like you were trying to convince yourself.
Yay! Same tbh I have loads of smuts ready to write 😂
Okay so my request is: either Steve or Chris (which ever one you feel more comfortable writing for) and Y/n are meeting their friends for the day to just have a day out or something. And whilst their getting ready y/n decides to tease Chris or Steve by putting in his favourite lingerie that he loves seeing her in. And just as Chris or Steve is about to pounce on her there’s a knock on the door and it’s their friends. Y/n keeps teasing him the entire night without fail and once they are in their car on their way home He just can’t keep his hands off of her anymore and ends up fingering her whilst he’s driving but he doesn’t let her cum 🥵
Hi love. I’m so happy about this request and so excited. I tried to write this a couple times, ended up deleting lots of parts before the ideas finally started flowing. So here it is.
Also, i’ve had so much fun getting to know you lately and i’m glad we started talking!
Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.
GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit goes to @luvinchris go check them out 💜
Punishments & Surprises
Chris wonders into your shared bedroom, leaning against the doorway of your closet as he watches you get ready. You bend over to put some fresh panties on, the laced blue ones. His favourite. As you step into them, your pussy and ass on full view to him, he feels a situation develop in his jeans. Not the best time to get a hard cock,
The two of you are on your way out to meet some friends for food. And yet here he is, contemplating on cancelling just so he can fuck that beautiful pussy of yours. The thought of making you cum multiple times is too much for him. He tugs at his bottom lip as he comes out of his daze. Only to be met with the sight of you. In the bra that matches those panties.
God. You’re fucking perfect to him. Everything about you.
“You gonna talk at some point or just continue to drool?” you mock, noticing how his mouth is hanging open.
He closes it. His eyes ogle your half naked body, lust and hunger fill them.
“Please baby” Chris begging is always so amusing to you. Because it rarely happens, it makes it that much sweeter to tease him.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. We have to be somewhere in 20 minutes Chris” you finish getting ready, slipping the skirt on and pairing it with the matching top and some heels.
He’s still staring you down. You walk past him but he grabs a hold of your hand, pulling you flush against him.
“Please, Y/N” you tut “what is it that you want baby? Want to bend me over the bed, slide that hard cock into my wet pussy. Fuck me stupid until i’m begging you to stop” you palm him over his slacks, winding him up even more.
He gulps at your words “yes, that’s exactly what i want” you giggle “too bad. We have plans with our friends” his breathing picks up even more as he rests his hands on your perfect ass.
“God you’re just pining for it aren’t you” you kneel down so your face is level with his crotch. You stick your tongue out and glide it across where his bulge is.
“So big” you giggle as you strut away from him. Leaving him standing there. All hot and bothered and rock hard.
You slip your coat on, handing him his as he meets you by the front door.
Just as he’s about to make a second attempt, there’s a knock.
You smirk at him, opening the door to reveal your friends.
“You guys ready?” you nod, stepping out of the house. Chris locks up before unlocking his car for you. You both get in and follow them to the restaurant.
“Such a tease” he spits, gripping the steering wheel tight.
“Chris we have plans, i can’t just drop them because you want to fuck”
“Starting to think you do this shit on purpose”
“Maybe i do. Maybe i love watching your cock get hard when you watch me bend over, shoving my ass and pussy in your face. Maybe i love flaunting myself in front of you”
“Fuck Y/N” he adjusts himself again, you’re definitely getting to him.
----------------
The night is going well. Drinks are flowing much like the conversation.
The topic then turns to you and Chris. How you got together. It was all thanks to his brother Scott. He set the two of you up. He noticed how both of you were clearly moping around, both single and clearly ready to date.
All it took was ten minutes. Ten minutes for you to know that he was the one.
Which doesn’t seem like a lot when you think about it but it was more than enough for you. You don’t care though. You liked him and he liked you. A match made in heaven.
Everyone praises Scott constantly for his match making skills. How he got it spot on.
Even his family does.
Lisa loves you, she classes you as a daughter and Shanna and Carly, even Scott calls you their sister.
You genuinely feel welcome and part of the family, which of course you are. Just not officially. Not yet anyways.
You then get talking about Dodger and the funny things he does.
Like last week when he pretty much tackled Chris to the ground when he was walking through the door with shopping bags. And when he walked in on you two kissing. He sat in the middle of you on the couch, looking back and forth until you were forced to stop due to laughing.
During dinner, you start to palm him. He coughs to cover up the soft moan that almost slipped out, in front of his friends.
You know it’s wrong but you just can’t stop and despite the looming threat of a punishment when you get home, nothing can stop you right now. Not even Chris.
He tugs at his bottom lip, trying to distract himself with eating and talking but that’s when you take his hand under the table, leading it to rest on your soaked clothed pussy. He gets a feel of how dripping you are for him. And when you get up to go to the bathroom, you whisper in his ear.
“See how wet you make me daddy”
He’s tried to tease you back plenty of times but you don’t allow it. He’s just gonna have to wait until he gets you alone.
You return, just in time to pay the bill. You take the spoon from the desert you just demolished. Licking every last bit of chocolate off of it, working your tongue around it. You turn to Chris to see him staring. Once you finish. You arrange how you’re all going to pay before exiting the restaurant.
“We have to do this more often for sure” Julie says, giving you a hug goodbye before hugging Chris.
“Definitely. It was so nice to catch up” he says, waving goodbye to the couple and unlocking his car.
You put your seatbelt on, as does he. Complete silence falls upon you. It’s not awkward, just tense.
“God that food was incredible” you groan, yawning shortly after. Still not a word from him. He chuckles, shaking his head as he starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot.
He gradually speeds up, causing you to gasp.
But still. Nothing from him.
“You think that’s fucking funny do you?”
You just widen your eyes, looking at him.
“What d-”
“Answer me” he snaps with a smack to your thigh, causing you to jolt.
“It was just a bit of fun Chris calm down”
“Just a bit of fun huh? How’s this for some fun then?”
He reaches his hand over, sliding your skirt up just enough so he can reach his hand into your wet panties.
“Spread them”
You waste no time in following his demands. He starts running his fingers through your folds and rubbing at your aching clit. You need him so badly.
But he isn’t going to give in easily. No, you’re gonna need to earn it. Earn the right to get fucked. And Chris never backs down in these situations, it’s rare if he does.
“Does it feel good huh?” you hum in response, gripping onto his forearm. It feels so good, the pressure. The way he can have you crumbling just from the smallest of touches is insane to you. But it’s always been this way.
“Please” your grip tightens, nails digging into his skin as you grind into his fingers. You just need a little more. You need his fingers inside of you, pushing against your spot and forcing an orgasm from you.
But it’s not gonna come true just yet.
“Please what?”
“I need your fingers in me, please Chris” that’s your first mistake. You know full well in these situations that he doesn’t like to be called by his name. He insists on ‘daddy’ and yet you’ve just broken the most important rule. You’re definitely in for it now.
No chance of getting your way.
“What did you just fucking call me?” he slams two of his thick digits inside of you, no warning before pulling them out and smacking your thigh.
“I asked you a question. Don’t test my patience baby” you moan at how low his voice has gotten “i didn’t mean it. I’m sorry daddy” he chuckles.
His fingers slowly slide back in and he wastes no time in dragging them in and out nicely “we’ll be home soon and i don’t want you to cum before then. If you do, you won’t like the consequences. You got it?” you nod, biting your lip and mumbling a nervous “yes” to satisfy him.
He continues to fuck into you, adding a third finger to the mix. You should be used to orgasm denial by now. You tend to break the rules a lot, leaving it up to Chris to teach you how to behave like a good girl.
You gotta say though, you like it. The thrill of not knowing how well you’re going to hold it each time. Sometimes you can hold back, it’s a struggle and it’s certainly not easy but this time however, was not one of those times.
No this time, he’s not letting up. His speed is staying the same and he’s using his thumb to rub at your throbbing bundle of nerves. Making it almost impossible for you to not fall over. He knows what he’s doing. He wants you to cum, he’s doing this on purpose. He wants to punish you further.
Maybe the consequences won’t be so bad. You decide to test him
You let go, refusing the hold it any longer. Letting your body just take it.
“Mhmm fuck. Daddy” your walls clamp down around his digits and he pulls out.
“Thought you could pull a fast one did you? Thought i wouldn’t feel you getting close? Such a dumb little baby” your eyes widen as you watch his hand cup your sex before raising it to smack down.
You whine at his actions, begging for him to stop but he doesn’t “you just don’t learn do you?” you start pouting at him. Watching as he grips the steering wheel with both hands after 3 smacks.
The plan back fired.
“I’m sorry daddy” he’s not taking any of it. No amount of apologies or whines will make this better now. You just might be worse off now than you were before.
All of a sudden he pulls over. Some random side road.
“Take those fucking panties off now” you undo your seatbelt following his orders without any fuss before you turn to look at him, lips pouty and eyes all wide. Awaiting his next instructions.
His fingers fiddle with his belt.
“You’ve done nothing but tease me all dam day, bending that pretty little ass over in my face and exposing your cunt to me” he starts, unbuckling his belt and undoing the button on his jeans.
“Then we go out for some lovely food with our friends and you continue. Licking your spoon clean, rubbing my legs and placing my hand over your soaked panties” he slides the zipper down, moving so he can pull his jeans and boxers down. His rock hard cock springs free, the tip is red and angry as pre cum leaks out of it. Making your mouth water with need.
You gulp just looking.
“And that brings us to now, disobeying daddy’s rules. Trying to cum when i specifically told you that you couldn’t” he starts pumping himself before gathering the pre cum on his finger and bringing it to your mouth.
“Open” you feel the salty-sweet taste on your eager tongue as he stuffs his index finger in your mouth quickly.
“And now, you’re going to suck my fucking cock until i cum in that dirty mouth, put it to good use” you nod, moving forward and taking it in your small hands. You waste no time in taking all of him.
Moving down until he bottoms out. Your nose touches the hair that decorates his size.
He groans at the feel of your warm mouth around him. The feel of your tongue licking his shaft each time you come up for air.
Chris knows you’re a good girl most of the time. But sometimes you like to run your mouth and land yourself in hot water. He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy you doing so, it means he gets to be extra rough with you and he knows you enjoy it just as much. Why else would you go to the effort of teasing him all day? You’re dying to be punished and fucked hard. Treated like the whore that you are. But only for him.
He starts bucking his hips up into your mouth, causing you to gag, a sound he loves to hear. It’s like music to his ears.
“Is my cock too much for you baby?” you pull off with a pop “no daddy” he forces himself back inside of your mouth, you gag once again.
“Something tells me that you’re lying. You can’t handle daddy’s cock pretty girl?” you pull off again.
“No daddy, i can handle it” he chuckles at the way you’re so responsive to him.
Now it’s clear he has other plans for you.
“Come here, sit on my cock” just what you’ve been waiting for.
You move over, he lines himself up and you sink down. But before you can even think about bouncing, he holds you still.
“You’re gonna stay still, sitting with my cock buried deep inside you, keeping it warm. I want you to think about how you’ve acted tonight first before you ride me”
You gulp again. This is the last thing you expected him to do.
“I’m sorry daddy. Please” he tuts “not everything will magically go away with a quick apology princess. I want you to really be sorry. And there’s only one way you’re going to learn” your breathing becomes heavier.
You don’t even need to ask, he knows you want to know.
And just like that, he tugs your head backwards. His mouth attacks your clothed nipples. His hips move and you feel his cock twitch.
He takes your shirt, tearing it in two with no issues. Leaving your chest exposed. Now you really feel like a whore.
Pulled over on a side road, where anyone could drive by. If they do, they’d have quite the sight. You sat on his cock, tits out as he sucks on them.
“F-fuck daddy” your whines are getting louder and louder. He doesn’t listen though, just continues to leave marks all over your chest and neck. He won’t let up until you’re covered.
“Okay, you ready princess? Think you’ve earnt the right to be fucked?” you nod “yes daddy, please fuck me”
You don’t have to tell him twice.
His hands splay across your ass cheeks, gripping at them and digging his nails in as he lifts you up, making room for him to fuck you.
His thrusts pick up instantly. The look in his eyes is rendering on animalistic. Lust filled.
This is the side of Chris that you absolutely adore. He can make you do pretty much anything when he gets like this. Hungry and annoyed at your actions. It’s a dangerous mix but one that’s as sweet as sugar.
“Always so tight and warm wrapped around me” he grunts, your forehead rests against his, your hands hold onto his shoulders for support.
“Shit, you feel so good” you throw your head back, arching your back. He takes the opportunity to bury his face in the valley of your breasts. Kissing you, open mouthed.
“God. I feel that pretty cunt clenching me like that. Don’t you dare fucking cum baby. You have to wait”
But you can’t wait, you need that release. It’s been building up and his punishments haven’t helped.
“Please. D-daddy. I need to cum” he shakes his head.
You’ve never begged him so much.
“You want it? Huh? Fucking beg, properly this time”
He drags his cock in and out, aggressively. Not letting up. Hitting your cervix again and again. Your mouth falls open, incomprehensible murmurs leave and he’s not much better. His eyes scrunch closed before he opens them to watch you.
“Fuck baby”
“Please, i want to cum. I need to cum. Please daddy, I’ll be a good girl” as much as he wants to continue this torture, he needs it too.
He craves the mess of your cum all over his cock. The way you clamp down on him as you do so, spurring on his own release.
The way you moan at the feel of him spilling inside of you.
“You ready to cum with me sweetheart?”
“Yes”
He slams in slow and hard. You clench. He twitches.
“OH SHIT” you scream, falling over the edge as your orgasm consumes you. The way your crying out brings his release on,
You feel his hot seed coat your walls, painting them and filling you up perfectly. You continue to lift off and sink back down. Allowing yourselves to ride the highs out together.
He brings your face to his level. His lips attack yours in a hungry and bruising kiss. Filled with passion and love.
He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, nipping at it slightly. You open up, allowing him to explore your mouth, dominating your tongue at the same time. You love it.
“Every time we do that, it gets better” you both laugh and you can’t help but agree with him. Sex has always been adventurous, wild and yet completely tame and romantic with you two. You never know which type you’re gonna get some nights, but that’s what makes it so fun.
“I love you so much Y/N, so much” he pants as he rests his forehead to yours.
“I know, i love you too Chris”
“No, you don’t understand”
You furrow your brows in confusion, motioning for him to continue.
“My life has been a million times better since you came into it. You make me a much better man, a better boyfriend. Just by being with me. I love you with every ounce of my being. With every cracked piece of my heart. With every kiss that you give me, every touch, every smile, every laugh. I fall more and more and i can’t spend another moment on this earth without telling you this. You need to hear it. You’re the only woman for me, the only woman i ever want to wake up next to, the only woman i want to make love to, the only woman. It’s like we fit together so perfectly, almost like we were made and brought into this world, destined to meet and be together. Like this was the plan all along”
Your heart starts to race, tears brim in your eyes. Where has all this come from? You can’t help but wonder. He wears his heart on his sleeve with you and he always has done but you’ve never seen him like this.
His shaky hands cup your face, kissing you before he continues.
He leans over to the passenger side, opening the glove compartment and taking out a small box.
Okay, now you’re freaking out.
“Chris”
He puts a finger over your lips, shushing you so he can talk.
“I know that we’ve been with other people before each other but it feels like that was just just part of the plan. We weren’t ready to be together just yet. We had to experience life first. Experience true heartbreak before we could finally be happy together. And now we are. I want you to know that for as long as you allow me to, i will make you the happiest woman on earth. I won’t ever make you feel neglected. You’ll never have to question if you’re worthy or beautiful because i’ll be right here to remind you that you are more than worthy and that beauty knows no bounds when it comes to you. That you are quite literally the most stunning woman. You will never spend a night crying alone, i’ll be here to hold your hand and comfort you during any difficult time”
“Chris, what’s all this?”
He wipes the tears away from his face and yours.
“I know i’m supposed to get down on one knee and i wasn’t planning on doing this until next week on date night” he starts chuckling at himself “but, this moment feels far too perfect to not take the chance”
“I love you Y/F/N will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife and Dodgers official mommy?” you giggle at that last part. He opens the box to reveal the most gorgeous ring that you’ve ever seen. Your eyes meet his, both filled with tears of joy and happiness.
“Yes”
“Really?” he looks surprised.
“Yes. You huge dork. A thousand times yes. I’ll marry you” he pulls you down to kiss him before sliding the ring onto your fingers. It fits perfectly, just like he thought it would and it looks so good on you. So right.
“I guess we should probably get dressed now huh?” you slap his chest playfully, nodding in agreement as you move to your seat. You adjust your clothes and he does the same. Once you’re dressed, he gets a jacket from the back seat, handing it to you to cover your modesty with. He can’t have the neighbours seeing his fiancés tits now can he?
It doesn’t take long to get home. His hand rests on your thigh.
Once he parks up he leads you into the house where Dodger runs up to the two of you and you flash your hand to him. He might just be a dog but from the way he’s jumping up the two of you and barking, he knows.
“That’s right Dodge, daddy finally did it. It only took 4 years” you say sarcastically, spying the way Chris rolls his eyes.
“Hey, i was picking the right moment”
“And fucking me senseless in your car on the side of the road, was the right moment?” he pulls you flush against him.
“Do i have to punish you again, future Mrs Evans?” you love the sound of that.
“Maybe you do Mr Evans”
“Get in that bedroom now” he spanks your ass and you run.
By the time he gets there, you’re sprawled out on your shared bed. Pussy exposed, nipples hard. Just how he likes you to be.
“Now. If you’re going to be my wife i suggest you stop with the attitude or you should probably get used to daily punishments”
He smirks, joining you on the bed.
You feel like the luckiest woman in the world. A woman who is very much looking forward to a lifetime of punishments from her husband. A lifetime of nasty and romantic sex. Starting with tonight. The first night of being engaged to Christopher Robert Evans.
----------------
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