✦ Warnings/tags: Mafia!Steve Rogers, romance writer!Reader, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of stalking, morally grey!Steve, reader has a shitty ex-husband, mentions of past abuse and trauma, future smut, pet name (Muse).
✦ Summary: After some trial and error, you find the door to Steve Rogers' study.
✦ Note: I am trying to write something soft!dark-ish and it's really not something I excel at just keep that in mind! Reblogs, comments and ask are always welcome ❤️
✦ I don't keep a taglist, but you can follow @veltanawrites and turn on notifications to get notified when I post something new.
Masterlist | AO3
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When you finally ease your way up from the floor and out into the house, you’re not sure how much time has passed; it could be minutes or even hours. Your whole world has been turned upside down, and you’re trying your best to find your feet, while you stumble out into a wide hallway. The best way to get answers and escape this place is to do what Steve wants and help him find your ex-husband.
After some trial and error, you find the door to Steve Rogers' study. It’s open, and you go right in, but stop as soon as you’re inside, not because of the opulence of the room or because Steve is looking at you from where he’s sitting behind his desk. It’s because of the man standing next to Steve.
“I recognize you,” you point at him. “I’ve seen you outside my building and at the grocery store. I thought you were a new neighbour!”
The man next to Steve chuckles and shrugs as Steve answers.
“I needed to know who you were before taking you here-,”
“Kidnapping me, you mean?” you interrupt.
That makes the other man snort in amusement, but Steve only sighs and continues.
“So Bucky’s been keeping tabs on you for some weeks now.”
The man named Bucky pats Steve on the shoulder and says, “I’ll leave the Muse in your capable hands, boss.” When he passes you on his way out, he stops shortly to say, “It was nice meeting you properly.”
You can’t find any words to answer before he’s gone, and then the first ones that come to your mouth are, “Muse?” you say and look at Steve, probably looking as confused as you feel.
He doesn’t answer your question; instead, he says, “Close the door, will you?”
As you do, he walks over to a seating area, sinking down in a chair, and continues, “Bucky is my right-hand man, if you need something and I’m not around, you can always go to him.”
You walk further into the room, closer to him, but you’re cautious, “You had me followed?”
He never takes his gaze off you, and there is an intensity in it that makes heat simmer in your stomach, as you stop beside the chair opposite to his.
“In my line of work, it’s important to know who you’re dealing with.”
“And what kind of work is that if I may ask?”
You’re not really ready to sit down just yet. There is still adrenaline in your veins, and your system is ready for flight if you need to.
Steve smirks, “It’s the kind that the law might frown upon sometimes.”
Gears turn in your head, piecing the few things you know together.
“Wait… are you the mob?” you ask, in a whisper.
“Clever little Muse,” Steve whispers back. “Now, please sit.”
You do as if on autopilot, while dealing with yet another shock to your system. The fact that your ex-husband has tried to mess with the mob is another confirmation of how incredibly blinded by love you must have been to not see this possible side of him. To distract your spiraling thoughts, you ask again.
“Why do you keep calling me that? Muse?”
“We needed to have a code name for you, it’s always safest that way, and Muse just seemed appropriate.”
It feels as if there is something he’s not telling you, but you don’t have the capacity to figure it out right now, and with Steve in front of you, sitting in the chair, leaning back with his legs slightly spread and oozing with power, it’s hard to think straight. You have to confess to yourself that you’re attracted to him, there’s no other way around it.
Since you split with Chad, there hasn’t been anyone else. Not even a one-night stand. The burn from the betrayal was so bad, you decided to quit men all in all and just be happy with the toys in your bedside drawer, and up until now, that had not been a problem. That you had to be kidnapped by a mob boss for all those old mechanics to start working again should be a red flag, but instead, you decide to embrace it. This thing you’re caught up in is weird and could be taken directly from a novel, but you’re not gonna fight it, it’s easier to just let it play out and hope you come out of the experience intact.
“Okay, so,” you shake your head in an effort to clear it. “This whole thing is bizarre, but as you said, the sooner we get started, the sooner this can all be over.”
“Great that we’re on the same page, Muse. Tell me about Chad, and why you fell for him in the first place?”
The question catches you off guard, and a great big lump of nausea forms in your throat. You’ve done your best to forget about him, but thoughts inevitably pop up from time to time, though it has happened less frequently over the years. But as you begin to tell Steve, you dredge up every little detail about his charm and his smile and how he made himself out to be something he was clearly not. You tell Steve about the gaslighting that began as soon as you were married, and that you just waved it off at first, but that after a while you started to believe the things he told you, that it was your fault, that it was you who was to blame when he fucked up, when he lost his job, when he cheated. There were things you didn’t write in your book that were too personal to tell even through fiction, but for some reason, you tell Steve about it. Pouring your heart out to this unknown person is freeing in a whole different way than talking to all the therapists you’ve seen through the years.
Steve looks like he’s on the verge of a rampage, his hands clamped so tightly around the chair that his knuckles have gone white. When Chad looked like that, you were scared, and even though this isn’t him, there’s still an undercurrent of fear running through you, but at the same time, you know that Steve’s anger is not directed at you.
“And since then, I haven’t seen him,” you end. Your pulse is racing, your breath is high in your chest, you feel like you’ve run a marathon but are also just about to head out the gates in a life-determining race.
“Muse,” Steve says, teeth clenched tight. “Come here.”
“What?”
“I said, come here. Now.”
Two of his fingers make a hither motion, and as if you’re a puppet on strings, you rise and go to him. A gasp leaves your mouth as he pulls you down in his lap, then he grabs your chin, stares into your eyes, and holds you firmly.
“Listen to me, my Muse. When we find him, I’m going to kill him.”
“Steve,” your voice trembles, but your pulse calms, and oxygen properly reaches your lungs again.
“I would have done that either way, but now, after all this, I want you to know that his death will be slow and painful.”
Suddenly, you’re not on the brink of a panic attack anymore.
“Why?” you find yourself asking.
“Because no one should be treated like that, but mainly because he did it to you, Muse.”
“I don’t want you to torture someone for my sake, Steve.”
“Sorry, but you don’t decide that, I do,” he explains. “Now, say ‘Thank you’.”
You swallow hard, but not because you’re nervous; a different kind of pulse quickening feeling is now residing in your body.
“Thank you.”
He releases your chin, but doesn’t let you up from his lap, instead time stands still as he holds your gaze, and you’re not interested in being released from it. You want to sink deeper, explore it more. You drift closer to him, his face, his mouth.
“Now, now, Muse, don’t get too ahead of yourself and do something you’ll regret,” Steve says in a low voice, breaking you out of the spell he’s put on you, making you pull back and realize what you're doing. Kissing a mob boss might lead you down a path you’re not quite ready for.
When you don’t say anything, Steve takes the lead again.
“Even though I hate to talk about that sorry piece of human garbage, we need more information about him. We have most of his connections mapped out, a trace on his phone, and my underlings know to keep their eyes open. But every time we think we have him, he slips away. What is it that we’re missing?”
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.
“I have no reason to lie to you about this,” you continue hurriedly. The last thing you want is for Steve to think you’re hiding something and subject you to some kind of torture. There might be a spark between the two of you, but you hold no illusions that he will spare you if he thinks you have information.
He must see the worry in your eyes, “You don’t have to reassure me, Muse, you have no reason to protect him, I believe you.”
“If I think of anything, I’ll tell you, I promise.”
“I know you will,” he smiles softly. “Now, tell me about you. Bucky says you always buy yourself a treat when you run errands? What do you like best, food or things?
Before you can begin, there is a rap of knuckles on the door, and Bucky steps inside again. He doesn’t seem fazed that you’re in Steve’s lap, he only says, “Sorry, Steve. It’s urgent, we need you.”
You quickly get up when Steve sighs, but he doesn’t rush out after Bucky right away, instead he stays with you for a few moments.
“Get something to eat, it’s almost lunch.”
“What?” you look around for a clock somewhere on the walls. “How long did I sleep?”
“Twelve hours or so, it’s always a little tricky to get the dosage right, but I didn’t want to risk you waking up in the car,” Steve says casually with a shrug.
“What the fuck! You drugged me?”
Instantly, you’re once again outraged about the liberties he’s taken with your body.
“Yes, my Muse, it was for your own good.” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, and some of the anger fades away. “You can ask me all about it over dinner tonight. But right now I have to go.”
“Dinner?” confusion replaces the remaining anger.
“Yes, dinner with me. I’ll find you a dress to wear.”
At that, you’re reminded that you’re still in your pajamas from last night. Thank god it’s not the height of summer and you went to bed naked!
“Steve, you don’t know my size,” you point out.
“Wrong,” he pulls back his hand, and you immediately miss the warmth. “I know almost everything about you. See you tonight.”
And then he’s off.
After standing in Steve’s office, stunned for some time, you realize you actually do feel hungry and decide to do as he suggested and locate the kitchen. At first, you’re hesitant to bother all the people there, but when one catches sight of you, they welcome you and sit you down at the island counter before serving you lunch. They go about their business as usual while you eat, and a few other people come in to get plates of food before leaving again. Everyone greets you, and doesn't seem surprised at seeing you there. It’s a little creepy not to know how much Steve has told them about you.
Once you’re done, you wander around, trying to find something to do, but you’re in an unfamiliar place, kind of nervous, and also not sure if there are some areas you should avoid. Mostly, you’re scared you’re going to stumble over something bloody you can’t unsee. After jumping at the sound of a door closing yet again, you retreat to Steve’s study.
Aside from the trauma of being drugged and kidnapped, this whole thing has certainly been good for your imagination. Your fingers are itching to write, and after months and months of treading water, you feel like you have an idea to run with. But without your computer, and not even your phone, you’re forced to do it the old-fashioned way, and you poke around in Steve’s desk to find a pen and paper. At first, you feel bad, but then you decide that if Steve didn’t want you to snoop about, he should have locked the drawers.
It’s freeing to dive into the writing, to plot a story and imagine the characters. If the main male character happens to resemble a certain mob boss, it’s not by accident. The attraction you feel towards Steve is new and terrifying, not only because of who he is, but because you have a hard time trusting your own instincts. What if you’re as wrong about him as you were about Chad? You know deep down that you shouldn’t be attracted to a man who has no trouble killing and torturing people, but the way he takes charge, telling you exactly what he wants and needs, that is so freeing after being with Chad, who was all about playing games and setting you up to fail.
You pen stills as your mind replays what happened in the chair, in Steve’s lap. He was warm and smelled so nice. You laugh at yourself and wonder if you’re so starved for touch and attention that you start romanticising your kidnapper, just because he happens to be nice to you one time. Okay, despite the kidnapping, he’s been calm and surprisingly gentle. It would have been easy for him to exploit your vulnerable state earlier, but he stopped it and then invited you to dinner. So, you’re going to have an evening dinner with a mob boss, and you have nothing to wear, except the clothes you slept in. Great. When the light in the windows starts to dim, you go back to your room with your stack of papers, and you’re not even surprised to find a dress in your favorite color waiting on the bed.
Gingerly, you pick it up, noticing how nice the fabric feels under your fingertips and that it still has the price tag on with a sum you’re sure can’t be right, but at least he’s not making you reuse the same dress as the last woman he kidnapped. For some reason, the thought of Steve and other women makes jealousy flare up in your chest, before you quickly tamp it down.
“Idiot,” you tell yourself. “He’s a mob boss. There is a new woman for him every day. You’re not special.”
In the bathroom, you find your own skincare and makeup, which means someone went back to your apartment and got your stuff. Staring at it, you wonder what Steve expects from you. After considering, you do enough to make yourself look good, but you don’t want Steve to think you put in too much effort. This whole thing is hard to balance when you have no idea how the scales will tip.
Just as you’re done putting on the dress, there is a knock on the door, and you turn with a flutter in your chest, thinking it’s Steve. But it’s not. A man, clearly one of the staff in the house, comes into your room with a shoebox from your favorite brand. He leaves it on the bed with the words “I’ll wait outside to take you to the dining room once you’re done.”
Unsurprisingly, the shoes fit. Two conflicting feelings fight in your body, one that it’s creepy as fuck that Steve actually knows what kind of shoes you prefer to wear, but also that it’s kind of nice that he actually cares that you’re comfortable at dinner.
Instead of examining those feelings too closely, you go out to where the man is waiting. He takes you to a dining room lit with candles and set for two people to dine. Unlike in movies, you’re not placed at opposite ends of a long table. Instead, you’re seated next to each other on the corner of a table, and it looks really… intimate. Steve is nowhere in sight, though.
“Mr. Rogers is running a bit late, unfortunately.” The man explains after seating you.
While you wait, you’re served champagne, and after having slowly sipped it for some time, the starter is brought out and served with another explanation that Steve will be a while longer. You stop holding out hope for him to show up at all after you get the main course, and you enjoy the food by yourself, taking your time to savor the delicious meal.
After, you’re taken back to your room, and while you get undone you wonder where Steve is and if he is okay. Thoughts about whether he’s been shot and is in the hospital start floating around, and you wonder what will happen to you if Steve doesn’t come back. Who will take over? Will you be seen as a liability? Nervousness eats you up, feeling as if you’re on your way to another panic attack, but just then, another knock sounds at your door, and you don’t have time to call out before Steve steps into your room.
Relief floods you, but then you notice that his suit is wrinkled and even torn in places, with messy hair, and it’s impossible not to notice the dried blood on his knuckles.
“Muse,” he says, “I’m sorry I missed dinner.”
“Fuck dinner, are you okay?”
He laughs a dry, mirthless laugh, “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”
You go to him and take his hand in yours, turning it over to look at the damage.
“I wanted you to know that I didn’t ignore you,” he says softly, “That I really wanted to have dinner with you.”
Smiling at him, you suggest, “How about breakfast instead?”
Steve cups your cheek, but doesn’t respond to the question; instead says, “I need to kiss you.”
“Kiss me? Why?”
“Because it’s what I planned to do after dinner tonight, and I can’t get the thought out of my head,” he explains.
“Oh. Well, then I want you to kiss me, Steve.”
He does without hesitation, pulling you by your face towards him, and when you open your mouth with a moan, he’s quickly there with his tongue, exploring. You cling to his shoulders for dear life, feeling a relentless throb erupt in your whole body. You’ve never been kissed like this before. When Steve retreats, you whine, and he answers with a chuckle.
“I’m in no state to take you to bed properly, my Muse, but tomorrow I’ve made sure I have you for myself the whole day. See you at breakfast.”
He gives you one last kiss before he leaves you aching, drenched, and wired.
✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers/fem!Reader
✦ Word count: ~1k
✦ Rating: Mature
✦ Warnings/tags: Mafia!Steve Rogers, romance writer!Reader, kidnapping, morally grey!Steve, reader has a shitty ex-husband, future smut.
✦ Summary: As anyone would, you panic.
✦ Note: I had a shitty day at work so I daydreamed about this instead.
✦ I don't keep a taglist, but you can follow @veltanawrites and turn on notifications to get notified when I post something new.
Masterlist | AO3
When you went to sleep, you dreaded the next morning. The start of a new week, another eight-hour day of staring at an empty document, trying to will your brain into coming up with something, anything.
As a writer, you had experienced writer’s block before, but never anything this bad. It probably had something to do with the last book you wrote: a story about a relationship doomed to end badly and a woman who just couldn’t see where it was headed until it was too late. It was inspired by true events from your life, though the book had a much better, happier ending than the one that had happened to you.
That book had really taken something out of you. It was like therapy, but also like baring your soul for the whole world to see, if they wanted to look. And it was so different from your previous romance books that you weren’t sure if your fanbase would like it. As a human, you were flawed, but you had never seen yourself as stupid. Stupid enough to fall for the lies, stupid enough not to see the signs, stupid enough not to get out in time.
With the publishing, you felt free of him, as much as you could be. Some scars would never heal properly, but that was life in a way. You would learn to cope. Still, your ex-husband’s bad decisions came back to bite you in the ass. Because you didn’t wake up in your own bed after that night. No, you woke in an unfamiliar room with no idea how you had gotten there.
As anyone would, you panic. The first thing you do is check your body. The same clothes you went to bed in are still on, there is some tenderness on your upper arms, but otherwise no pain. The room has no windows, but a skylight in the ceiling lets natural light in, and it is bright enough not to be dusk or dawn, even if you cannot see the sun.
The door is made of wood, but it is locked and does not budge when you try to shove it open.
“What the fuck!” you scream. “Is anyone there? Let me the fuck out!”
You hammer on the door until you think you might break your hand, and then you turn back to the rest of the room.
It is nicely furnished with a big bed and artwork on the walls. You check behind every painting for some secret passageway out, but there is only wallpaper. You check under the rugs for the same thing, but you also turn up nothing. Next is the bathroom. It has only a toilet and a sink, and there is nothing behind the mirror.
There is also a table with two chairs, and just as you are examining them, there is a knock on the door. Heart racing, you pick up one of the chairs and hold it out in front of you, backing into the furthest corner from the door.
It opens slowly, and then a man steps through. He is easily over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, thick arms, and legs that speak of power. There are tattoos on his hands and knuckles, but none on his face. Despite the situation, you notice he is handsome, with a nice beard and blue eyes that match his blue suit, his hair swept back from his face.
“Good morning,” he says casually, but he stays where he is. “I'm sorry it had to come to this, but I didn't have any other choices left.”
“Who are you?” Your voice trembles terribly from the adrenaline in your veins. “Why am I here?”
“My name is Steve Rogers. I'm not gonna hurt you.”
“So you'll kidnap me and then claim you won't hurt me? How do I know you didn’t already rape me?”
At that, his face turns hard and his eyes dark with disdain.
“I would never do that. You are here because I need you to help me. It would be stupid of me to do something that barbaric.”
The statement almost makes you drop the chair, your only protection.
“Me? Why the fuck would I help you?”
“Because we have a common acquaintance. Chad.”
At the mention of your ex-husband's name, you actually do drop the chair.
Three years later, and that fucker is still messing your life up.
“I haven't seen him since I signed the divorce papers. I don't know where he is.”
“The thing is, neither do I, and he owes me a lot of money.”
“If you're lending money to someone like him, that's your problem, not mine.”
“That is true, and I've already made sure it won't happen again, but as it is now, I need that money back, so I need to find Chad.”
“But I don't know where he is!”
“You were married to him for five years. You know him and where he'd go to hide.”
“I'm sorry, what? He lied to me during our whole relationship. I thought I knew him, but I never did! I wrote a whole book about it.”
“I know. I read it,” Steve says with a smirk. “Didn't give me any clues. Though the later chapters were enlightening in other ways.”
It takes a few moments for your brain to connect the dots, and when it does, you feel your eyes widen. He is talking about the parts with sex scenes.
“Okay,” is all you can say in response.
“I'm going to go now, and I'll leave the door unlocked. Don't try to run, because you won't make it to the gates before my men catch you, and don't destroy my property, because then I'll have to keep you locked up in here, and we wouldn't want that, do we?”
“No,” you whisper.
“The sooner we get started, the sooner you can go home. But take all the time you need. I'll be in my office downstairs.”
Steve leaves, the door left ajar behind him, as you sink to the floor and try to grasp what has just happened.
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4,120
Summary: You and Ransom continue to grow closer and make memories together–enjoying your happy little bubble–before the outside world finally comes knocking.
Warnings: Explicit language. The happy bubble finally bursts. Gross come ons and remarks. Non con touching (nothing too extreme). Mentions of threesomes. Threats of DP. Angst and feels. Traumatized and distraught feral!kitten.
A/N: These sweet bbs have been gnawing at my brain non-stop lately, so I had to pay them some attention. Enjoy!
SERIES MASTERLIST
You wobbled under the weight of the wooden tray, giving a concerned squeak that had Ransom stirring in bed as you hedged your way into the bedroom.
He blinked against the bright morning sunlight flooding the room, looking handsomely rumpled as he squinted before his gaze landed on you. Then widened.
He sat up in bed, brow furrowing with concern, but when he went to throw back the comforter and come to you, you shook your head, looking determined as you said, “No thank you! I can do it!”
A moment later, you stood over him as he sat back against the headboard, careful as you placed the tray over his lap before giving him a bright, proud smile and an excited, “Surprise!”
Like so often when he watched you, a soft smile curled Ransom’s lips, his gaze becoming less sleepy and more curious as it shifted from you to the breakfast tray sat before him.
It was littered with a variety of things: a loaf of bread, a glass of water, the coffee machine but no actual coffee, a jar of peanut butter, and a big sharable bag of M&Ms. And then surrounding all of these items was a decorative border of freshly picked flowers–and a few weeds, too–from the back garden.
It clicked for Ransom instantly, the way you had obviously latched on to the concept of breakfast in bed from the movie you guys had watched the other night. It was also obvious–and sweetly so–that you didn’t quite get it.
Which only made him smile wider as he bit back a laugh.
“Thank you, kitten, I love it.”
“Really?” you asked hopefully, rocking back and forth on your feet as you watched him.
“Really, the only thing that would make it better is if you got your cute butt back here in bed beside me so I can share all these goodies with you.”
“Okay!” you chirped, scrambling to return to bed and happily situating beneath his arm as he curled it over your shoulder.
Still grinning, Ransom reached for the bag of M&Ms, popping it open and offering it to you.
You eyed the sweets with interest, but hesitated, your warm gaze returning to Ransom before you leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.
“Good morning,” you murmured, brushing your nose with his and making a happy sound as Ransom leaned in this time to give you a kiss.
“Very good morning,” he purred, giving your shoulder a squeeze before rattling the bag of candy at you.
He watched in amusement as you picked out your favorite color only before settling back to eat them, and of course sipping on some water at his encouragement as you two shared your very first breakfast in bed together.
A few weeks later, you experienced another first with Ransom.
Receiving a real gift, for the first time ever.
He seemed more excited than usual as he returned from running a few errands in town, beelining to where you were keeping Ruby company in the kitchen as she prepped dinner. Ransom took your hand and pulled you away and into the living room, so it was just the two of you.
“I have something for you,” he smiled, tugging you down beside him on the sofa before placing a flat square box in your lap.
It was royal blue and tied shut with a silver ribbon that was arranged in a beautiful bow on top. You touched it carefully–reverently–before your soft, shy gaze flickered up to meet Ransom’s.
“For me?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
It was foreign to you, the concept of gifts. For so long, you had never had very many material possessions at all, let alone anything nice or special.
“Just because,” Ransom murmured, nodding to the box. “Go on, kitten, open it.”
You were so very careful as you untied the ribbon from the box, setting it aside and already planning to keep and cherish it forever. You lifted the lid and gasped at what you found inside–the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen.
It was a flat, circular pendant with a dandelion engraved on it, and realizing what the image was had your eyes filling with happy tears as you remembered that day in the meadow with Ransom–your picnic and picking dandelions together.
It was a moment that had felt so magical and special to you, and now this gift confirmed that it was something that Ransom held close to his heart too, and that made you nearly vibrate with joy.
“You’re my wish come true,” you echoed your words from that day as you smiled over at Ransom, leaning against him and nuzzling his arm as he kissed the crown of your head.
You returned your gaze to the necklace, gingerly tracing around the pendant as you gazed at it and whispered an awe-filled, “So pretty!”
“You’re pretty,” Ransom murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Can I put it on you?”
“Yes please!” You sat up like a shot, bouncing in your seat and making Ransom laugh.
“Here, turn that way a little,” he encouraged you to put your back to him as he scooped up the box and removed the necklace.
He was careful as he put it on you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.
“Let me see.”
You turned to him, smiling big and ecstatic as he observed your new accessory with satisfaction.
“It’s perfect.” His eyes lifted to yours, so warm and soft as he said, “And so are you.”
Bouncing forward, you kissed him, petting his hair before pulling away and jumping to your feet. Ransom called after you as you scurried into the entryway, pausing before the huge antique mirror propped against the wall and nearly crying as you admired the pretty necklace sitting against the top of your chest.
The only thing that made it more beautiful was when Ransom appeared behind you, looking amused, his eyes so bright and tender as he came up behind you and wrapped you in his arms.
“You’re such a sweetheart,” he hummed as you immediately sank back against him, enjoying his embrace.
“Always want to see it,” you whispered, your gaze returning to the mirror–to your necklace–as you gently touched the pendant.
Ransom perked up at that, grinning as he said, “I have an idea. Come here.”
He took your hand, chuckling as you pouted to be pulled away from staring at your new gift. He led you back into the living room, to the sofa, digging his cell phone from his back pocket before sitting down and pulling you down beside him, so close you were nearly in his lap.
“Here, we’ll take your very first selfie,” he smiled at you, curling his arm around your shoulders, and tugging you close.
You watched, confused, as Ransom fiddled with his phone before holding out in front of you both. And when he pressed his smooth cheek to yours, you hummed your content, glancing over at him with soft eyes as you heard a strange clicking sound.
“We can take a few,” he muttered, readjusting how he held his phone.
When he leaned in close again, you got distracted, nuzzling into him like a kitten seeking affection, oblivious to the shutter sound of his phone camera going off a few times.
And hours later, that night in bed, once you were fast asleep and curled close to Ransom’s side, he scooped up his phone–still wide awake–and scrolled to his camera roll.
To those selfies with you.
As he swiped through each one, he felt himself melt more and more, because in every single photo, you were just gazing over at him in adoration. A little awe, too.
It was right there before his very eyes, how much you cared about him, like no one else ever had before, and it made something unfamiliar rise up in him. Something that had his eyes stinging and a lump swelling in his throat. Something that had this light, fluttery feeling he had never felt before invade his chest.
It had Ransom setting his phone aside and sinking down in bed beside you, curling up as close as possible so he could watch you sleep–looking so pretty and at peace–as he whispered, “You’re my wish come true, too” before kissing your forehead and holding you close.
You frowned from your spot curled up on the sofa, watching as Ransom paced across the living room. He seemed both anxious and excited as he stalked back and forth, muttering to himself.
He stopped suddenly, turning to you, his next words more for him than you. “It will be fine. He’ll just be here for the day. It will be good to see him. It’s not a big deal.”
You nodded tentatively, mustering a smile despite the way your belly fluttered with nerves.
Because today you were meeting Ransom’s cousin. He was traveling out to the manor, and from what you understood, he lived far away, in the same city where Ransom used to live before being sent here.
Ransom perked up, lips tilting at the sides, “And it will be so good for you! My cousin is a tech genius and low key hacker and was able to get a bunch of essential paperwork created for you. So now you’ll have an official birth certificate and social security card and passport, all the things you need or may ever need, you know?”
You nodded again, unsure of what any of that stuff was, but if Ransom said it was good, you believed him. “Thank you!”
As if on cue, the doorbell chimed, announcing the arrival of Ransom’s guest.
“Come on!” he held out a hand to you, grasping it gently as you hopped to your feet and hurried to the front door alongside him.
When Ransom opened the door, the smile froze on his face, his shoulders hunching as he spied not one familiar figure, but two.
“I cannot believe you were exiled to the fucking middle of nowhere,” Bryce laughed before his gaze flickered to you and widened. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He shoved his way inside, slapping Ransom’s chest as he gave you a wide, wicked grin. “Of course if anyone could bag some play in the middle of nowhere, it’s you.”
You didn’t understand half of what the stranger said, but the way he was looking at you made you feel scared, and you curled in on yourself as you retreated to hide behind Ransom.
“Hey!” Ransom snapped. “Lay off, Bryce, don’t be a dick.”
“Geez, is that any way to greet your best friend after months away?”
Sneering, Ransom turned his attention to the second stranger still standing on the doorstep, his cousin who was aiming an apologetic smile Ransom’s way. “Jake. What the fuck?”
“Sorry,” Jake cringed, broad shoulders lifting to his ears. “He kind of just…wouldn’t take no for an answer after I mentioned coming out here to see you.”
Rolling his eyes with a huff, Ransom stood back, gesturing Jake inside. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unpleasant surprise before reaching for you and tugging you close.
“Kitten, this is my cousin, Jake Jensen,” the big blonde with the kind eyes waved at you with a friendly smile that you hesitantly returned, “and this is Bryce.”
“Langley,” Bryce purred, touching his tongue to his teeth as he gave you a shameless onceover. “What’s your name, kitten?”
“Don’t fucking call her that,” Ransom snarled as you quietly whispered your name.
You felt on edge now, seeing Ransom so worked up all of the sudden, and also because Bryce was making you extremely uncomfortable even though you didn’t quite know why.
“Dude, chill, I thought you’d be happy to see us, damn.”
“So uh,” Jake stepped forward, nudging Bryce out of the way as he kept his tone light, trying to break the tension. “Here’s all of her documents. I fabricated everything she could possibly need.” He handed a large, brown envelope over to Ransom, keeping a second one for himself. He held it up, “And there’s a bunch of legal paperwork for us to go over and sign to move the app along to the next phase.”
At that, Ransom straightened, looking genuinely excited, which had you perking up, too.
“What’s an app?” you asked curiously before you could stop yourself.
Bryce snorted, disbelieving as he gaped at you. “Who doesn’t know what a fucking app is? I know we’re in the country, but I didn’t realize we went back in time.”
You wilted at his mocking tone, but then Jake shifted to block Bryce from your view, his smile warm and encouraging as he explained, “It’s like a program you can use on your cell phone or other devices to access various softwares or games or the like. We’re calling ours DIYbrary and it’s this really awesome one stop shop for all the DIY media that you could ever need. But instead of needing to go to Pinterest and YouTube and Google, you can find it all in one place!”
You understood nearly none of what Jake had just said, but he seemed so happy and enthusiastic about it that you smiled excitedly along with him as you said, “Wow!”
Watching you with an amused smile, Ransom touched your back, earning your gaze. “DIY means ‘do it yourself,’ so it’s kind of like an online place that will host all of this educational media–like tutorial videos and write ups–of how to do different things. Like cooking, crafting, gardening, pet care, all kinds of stuff.”
Better understanding what they were talking about–and how amazing it sounded–you hugged Ransom’s arm as you gazed up at him with big eyes. “And you made that?”
“We all did,” Ransom shrugged, his cheeks going rosy under your soft admiring gaze, as he gestured to the other two.
“Eh, speak for yourself,” Bryce scoffed, moving further into the manor and gazing around with interest. “I was more there for moral support or whatever, but I’ll cash in on it anyway.”
You caught the way Jake’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he glared at Bryce, gripping the envelope of legal paperwork in his hand even tighter before he felt your gaze. He straightened, the hardness in his eyes fading away into something curious and knowing as he watched you, then Ransom, before a small smile tilted his lips.
“So, how about we get the boring paperwork out of the way?” he suggested. “Then we can catch up,” he told Ransom. “And get to know each other better,” he said to you.
You perked up at that, your smile tentative. “Like, friends?”
“Yeah,” Jake murmured. “Like friends.”
You didn’t have many of those, but you had some, more now than ever before. You bounced excitedly on your feet as you told Jake, “Ruby and Savannah are my friends! Now you can be my friend, too!”
“Cool, I’d love to be your friend,” Jake replied earnestly.
He shared a soft smile with Ransom before the latter turned to you and gave your back a rub before speaking to Jake.
“We can sit in the dining room. We have a whole lunch spread being set up on the back patio, so we can head out there after.”
He gestured to the doorway leading into the dining room, waiting for Jake and Bryce to go through before turning to you.
“You can come sit with us if you want, or you can go help Ruby with setting up lunch, or just go hang out, whatever you want. I don’t want to force you to stick with me if you’ll be bored and uncomfortable.”
“I can go with Ruby?” you perked up at that idea. “You won’t be mad?”
“No, of course not,” Ransom smoothed a hand over your head. “I know it’s a lot, having new people around, and Bryce is just…”
“Mean,” you whispered. “He has mean eyes.”
Ransom grimaced. “Yeah, he’s…a lot. I’m sorry, I didn’t invite him, but he tends to just do what he wants anyway.”
Wanting more than anything to smooth the furrow from Ransom’s brow, you chirped, “Jake is nice!”
“He is, he’s a good guy, that’s why I didn’t mind you meeting him.” Sighing, Ransom said, “Why don’t you go sit with Ruby?”
“Okay,” you nodded, eyes fluttering as Ransom ducked near and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.
“They’ll only be here for a few hours, okay?”
“Okay.”
Despite knowing Ransom had to step away for a while, you pressed against him, sinking into his embrace as he held you for a moment, snuffling along your shoulder.
“Dude,” Bryce scoffed from the doorway. “You coming or what?”
Stiffening, Ransom gave your back a rub before shooting you a small smile, then turning toward the dining room.
You watched him go with a frown, shuddering as Bryce caught your gaze and shot you a wink before being shoved out of sight by Ransom.
Jake rifled through the stack of legal paperwork, organizing it as Ransom and Bryce sat at the table on either side of him.
Bryce smirked at Ransom, leaning across the table as he drawled, “So did they cut off your balls before they shipped you out here, too?” Laughing at Ransom’s irritated look, Bryce went on, “I’ve never seen you acting like such a fucking dope over some pussy.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Ransom growled.
“Wow, you have it bad, huh?” Bryce snorted, crossing his arms and slouching back in his seat. “Never thought I’d see the day that Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be tamed.”
“Shut up, Bryce,” Jake interrupted, shoving some papers his way, and a pen along with them. “Sign or initial anywhere there’s a little sticky arrow.”
Rolling his eyes, Bryce didn’t bother to read any of the fine print before him, just started to scribble his signature as needed to get it over with.
Jake turned to Ransom, setting papers and pen before him now too. “Same deal for you.” He hesitated before leaning close, keeping his voice low as he met Ransom’s wary gaze. “She seems really sweet. I’m glad I could help and…I’m happy for you, Ransom.”
Ransom’s face softened, but he didn't say anything, focusing his attention on the paperwork before him as he started to review it all.
Still smiling, Jake turned his attention to his own stack of contracts and legalese.
Ransom and Jake had barely started when Bryce scribbled his final signature with a flourish before shoving the paperwork away and rising to his feet. “Where’s the bathroom? I gotta take a leak.”
“Through that doorway then down the end of the hall,” Ransom pointed without looking up.
“Be right back,” Bryce hummed, smiling to himself–in a devious way–as he sauntered from the room and out of sight.
You turned off the bathroom faucet and dried your hands on the soft towel, pausing as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror, and specifically your dandelion necklace.
Grinning you leaned in closer to the mirror, touching the pretty pendant for a second before straightening, because you had things to do! Fun things!
You were excited to help Ruby set up the table on the patio. You loved making the spreads so pretty and inviting, and the yummy food was your favorite, too.
Opening the bathroom door, you gave a squeak when you found Bryce waiting on the other side. You got a glimpse of his devious smirk before he was pressing so close that you stumbled away from him and back into the bathroom.
He followed you, shutting the door behind him before pressing you up against the bathroom counter and grinning at your startled look.
“God, look at you, you have sweet good girl coming off of you in waves.” He hummed, his gaze slowly drifting down the length of you.
When he reached out and tugged on the hem of your dress, fingers grazing your bare thigh, you shied away, shoulders hunching as your eyes burned with tears and your heart hammered in your chest.
You hadn’t felt this scared and unsafe since the last time you had been in the shed with your poppy, but this was different, too. Something about the way Bryce was looking at you made you feel dirty.
When his fingers touched your bare skin again, trailing higher, you jolted, trying to turn away with a quavered, “No, please.”
But you had nowhere to go in the tight space, and certainly not with Bryce looming so close, his tall frame brushing up against you as you hugged yourself and tried not to cry.
“Has Ransom fucked you yet?” Bryce asked, grinning when you trembled harder and sniffled. “Yeah, of course he has. Who could resist such a sweet, innocent temptation? Especially when he has fuck all to do out here.”
“Want to leave now,” you trembled bravely, eyes flickering up to Bryce’s, fear zipping up your spine at the malice glittering in his gaze.
He ignored your request, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you before him as he leaned in close.
“You know Ran and I have shared women before, maybe he’ll share you with me, too.”
You shook your head, then whimpered when Bryce suddenly grabbed your chin, his grip harsh and painful as he tipped your face back and leaned in so close his nose brushed yours.
“I bet you’d cry so pretty taking two cocks at once, kitten.”
He turned your face to the side, leaning in to drag his nose along your cheek before he pressed a kiss to your skin. His mouth brushed your ear as he whispered, “I’ve known Ransom practically his whole life, and you’re one in a very long line of fuck ‘em and chuck ems.”
Bryce turned your tearful eyes back his way, smirking when he saw his meaning register in your hurt gaze. “It’s just a matter of time before Ransom gets bored with you and leaves you, too.” He shifted closer, pressing his hips against you, and you gasped as you felt his hardness twitch against your belly. “But if you’re nice to me, show me what a good girl you can be, maybe I’ll keep you company once he’s gone and you’re all alone.”
You shook your head, both at Bryce’s lewd offer, and the thought of Ransom leaving you–of being all alone. Again.
Your tears finally spilled over, and Bryce laughed meanly, shoving away from you before slipping out of the bathroom and leaving you there to tremble and cry as you sank back against the counter, shaken.
Ransom frowned as he found the dinner table set for two, but you completely MIA.
He didn’t think it too odd that you didn’t join him, Jake, and Bryce for lunch, because he could tell you were uncomfortable by their visit. He figured you were off hiding away upstairs until they were gone.
And now they were and had been for a while, but Ransom hadn’t seen hide nor hair of you in hours.
Calling your name, he jogged upstairs, heading toward his bedroom and feeling his chest tighten when you weren’t in there either.
“Kitten!” Turning on his heel, Ransom rushed down the hall and toward the guestroom you had stayed in those first couple of weeks but hadn’t occupied in months, not since you had started to spend your nights in his bed.
The room was just as untouched as ever, but as he turned to leave, he heard a muffled sound coming from the closet.
He hurried to the door and pulled it open, his stomach sinking as he found you curled up on the floor, hugging one of his sweaters, your eyes rimmed red from crying.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ransom asked, sinking to his knees before you. “What happened?”
“Don’t leave, please!” you wobbled, reaching for him and clinging to him desperately as you babbled and hiccupped, “I’ll be good! I’ll be smarter and better! Please. Please, Ransom! Don’t leave me all alone!”
“Hey, I am not leaving you,” Ransom promised, gathering you close and hugging you tight.
“Promise!” you begged, holding up your trembling pinky.
“I promise,” Ransom said, fixing you with a very serious look as he gently hooked his pinky around yours and gave it a shake.
Rather than reassure you, his promise only seemed to distress you more, and Ransom could only watch–completely at a loss–as your face crumpled, and you sank against him, clutching onto him for dear life as you cried harder than before.
Ohhhhh, this sweet, traumatized bean. Stupid, gross Bryce!!!! It was only a matter of time before the outside world worked its way into their lil bubble 😭
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Summary: Because of your baby's werewolf heritage, another kind of doctor needs to visit.
Warnings: Overprotective Steve. Please let me know if I missed any.
Word Count: ~1.4k words
Series Masterlist
Walking down the grocery aisle, you can tell Steve is agitated, on high alert and making it everyone's problem. The only thing that keeps him from glaring at everyone passing by is the three month old in baby carrier on his chest. When it was just your little pack in the aisle, Steve rub his beard over James' head, making the baby giggle, before kissing the top of his head and grabbing your hand.
As much as you had enjoyed Steve being so protective of you and your unborn baby, part of you had hoped it would fade a bit once the baby was born. If anything, Steve and his inner wolf seemed to amp up their drive to keep you and newborn James safe. It was so bad that you had to take James to get his newborn shots by yourself while Steve waited outside. Neither of you could trust him to not punch of the nurses or growl in a way that raised questions.
That was a very emotional day for all three of you and Steve still feels bad he wasn't in the room with you to hold you.
But here, in the grocery store, he could keep an eye on the both of you, keep you safe from anyone who didn't smell right, touch you both to ground himself. You could have stayed home, but he'd still be agitated because you and James would be home alone. And he couldn't promise he'd get everything on the grocery list if he was preoccupied with the two of you. And heaven help if he forgot the pumpkin puree. Again.
Besides, these outings were good for you, too. After nine months of carrying a big, half werewolf baby, it felt nice to walk without your back killing you. Plus, you got to see how adorable Steve looks cooing over the tiny baby and gently covering it with kisses.
Today was another kind of medical follow up for James. The few werewolf contacts Steve could get managed to include a doctor who's had at least some experience helping babies of werewolves. Dr. Beck was kept busy, so he couldn't check James until he was about three months old, but you'll take whatever appointment you can get.
Steve is antsy about a stranger on the property, a strange smell in his territory, but he understands the need. That's not to say his wolf hasn't been overactive. With James sleeping a lot more regularly, Steve's been able to go back to nightly patrols. He's doubtful he'll ever get back to just weekly patrols. He's happy to indulge in his wolf's protective instincts to keep his little pack safe.
It's not his fault you've given him something to protect, something he thought he'd never be able to have because of that damn bite that turned him into a werewolf. Every time he looks at you, every time he holds James, he thinks about how lonely he was and how certain he was that that's what was best. He's forever grateful to have been proven wrong.
He hears a car coming down the driveway and gently sets James in your arms so he can go check. Given the time it's very likely to be the doctor, but he has to be sure.
The man steps out of the car and grabs a rucksack from the backseat before standing next to the car and waving.
"Hi there!" he calls out, an easy smile on his face. "I"m Dr. Beck. Is it okay if I approach?"
Steve walks closer to the car, getting a better sense of the man. He's picking up the man's scent. Feels mostly harmless.
"You're not a werewolf," Steve comments.
"No, that would be my wife," Beck informs him. "Between falling in love with a werewolf and my medical background, you can probably see how I got into this. Especially after we discovered she'd gotten pregnant. Studied my ass off and am continuing to do so!"
Steve nods in recognition of the man's efforts for someone he cares about. He escorts the doctor inside his home, never fully letting his guard down.
"Should I take my shoes off?"
"Please and thank you," you chirp from the couch, James smiling at your voice.
As he takes his shoes off, Dr. Beck hands Steve his bag. "In case you need to do a security inspection," he explains with a smile.
Steve nods and opens the bag. The check isn't as thorough as he'd probably have done if he didn't hear your "Steeeve" from the couch. He huffs a little as he hands the bag back.
Beck carefully walks towards you, making sure none of his movements are too fast or suspect. "It's okay," he tells you. "Honestly, given what I know about werewolf relationships, if he wasn't doing checks, I'd be worried. My own wife is the sweetest, shyest woman in the world. But as soon as someone sketchy gets too close to me or our kids, she's incredibly aggressive and scary. Really, it's a love language with werewolves."
That makes you giggle as you look at Steve with nothing but love and adoration.
"But, how about we get to the reason for the visit?" Beck suggests.
With a nod from you, he goes into a long list of questions while taking notes. He's full of reassurances and answers questions from you and Steve as best as he's able. You find yourself asking about things you'd been too scared to even bring up with Steve because you knew he didn't know either.
"May I do some vitals checks for James?" Beck asks, taking the stethoscope out. "At this stage there shouldn't be any differences between him and, quote unquote, normal babies, but given how limited our information is, it's best to check."
You hold James on your lap while Steve "sits" next to you both on the couch, ready to pounce at a moment's notice, and Beck kneels in front of you. His easy manner and humor have you and James smiling as he goes through all the different checks and takes notes. James laughs at some of the doctor's expressions and coos and it gets you chuckling even as you feel Steve tense beside you.
"Well, this young man is a very healthy baby," Beck announces as he stands up. "The two of you are doing a great job!"
He starts packing up his things. "And don't forget what we talked about with regards to his heritage. It's perfectly fine to get him used to his father being both human and wolf, much better than trying to hide it. And he shouldn't see any signs of lycanthropy in himself until puberty, but always be on the lookout."
"Thank you, so much, Dr. Beck," you say as you smile at James who's crying for food. "I apologize for my h--- for Steve."
"As I said before, I'd be more worried if he wasn't territorial and protective."
Steve escorts Dr. Beck back to his car while you start to feed your baby and start thinking over everything from the appointment. You're feeling a lot easier than you had been. Sure, there isn't much to go on, just a few people's expertise, but it's something. And that's much more than you had before the meeting.
Steve nestles in beside you and starts nuzzling you, gently holding you as he rubs his beard over your skin. It always gets you giggling and even James smiles a bit as he eats.
"He was right, you know," Steve murmurs. "Protecting you is a love language."
"I know," you assure him. "And I'm forever grateful that we're so safe and loved." You give Steve little kiss on his nose and he softens.
"You were going to say something to Dr. Beck, but you caught yourself?"
"I...I almost called you 'my husband' but then I realized, we've never really...We just know we're in this together, forever, so we don't need to talk these things out, make it official, or whatever." You nuzzle your head against him. "We belong to each other."
Steve nods and holds you a little tighter. Silently he vows to get you a ring, give you the most beautiful wedding he can provide. Maybe it isn't "necessary" but it's important to show his love in every way he can.
Notes: I forgot I had this done for a bit, sorry, just been busy on other Stories, but right I thought, why not? Make room, vol that masterlist. So here it is, enjoy.
Masterlist
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The lights were so bright it was disorientating, blinding you at times, making it difficult to see your surroundings clearly. But you could have sworn you saw him.
When you looked a second later, he wasn’t there.
You tried to calm your racing heart. No need to panic. It was your paranoia. You were out of town, visiting your friend. He didn’t know where you were. That was the whole point. To be away from that smothering tension that his presence left in you. You ex-boyfriend.
Steve Rogers. The picture of perfection. Boy scout good manners, eager to help. That’s how you two met. You, stranded on the side of the road when your car suddenly gave up, and him, stepping up to help you out.
He had asked you out before you parted ways and you had accepted immediately. He had been so kind, and you weren’t too ashamed to admit that his good looks and dazzling smile didn’t make your heart flutter.
He seriously gave you the best sex you ever had. It’s like he knew your body better than you did! There were times you lay limp on the bed, not knowing how to ever get back to normal again.
He was perfect. Well, he had seemed so anyway.
You knew he had been thinking of proposing. His best friend let something slip and winked when you stuttered nonsensical words in your total surprise. It might’ve been fast, you didn’t even know each other a year, but you already knew you’d say yes.
And then you had accidently been at the wrong place at the wrong time. And you had watched as Steve shot a person.
He had looked nothing like the friendly man you’d come to know. But that this wasn’t the first time he had killed, that was sure. And the way he had spoken, about the man messing up a delivery, it didn’t take a fool to know he was in some shady business.
Shaken, you had packed your stuff - thanking whatever entity was out there for looking out for you and you having been undetected so far - and decided to leave everything you couldn’t carry. No word, no note. Just ran as fast as you could.
He called after an hour. Then rapidly several times when you didn’t pick up. He drove to your apartment, but you refused to open. He got agitated then, but obeyed your wishes to be left alone. For a few days. Then he demanded to talk. When you told him you wanted nothing to do with him, that you knew he was a murderer, he let out a chuckle.
“Oh honey, I’m much more than that.”
It had chilled you, afraid he was going to kill you right then and there, cursing yourself for being so dumb to tell him you knew, but he hadn’t come near, he didn’t force his way into your home. He had told you to think about it for a few days, and that you would come back, he was sure.
He seemed to be under the impression you would take him back. And you spend a few days and nights terrified he was going to show up again and force his way into your apartment to either murder you or abduct you. None of these things happened, but you felt watched. Sometimes you saw his face in the crowd. Or your car was suddenly filled up. Your sister received an expensive gift for your niece under your name. You never shopped in that store, you couldn’t afford it.
Weird things like that kept happening. A filled fridge. Money into your bank account, your male friends rapidly refusing to hang out with you anymore. It was his doing, you knew it. You had no real proof. And what could you say? My ex is trying to take care of me? I just don’t want him to? He murdered someone? You had no proof and you were sure the body had disappeared long before.
You couldn't sleep, and you couldn’t focus, and your neck hurt from twisting it so much while walking outside, to see if you spotted him. Sometimes he was nowhere in sight, but you did not let your guard down. You refused to go to your favourite coffee shop, because they told you everything was paid for, indefinitely.
You thought for a moment if it was easier to give in. But you couldn’t condone his lifestyle. You could not deal with seeing anymore murders. And Steve had proven he had a possessive streak. How did you not notice it before? Were you so blinded by infatuation?
So when your friend had offered you to come over for a few days, to get pampered while dealing with a break up - and that’s what you told everyone, not anything more - you took it.
It was supposed to be a few days away from it all, to be able to let go and figure out what to do from there. Move? He would know before you made one step. The only thing you could think of was to disappear, but that meant leaving your family and friends behind, and you did not think it past Steve to use them against you. You wouldn't expect any decency from him after what you witnessed him to be capable of.
It was your first night here in this place, and yet you thought you spotted him. It couldn’t be possible. You had told no one. You grabbed a bag and just left. If anyone wanted to contact you, they had your number. It was the safest way you could think of.
But as you looked around frantically, he was nowhere in sight. A figment of your frightful illusions. You took a deep breath, told your friend you’d be right back. Off to the bar, ready to drink and forget your problems, even if only for a few hours.
As you waited to be helped you felt someone press against you from the side. Maybe a drunk clubber, maybe an interested guy, maybe both. You weren’t looking for any attention though, so you peeked up to check what situation you might be in and froze.
A sparkling smile shone down upon you. He was wearing a deep blue shirt, hair styled to perfection. As usual, it always looked like he had a personal hairstylist with some kind of secret serum to make it lay on his head that way. His sleeves rolled up to show his impressive muscles - and you weren’t the only one who ogled them -, eyelashes casting a mysterious shadow on his cheeks with how long they were.
God, he looked perfect. And you were a dumb hoe to fall for it!
“Hey baby, having fun?”
“How?” You only managed to stutter, your eyes not leaving his frame even once.
“How did I find you? Baby come on, I always know where you are and what you are doing. I’m a little hurt you’ve tried to flee from me, but I get it, you’re scared. You saw something I never wanted you to see and now you’ve got it in your head I'm not the man you fell for. But you don’t need to be so frightened around me. I don’t hurt the people I care about.”
LIke it was going to make you feel relieved to hear it. “Just everyone else.”
He shrugged, looking unapologetic. “When they get in my way. Or steal from me. I really hate liars.”
He brushed some sweaty hairs from your forehead. Almost lovingly. “But you are different. I knew it when I first saw you. Special. I knew I couldn't let you slip through my fingers. And we were perfect weren’t we?”
“It was all a lie,” You told him, trying to whisper but the loud music made you raise your voice at the same time. “You were never that person.”
“Of course I am, I’m just also a little more.” He signed at the bartender to come over, and of course the man came over immediately even if you tried to catch his attention for minutes before. “She'll have a sea breeze cocktail. And give me a beer, okay?”
Then he turned to you again. “We’re going to have a drink and we’re going to talk things out, and after, once I answered all your questions, you’re going to tell your friend we’ve made up. Just a silly misunderstanding.”
“I will not!” You hissed. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind.”
His eyes narrowed, even if the smile never left his face. “If you’re worried about her getting bored without you, don’t worry. Bucky will be happy to keep her company. Look, it seems they're getting along already.”
You recognized him after a second. Bucky. His best friend. He was smiling down at your friend, and his hands were on her hips and she peaked coyly from under her lashes at him as she let her finger trail over the opened collar of his shirt.
He turned you and pointed into the direction where you had left your friend on the dancefloor. She wasn’t alone. A big dark haired man was dancing close to her. Your friend was looking at him with that expression she used when she tried to lure men in, before they realised they’d be limping from her bed the next morning.
You stepped forward, or were going to, fully intend to put a stop to this, to get her away from him safely, when you got pulled back, and into a firm chest. You felt him lower himself so he could talk into your ear.
“Don’t. He won’t hurt her. He actually might be a little interested in her. Maybe you should let them get to know each other. It will give us time to work things out, and as long as we are talking, he’s got no reason to get to work. So what is it? Does Bucky get to have his well deserved day off, or do I need to put him to work and give some orders?”
You felt bile come up watching them and hearing Steve's words. You didn’t want to do this, you didn’t want to be near Steve, he terrified you. But your friend was in danger, that was sure. Tears sprung in your eyes and you tried to prevent them from rolling down and alerting anyone. It would not end well.
And even if you managed to escape now, what about your friend? And what about after? Steve had already proven he wasn’t going to let you go, and now he knew where she lived. And you knew he could get to any one of your family or friends. The only reason he hadn’t was because he wanted you to play along. Maybe hoped you would come to be okay with who he was.
You wouldn’t be. But as much as you were frightened by him and by everything that was still a mystery to you, you didn’t think you could put anyone else in trouble.
You sighed, feeling the breath shakily come out. “I, I think we can talk.”
His smile brightened. “Good, I’m glad baby. You’ll see, we can work this out. You have nothing to worry about. All you have to do is just hear me out. I’m sure we can get back to how things were, right? Although….I'm sure you know about my plans, Bucky was a little eager to spill, wasn’t he? He’s always been a sap. Romantic at heart. And who knows, maybe next year he’s going to be the lucky man at the way those two are eyeing each other right now. Reminds me of us. Like fate.”
He dragged you to the VIP area. Secluded. Alone. Your heart beating quicker with every step you took further away from your friend, further away from backup, further away from the freedom of what your life had been.
Why do I like them scary?!?!? 😩 Like. Look. Everyone has their flaws. So Steve murders some losers here and there. As long as he’s nice to you 🥰 lololol
summary: Despite your family being part of the mafia, you led a quite free life compared to the other single women in the mob. However, it's all about to change when the head of the mafia decides to make you his wife.
warnings: dark and soft-dark elements; arranged marriage; forced marriage; threats; dominant and possessive behavior;
Author's Note: For now it's just a collection of short musings and ficlets, not a full story. But since this Curtis gained quite a lot of attention, I think he needs a separate masterlist (for potential future purposes).
✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader
✦ Word count: ~5k
✦ Raiting: Explicit
✦ Warnings: AU, kind of soft!dark Steve, reader is in her mid-twenties, one shot, pwp, insecurity, loss of virginity, piv sex, condoms, cunnilingus, smallest hint of a daddy kink, fluff and smut, dirty talk, friends to lovers, small hint of possessive/protective!Steve. Let me know if I missed anything!
✦ Summary: Tired of being a virgin and out of money you travel to Las Vegas to auction it off. Little do you know your friend Steve Rogers won't let anyone else have you.
✦ Note:
I think this is among the first times that I cross-post a whole fic to tumblr. This fic is also on AO3. I'll see what the response is like here and maybe I'll continue to do it in the future.
Masterlist | AO3
"So what are you up to this weekend?" Steve asks as you take the first sip of your beer. For a second you debate not telling him and Bucky, sitting across from you in the booth.
"Me and Wanda are going to Vegas."
"What? Without me?" Bucky’s scandalized voice makes you laugh.
"You don't like traveling, or Vegas for that matter," Steve points out. And that is true, you much prefer to stay in your apartment, reading your books and drinking tea.
"Also, didn't you say you could hardly afford to go out with us tonight?" Bucky questions.
"Well," you begin, scratching at the beer label, not wanting to look at them. "The trip is paid for."
The stunned silence from across the table doesn't bode well, you know you're in for an interrogation now.
"Do you need help? Are you in trouble?" Steve's concerned voice makes you look up. He's always so sweet and caring to you, looking out for you all the time.
"No, I'm fine. I'm doing it willingly," you answer.
"What are you doing willingly?" There is no hiding the curiosity in Bucky’s voice.
Once again you're not sure you're going to tell them, but it also doesn't make sense to keep it a secret. It's not a big deal, that's the whole point.
"I'm auctioning off my virginity," you confess and are rewarded with both of them looking at you like you've grown a second head. Before they can say anything you continue.
"I'm tired of it hanging over me, I just want it gone. And I'm also tired of scraping by. What you two make in an hour, I make in a month and I just want to be a step ahead instead of a step behind for once."
Bucky's smirk is the last thing you expect.
"How much are you starting at, I'll double it."
"Jerk." You throw some of your nuts his way.
He laughs in response.
"Honestly, tell me. What does a virginity go for these days?"
"I'm starting out at three thousand. It would be more if I didn’t put in a clause about condoms and I’m a little bit older than most others.”
“Well, my offer still stands,” Bucky concludes.
“I bet it does, perv.”
“And you don’t think the people buying you are pervs?”
Steve’s been quiet up until now and his accusatory tone makes you defensive.
“I’m not fucking stupid Steve, of course I know they are. They are also filthy rich. If I get bought by some disgusting old man I’ll smile and think about how fucking good it will feel not being stressed about money.”
He still doesn’t look pleased and you didn’t come here to get judged. Finishing your beer you get up and grab your jacket.
“I’ll see you around,” you say.
Before walking out.
Vegas is overwhelming and loud. Instantly you shrink down, pulling your shoulders up. You would be lost if it wasn’t for Wanda. She’s in her element, flagging down cabs and weaving through the streets while you do your best to keep up.
Finally, you arrive at your room. It’s small but not cramped and the two beds are clean.
“First, shower, and then we’ll get started on your hair and makeup,” Wanda instructs.
“You’re the best, you know that Wanda?” you smile at her.
“What are best friends for if not fixing you up for some old guy to buy your V-card,” she winks.
Maybe Wanda is a witch, you think as you look at yourself in the tall mirror backstage. Somehow she took your average look and styled it into something you would never in a hundred years be able to recreate. Instead of the innocent style many seem to prefer, she made sure you looked sexy. If this had been a regular night of going out, you’d feel uncomfortable that someone you knew would see you, but the two glasses of champagne and the knowledge that no one except you and Wanda would ever see this made your confidence high. The night moves quickly, both women and men going up on the well-lit stage to present themselves and then watching as the bids start coming in. The people bidding are not in the room, but in different hotels scattered across the city, typing in numbers. Some people do elaborate shows when they step up in front of the cameras. One guy deep-throats a large banana and at first, you giggle but then you see the digits on the screen. His bids are the highest all evening so far. You decide quickly that you will just go up, smile, and wave and wait. You aren’t expecting much, but your pride hopes at least one or two people will find you attractive enough to at least pay the starting bid.
Soon it’s your turn. With a pounding heart, you step up on the stage, your body warms not only from the light but from the nervousness coursing through your body. You concentrate on your breathing so you won’t pass out and when you smile you hope it looks genuine. At first, the monitors are quiet and your heart drops. Are you not good enough for even some old lonely pervert?
Then it dings with an incoming bid. It’s just above the starting sum, but you’re instantly relieved and can’t help the actually genuine smile that cracks your face. A second later another bid comes in. You don’t know how many people are placing the bids, you just see the number rise on the monitor, to your utter delight. Quickly it’s up to four thousand and the tempo slows, so maybe some people dropped out. But a few steady bids keep coming in, until it’s starting to near five thousand and it stops long enough for an automated voice ring out through the room.
“Going once. Going twice.”
Before it can finish the monitor chimes again, your mouth dropping open when you see the sum. Ten thousand dollars. It must be a mistake. The counting starts again, but you hardly hear it over the pure shock you’re experiencing.
Then you’re shooed away, given a room number and a key, before being put into a waiting car to take you to the hotel. When it stops outside of the Palms Casino you think you must be dreaming. It gets even worse when you realize you’re heading to the top floor. Whoever is waiting behind the door won’t matter, because you’ll gladly do anything they ask you.
The penthouse is stunning and it’s hard to take everything in. At the floor-to-ceiling windows, a figure is outlined. They’re backlit against the neon lights of Vegas and it’s hard to make out any details except the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. That feels promising. They don’t turn around as you close the door but you don’t hesitate to step into the room and begin to walk up to them. Stopping a a few steps behind you say “Hi. I am flattered by your very generous-”
But you don’t get further because the person turns around and your words get stuck in your throat.
“Steve?!” You quickly step back to get away. This must be some cruel joke he and Bucky have come up with. Before you can run out of the room he grabs your wrist. The usually soft eyes are hard and his smiling mouth is a line of displeasure.
“Let go of me,” you demand.
“No can do, I paid for you,” his hard voice makes you still.
“This isn’t funny, Steve.”
“No, it’s not. Now you’re going to go into the bedroom and take off those heels, then kneel on the bed and wait for me,” his instructions make it very clear that if you argue, you won’t like what comes next, so instead you bow your head and say “Yes, Steve.”
You’ve never seen a king-size bed before and it’s much larger than you could’ve imagined. The sheets are soft against your knees as you sit on your feet, waiting. There are too many emotions and questions running wild in your body, but the most prominent one is Why had he bid on you?
There is no denying Steve is good looking and when Wanda had first introduced you, sure you’d had a crush on him. But you never thought about pursuing it. His life was far from yours, with luxury cars and expensive dinners, while you went out to eat once a year on your birthday. Both he and Bucky had offered you money on several occasions but you’d never taken it, because you’d never be able to pay it back and money being owed between friends always caused trouble.
You hear the steps nearing the room and you meet his eyes as he steps through the open door. He has left his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, making him more desirable and more dangerous at the same time. Taking a stand a the foot of the bed he stares you down but you don’t cower. Even though you want to ask what the fuck this is, the tension in the air tells you not to talk back right now, just show him that you’re not afraid. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that Steve is here because he is someone you trust would never hurt you, or do anything against your will.
“Here is how this is going to go, sweetheart. I’ll do right by you and take this nice and slow like you deserve. Then when it’s over we’re sitting down to a nice dinner, and afterward I’m bending you over the dining room table and taking out all my fucking frustration on that cunt of yours until you can’t walk straight.”
His words send lightning bolts of desire through you and you nod in understanding.
“Use your words,” he demands.
“Yes, Steve,” you agree.
Then he crooks his fingers, indicating he wants you to come to him. You crawl the short way to the edge and sit back again.
His fingers grip your chin carefully.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“Okay.”
The second he presses his lips to yours it's like being on cloud nine. It's soft but not hesitant and you instinctively grab a hold of his shirt. Steve begins slowly, as if not to scare you but the more you meet his advances the more he takes. Then he coaxes your lips to part, slipping in his tongue and finding yours to play with. Kissing other people has been nice before, but kissing Steve is exceptional. When his hands land at your waist and pull you into him, you can't keep the moan in. His touch hardens and it makes you throb to be this close to him.
You’re a little out of it when he pulls away and you must look it too because he chuckles.
"You like that?"
A dopey smile splits your lips and you nod. But then his hands travel to the front of your dress, hooking his fingertips into the fabric and you can’t help stiffen.
"Have you ever had your tits played with?" he asks.
With a groan, you shake your head.
"If you think kissing was great just wait until I get my mouth on the rest of you."
He sounds so confident, but you’re not and either it’s blatantly obvious that you’re insecure or he knows you too well.
"How are you feeling?"
You think about lying for a second but then decide against it.
"I don’t understand why.”
"Why what?"
"I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but, why me Steve?" You find the courage to look up at him. Now he has that soft smile that you absolutely adore on his stupidly handsome face. His voice is just as soft when he speaks.
"Not only are you absolutely stunning, and I’m not talking about the way you’re dolled up right now. I love seeing you in your big sweaters while you go around the bookstore and help people with recommendations. I also admire you, because you follow your heart. Doing what makes you happy is important to you and I wish I were more like that. Even if you look out for yourself, that never stops you from caring about others. You cry when you see clips of rescue animals. And you're so so obvious that I've been in love with you since Wanda introduced you."
"What?" you choke, your whole reality shifting.
"Sweet, dumb little pet.” Steve’s hands cup your face and light squeezes your cheeks together for a second. “I've wanted you since you stammered out your name. Something so pure and precious deserves the world."
"I didn’t know,” you whisper.
"Of course you didn’t. When I got home that night, I jerked myself off to the thought of you and I swear I never come so hard in my life."
"Steve!" Heat rushes into your cheeks at his words.
"I’ve had time to think about this a lot. I'm going to get you so wet and needy you will beg for my cock. I'm gonna make sure you're at the brink of insanity, deliriously begging for me to fuck you, even though you don't know what it feels like."
"Oh god!" you moan, desire moving through your body.
"Let me taste you, kitten. Let me make you scream,” his seductive voice rumbles.
Nodding you watch as his fingers pull the dress down, baring your breasts to his eyes. Instantly he cups them, thumbs brushing your nipples, making you keen.
"Prettiest fucking tits I've ever seen," he whispers before leaning down and licking a nipple.
The sensation makes you grab hold of his head to steady yourself. His tongue flicks it several times before sucking it into his mouth and you arch into him, clutching him, moaning out his name. Sure, you've been aroused in your life before, but the ache Steve creates is starting to feel painful.
"Steve!" you plead when he switches to the other side, giving your other nipple the same treatment. He hums against your skin before pulling off you with a plop and immediately kisses you again. Nothing is really different from before but just knowing that Steve's tongue was just somewhere else on your body and now it's in your mouth makes you heat up even more.
It feels good when he takes charge, it keeps your thoughts from running in all the wrong directions. He gets you to lie down, crawling onto the bed after you, kissing every inch of exposed skin he can get to while you shudder under him.
"How are you feeling?" he asks with a shit-eating grin, clearly knowing he's responsible for your state.
"Goodgoodgood!" Is all you can get out while pawing at his clothed chest.
"Want me to take it off?"
Nodding vigorously you try to undo the buttons, but fail. He laughs and sits back between your spread legs, untucking the shirt and pulling it over his head. The bulge in his pants is very visible and you swallow hard at the sight of it, both scared and excited. He notices you looking.
"We'll get to that later," he promises with another kiss. "First I'm going to get you wet and ready for me."
A hand hikes up your skirt and a finger follow the edge of your panties, down toward the juncture of your leg. It's like hot coal against your skin, burning you most sweetly. Even if you’re already soaked, his touch is sending pulse after pulse into your cunt and you're scared you're about to stain the sheets if he continues. A fingertip caresses over your core, touch so light it's almost not there but your sensitive skin feels it. Trembling you arch up, gripping the sheets.
"Is that good?"
Not knowing if you can speak you just nod and he continues. Down your thighs and back up, over and over again against your covered cunt, fingers getting firmer and firmer the more sounds you make.
A thrill you've never felt before has taken up place in your body, threatening to send your mind spiraling. To distract yourself you explore the plains of Steve's body that you can reach, stroking his arms and shoulders, but to feel him makes it even worse. You can’t wait to have him pressed against you.
Sitting back again he says, "I'm going to take these off now." He hooks his fingers at the top of your panties and starts to pull. "Lift your ass up." He instructs.
Now your tits and your cunt are exposed for him. Steve is staring, but when you try to close your legs from embarrassment he quickly puts his hands on your thighs to spread them apart even more.
"Don't you dare take that pretty pussy away from me," he all but growls and it sends another wave of pleasure into you. The air feels cold against your wet, warm skin.
Then his gaze flicks up to you and with another smile, he leans down bending you almost in half, placing a kiss on your lips.
"Last kiss before I devore you," he whispers and slides down your body. When his words sink in, you go rigid.
"No, you don't have to, we can just‐" you begin but the look he gives silences you.
"Do you know how long I have waited for this?" He nips the inside of your thigh.
"No," you whimper.
"Been dreaming about how you would feel, and taste." He mouths at your skin. "The nights I can’t sleep I lie there and think of you soaking my beard when you come for me," he groans and moves down a little more until his face is right in front of your pussy. "Now I'm having my fill and when I'm done you'll be primed for my cock, I promise."
Not giving you any time to answer he dives in. His tongue feels nothing like your own fingers, or the vibrator you have in your drawer. It's sending you to heaven with every stroke. Steve takes notes of what makes you moan the loudest and in no time the unmistakable warmth of an orgasm begins to build. You do your best to keep still, but it's hard when it feels so good and Steve follows your every movement until your thighs are trembling heavily, breath coming out in irregular gasps, your fingers threatening to tear the sheets apart.
It climbs quicker than you expect and when the orgasm rips through you it’s with a cry, that leaves you almost boneless afterward. Looking down, panting, you notice you've basically crushed Steve's head between your thighs. With a "Sorry!" You spread them apart and he comes up for air, his beard glistening with you.
"How was that?"
"Incredible," you sigh. The ache that threatened to consume you has died down to a more manageable throb.
"Great." He positions himself again and you stare with wide eyes. An amused smirk plays on his lips.
"Did you think that was it?"
You try to stutter out a response but he raises his hand and wiggles his fingers playfully.
"Now you get these too."
After a second you relax into the pillows, trusting Steve with your body. He's gentle when he begins, now that your cunt is a million times more sensitive, but soon you're trembling again, and then the tip of his finger is at your opening. It slides in without resistance and the feeling changes. More nerves send sparks through you from new places. It's too much for your poor brain to decipher and you don’t fight it, just let it take you, like you’re floating down a stream.
"Good girl, relaxing for me so well."
Through bleary eyes you see him looking up at you.
"Ready for another one?"
You're not sure what that means but you nod anyway and are rewarded with a smile. He never looks away from you as you feel another finger press in together with the first. A high-pitched sound leaves you as your chest heaves. It's too much but not enough. You’re so full but in the best way possible. Then he moves them and you can hear just how wet he's made you.
His tongue comes back to play with your clit and soon you're at the edge of another orgasm.
"Yes yes yes!" You chant over and over again. Everything he does feels so good. The sensation of clamping down on his fingers as you come is new and makes the orgasm much stronger this time, leaving you mildly disoriented for a second.
"God, you look so beautiful when you come."
Steve lays his head against your leg, still moving his hand and sending small aftershocks into your body.
"You know what?"
"What Stevie?" you ask, your voice a little hoarse as you reach down and place your hand in his soft hair, carding your fingers through it, just to feel him.
"I don't think you noticed, but there are three fingers inside you now."
You make a questioning sound.
"Added another right after you came. No problem at all. Just need you to come one more time, then I'll know you're ready."
He does something with his fingers inside you, making you whimper from the pleasure it sends through you.
"Found your G-spot too," he looks smug as he says it. "Let's see what happens when I play with just that."
It’s another new experience that puts your body on edge in the best way. The pleasure never dissipates but it never builds either and finally you can't stand it anymore, deciding to beg for the relief he can give you.
"Stevie, please! Use your mouth again!"
"Of course, when you ask so nicely."
When he sucks your clit into his mouth, it makes you see stars, and seconds later the built-up ecstasy reaches its peak. Gripping his head you grind against his tongue with a cry of his name because it’s so fucking good.
Afterward, you sink down with a relieved sigh and you're pretty sure your muscles have never been this relaxed in your life.
"Such a good girl for me." Steve praises before pulling out his fingers, licking them clean, and moving off the bed. You instantly feel achingly empty. Not taking his eyes from you he undo his pants and slide them and his underwear off.
The sight of his hard, leaking cock standing out from his body is kind of mesmerizing. You've seen dicks in pictures, sent unsolicited to you on a few occasions, and a couple of times when you've tried to watch porn. Never before have you thought a dick could look pretty. As if something possesses your body you crawl over to the edge of the bed, settling on your legs and reaching out towards it. Steve watches, chest heaving slightly as you trace his cock with a fingertip, all the way from root to tip, dipping it into the leaking mess. Looking up at him you bring it to your mouth and lick it. The groan he lets out in response is delicious.
It doesn't taste bad, just different and you're about to ask if you can try to take him in your mouth but as if sensing your thoughts he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. At first, you try to move away, knowing where he has just been, but he keeps a steady hand at the back of your neck, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue, and just like him, it’s not bad, just different.
"If I let you touch me more than that, I'll burst,” he explains before he grabs your dress and pulls it off you in one go. “Now be good and lay down again."
"Yes, Stevie," you answer and fall onto the bed, spreading your legs. Instead of joining you right away, he walks up to the bedside table and opens a drawer, pulling out a square package.
Embarrassment fills you. In your post-orgasmic state, you forgot about your own rule. If he hadn’t gotten a condom you would gladly have let him take you raw. Lucky for you, Steve is not the type of person to take advantage of you like that. He rolls it on and you swallow hard. Just the look of it is big, you’re not sure how it will fit.
"Don't be scared. With how wet you are, it’ll glide right in," he says with a smile, kneeling between your spread legs.
This is the moment, you think. After this, you won't be a virgin anymore. Even if it is just a social construct, you've never actually had a dick inside of you and that will be a new experience.
Steve kisses you, helping the doubts slip away. The rubber feels weird against your lower lips, and then it's at your opening. The tip presses inside and Steve watches your face.
"Does it hurt?" he asks.
"No,” you assure him. “It's just different."
"Tell me if you want to stop."
"Just keep going."
Slowly he eases his way inside and once he bottoms out both of you are breathing heavily. With a groan, Steve's head lands on your shoulder.
"Fuck you're like a vice around my dick. I'm going to try to move."
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, caressing his back and he starts moving. You feel like you're filled to the brim and it's pressing against your G-spot, making you warm and high again. Experimentally you lift your hips, meeting his, eliciting a moan from him.
"I'm sorry," Steve mumbles. "I won't last long."
Before you can respond he continues.
"You feel too good. So tight and warm. Fuck!"
Then he lifts himself on one of his strong arms before grabbing the back of your neck and bending it until you're looking down toward where your bodies are connected.
Steve slams his hips into you and you answer with a cry of pleasure.
"Look at that unused cunt taking my big cock so well."
"Steve!" you whine. His thrusts are too good, the pressure too much, and looking at it only makes you hotter.
"It was made for me, right?"
"Yes! Ah! Steve!"
The throb in your clit is driving you insane and you reach down to relieve it.
"Oh fuck. Are you gonna come on my dick your first time? That's dirty."
You never expected words to be such a big part of sex, but the way Steve is talking is heightening your sensation.
"That's right. Rub your clit for me. Fuck you're clenching around me so hard. Tell me if you're gonna come."
Nodding frantically you feel the climax building. Your whole body is a coil wind up tight and you're not sure what will happen when it snaps.
"I'm - I'm… I think I'm going to come, Steve," you moan. The pressure in your lower stomach is excruciating and delirious. You just need a little more. Letting go of your head he meets your eyes.
"Good girl, I'm right behind you. Squeeze me dry. Come for Daddy."
The last words enter your brain and sweep you off. The orgasm takes over your whole body and drowns you in pleasure. The edge of your vision blurs, your body shuddering violently. You hear the blood pumping in your veins. Feel your heart drumming in your ribcage. On some level you're aware of Steve above you, chanting your name as his hips pump into you and he fills the condom.
The weight of him is nearly crushing but also makes you feel safe. For the first time, you have the presence of mind to take in his body as you caress down his sides and his back, down over his ass as far as you can reach. It makes him sigh happily and you feel so content. After a while, he raises himself on his elbows and pecks your lips, nose, and cheeks until you giggle, before getting off completely and disposing of the condom. As soon as the warmth of him leaves, small, cruel thoughts about this once again being some kind of joke start forming in your head. Despite what he’s said, you find it hard to believe that it would be true.
Before you have time to think more about it he is beside you in the bed again, leaning on his arm and looking down at you.
"So, how was that?" He’s curious, there’s no hiding it.
"Better than I could ever dream of," you answer honestly.
"Well, that's an ego boost," Steve laughs.
"How… How was I?"
He kisses you before he whispers, "Best I ever had."
You can't help but snort at that.
"Don't fucking lie to me."
With a growl Steve rolls onto his back, taking you with him and making you lay on his chest.
"It's the fucking truth, and unless you want a spanking to go with the next round, you're going to believe me."
That tone of voice. The threat of pain and pleasure combined sparks something inside you, and Steve notices.
"Oh, does that make you horny?"
Hiding your face in the crook of his neck you say "Yes, Daddy."
Steve groans and crushes you into his chest.
"If I could fuck you again right now, believe me, I would."
Several hours later you're in bed again, pressed against Steve’s warm chest. He did what he promised and you’re sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. But something is weighing on your mind.
“I’ll pay you back,” you say.
“If you do, you’ll wish I spanked you.”
“But-,”
“No. I told you that you deserve the world, that money is a drop in the ocean to me.”
“I can’t believe you bought me.”
“I can’t believe you sold your body.” Even if you can’t see him, his voice makes it clear he’s not happy. “The thought of someone else touching you, fucking you. I’m not a violent man, but that makes me want to kill.”
“I’m glad it was you,” you confess with a smile and kiss his skin. A moment later he’s on top of you, kissing you sweetly and you feel him stirring against you, growing hard. An answering wetness pool at your core.
“I need you again,” he murmurs against your mouth. With a nod, you reach between your bodies to guide him inside.
Pulling back, he says “Condom.” When he reaches over to the bedside table, you shake your head and lift your hips.
“Oh fuck, are you sure?”
“I want to feel you,” you reassure him.
It’s a bit sore when he presses inside but the movements are slow, and the kisses quickly take your mind off it. Afterward, he doesn’t pull out, and you fall asleep with his cum and cock between your legs, happy he was your highest bidder.
My goodness! This was a steamy dose of sin with so many feels that had me 🥺 We love a possessive Steeb who wants to worship you and make you feel so good. And make you his!!! Which I would happily be ☺️ After this, he’d never get rid of me.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,198
Summary: After a week away on business, Steve finally returns home.
Warnings: AU. Soft mobster!Steve. Boss/employee relationship. Established relationship. Unprotected sex. Slight cockwarming. Fluffy, horny shenanigans.
A/N: Any opportunity to climb Gentle Soul!Steve like a tree must be taken, Shameless Hoe Queen’s orders 😌
Steve had been away on business for a week.
Without you.
It was the first time the two of you had really been apart since you got together, and it had been much harder than you expected it to be.
You missed him so much, and the disappointment you felt every time you sought him out during your work day before it registered in your brain that he wasn’t home for you to seek out in the first place, was truly like a punch to the gut.
You probably should have been mortified by how much you missed him. How needy you felt for him.
But honestly? All you could focus on was those stray moments you could connect with him, and counting down the days and hours until he would return home.
For the past week, video calls–something you had never really done much before–became your new favorite thing.
Because each night that Steve was away, you video called each other. On your end, you’d curl up in Steve’s bed, surrounded by his faded scent, and Steve would settle into his hotel room, all of his attention and focus on you as he concentrated on tucking you in from a distance.
And now, finally, the evening had arrived for Steve to return home!
You had spent all day cooking his favorite meal and even baking a pie for him to come home to! Anything to help channel your excited (and horny) energy.
You even wore a new dress for him, a short fluttery number that gave a peek of the top of your thigh high stockings every time the skirt swished around your legs. You had bought some new, lacy lingerie, too, to wear beneath your dress for Steve to indulge in once the night progressed.
And it would progress.
You weren’t going to sleep tonight until you had Steve’s cock and you were happily leaking his cum as you snuggled against his chest.
It was the type of reunion you had fantasized about for the past six nights.
And as the minutes inched closer and closer to Steve’s arrival, you found the calm and composure you had spent all day building up–putting on like armor–crumbling more and more with each passing second.
The moment you heard Steve’s key turning in the front door lock, it was like any remaining chill you had left went out the fucking window.
Steve barely stepped inside before you pounced on him, making him stumble back against the door with an oof as he dropped his suitcase.
“Someone’s happy to—“ was as far as he got before you pretty much climbed him like a tree and kissed him so frantically it hinged on violent.
When he tried to pull away to slow things down and greet you properly, you whined so pathetically that Steve just huffed a laugh, swept you up against him, and turned so he now has you pressed against the door as he sank against the soft cradle of your thighs.
“You’re never allowed to leave me for so long again,” you panted between desperate kisses, your hands fumbling to undo the front of his pants.
“Sweetheart, it was seven days,” Steve smiled at you, his eyes so soft despite how dark with desire they were.
“Seven days too many,” you huffed, whining again as you gripped his half-hard cock and stroked him until he was at full mast and dribbling pre-cum all over your fingers. “Oh my god, please fuck me. Please. I need you so bad.”
“I’ve got you, honey,” Steve hummed, using one hand to line himself up with your needy, clenching hole as the other splayed against the base of your throat and lightly gripped until your glassy eyes met his.
Steve’s gaze was nothing short of electric as he intently watched you, drinking in the way your mouth dropped open on a relieved moan as he sank inside of your sopping cunt until he was buried to the hilt and you were already chanting his name as your arms wound around his broad shoulders.
“Yes,” you sighed, your leg hitching and curling around his hip to yank him as close as humanly possible. “Please, please, please.”
“Such a needy, desperate thing, huh?” Steve purred, but he didn’t deny you what you wanted. His hands fell to frame your hips and keep you steady as his cock started plunging deep inside of you before retreating, over and over and over again.
Your head fell back against the wall with a thud, making Steve chuckle before he worked one big palm behind your head like your very own pillow as he went at you harder.
His lips found yours in a sinful, urgent kiss. His tongue mimicked his cock as it thrusted between your lips to tangle with your own, until you were mewling into his mouth and your fingers gripped his hair to keep him close so you could get drunk off the taste of him.
You came embarrassingly fast, keening against Steve’s lips as your body went haywire, your cunt clamping around his cock so hard that he groaned before finally chasing his own release now.
Soon, Steve grunted his climax against your mouth, giving your lower lip a gentle nip as his hips kept pumping, until his cum was warming your insides and making you sigh your content.
Steve dropped his forehead to the top of your chest, panting for breath as he came down from his high, aided by the slow drag of your fingers through his hair and your gentle kiss against the crown of his head.
When he straightened and met your gaze, your grin was big and lazy and extremely well sated. You looked so much like the cat that got the canary, Steve couldn’t help but laugh and kiss you hard.
“You’re such a troublemaker,” he murmured.
“Yeah, but I’m your troublemaker.”
Steve’s smile turned just as soft as his gaze as he cradled your cheek and moved in slowly. “Yeah you are.”
His kiss joined the softness party, his plump pink lips gently working against your own, keeping it fairly innocent considering he was still buried balls deep inside of you.
When he finally retreated, he stayed close, touching his forehead to yours as he gently rubbed your earlobe, his eyes twinkling as you shivered and clenched around him in response.
“Tomorrow, we’ll start planning our own trip, just the two of us for a whole week away, at least. Wherever you want to go.”
“You spoil me, sir,” you smiled, stealing another kiss before ruffling Steve’s hair. “Dinner and dessert are waiting for you, mister, but I think we should probably get cleaned up first.”
Steve’s smile turned naughty. “Your shower or mine?”
“Hmm,” you tapped a finger to your lips as you thought. “Mine is closer, but yours is bigger. And has that very useful built-in bench. For reasons.”
Laughing at your smirk, Steve gave you a boyish grin before replying, “My shower it is.”
Giggling, you reeled him in for another thorough kiss before the two of you stumbled upstairs together, your fingers twined and your bodies pressed close the entire time.
🥹 Okay but I really, really love them.
I hope you enjoyed this dose of fluffy filth. Please take a moment to leave some feedback! Thank you!
—
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If it’s okay, can I please request a Lloyd x fem!reader where he happens to find an abducted woman when he barges into a warehouse to take out an enemy and takes her back home with him. He is really gentle with her and helps take care of her and helps treat her wounds and helps her feel safe for the first time in a while and spoils her. He has no plans of ever letting her go, not that she even wants to leave herself (she is perfectly content staying with and being taken care of by Lloyd forever). Also she def jumped into his arms after he told her he offed the man who had kidnapped her in the first place
Girlie just wants to be held😭
Hey dear, I hope you enjoy this. Lloyd is my most favorite.
The air is stale, rank with the scent of sweat and grime. Moonlight streams in through a crack in the ceiling, bathing the space in a pale, silver glow. The only other source of light comes from a bulb dangling from an exposed wire, casting wavering shadows on the warped floorboards.
Shifting your raw, chafed wrists slightly, you peer out into the darkness beyond your small corner. Every creak of the old building sets your nerves on edge, your breath catching in your throat with each sound. Who's out there? Allies? Enemies?
You grimace as your cramped muscles spasm, pain rippling through your exhausted body. Every inch of you is bruised or scraped, a tapestry of purples and blues painted across your skin. But it’s not just the physicality that’s tormenting you. It's the helplessness, the uncertainty, the knowledge that you’re at the mercy of others with no hope of escape.
You just want this nightmare to end.
You jerk back as the warehouse door abruptly slams open, the metallic thunk like a thunderclap in the silence. A brief volley of gunfire follows, crisp, sharp detonations that send a shudder through you. Then, silence. The heavy footfalls echo across the floorboards, getting louder with each step until a towering shadow falls across you.
Your eyes widen as he crouches down, your vision blurred by tears. He towers over you, muscular and broad shouldered, his polo shirt stained with smears of blood. But it’s his eyes that draw your attention, those blue depths holding a strange lack of malice.
“Hey there, sugar.” His voice is soft, a low and warm. He gives a small, reassuring smile, the first hint of warmth you’ve seen in days. “I’m not here to hurt ya.”
You blink up at him, surprised by the hint of gentleness in his voice. The man, obviously capable of violence, evidenced by the bodies you’re certain lie behind him, holds out his hand, palm up in a non-threatening gesture. His gaze falls to your wrists, the skin raw and angry from the ropes. A flicker of concern passes across his face, he reaches out and gently wipes away the tear streaks on your cheeks.
“Let’s get you out of here.” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as if his volume might break you.
You don't even consider resisting as he picks you up, holding you with a gentle strength that surprises you, his arms warm and strong. The heat of his chest presses through the thin fabric of his shirt, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of security in his presence. You collapse into his chest, letting yourself be enveloped by his warmth.
Lloyd's home is the very epitome of luxury, you’ve only seen in magazines, filled with expensive furniture, expansive windows, and the clean, sharp scent of leather and cedar that dominates the space. He's surprisingly careful with you, gently setting you down on the cushiony sofa before disappearing into another room and returning with a first-aid kit.
“You’re safe now.” he reassures you with a soft, sincere smile. His voice is gentle, his tone earnest as he kneels beside you. “No one’s going to hurt you again.” He lifts the first-aid kit, his movements slow and deliberate as he begins to tend to your wrists, cleaning the raw skin with a touch that’s infinitely more tender than expected.
His touch is precise and patient as he works, his hands gentle and skilled. When you flinch at the pain, he halts, the deep cerulean of his eyes lifting to yours in question. “Too rough?” he asks, his voice low and concerned.
You shake your head, a small sigh passing your lips. “No…It’s alright. Thank you.”
He nods, continuing his work in silence. Once he’s finished, he tosses the used bandages aside and grabs a blanket, draping it over your shoulders.
“Hungry? Thirsty?” he asks, already heading toward the kitchen. “You look like you could use something warm.”
A small laugh escapes from you, as Lloyd begins to bark orders at his men.
Over the next few hours, you unburden yourself, telling him everything, the night at the club, the man who refused to take no for an answer, the terror of the days that followed.
Lloyd listens intently, his jaw clenching tight as the tale unfolds, the muscles in his hands tensing into fists. When you finally finish, he leans back in his chair, his expression chillingly calm, his eyes hard and determined.
“He’s dead!” Lloyd asserts, his voice cold and utterly certain. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” His gaze is steady, his eyes locking onto yours, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“Thank you,” you whisper, tears flowing down your cheeks.
“Shh…” he murmurs, his hand soothingly rubbing your back. “You don’t have to thank me, sugar. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let that bastard get away with it.”
Over the days that follow, Lloyd makes it his mission to take care of you. He spoils you in ways you've never experienced before: your favorite meals, soft, fitted clothes, and an endless stream of affection that leaves you utterly breathless.
He’s constantly there, a watchful presence, his protective nature a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.
You feel yourself starting to relax, the fear that once gripped you evaporating slowly. You can’t imagine leaving, can’t fathom returning to the life you once had before Lloyd. He’s become your safe haven, your protector, your security and strength. But most importantly your heart belongs to him now.
And Lloyd? He's got no intention of letting you leave his side, his protective nature only growing stronger with every passing moment. The thought of you returning to your previous life is completely and utterly unacceptable to him. Just like you, his heart if he ever considers having one, now belonged to you.
“I’m keeping you, sugar,” he tells you one night, his hand tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re mine now.”
You smile, leaning into his touch, a quiet sense of peace settling over you. “Good,” you murmur, your voice warm and content. “Because I don't want to be anywhere else.”
As time goes by, your bond with Lloyd only deepens. The fear and anxiety of your past life are distant memories, replaced by the safety and security he’s provided. His presence in your life is a constant, his protectiveness unwavering, his affection unquestionable.
Every night, as he holds you close to his chest, he repeats the same words, “You’re mine. Forever.”
Warnings: Bad boss. Please let me know if I missed any!
Summary: Working at a fancy restaurant with a demanding boss, you're starting to reach your limits. So is your favorite customer.
You're grinding your teeth in frustration and your shift hasn't even started yet. It's not that you don't like the work you do, it's just the people you have to work with, specifically your boss. If you could be a waitress for a boss that didn't insist on waving his dick around, sometimes literally, you'd be happy to do the job.
Instead, Mr. Hansen has you working the worst shifts for collecting tips and making sure your schedule is unpredictable. You know it's because you turned down his advances. Go figure, he can't handle being turned down.
Some of your favorite customers have asked after you, including Mr. Levinson, or Ari, as he insists you call him. You heard through some of your coworkers that Mr. Hansen got some harsh words from Ari because you weren't working your usual shifts. You smile at the thought of someone putting that asshole in his place.
You're doing your prep working and just trying to avoid Hansen so you don't have to fake your smile so much to your customers. Most of them don't care about fake smiles, but the big tippers always seem to appreciate the genuine ones.
Talia interrupts your work telling you, "Mr. Levinson just arrived. I made sure to seat him in your section."
"Thank you, so much!" You're definitely smiling for real now.
She gives a playful scoff. "I did it as much for me as for you. If Levinson found out you were working and I didn't seat him in your section I don't doubt I'd get an earful."
"Still, thank you so much."
Heading out the dining area, you make right for Ari. You'd never admit it, but between his ocean blue eyes, long hair, and strong physique, he's definitely shown up in several of your dreams. Your face heats up as you recall some of them. You have to stop for a moment and shake your head to clear up your thoughts.
Ari smiles wide when he sees you. "It's about time I got to see you again!"
"Yeah, my schedule's been crazy," you tell him as you hand him a menu. You omit the reason for the crazy schedule as it wouldn't do to set Hansen off again.
"So I gathered," his voice softens as he takes the menu from you.
The two of you chat a little before you get his drink order and head to the kitchen to grab it.
"There you are!" Hansen yells as soon as you're in the kitchen. "Where the hell have you been? Your prep work is sloppy and, worse yet unfinished. You wanna tell me what you've been doing?"
"My job," you snipe back. "I have a customer and I need to get their drink."
"We don't get customers at this time," he shoots back. "I made sure to schedule you for now specifically because of that."
"Well you can go out and look for yourself, Mr. Hansen. Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get the man his drink."
Bringing Ari's drink to him, you try to plant your smile back as it was before your encounter. Unfortunately for you he's very observant.
"What happened?" His tone is kind and your smile turns a little more genuine.
"Just a little spat is all," you shrug. "It happens, you know?"
His expression turns stern. "Is someone giving you trouble?"
"Well, yes, but that's what bosses do, right?" You try to make sure there's a joking tone in your voice but his expression indicates he isn't buying it.
"Do you like your job? Do you enjoy working here?"
"Honestly," your voice quavers. "I can't stand it. My coworkers are okay but my boss is killing me. He keeps jumping my shifts around and is metaphorically on my ass all the time because I refused to let him literally be on me."
Ari's fist tightens in frustration. "Come work for me." You'd say it's an offer but his anger makes it sound more like an order. When you hesitate he continues, "I need someone reliable and friendly as my secretary. My current one keeps putting off clients with his cold, sarcastic demeanor. I can promise you it'll pay better than this job. And your schedule will be a lot more stable."
You hear a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by Hansen shouting at everyone and everyone.
"I'm in," you tell him, holding out your hand.
Ari takes your hand in his, giving it a firm shake. "Happy to have you aboard. Can I watch as you tell Hansen you're quitting?"
You laugh, "sure!"
As he follows you into the kitchen, you don't notice Ari's eyes on you. He was just hoping to ask you for a date, but he's not one to turn down an opportunity to get to spend more time with you. He's hopeful you'll feel the same about him.
Summary: Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.
Warnings: This series has physical violence, gun violence, parental abuse, smut. It’s not ‘dark’ per se, but please use caution and make sure to read the individual warnings for each page. Thank you!
A/N: *drabbles for the series are listed/indented under each corresponding part!*
Smut = 🔥
time-for-a-lullaby masterlist
No Pressure Links -
Book Wishlist
Buy Me A Coffee :)
Part 1 - The Wedding (w/c = 5.9k)
Part 2 - Assecondami (w/c = 8.1k)
Chris Confronts Readers Father (Chris POV)
Chris Challenges Reader at Breakfast
Part 3 - Ferris Wheels and Cotton Candy (w/c = 5k)
The First Kiss (Chris POV)
Part 4 - Come Home To Me (w/c = 6.2k)
Chris and Reader Discuss a Dog
Part 5 - Amore Mio (w/c = 6.5k) 🔥
Chris and Reader Discuss a Holiday Card
Tattoos with Chris 🔥
Part 6 - Blindsided (w/c = 8.3k)
Better Make This Quick
Lydia and Seb Drabble (Lydia POV)
Part 7 - Free (w/c = 7.1k)
Jealous Reader Pulls Chris From a Poker Game
Part 8 - Detained (w/c = 10.4k) 🔥
Part 9 - A Fresh Start (w/c = 6k)
The Mutt Sheds (Dodger Drabble)
Part 10 - You Make It Easy (w/c = 8k) 🔥
Followed
After Followed
Daylight - Seb and Lydia Drabble (Lydia POV)
Lydia and Seb Tie The Knot (Reader POV)
Incinta
Everything We’ve Always Wanted
Domestic Bliss
Arranged Epilogue - Endgame
Arranged Extended Epilogue - Sempre e Per Sempre
Arranged Series 4k Drabbles -
4k Celebration Drabble (Prompt - “I’ll die for you” & “I’ll kill you myself if you even as much as think of putting yourself in danger”)
4k Celebration Drabble (Prompt - “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been.” “ and “You can’t lie to me, you know”)
4k Celebration Drabble (Prompt - “I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t important.”)
Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader
Word Count: 5k
Summary: A tense meeting with Andy's lawyer illuminates more of the gilded cage he's constructing to hold you. You consider a bold decision that will test the tethers of your new life. Takes place directly after Burned Off The Haze.
Content/Warnings: power dynamics and emotional manipulation; forced engagement; use of pet name (sweetheart)
Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.
A/N 2: I had literally no intention of giving IYM!Andy another feature in the Countdown to Chris-mas, but if we know anything about this man, we know that he moves on his own agenda and makes things happen the way he wants them to! So, really, should we be at all surprised he stole another week?
In your bedroom, you take a moment to lean against the closed door, trying to calm your racing heart and cool the fire still burning in your veins. You're angry at Andy for his manipulations, for involving your team without your knowledge, for the way he can so easily dominate you.
The mix of fear, anger, and arousal leaves you feeling off-balance and confused. You quickly change into a sleek black pencil skirt and a silk blouse, adding a pair of classic pumps and simple pearl earrings. Professional, but with an edge of sophistication that you know Andy will appreciate. As you're applying a fresh coat of lipstick, your eyes catch on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. It's a constant reminder of the situation you're in, of the choices - or lack thereof - that have led you here.
Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and head back downstairs. Andy is waiting by the door, looking impeccable in a tailored suit. He must have suits in his home office since he didn’t follow you upstairs to change in your shared room.
His eyes rake over you appreciatively.
"Beautiful as always," Andy says, his voice low and intimate. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "Ready?"
You nod, not trusting your voice. Andy places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out the door to where his Aston Martin waits, someone having brought it around from the garage.
You frown slightly, not expecting his car to be back in mint condition less than forty-eight hours after you had done your best to smash away at it.
Then again, you’ve never had the kind of money and power Andy has, so you suppose it’s not out of the question at all. If he doesn’t employ someone, or even a team, to look after his vehicles, it’s likely he owns a business that can and would accommodate his requests at any time since they reside squarely in his portfolio.
But as you get close, you see there is one dent left on the passenger side door just above the handle.
Andy sees that you see it before he opens it for you. “A reminder,” he explains.
You don’t want to hear what he thinks the reminder is for.
The black Range Rover you typically ride in without Andy pulls up behind you as you begin to drive down the lane of the estate, and you see Mark and Shep in the front.
“I have some business I need to take care of, so your detail will be following us to take care of you after the meeting,” Andy explains.
You don’t converse more than that on the way to the meeting with the lawyer. He spends most of the journey on his phone, conversing with whoever is on the other end of the line in what sounds like Italian.
When you arrive, Andy helps you out of the car, his hand once again finding its place on your lower back as he guides you into an imposing glass and steel building. The elevator ride up is silent, the tension between you palpable.
The law offices are sleek and modern, all glass and polished chrome. A receptionist greets you with a polite smile, her eyes lingering on Andy with a hint of fear.
"Mr. Barber, Ms. Klein is ready for you," she says, gesturing towards a conference room.
Andy nods, guiding you forward. Inside, a striking woman in her late fifties or early sixties rises to greet you. Her dark hair is overrun with silver, and the sharp eyes behind her black-rimmed glasses take in every detail as she shakes your hand.
"Pleasure to meet you," she says. "I'm Joanna Klein. Please, have a seat."
You settle into a plush leather chair, Andy's hand resting possessively on your thigh beneath the table. Joanna opens a folder, pulling out several documents.
"Now, let's discuss the prenuptial agreement," she begins, and you’re struck by how utterly at ease she is around Andy. You wonder how much she knows about him and how long she’s been one of his lawyers.
"It's quite comprehensive," she says as she slides a thick document across the table. "It covers all aspects of your union and potential dissolution, including asset division, spousal support, and confidentiality clauses."
Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer volume of the document. Andy's hand tightens slightly on your thigh, a silent warning.
"I... I haven't had a chance to review this with my own lawyer," you say, your voice smaller than you'd like.
Joanna's eyes flick to Andy, then back to you. "Of course. We can schedule another meeting once you've had time to go over it thoroughly with your counsel."
"That won't be necessary," Andy interjects smoothly. "Ms. Klein will be representing both our interests."
You turn to him, shock evident on your face. "But-"
"It's all standard, sweetheart, but if you would prefer, I can choose another lawyer from my retainer and Joanna can represent your interests.”
“No, it’s…” you sigh. You worked with a lawyer when you expanded your company, but you don’t have a lawyer for something like this, and you doubt you would be able to afford someone at the caliber Andy can. You assume it would be useless anyway.
He trapped you into marrying him, after all.
“It’s fine.”
Joanna clears her throat, drawing your attention back to her. "Let me summarize the key points for you," she says, her tone professional but not unkind. "In the event of a divorce, you would receive a substantial settlement, including a lump sum payment and monthly alimony. The exact figures are detailed on page 17."
You nod numbly, trying to retain as much as you can while you process the information.
"There's also a clause about children," Joanna continues. "Any children born during the marriage would be entitled to a trust fund, accessible at age 25. Details are on page 23."
Your breath catches in your throat. Children? You and Andy have never discussed having a family. The thought sends a chill down your spine.
"The confidentiality agreement is quite extensive," Joanna says, flipping to another section. "It covers all aspects of Mr. Barber's personal and professional life.”
You swallow hard, your mind reeling. The prenup seems to cover every possible scenario, binding you to Andy in ways you hadn't even considered. Your eyes scan the pages, catching phrases like "infidelity clause" and "social media restrictions." It's overwhelming.
Andy's hand remains on your thigh, his thumb tracing small circles that are both comforting and distracting.
As Joanna continues outlining the prenup, you feel a growing sense of unease. The document is clearly designed to protect Andy's vast wealth and interests, while offering you a comfortable but controlled existence. You realize with a sinking feeling that this prenup is just another way for Andy to exert his power and control over you.
"And finally," Joanna says, "there's a fidelity clause. Any infidelity on your part would result in forfeiture of all financial benefits outlined in the agreement."
Your eyes snap to Andy, who meets your gaze with a calm, almost predatory smile. "Just a precaution, sweetheart," he says smoothly. "I'm sure it won't be an issue."
You wonder why you feel a barb of betrayal. Even if this wasn’t the scenario you wanted, how could he think you would be the type of person to cheat on her husband?
“What is your infidelity clause?” you ask.
Andy's eyes narrow slightly at your question. "What makes you think there isn't one?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
You meet his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "Because you didn't mention it, and I doubt you'd agree to such restrictions on yourself."
A tense silence fills the room. Joanna clears her throat and stands. “I’m going to give the two of you a few minutes and then come back.”
“Thanks, Jo,” Andy nods, though he’s still looking at you.
Once the door closes, he speaks again. "You're right, sweetheart. There isn't an equivalent clause for me." His hand tightens on your thigh, almost painfully. "But let me be clear - I have no intention of being unfaithful. You'll find I'm quite... possessive of what's mine."
Your eyes flash with anger and hurt. "So you expect complete fidelity from me, but won't offer the same in return? That's not a partnership, Andy. That's ownership."
Andy's jaw tightens, his eyes darkening. For a moment, you think he might lash out, but then something in his expression shifts. He leans back in his chair, regarding you with a mixture of irritation and... is that respect?
"Most would simply accept what I offer without question."
"I'm not most people," you retort.
"No, you're not." A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “It’s part of why I wanted you.
He's silent again for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes studying you intently. You can almost see the gears turning in his mind, weighing options, calculating risks and benefits.
Finally, Andy leans forward, his eyes locked on yours. "Alright, sweetheart. You want fidelity? I'll add a clause. If I'm unfaithful, you get double the settlement outlined in the current agreement."
Your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn't expected him to actually agree. "And the monthly alimony?"
"Triple," he says without hesitation. "For life."
You swallow hard, processing his offer. It's more than generous, almost absurdly so. But then again, for a man of Andy's wealth, perhaps it's a small price to pay for your compliance.
"And the confidentiality agreement?" you press, emboldened by this small victory. "It seems rather... extensive."
Andy's expression hardens slightly. "That's non-negotiable. My business requires discretion, and you may be privy to sensitive information. The confidentiality agreement stays as is."
“But what am I allowed to talk about with my parents? My friends? I can’t simply ignore that you exist and that you’re my husband. They’ll expect me to discuss normal things about you.”
Andy considers your words for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Fair point," he concedes. "We'll add a clause specifying what information you can share about our personal life - basic details about our relationship, our home life, things of that nature. But anything related to my business dealings or our finances remains strictly off-limits."
You nod slowly, feeling like you've gained at least a small victory. "Okay."
"Anything else?" Andy asks, his tone suggesting this negotiation is nearing its end.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for one last request. "I want to maintain my own bank account. One that you don't have access to or control over."
Andy's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of surprise in them before his expression returns to its usual mask of calm control. "And why is that necessary?" he asks, his voice deceptively soft.
You meet his gaze steadily. "Because I need to maintain some independence. Some part of my life that's still mine, and my business earnings - they’re mine. I want to keep it separate."
For a long moment, Andy just stares at you, his blue eyes unreadable.
"You can keep your existing account, and I'll set up a monthly allowance to be deposited into it. But I want full visibility on all transactions."
You open your mouth to protest, but Andy holds up a hand, silencing you.
"This isn't negotiable," he says firmly. "I need to know where our money is going, for both business and security reasons. But I won't interfere unless you act against me, and then my allowance contributions will cease immediately.”
You nod, realizing you've pushed as far as you can for now. It's not perfect, but it's something - a small piece of autonomy. "Alright. I accept those terms."
Andy's eyes gleam with satisfaction. He leans in and his hand cups your face. "Good girl," he murmurs, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.
You melt into the kiss despite yourself, your body responding to his touch as it always does. When he pulls away, you're left breathless.
"Now," Andy says, his voice low, "let's call Joanna back in and finalize this, shall we?"
You nod, still slightly dazed from the kiss. Andy raises his hand, signaling to Joanna through the glass walls of the conference room. She re-enters, her expression carefully neutral.
"We've come to an agreement on some modifications," Andy informs her, then goes on to explain what the two of you agreed to.
Joanna's eyebrows raise slightly, but she takes down the notes on a laptop. "I'll have these drafted immediately," she says. “We can have the adjusted agreement delivered for your signatures later this afternoon.”
“You should bring them yourself,” Andy suggests, “join us for dinner.”
Joanna gives him a wry smile. “I think perhaps another time. Now, are we ready to jump into the business deal?”
"I'm going to excuse myself," Andy says, standing up quickly. "I have other matters of business that require my attention."
“Andy?” You look up at him, confusion etched across your face. This is supposed to be an important meeting about your future together, isn't it? And now he's just leaving?
He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Joanna will take excellent care of you." His eyes meet Joanna's, a silent communication passing between them. "I trust her implicitly to negotiate on my behalf."
Joanna nods, her expression unreadable. "Of course, Andy. We'll take care of things from here."
“I'll review the terms of any final deal with the updated prenup," he says as he leaves.
As the door closes behind Andy, you turn to Joanna, a mix of curiosity and confusion swirling in your mind. Joanna's sharp eyes study you from behind her black-rimmed glasses, and you can't help but feel like now you're truly being evaluated by her.
"So," Joanna begins, her voice crisp and professional, "we have a business proposal to discuss."
You blink. "A business proposal? I thought we were here about the prenup."
Joanna's lips curve into a small, knowing smile. "That was just the first order of business. Andy has another proposition for you." She pauses, letting the tension build. "He wants to become a silent partner in your event planning business."
The words hit you like a physical blow. You lean back in your chair, mind reeling as you process Joanna's words. A silent partner in your business? The business you've built from the ground up, poured your heart and soul into?
"I... I don't understand," you stammer. "Why would Andy want to invest in my company?"
Joanna's sharp eyes study you over the rim of her glasses. "Your company has shown impressive growth over the past few years. Andy sees great potential in your business, and he wants to help it grow."
You shake your head, trying to process this new information. "But why? My company is successful, but it's small. It can't possibly be of interest to someone like Andy."
"On the contrary," Joanna says, opening a folder on the table. "Andy has been very impressed with your work, particularly the gala you organized for him. You could say that was a bit of an audition. He believes that with the right resources and connections, your company could become a major player in the high-end event planning industry."
The implication hangs heavy in the air. You know Andy moves in powerful circles, both legitimate and otherwise. Is this his way of pulling you further into his world?
"But it's my company," you say, your voice smaller than you'd like. "I've built it from nothing."
"And it will remain yours," Joanna assures you. "Andy would be a silent partner. He'd like to make some suggestions for infrastructure growth to set up a framework for the future, but once the terms are settled, he would provide capital for expansion and leave operations to you.”
You sit in stunned silence as Joanna outlines the proposal. Andy would provide a significant influx of capital, along with connections to society he’s cultivated - like the Vanderbilt wedding he put you up for.
But at what cost?
And since he’s arranged to have you here, do you even have a choice?
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this. My business is... it's personal. It's mine."
The older woman sighs. Joanna regards you with what almost looks like sympathy and her response surprises you. “I understand your hesitation. I advised him against this, but he’s insistent.”
You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. “So, he wants a deal.”
Joanna nods. "Yes. But Andy anticipated you might need some time. He's prepared to give you a week to consider the offer."
A week. It feels both too long and not nearly enough time to make such a monumental decision. You nod slowly, grateful for at least this small concession.
"In the meantime," Joanna continues, sliding a thick folder across the table, "here are the details of the proposal. I suggest you review them carefully on your own, but I’d like to take you through some of the finer points.”
For the next hour, you listen intently as Joanna walks you through the intricacies of Andy's proposal. The numbers are staggering - the infusion of capital he's offering would allow you to expand your business in ways you've only dreamed of. More staff, cutting-edge technology, access to an elite clientele that would catapult your company to the top tier of event planning.
And with each benefit Joanna outlines, you feel a growing sense of unease. This isn't just a business deal - it's Andy further entwining himself into every aspect of your life. Your company has been your safe haven, the one thing that's truly yours. And now he wants a piece of that too.
He wants you to set up physical offices somewhere in the city, giving a list of five locations that have already been evaluated and scouted by his business team whose leasing costs would be waived either because he owns the buildings or has existing contracts with their owners. He wants you to shift your role and title to executive director and name one of your three as the new operations director so you can maintain oversight and strategic direction but be able to be remote for periods (like your upcoming honeymoon) without it affecting the team.
As Joanna wraps up her explanation, you sit back in your chair, feeling overwhelmed. "This is... a lot to take in," you say quietly.
Joanna nods sympathetically. "I understand. Andy’s offer is certainly comprehensive. It's a significant decision, and not one to be taken lightly." She pauses, studying you for a moment. "If I may offer some advice?"
You nod, grateful for any insight at this point.
"Take the week. Really think about what you want for your business, separate from Andy's proposal. Then compare that vision to what he's offering. See where they align and where they differ." Joanna leans forward slightly. "And remember, you have negotiating power here. If there are aspects of the deal you're uncomfortable with, we can discuss modifications."
You're surprised by her candor. "Thank you," you say sincerely. "I appreciate that."
You’re about to stand, but then you decide to take advantage of this potentially rare opportunity. "Can I ask you something, off the record?"
Joanna hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Of course."
"You've known Andy for a long time, haven't you?" At her nod, you continue. "What's your honest opinion of this? Of him wanting to be involved in my business?"
Joanna removes her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. For a moment, she looks older, more tired. "Off the record? Andy Barber is a complicated man. He's brilliant, driven, and can be incredibly generous. But he's also used to getting what he wants, and he doesn't like loose ends."
She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “He's... complex. I've seen him do things that would shock you, and I've seen him show unexpected kindness. But make no mistake - everything Andy does serves a purpose."
Her words send a chill down your spine. You think of the duality you've witnessed in Andy - the charming, attentive fiancé and the cold, calculating businessman.
"And what do you think his purpose is here?" you ask quietly.
“You’re incredibly smart. You already know.” Joanna puts her glasses back on, her professional demeanor returning. "Remember, you have a week. Use it wisely. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to contact me directly," she says and hands you her card.
You nod, gathering your things. As you stand to leave, Joanna speaks again.
"One more thing," she says, her voice low. "Andy values loyalty above all else. Whatever you decide, make sure you can live with the consequences."
You take the folder with slightly shaking hands. "Thank you, Ms. Klein."
“I think you can call me Joanna.”
You leave the law office with your head spinning, clutching the folders containing Andy's proposal and the updated prenuptial agreement Joanna’s staff had been able to finish revising just as you left. As you step out of the office, you see Shep waiting in the lobby. He opens the door for you and follows a step behind as you make your way to the elevator.
"Everything alright?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral but his eyes showing a hint of concern.
You force a smile. "Fine, thank you, Shep."
The elevator dings, and as you step inside, you can't help but wonder how much your security detail knows about your situation with Andy. Are they just doing their job, or are they reporting your every move back to him?
As you step out of the building, you see Mark waiting by the Range Rover. He opens the door for you, his expression neutral as always.
"Where to, miss?" Mark asks once you settle into the backseat and he and Shep have taken their seats in the front.
You pause, realizing you're not sure where to go. The idea of returning to Andy's house - your house now - feels suffocating. You need space to think, to process everything that's happened.
"Could you... could you just drive for a while?" you ask hesitantly. "I'd like some time to think."
Mark nods without question, pulling away from the curb. As the city passes by outside your window, you try to organize your thoughts. The prenup, the business proposal, Joanna's cryptic warnings - it's all overwhelming.
Joanna had heavily advocated that you take the full week to go over the proposal and negotiate your terms. How possible would that be in Andy’s house, with Andy essentially right over your shoulder? Or with him possibly throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to his bed to wreck you with pleasure, occupying far too much of your mind and your time to think?
You desperately wanted to talk to someone you trusted, someone who knew you, who could help you sort through… maybe not everything, but perhaps some of it.
If only…
You sit up a little straighter and look at Shep and Mark.
Andy had said they were your men, but how true was that? And to what extent? If they had to choose loyalty to you or Andy, could they even choose you over him?
You lean forward. “Can I ask you two something?”
“Of course, ma’am,” Shep says.
You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t love when you ma’am me.”
His eyes twinkle just slightly. “I know.”
“After you get married, we’ll be able to just call you Mrs. Barber instead,” Mark adds.
Now you scowl. “Okay, that’s weirder.”
Mark grins, but Shep at least keeps his face neutral. “What did you want to ask?” he prompts you to continue.
“I know you two are assigned as my permanent detail. Andy explained everything when this started, but what would you say your responsibilities are?”
“My job is to monitor threats whenever you leave the house and keep you safe,” Shep says easily. “Mark’s job is to transport you safely and provide back up.”
You’re careful as you continue.
“The private jet…” you think of the TikToks you’ve seen recently of Kolin Jones arranging flights for rich people on Amalfi Jets. “Hypothetically how long would it take to charter a flight to Europe?”
The two men exchange a look.
You look between them.
“You don’t need to charter a flight,” Mark finally answers. “Mr. Barber is the sole owner of his plane, and I’m a licensed and experienced pilot.”
Your jaw drops slightly, and excitement flickers in your chest.
“Before you get carried away, ma’am,” Shep interjects, and you know he’s ma’am-ing you on purpose. “Where are you going with this?”
You weigh how much to test and tell them, but if they’re not fully behind you, it won’t matter anyway - they’ll prevent you or rat you out to Andy if they don’t agree to your emerging plan.
“I want to get away - just for a few days,” you say.
Shep and Mark exchange another look, this one more wary.
"Get away?" Shep repeats carefully. "You mean like a vacation?"
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "No, not exactly. I need some time and space to think, away from Andy and everything here. Just for a few days, to clear my head and figure things out."
There's a heavy silence in the car. You can practically see the wheels turning in their heads as they process your request.
Finally, Mark speaks. "You know we can't just whisk you away without Mr. Barber's knowledge or consent. That's not how this works."
Your heart sinks slightly, but you press on. "I understand that. But you're my security detail, right? You're supposed to protect me and look out for my wellbeing?"
Shep turns and looks at your face directly, studying you. "We weren't assigned to be your babysitters or prison guards. Our job is to keep you safe, yes."
You lean forward, your voice low and urgent. "I'm not running away or trying to escape. I just need a few days to process everything that's happening."
Mark and Shep exchange another long look, seeming to continue a silent conversation.
Shep sighs. "We can't just disappear with you. But we can arrange something."
Your heart leaps with hope. "Really?"
Mark nods slowly. "Our primary job is to keep you safe at all times, and we can’t keep you safe if you don’t trust us.”
He may be telling you what you want to hear, but you think there’s genuine sincerity in what he’s saying. You desperately hope you’re right.
“We will need to report your location and future plans to Andy’s head of security, but I’m willing to hold off until we’re on our way, and I will negotiate us into a good place with taking this trip. Mr. Barber won’t be happy, but I will take the heat if it means longterm you will know you can lean on us.”
You open and close your mouth, searching for the right words. This was the best case scenario that you didn’t know would actually be possible.
“Anything to add?” Shep asks Mark.
Mark shakes his head. "I think that covers it.”
You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervous excitement. "Thank you both. I... I really appreciate this. So what now?"
“If you are content without a flight crew for the cabin, we can leave almost immediately,” Shep explains, “but if you want a full staff, it would probably be two hours.”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I have Andy’s black card, so I can get anything we need so we don’t need to raise any suspicion by going back to pack, but I will have to get my passport… and you two will-”
Shep raises his brow. “We travel with our passports at all times, and you should know we have a secondary passport for you.”
Your jaw drops.
“In case we ever need to get you out of the country for your safety and don’t have time to go home,” Mark explains.
The thought had never occurred to you.
But the reality that this was apparently a potential reality being part of Andy’s world chills your bones.
“Europe is familiar territory for us security-wise. Where did you have in mind?" Mark cuts into your thoughts.
“Oh,” you muse for a moment. “I have a friend who took a job in Stockholm a few years ago, but I should check with her first.”
You pull out your phone and consider what to even say to the best friend you haven’t seen in almost four years. Then you type out:
What would you say if I got engaged to a rich mafia man who had a private jet and told you I wanted to show up on your doorstep out of nowhere for a few days?
You grin as you hit send. Checking your watch, you know it’s late for her, but hope she’s still up.
“We'll need to file a flight plan and make some quick arrangements,” Shep says, pulling out his own phone, “but we can be in the air within two hours."
"Perfect," you say, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation.
Your phone buzzes almost immediately with a response:
HER: I’d say you’re living one of my fantasies and ask WHEN and HOW LONG?!
YOU: How serious are you?
HER: Wait… How serious are YOU?
YOU: Maybe 10-12 hours from now and 3-4 days?
HER: You get here immediately! I have so many questions!
You can't help but laugh at your friend's enthusiastic response. It feels good to have something to smile about after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days.
"Looks like we have a destination," you tell Shep and Mark.
Shep nods, already tapping away on his phone. "I'll call ahead to file the plan. Mark, head to the airfield."
As Mark changes course, you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling up inside you. You're really doing this - escaping, even if just for a few days, to clear your head and figure things out.
Can you believe I gave you a chapter for them without any smut?
What do you think? What does Andy think? How will he react?
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pairing: sugar daddy!ari levinson x sugar baby!female reader
summary: your sugar daddy takes you on an autumn-themed date to the apple orchard, and what starts off as a fun and flirty day unfolds into a meaningful turning point in your relationship.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, biting, brief cockwarming, exhibitionism, light bdsm, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, very light degradation, lots of teasing, pet names (darling, honey), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff
word count: 14.5k
a/n: whew i've been working on this for like two weeks now, and i'm so happy to finally be able to post it!!! i was struggling a bit with the emotional throughline of this fic, and i only decided on it very late in the editing game so if some things don't make sense, just ignore it!!! if you can believe it, i originally just wanted to write about a quickie in the apple orchard and it turned into this 🫣 anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!!
“Kiss.”
The warm, playful voice of your sugar daddy, Ari Levinson, met your ears as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat of his Lexus, greeting you in the way he always did. When you closed the car door behind you, the sounds of the Manhattan street were silenced, leaving you in the relative quiet with Ari.
Eagerly, you twisted on the sumptuous seat of the expensive car to lean over the center console, brushing a teasing kiss to Ari’s scruffy cheek, your lips grazing the edge of his full beard. His skin was warm and inviting, and you lingered for a moment, breathing in the the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne, smelling of vetiver and leather.
When you pulled back, Ari’s blue eyes were glittering with a hint of mischief that made your heart thump with excitement, a warmth blooming in your core despite the cool air of the car’s air conditioning brushing your legs. It was a warm September day, the last remnants of summer clinging in the air as if it protested giving up its seat to autumn.
The thought crossed your mind that if any man looked like the embodiment of summer, it was Ari Levinson. His skin was golden with a perpetual tan, and his brown hair had sun-kissed blond highlights that shimmered in the daylight, though they were dimmed a bit in the shadow of his car.
Still, as he grinned at you, showing off his pearly whites framed by his dark beard, you couldn’t help but feel like the summer sun had taken a liking to you and sat beside you. When he looked at you like that, with that smile and those blue eyes shining like the sun off the ocean waves, you wondered what it would be like to have his attention all the time—to be more than just the sugar baby he took on occasional dates when he wanted to have fun.
Pushing those bothersome romantic notions aside, you raked your eyes down Ari’s form, noticing that he’d dressed down for your date. He wore a soft denim, long-sleeved button-up over a simple white t-shirt and tailored slacks. Casual loafers and sunglasses perched on top of his head completed the look. Even in such a simple outfit, he looked good.
“Show me.”
His voice was a deep rumble that pulsed between your thighs, and you flicked your gaze back up to his face, finding heat in his expression, the same mischievousness in his eyes that’d been there since you got in the car. The corner of Ari’s mouth was curved in a smirk, and you felt another throb of warmth in your core.
Your lips curled at the edges, a wicked smile curving your mouth as the energy in the car crackled around you, spurring your heart to beat a little faster. You knew exactly what Ari wanted you to show him, and you knew it was naughty—but that was part of why you liked spending time with your sugar daddy.
Ari was always urging you to be a little daring, to do something that made your heart race and your breath come a little faster. He didn’t push you, so much as guide you down the path to depravity, and you followed him willingly. You never felt more alive than when you were with Ari.
So while you smiled at him, you spread your legs on the leather seat of his Lexus, the short skirt of your dress falling between your parting thighs. Ari’s smirk deepened with satisfaction as he watched your movements with rapt attention. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your dress, the fabric having ridden up quite high on your thighs.
But before you could reveal what was beneath your skirt, you looked away from Ari, and it crashed over you that you sat in a car in the middle of a busy Manhattan street surrounded by other people. There were folks driving in their cars just outside your window and others walking by on the sidewalk beside where Ari was parked. There were even people filling up the buildings that overlooked the street. They were everywhere around you.
“Darling, look at me,” Ari murmured, his tone entreating enough to call your attention back to him.
You noticed his sparkling eyes had lost some of their mischief when you looked back at him. But the steadiness of his gaze had you relaxing when you hadn’t even realized you’d tensed up, and the corners of your mouth flickered in an uncertain smile.
“Do you trust me?” Ari asked simply. His face was open, no hint of pressure in his tone or voice.
For a brief moment, you considered his question, then you nodded your head. You watched as warmth flooded into his gaze, and it made you feel a little more sure.
“Lift your skirt for me, darling,” he implored, his eyes dropping to where your thighs were still spread, the flimsy fabric of your dress barely hiding your core. “Show daddy what you have under your pretty little skirt.”
You gathered every ounce of braveness in your body and pulled up the hem of your skirt. There, nestled between your spread thighs, was your bare pussy. The air in the car seemed to heat by a few degrees when you heard Ari suck in a sharp breath.
It had been Ari’s idea for you to go without panties on your date, and you’d agreed, the idea sending excited thrills through your body. Walking through the halls and the lobby of the Manhattan high-rise you called home, you’d felt like you had a secret that only Ari knew, and it gave you a delicious kind of satisfaction showing your sugar daddy how you’d gone without panties, your pussy fully exposed beneath your dress.
“You have such a pretty cunt, darling,” Ari groaned, his hand sliding up your thigh until the tips of his fingers teased the top of your slit.
You bit back a gasp and squirmed in your seat, trying to hold your hips back from thrusting into his touch.
“I never get tired of seeing this pussy, and how wet she gets for me.”
His fingers spread your lower lips and he brushed ever so gently over the tip of your clit, making you twitch in your seat, your legs shaking with the effort it took not to close them on his hand and trap him against your heated core.
“And the way your thighs tremble for me,” Ari rumbled, pulling away from your quickly dampening slit to grope roughly at your plush softness, his grip possessive in a way your sugar daddy rarely was.
“Ari.” His name was a breathy exhale, an undercurrent of admonishment in your tone as his touches stoked the blazing fire in your core, making you squirm even more on the seat. A sliver of worry wormed into your mind as you remembered the leather you sat on, which would surely stain if he kept touching you, and you gasped, “The seat.”
Ari only chuckled, the sound cavalier in a way that made butterflies take flight in your belly, but before you could chide him again, his hand was slipping back between your thighs. Ari dragged a finger from the bottom of your slit all the way to the top, flicking your clit and wringing a moan from your lips as your thighs trembled on the seat.
Then he was pulling his hand away, leaving you to drop your skirt to cover yourself, and popping his finger into his mouth. Your sugar daddy made a show of savoring the taste of you, and your head fell back against the headrest. You watched him suck your taste from his skin, your breaths heavy in your chest while Ari’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Mm, sweet as apple pie,” he praised, making heat rush to your face while you shook your head and rolled your eyes—even as your chest warmed at the compliment. Ari was grinning shamelessly at you when he grabbed your face gently and pulled you gently across the car toward him. “C’mere, darling, see how sweet you taste,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you.
The musky flavor of your body made you moan into Ari’s mouth, your sugar daddy devouring every little noise you made while he kissed you thoroughly. You sank into him, reveling in the smooth glide of his lips and the possessive exploration of his tongue. Your fingers curled around the collar of his denim shirt and you clung to him, feeling the edge of something more in the way he kissed you. It left you breathless when you finally pulled away.
You fell back into your seat with a soft “oomph,” the breath rushing from your lungs when you looked into Ari’s eyes. His blue gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and there was something in depths of his eyes that you couldn’t quite place—affection or fondness maybe.
A small, uncertain smile curled your lips, your heart thumping in your chest as you wondered if that’s how Ari looked at someone he truly cared about. Someone special to him, who had a more permanent place in his life than the sugar baby he called when he wanted to have some no-strings-attached fun.
For the briefest of moments, you could pretend Ari was more than your sugar daddy, and you were more than his sugar baby.
But then the moment ended, and Ari cleared his throat as he looked away, focusing on the wheel and gear shift of his car to put it in drive. A silent sigh of disappointment gusted from you, and you turned toward the passenger side window, intent on watching the city fly by once Ari eased into traffic.
To your surprise, Ari’s hand slipped into one of yours, his palm pressing against yours while he laced your fingers together. Your breath hitched with uncertainty even as the corners of your mouth flickered in a smile. It took you a moment to get used to the feeling of his hand in yours, turning it over to trace the veins on the back gently while he maneuvered his Lexus through the Manhattan streets.
It had only been a few months since you’d started seeing Ari, and while his touches were often greedy when you were fooling around, he hadn’t been prone to physical displays of affection since the first few dates you went on with him. Back then, he’d reached for your hand a few times, but after a point he’d stopped.
Truthfully, it had been a relief. One of your greatest fears was falling for a sugar daddy who didn’t return your feelings, and considering how handsome Ari was, you’d known it was a serious risk getting into a relationship with him. But he’d been so charming and carefree, you didn’t think it would be a problem to keep your heart out of things. He didn’t seem like he was looking for anything serious anyway.
So you’d focused on having fun, and that had been easy. Ari took you to expensive restaurants with delicious food in New York City, or he’d fly you somewhere else if he was itching to get away for a little bit. During meals, you’d chat about trivial things, then fall into bed together as soon as you were back in whatever hotel room Ari had booked for the night.
You didn’t quite know why your conversations didn’t go deeper than the shallow things you talked about, but you didn’t question it. It made everything so much easier if you didn’t truly know Ari—if he didn’t know you either. So you just stuck to safe topics, like planning dates and having sex.
Your relationship with Ari was a nice change of pace for you. He was far from your first sugar daddy, and you’d learned some hard lessons in your past relationships. Too often, sugar daddies wanted to know things you weren’t comfortable sharing, but Ari had never pried. He’d set boundaries and didn’t push them. You were grateful for that.
But another part of you, a part that started off small and was growing with every date you went on with Ari, yearned to know more about your sugar daddy. You wanted to know what he liked to do when he wasn’t working or taking you on dates. You wanted to know if he had any family, if he celebrated the holidays with them. You wanted to know if he’d ever had his heart broken.
Tamping down on those curious thoughts, you focused on the present—the music that was playing gently in the car, and the scenery passing by your window. The skyscrapers and high-rises of Manhattan had given way to the tightly-packed homes of the suburbs.
Biting your tongue against all the questions you wanted to ask, not even sure how you’d begin to try to get to know your sugar daddy better—let alone whether it was a good idea—you sat in silence with Ari. The suburbs eventually gave way to the lush forests and hilly countryside of the Hudson Valley, giving you something prettier to look at.
It was too early in September for the leaves to be changing yet, but there were glimpses of golden yellows and warm oranges among the green foliage. A hint of what was to come. Autumn was inevitable and you found comfort in the changing seasons.
Cozy weather was right around the corner, and you couldn’t wait for it. Hot apple cider and pumpkin pie, butterscotch cookies and mulled wine—you were a glutton for all the food and beverages associated with the autumn months. And you liked to make them yourself from scratch whenever possible.
It was part of the reason you’d wanted Ari to take you apple picking, though he didn’t know that. He’d just accepted the request and planned the date.
After a little while more of driving, Ari pulled off the paved road and onto a dirt track. There was a sign for Brothers’ Apple Orchard fixed to a worn, wooden fence, though dense trees hid the farm from view.
A little ways down the dirt road, the trees opened up into a large parking lot that was already packed with families and groups of friends going apple picking on the warm September afternoon. The sight and sounds of all the people had nerves twisting in your stomach, and you wondered if it had been a smart idea to go without panties to a place that was meant for wholesome fun.
You’d long since learned that Ari had an exhibitionist streak, and that day wasn’t the first time he’d told you to show up to one of your dates without panties. You’d always enjoyed the excitement in the inherent risk of wearing a dress without anything underneath, but he’d never taken you somewhere with so many families before. The consequences of getting caught seemed so much worse than they ever had before.
Ari must’ve felt your fingers tense in his because he gave you a comforting squeeze as he pulled his Lexus into an empty space and put the car in park. Once done, he looked to you, his smile faltering when he took in the way your brows were pinched and the corners of your mouth were turned down in an uncertain frown.
“Do you trust me, darling?” Ari asked, cupping your face and leaning across the car’s console to press his forehead to yours. His thumb stroked gently over your cheek, matching the sweeping of his other thumb against the back of your hand.
You were quiet for a moment, nibbling on your lower lip as you thought about his question—really thought about it.
It weighed on you a little that you didn’t know Ari very well, especially since a part of you desperately wanted to, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know his character. Ari had never pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do, and he always checked in with you when you were together, making sure you were comfortable and having fun. So while you didn’t know his favorite color, you did trust him.
Exhaling slowly, you nodded, your forehead shifting against Ari’s. “I trust you, Ari,” you said, your voice little more than a whisper, like you were telling him a secret in the privacy afforded by the enclosed space of his car.
To your surprise, Ari sighed in relief at your words, the exhale so short and quiet, you wondered if you’d heard correctly. But you didn’t have time to analyze it because Ari was pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then pulling back to open his door and step out into the September sunshine.
You watched as Ari rounded the front of the Lexus, a charming grin on his face as he winked at you over the hood of his car. It was only because you were alone that you allowed yourself a silly little giggle, your mouth spreading across your face in a wide smile. He opened your door and offered you a hand to help you out.
“Careful, darling, wouldn’t want to give anyone a free show,” Ari murmured teasingly while you slid your hand into his, feeling the roughness of his palm against the pads of your fingertips.
A zing of thrill went straight to your core at his words, joining the sparks you felt when you touched him. The fingers of your other hand played with the hem of your dress as you stepped one foot out of the car. You darted a look around, finding you had some relative privacy between Ari’s Lexus and the next car over, and pretended to rearrange your skirt.
In reality, you flashed your bare slit for your sugar daddy, biting your lip and ducking your head when you heard his sharp inhale. Ari made a low, tortured sound and squeezed your fingers, practically pulling you out of the car before pinning you against the side.
“Naughty girl,” Ari growled in your ear, pressing his big body against yours so you were trapped between his hard muscles and the warm metal of the Lexus at your back. “You’re going to get us in trouble if you keep flashing that pretty pussy at me, darling.”
A breathless, disbelieving laugh gusted past your lips before you could stop it, even as your head went a little fuzzy from the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne filling your senses. It felt like the vetiver and leather on his skin was embedded in your mind as a reminder of all the pleasure he’d given you, and with his body pressed against yours, it took you a moment to respond.
“You’re the one who told me not to wear panties to our apple picking date, daddy,” you reminded him, gripping the soft cotton of Ari’s t-shirt beneath his denim shirt, your fingers brushing against the sides of his tapered waist. You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, brushing your body against his firm form enticingly while your lips grazed along his scruffy cheek. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me to show you my achy, needy cunt.”
A low growl rumbled in Ari’s chest and he pressed you harder against the side of his car, his body impossibly warm and hard through the thin fabric of your dress. You could feel every firm line of him against your soft curves, including the thick bulge digging into your stomach.
Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Ari’s hands skimmed down your sides and dove beneath the hem of your skirt, palming your ass and kneading your soft flesh with firm, possessive fingers.
“Darling, if you keep saying such filthy things, you’re gonna end up in the back of my car with my cock buried in your achy, needy cunt,” he purred, a threat in his tone that he punctuated by nipping at your ear, making you gasp and arch into him, pressing your tits against his solid chest. “You’re gonna get us banned from the orchard because you won’t be able to stop screaming while I pound your pussy—is that what you want?”
It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes.
In the short time since you’d stepped out of the car, Ari had you feeling wet and aching and empty. Warmth flooded your body that had nothing to do with the sun shining brightly above your heads, and you wanted badly for Ari to free his cock from his slacks and slide it inside you.
But then the shrieking laughter of children punctured the bubble of lust surrounding you, and you remembered exactly where you were. Shaking your head, you dropped your gaze to the edge of Ari’s jaw while you sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the fresh air beyond the scent of your sugar daddy’s cologne.
Ari’s big body eased back, giving you more room to breathe and you ignored the pang of disappointment at the loss of him. Instead, you let the crisp autumn breeze brushing against your cheeks and dancing between your thighs cool you down.
After giving you a moment, Ari curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. His brows were lowered and his eyes looked at you questioningly.
“Do you still want to go apple picking?” he asked softly, planting his other hand on the hood of his car, as if he needed to force himself not to touch you so you could answer his question. The thought made you smile, and his eyes dropped to your lips, his thumb brushing quickly over the bottom one.
“I do,” you said in a light, breathless voice, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. On a whim, you nipped at Ari’s thumb, giving him a smirk when his eyes darkened. “If you think you can keep it in your pants until later, daddy,” you taunted him, pushing your hips forward so his bulge pressed into your belly.
“You’re such fucking trouble,” Ari growled before his mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. One of his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into him while the other cradled your head gently, holding you exactly where he wanted you while he devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping possessively past your lips until you were moaning softly into him.
A loud, clearing throat had you finally breaking apart. Both you and Ari turned your heads toward the sound, finding a blonde woman raising an eyebrow at the two of you before cutting her eyes pointedly to the children beside her. Your cheeks heated and you buried your face in Ari’s neck to muffle a cackling laugh.
“Apologies, ma’am,” Ari called gruffly, raising a hand in a repentant wave.
The woman huffed and rolled her eyes, which only made you laugh harder, pressing your face deeper into the warm curve of Ari’s shoulder as you tried to stay quiet. When the woman and her family were finally gone, you leaned back, giving Ari a cheeky grin.
“Think she’s gonna complain about us and get us banned?” you asked teasingly, sliding your hands up Ari’s chest until they rested on his shoulders, trying not to think about how easy it was to touch your sugar daddy so casually. “Tell them we were acting indecently in the parking lot?”
Ari laughed, chucking you under your chin gently before ducking down for a quick kiss. “If she does, I’ll just buy the farm,” Ari murmured against your mouth. “They can’t ban us if I own them.”
Your breath caught in your lungs at Ari’s pronouncement, surprise making your heart leap in your chest. Your sugar daddy had bought you plenty of expensive gifts since you’d started seeing him, but buying a farm so you could go apple picking in peace was on another level entirely. You had to wonder if Ari was serious, but the look in his eye was genuine when he pulled back.
“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he rumbled, his heated gaze raking over your face, taking in your wide eyes and parted lips. His thumb stroked over your bottom lip, pulling on it ever so slightly to the side, sending a little thrill through your body. “Or we aren’t making it into the orchard.”
You closed your mouth, swallowing thickly and bobbed your head in a nod. Then, you slid away from Ari, slipping from between his big body and the car and taking a deep, steadying breath.
Even with the warm September sun shining down on your shoulders, you felt a little cold without Ari’s heat and shivered. But you told yourself you were being ridiculous, shaking off the shiver and turning back to your sugar daddy.
Ari was standing with both hands planted on the hood of the car, his head hanging between them while he took deep breaths. He must’ve felt your attention on him because he lifted his head and gave you a charming smile.
“Just gimme a sec, darling,” he said, shooting you a wink before he straightened and dropped his hands to the bulge in his slacks.
You tried not to ogle your sugar daddy as he adjusted himself to make his hard length less prominent in his pants, but you knew what was hiding beneath his clothes and you knew how good his cock felt sliding inside you.
A sizzling, delicious warmth cascaded through your body, and you let yourself watch Ari’s big hands adjusting his bulge for a moment before tearing your eyes away and taking deep breaths of the fresh air to clear your head as much as possible.
A moment later, Ari slung his arm around your shoulders and together the two of you walked toward the entrance to the orchard.
It took effort, but you managed not to look down at the front of his pants, sure that if you did, neither of you would make it any further. And you did want to go apple picking. You had so many things you wanted to bake with the apples you were going to pick.
Keeping your chin up and your gaze forward, you and Ari walked to the small, squat red building that served as the entryway to the orchard. One side was for folks heading into the field of apple trees, and you joined the line while scrutinizing the size of baskets and crates you could get for picking.
Ari let you choose the size, and you picked a decent size wooden basket, thinking that would give you plenty of apples to use for baking. A farm worker explained that your apples would be weighed when you were done, and you paid per pound. Then they handed Ari a map that specified where each apple variety could be found, and the two of you were set free into the orchard.
“What kind of apples are we picking today?” Ari asked, peering at the paper in his hand while he snagged the basket from you.
You leaned into his side so you could read the map, and pointed when you found what you wanted. “Honeycrisp, honeycrisp!” you chanted, letting your excitement overtake you.
Ari chuckled, folding the map and tucking it into his pocket before giving you one of his charming grins. “Honeycrisp it is, honeycrisp,” he teased, smoothing his hand down your arm to lace his fingers with yours before he began walking into the orchard.
A shiver of delight raced down your spine at Ari’s gentle, familiar touch and the sweet new nickname. He’d only ever called you ‘darling’ before, and while you liked the pet name, ‘honeycrisp’ made you feel closer to your sugar daddy because it was meant for only you. It was something people in a real romantic relationship did, wasn’t it?
Your feet stumbled a little before you fell into step beside Ari. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked up at him consideringly, wondering—not for the first time—what he thought of you. If he thought you were someone worth caring about—if he thought of you at all when you weren’t together.
Your sugar daddy flashed an easy smile at you, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture, even as you thought about how difficult he was to read. He was always charming and easygoing, and it made it hard to figure out what he was really thinking, let alone what he was really feeling.
You did your best to push those pondering thoughts from your mind and simply enjoy the walk through the orchard with Ari. You reminded yourself that he’d made it clear he just wanted to have fun with you, so that’s what you were determined to do: Enjoy the warm day and pick some apples with your handsome sugar daddy.
The honeycrisp section of the orchard ended up being quite busy, with families and groups of friends forming small crowds around all the trees closest to the entrance of the field. You paused for a moment, your face falling in a small frown.
Ari must’ve seen your expression because he tugged on your hand and led you past the crowds, strolling down a long row of apple trees to go deeper into the orchard. The excited chatter of other people faded until you could barely hear them and the farm grew peaceful. Finally, you came to the edge of the orchard, and Ari pulled you to a stop at the end of a row of honeycrisp trees.
“Wow, that’s a lot of apples,” you said, peering up at the trees around you. They were bigger and taller than the ones you’d passed that were being picked over by the crowds. Their branches were practically bursting with ripe, red apples, the color swirling with yellow and green as it often did with that particular variety.
It seemed no one else had thought to escape the crowds and venture deeper into the orchard, because you couldn’t hear anyone else around. It was just you, your sugar daddy and the apple trees.
It was so perfect you couldn’t stifle the beaming grin that spread across your face.
“Should I go back for another basket—or a crate?” Ari asked, a grin in his tone.
When you finally tore your eyes away from the trees and their bounty, you found him staring at you, something like fondness in his gaze. It struck you that Ari had no idea why you wanted apples—you’d never told him you liked to bake or what you planned to do with the ones you picked—but he’d planned the date and was offering to help you pick as many apples as you wanted.
A warmth started in your chest, feeling as though it were wrapping around your heart and filling you up with a dizzying amount of sunshine, until your ribs were nearly bursting with it. Your cheeks felt warm, and your face ached a little from how wide you were smiling.
When you realized that you were staring back at Ari with just as much, if not more, affection than was in his gaze, you tried to tamp it down, forcing yourself to scoff lightly at his question.
“I think one will be plenty,” you said dryly, turning back to the trees and trying to calculate how many apples would fit into the basket Ari carried. Would it be enough for the apple crisp cheesecake recipe you’d been dying to try? You decided it would have to be.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, honeycrisp?” Ari asked softly, curling a finger beneath your chin and tipping your face to look up at him. He eased your bodies toward each other and your arms wrapped naturally around his waist.
It wasn’t until you’d pressed your hands to Ari’s back, your hands settling against the solid muscle of him, that you even realized what you were doing. When you did, you froze, feeling a little spooked by how easy it was becoming to sink into Ari’s casual touches and return them. It felt like there was a growing intimacy between the two of you, and you didn’t know quite yet how you felt about it.
“Honeycrisp?” you asked, latching on to the one thing you could think to say that would delay you needing to answer Ari’s question.
He’d never asked you what you were thinking before. When he checked in with you, his questions were always more direct, and more specific about what you were doing. You didn’t know if he really wanted to know, so you hoped a distraction might work.
Ari’s grin turned a little mischievous, like he knew what you were doing, and he wrapped his arms around you, hauling you up against his large, firm body. He ducked his head and nudged your nose with his, tickling your cheek with his beard until you laughed softly into his scruff.
“It fits, doesn’t it?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that sent warmth dancing through your body. “You’re sweet as honey and as delicious as an apple crisp.” He kissed your lower lip, sucking on its plumpness with a slow, deliberate drag that had you nearly moaning into his mouth.
“Yeah, I like it,” you murmured when he released your lip, your voice obscenely breathy as your eyes fluttered open. You couldn’t remember closing them. Being so close to Ari, having his arms around you and his lips on you, was rattling your brain a little.
“Now, darling honeycrisp, tell daddy what had you thinking so hard about those apples,” Ari rumbled, his voice sweetly coaxing as he brushed butterfly kisses along your jaw. His lips were soft and his beard was coarse, and the contrast of the sensations had you sighing softly and melting further into his arms. “Unless you don’t want to tell me?”
There was a thread of uncertainty in Ari’s tone as he voiced the question, like he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too hard by asking you to tell him what you’d been thinking about.
It was so different to how other sugar daddies—other men in general—had treated you. They’d always demanded you tell them whatever they wanted to know, as if they had a right to every part of you.
But Ari wasn’t like that. He’d never been like that, and it didn’t surprise you that the first time he asked something even remotely personal, he was still giving you the opportunity to sidestep the question if you didn’t want to answer. It made you want to tell him all the more.
“I was thinking about what I want to bake with the apples we pick,” you answered, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. “And trying to make sure one basket would be enough.”
Ari brushed a kiss to the apple of your cheek, as if thanking you for telling him. Pulling back a bit so he could look at you, he tilted his head to the side in curiosity.
“You like to bake?”
You felt a little shy in the moment, ducking your head under the weight of his sparkling blue eyes, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said shrugging as if it was no big deal. Then, when Ari didn’t reply right away, you went on, filling the silence by answering a question he hadn’t asked. “I don’t usually tell sugar daddies—the one time I did, he got weird.”
Biting your lip to stem the flow of words from your mouth, you winced. You weren’t sure if Ari had known you’d had other sugar daddies before him, but it felt awkward to acknowledge the fact even if you weren’t ashamed of it. Besides, something inside you rebelled against the idea of lumping Ari in with all your other sugar daddies—he truly wasn’t like anyone else you’d been with.
“Weird how?” Ari asked in a tone gentler than any you’d heard him use before. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, but he didn’t try to make you look at him, just stroked your skin with his thumb. The gesture was so profoundly comforting that you lay your head on his shoulder and gave a sigh of relief.
“Once he knew I liked to bake, he expected me to bake for him,” you explained slowly, choosing your words carefully. “But not just bake—he bought me an apron and skimpy little dresses to wear underneath it with these ridiculous heels. He wanted me to bake for him and…service him.”
You pressed your face into Ari’s shoulder, remembering the experience and cringing over what you’d let that man talk you into. He was a major reason you appreciated Ari’s boundaries so much. You felt safer, like things couldn’t spiral out of your control, with the boundaries your sugar daddy had set in place.
After you’d answered his question, Ari stayed quiet, just holding you, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your neck. His big arms felt so steady around you that you couldn’t help but take comfort in them, and you went on, feeling safe enough to tell Ari the rest.
“He took all the joy out of baking,” you said in a small voice. “I stopped seeing him soon after, but he wasn’t happy about it.”
Ari exhaled a sharp breath and he squeezed you in his arms, holding you tight for a long moment before he eased up a little.
“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “I would love to try your baking, but only if you want—hell, you can come over today and use my kitchen and bake in one of my shirts if you want.”
A relieved laugh gusted out of you, and you were so glad Ari understood that it took you a moment to realize he’d invited you to his apartment.
You’d never seen where he lived—and even though he paid for it, he’d never been inside your apartment either. Ari had always gotten hotel rooms, even for dates in in the city.
You hadn’t thought much about it beyond appreciating the fact that Ari didn’t act entitled to be in your space because he paid for it. But now he was inviting you to his apartment, his space, and you didn’t know what to make of it.
Pulling back, you gave him a curious look.
“Are you sure?”
Ari leveled you with a look of his own, and though his gaze was serious, there was a hint of amusement in the curve of his mouth. “Are you sure?” he countered, his voice going low and rumbly as he went on. “If you start baking in my kitchen wearing only my shirt, there’s a very good chance I’ll eat more of you than whatever you make.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to drive home the lewd insinuation of his statement.
But despite his dirty warning—or perhaps because of it—you only warmed to the idea of baking in Ari’s apartment. It sounded fun in a way it hadn’t been with your past sugar daddy and you bounced on the balls of your feet as excitement flooded through you.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, shifting your arms to wind around Ari’s neck. You used your hold on him to keep your balance as you pushed up onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I already know what I want to make.”
Ari chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before pulling out his phone and telling you to pull up the recipe so that he could forward it to his assistant to make sure his apartment had everything you’d need. You did as he asked and handed his phone back to him, watching for his reaction to the recipe you’d chosen.
To your delight, Ari groaned like he was being tortured, his thumb flicking over the screen as he scrolled through the recipe to look at all the pictures.
“You’re gonna make this?” he asked, before reading out the title, “An Apple crisp cheesecake?” He made another agonized sound before looking to you for confirmation.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, knowing he was excited despite the miserable noises he was making, and nodded eagerly to answer his question.
Ari shook his head with a disbelieving look on his face and tapped out a message on his phone before pocketing it again. Then he grabbed you around the waist and hauled you against him again.
“You’re trouble for my pants, honeycrisp,” he muttered, dropping a too-brief kiss to your lips. “First you make me hard enough I feel like I’m gonna pop my zipper.” He trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck in between his words, his mouth and beard tickling your skin while you melted into his arms. “Next you’re gonna fill me up with apple crisp cheesecake until my button breaks.”
You made a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan as you tipped your head to the side, giving him more access to nip and lick at your neck while you clung to his shoulders, your knees going weak from your sugar daddy’s attention.
“You don’t need to eat that much cheesecake, Ari,” you wheezed in between bouts of laughter, giggling harder when he nipped playfully at your ear.
“If it’s as delicious as you, I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop myself,” he flirted, kissing the spot just beneath your ear that had you shivering in his arms.
“Ari,” you said his name on a breathy exhale, and it was a good thing his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, because you didn’t have any hope of responding to his compliment. Instead, you showed him how much you appreciated it by kissing him back hard, your fingers tangling in his soft brown hair as you clung to your sugar daddy and made out in the apple orchard.
By the time Ari pulled away to let you get some air, you were breathless and happier than you’d been in a long time. To your own surprise, you felt good about opening up to Ari and telling him about your past bad experience. He’d made you feel heard and cared for, all while giving you reason to believe he’d never do anything like that to you. He made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t with any of your other sugar daddies.
Because of all that, you were actually excited to finally see his apartment. It felt like an important step, the beginning of something new, perhaps something deeper, and though there was an undercurrent of anxiety in your belly, you were more excited than anything else.
And if you weren’t mistaken, Ari looked excited, too. His eyes were looking at you with affection in their depths, and his mouth was curved into a genuine smile.
As he grinned down at you, Ari let his hands slide down from your lower back to your ass, groping you through your dress before swatting the soft cheeks lightly.
“Alright, honeycrisp, these apples won’t pick themselves,” he teased good-naturedly. “And I’ve got a craving for some apple crisp cheesecake now.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, making you laugh.
But you forced a serious expression onto your face and gave him a mocking salute. “Yes, sir,” you said in a deeper voice, trying to tamp down on the smile that wanted to break free.
You lost the battle when Ari gave a loud laugh, his head tipping back and the sun shining down on his golden face while he gave into your silliness. He recovered quickly, though, looking back down at you fondly as he rumbled, “That’s ‘yes, daddy’, to you, honeycrisp.” Then he slapped your ass a little harder to urge you to get a move on before he finally, reluctantly, pulled away and turned in the direction of the apple trees.
To ease some of the disappointment you both felt, Ari gave you a salacious wink that had your cheeks warming again. You couldn’t even blame the September sun on the heat in your face. Your sugar daddy was just so hot, it was hardly even fair.
To distract yourself from wanting to curl up in Ari’s arms and say to hell with apple picking, you snatched up the basket he’d dropped, arching your back and popping your ass to give him a peek at your pussy, then straightened and skipped to the nearest apple tree to start picking.
When you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you saw Ari’s eyes were heated and staring at the way your skirt fluttered around your ass, his big hand palming his bulge in his pants. You wiggled your ass for him, turning back around to hide your laughter when his long-suffering groan met your ears.
But you couldn’t keep your eyes off Ari and you turned your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, catching him swiping a hand down over his face while he shook his head. Something about the gesture sent your heart pitter-pattering in your chest—which only got worse when Ari caught you looking and winked while he adjusted himself in his pants.
You felt giddy as you refocused on the tree in front of you, your breaths coming in soft little gasps as excitement and desire swirled in your core. It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts and remind yourself that you could not jump your sugar daddy in the middle of an apple orchard that was open to the public—no matter how much you desperately wanted to.
With slightly shaking fingers, you began to pick apples, doing your best to pay attention to what you were doing and make sure you were selecting the best fruit you could find. If Ari was going to try your baking for the first time, you wanted your apple crisp cheesecake to be the best that it could possibly be.
Ari came to stand beside you, and though you wanted him to put his hands on you, you were happy to see him dedicate himself to the task of picking apples, even reaching up to the branches that were too high for you. In turn, you showed Ari how to check for bruises and other unwanted things in the fruit before adding them to the basket at your feet.
Between the two of you picking apples, it wasn’t long before the basket was nearly overflowing, but you were having so much fun, you didn’t want it to end. So when Ari asked if you still needed more, you gave him a shy smile and said just a few. You didn’t want him to go get another basket—because, really, you didn’t need that many apples—but you didn’t want the apple picking part of your date to end just yet.
Your sugar daddy seemed to understand your desire to linger because he didn’t call you out on the fact that your basket could barely hold any more apples. Instead, he flashed you an indulgent grin and nodded, joining you under the apple tree where you’d been picking.
But rather than moving beside you, as he’d stood while you’d worked together, he came up behind you so that his chest was brushing against your back. His hands settled lightly on your waist, loosely caging you in beneath the apple tree with your body facing the trunk.
He ducked down so his scruffy, bearded cheek was pressed to yours and pointed to a cluster of apples just out of your reach. “Why don’t you grab one of those?” he suggested, the practiced innocence in his tone nearly making you snort with laughter.
You knew Ari was playing a game, you could feel it in the mischievous tension crackling in the air, and you were almost certain it would lead to some sort of naughtiness in the orchard. But your body was wound tight, and you wanted to get up to a little mischief with your sugar daddy, so you decided to play along.
“I can’t reach, daddy,” you simpered, proving your point by reaching your hand up to show that the apples were too high up, your fingertips only barely grazing the fruit. You used the movement to deliberately push your ass back into Ari’s lap and you had to smother a giggle when you felt the hard ridge of him in his pants.
“Let me help, honeycrisp,” Ari rumbled, and though you couldn’t see his grin, you knew it was there by the warmth in his voice. You bit your lip against your own wide smile.
Ari’s hand slid down your side, all the way to the back of your thigh, before he gently grabbed your leg behind your knee to lift it until your foot was planted on a low branch. Then he guided your hips deeper into his lap, where you could feel the long, stiff length of his cock wedging between your ass cheeks through your thin dress.
“C’mon, honeycrisp, reach a little bit more,” he urged, tilting your hips and bending his knees so that his hard bulge was pressed against your bare slit. Then he surged forward, lifting you just a little off the ground while he dragged the thick length of his cock against your weeping pussy.
You fell helplessly against the trunk of the tree, the apples forgotten as a low moan slipped past your lips. Ari teased you with his clothed cock, and your spine arched to bare more of yourself to his hard bulge. Craning your neck to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder, you gave him a desperate, pleading look.
“Daddy, please,” you begged on a whine, pushing back into his lap and wiggling your ass side to side to try to entice him into giving you something more. You’d been teasing each other all day, and you were hitting a breaking point. You needed him to give you something.
Ari chuckled, burying his face in the side of your neck, his deep laughter rolling deliciously down your spine and settling between your thighs, until you were pulsing with desire. He curled around your body until he was surrounding you, your smaller form fitting perfectly within the cage of his arms.
He reached above you and easily plucked the apple he’d directed you to pick from the spot you hadn’t been able to reach and presented it to you. At the same time, his other hand began to wander, groping your soft tits until you moaned prettily again for him.
“Does it pass your inspection, darling?” he asked, urging you to focus on the apple he held in front of you.
Truthfully, you didn’t care anymore about picking apples—you had plenty of them in the basket at your feet—but you did your best to look it over. You turned it over in your trembling fingers, checking for bruises and bugs. Finding it to be perfect, you nodded.
“Yes, daddy.”
“Good girl,” Ari murmured, taking the apple from your hands and pulling away to set it on top of the pile in your basket.
You had to bite back a whine at the loss of him, but he was back against you a moment later, his warmth surrounding you as his arms curled around your body. His hands slid up your sides and cupped your tits, kneading them in his big, strong hands until your head fell back against his shoulder and you let out a soft whimper of need.
“Now is that enough apples, honeycrisp?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.
“Yuh huh,” you mumbled, nodding weakly as you arched your spine and pushed your chest into Ari’s hands. He rewarded you by pinching and plucking your nipples through the soft cotton of your dress, wringing a weak whine from your lips. “Plenty.”
“Good,” Ari rumbled, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his mouth licking and nipping at your skin like you tasted as sweet as the fruit you’d been picking, his rough beard making you shiver in his hold. “Because if I had to see your pretty pussy winking at me from beneath your skirt one more time while you were bending over or reaching for some apples, it was going to drive me fucking wild.”
A low moan slipped free from your lips while one of Ari’s hands skimmed down your front, sliding under the hem of your dress and cupping you between your thighs. His big hand covered your entire mound, which was sticky with your juices.
He growled when he felt just how wet you were, the sound reverberating down your spine and making your pussy spasm, more wetness dripping from your slit and into his palm.
“Fuck,” Ari ground out through gritted teeth, his voice rough with his own barely leashed desire. “You’re soaking wet for me, honeycrisp—I gotta feel you,” he said, an urgency in his voice as he sank two fingers into your drenched hole, pulling another moan from you. His hips were grinding his bulge against your ass so hard, you could feel him throbbing. “Gotta feel this tight warm cunt on my cock, ‘m not gonna make it back to the car—need you now.”
“Ari,” you whispered harshly, trying to sound angry, but the two syllables of his name came out dipped in desire and you felt your sugar daddy shudder against your back, his fingers working harder inside your sopping cunt, his palm making soft slapping sounds every time he bottomed out. “We shouldn’t.”
Despite your weak protest, you rolled your head to the side on Ari’s shoulder, peering through the branches of the tree toward where you’d left the crowds of other apple pickers. They were still so distant you couldn’t hear them over your soft, gasping breaths, but there was no telling when someone might stray from the others. They could stumble upon you at any moment.
The only protection you had from wandering eyes were the branches of the apple tree. Thankfully, they were close enough and the leaves dense enough that you couldn’t see much beyond Ari’s big body, but if someone came close enough, they’d no doubt hear you or Ari, and then you’d be caught.
“We’re going to get arrested,” you scolded in a hushed tone before turning your head to bury your face in Ari’s beard and stifle the moan on the tip of your tongue. He hadn’t stopped fucking you with his fingers and your reluctance was ebbing from your body just as surely as your desire was leaking into his hand.
Instead of responding to your statement with the seriousness you felt it deserved, Ari simply chuckled against your cheek and used his thumb to circle your clit, making your hips jerk into his hand, your body wordlessly begging him for more while you muffled a whine into the underside of his jaw.
“We’ll be fine, honeycrisp,” Ari soothed in a placating tone that made you growl like a feral kitten into his throat, so he switched tactics, his voice going low and rough. “Don’t you wanna feel me, honey?” He asked, grinding his hard length into your soft ass until you mewled pathetically. “Don’t you wanna drip your sweet juices all over daddy’s cock like a good girl?”
It was on the tip of your tongue to give in. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew there was a very real possibility that you could get caught, and it was only your fear of the potential consequences that held your words at bay. But Ari was well acquainted with the fear that held you back, and he knew exactly how to help you break through it.
“Just the tip,” he murmured, his voice so warm you could hear the smile in it. “Just take the tip, and stay quiet, and we’ll be golden.” He nuzzled your face, his beard rasping over your soft skin and sending tingles of delight all through your body.
You knew it was a ploy. You knew that Ari knew that you’d never be able to settle for just the tip of his cock—after all, you never had before. But it was easier to pretend you could settle for just the tip than to say yes to Ari fucking you in the middle of the apple orchard when there were people not too far away. It was the small step you needed to break free from your fear.
Lifting your head, you looked around. There was nothing to see except dense branches and leaves and endless apples. Ari’s body hid you entirely from sight, and you still couldn’t hear anyone else close by, so if you stayed quiet, you really could get away with a quickie in the orchard.
A wicked smile spread across your face and you turned your head to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder.
“Just the tip?” you asked, you voice laced with suggestion. You knew Ari was going to end up sinking much more of his cock into you, but you wanted to play along for a little bit. “Promise, daddy?” Your question was meant to sound innocent, but you couldn’t help the way the corners of your lips wavered in an eager grin.
Ari chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, because he knew exactly what you were doing. “I promise, darling…” he said, trailing off as he pulled his fingers from your pussy with an embarrassingly wet sound that made him grin. “Unless, of course, you beg me like a good girl.”
“Hurry, daddy,” you cooed, wiggling your ass against Ari’s bulge, a teasing smile on your lips as you watched him over your shoulder.
Ari’s eyes darkened and then he was using his clean hand to fumble with his belt and fly while he swatted your pussy playfully with his drenched fingers. You gasped and twitched, trying to stay quiet and failing miserably as desperate keening sound slipped from your mouth.
At your urging, Ari wasted no time, shoving his pants open and pulling out his cock, pushing your dress up over your ass and rubbing the tip through your drenched folds. Both of you groaned, Ari’s face falling forward against your shoulder while you grabbed onto the trunk of the tree in front of you, trying to stay upright while your knees trembled.
Then Ari was pushing inside, the head of his cock sinking into the warmth of your pussy. The stretch of him was too delicious, and you moaned louder than was wise, but you couldn’t help yourself. He felt too good.
“What’d I say about staying quiet?” Ari rumbled in your ear, right before he shoved his fingers in your mouth. The tart taste of your wetness mixed with apples burst on your tongue and you moaned again, licking wildly at his fingers to get as much of it as you could. “Mm, that’s it, clean up your mess, honeycrisp—show daddy what a good girl you can be.”
Ari’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady while he fucked you with just the tip of his cock, pushing into your tight hole and pulling free until the tease of it drove you wild.
“Mm-oah, mm-oah,” you begged around Ari’s fingers, trying to push back on Ari’s stiff length and take more of him, but he held you still, forcing you to take only what he gave you. You bounced impatiently, the foot that was still lifted on one of the branches shaking it so furiously, the leaves rattled and a few apples dropped to the ground.
“Oh, did you want something, honey?” Ari asked, his tone filled with mocking innocence as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. You shot him a half-hearted glare over your shoulder, pouting.
“I need more, daddy, please,” you begged, giving him your best desperate, pleading look while you pushed back against his hold, reveling in the way he didn’t let you move to take him further. “Please split me open with your thick cock, daddy—I need it.”
Ari blew out a sharp breath. “Fuck, I wanna tease you some more, but I can’t—need you too bad, honey,” Ari rasped, squeezing your hip while his other arm wrapped loosely around the front of your throat, so the bulge of his bicep was just beneath your chin.
“Remember, stay quiet.” His hushed words were your only warning before Ari slammed into you, shoving every inch of his hard cock into your wet, needy cunt.
A scream welled up inside your chest, your mouth dropping open as it clawed its way up your throat, but at the last second before it was set free, you managed to bury your face in Ari’s bicep. Your teeth sank into his warm, golden skin and you bit your sugar daddy while you screamed into his arm.
His tortured groan was loud, but only because it poured directly into your ear, the sound dripping in pleasure as your inner walls squeezed his hard cock and made room for the thick length of him in the depths of your body.
Bliss consumed you, the stinging edge of Ari pushing inside you so fast and stretching you so suddenly making your body burn all the hotter. Already, your cunt was pulsing around Ari’s cock like you wanted him to stay buried inside you for a long time and you sighed happily, pulling your teeth from your sugar daddy’s arm.
While Ari gave you a moment to adjust, his hand kneading the plush softness of your hip, you kissed and licked at the indents your teeth had left in his skin. He chuckled, brushing a kiss against your temple, an acceptance of your wordless apology.
“Ready, honey?” Ari asked softly, nuzzling your cheek while he rolled his hips, grinding his cock into you in a way that had you moaning again. “This is gonna be hard and fast. I can’t—I gotta pound your pretty pussy,” he rumbled, his tone almost apologetic with the urgency in it. “Gotta feel you dripping around me, squeezing me, milking me.”
His hand shifted from your hip to slip between your thighs, his fingers finding your slippery clit and rubbing the puffy pearl. He grunted when you clenched around him, his fingers stroking you harder and winding your pleasure higher while he rolled his hips, fucking you in short, sharp thrusts.
“Fuck, honey, fuck,” he bit out, his breaths heavy in between every word. “Tell me you’re ready for me to move.”
“Please, yes, move,” you cried propping your chin on Ari’s bicep while your nails dug into the trunk of the tree in front of you. You used your grip to brace yourself and push back on Ari’s cock, taking him deeper with every thrust. “Need you, daddy, please, please, please,” you babbled, your voice coming out strained with the effort to keep it quiet.
“Fucking right you need me—just like I need you,” Ari growled, pulling his hips back and slamming forward, driving into you with so much force, you could hear the soft sound of your ass slapping against his thighs. “You have the sweetest, tightest pussy I’ve ever had—best fucking pussy in the world. I dream about it when I’m not with you,” he confessed, his words rough like he’d pulled them from the depths of his soul. “Dream about pumping you full of my come until your belly’s bulging with me, honey.”
Your mind reeled at Ari’s confession even as your body sank deeper into his hold. You were still trying to catch up on processing his words but your pussy was clenching around his cock greedily, as if begging for him to come inside you already.
In that moment, a singular truth crystalized in your mind: You’d been deluding yourself into thinking you didn’t care for Ari—that he didn’t care for you. It was very clear that Ari did care about you, and you cared about him.
All those boundaries in your relationship, you realized you’d been the one creating them, not Ari. Ari had been patient, chipping away at the walls you’d built around yourself until he’d somehow found his way in. He’d dreamed about you, and you’d thought he was just another sugar daddy looking to have some fun. You’d been so wrong about him.
At the weight of your realization, you nearly collapsed against the tree, but managed to hold yourself up, sobbing with pleasure and emotion. Ari seemed to sense the shift in your mood and he slowed his movements, as if he was going to stop, but you shook your head, feeling feral with your need for him.
“Please, daddy,” you cried softly, your voice hoarse with the flood of affection filling your heart. It was emphasized by the feeling of Ari inside you, surrounding you, your body cradled in his arms while he fuckd you like he wanted you to never forget the feel of him. “Fill me up, make me your perfect little cumslut, daddy, just keep me—keep me.”
“Always,” he rasped, his lips at your temple. The promise in that single word buried deep in your heart, taking root.
Something changed between you and Ari, and you knew he felt it too because he started fucking you faster than before, his hips snapping harder against your ass so he could push deep into your cunt with every thrust.
“Fuck, honey, ‘m almost there, are you close?” he rasped, his tone desperate.
Your head bobbed in a nod.
“Uh huh, ‘m close, just need a little more…” you trailed off in a whine, trying to push back on his cock and grind your clit against his stroking fingers at the same time.
Thankfully, Ari understood what you were begging for, and he rubbed you harder, his fingers relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure while he rutted into your cunt.
“C’mon, honey, come on daddy’s cock,” he rumbled in your ear, his voice deliciously deep to match his dirty words and push you closer to the edge. “Be a good little cumslut and milk my cock, make me fill your sweet pussy with all my come, honey.”
You buried your face into Ari’s bicep again, your teeth sinking into his skin as you screamed your release. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through your body, until your limbs were trembling and your fingers were shaking against the outside of Ari’s arm, having forgotten when you’d let go of the tree to cling to him.
With a grunt, Ari’s cock twitched inside you, reacting to the sting of your bite and the merciless grasping of your inner walls around his hard length. His hips stuttered, then he started fucking into you wildly, his thrusts falling out of rhythm while he chased his own release.
“Good girl, honey, so good, feel so fucking good milking daddy’s cock,” he muttered, cutting off on a deep groan while his cock throbbed inside you.
Ari spilled himself deep in your cunt and you moaned weakly, pulling back from his arm and licking his golden skin to sooth the indents your teeth had left behind. He tasted like salty skin and sweet apples and you hummed in pleasure as you rode out the remainder of your release with your bodies writhing together.
After a few long moments basking in the glorious afterglow of coming together, Ari took a deep breath and shifted his arm, chuckling lowly when you whimpered at the loss of his bicep to lick and kiss. He made it up to you by turning your head and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, pouring all the affection you finally knew he felt for you into the way his mouth moved against yours.
When he pulled away, leaving you slightly breathless, Ari leveled you with a serious look.
“You know you’re special to me, don’t you, honey?” he asked, using the new pet name that you knew was shortened from ‘honeycrisp’.
You’d been too wrapped up in your own head to notice the way it rolled off his tongue—it was an endearment for someone Ari cared about, someone who was special to him, as he said.
Biting your kiss-swollen lower lip, feeling a little abashed that it had taken you so long to realize what Ari felt for you, you nodded. You could feel your cheeks warming, and tried to duck your head, but Ari only chuckled and caught your lips in another kiss, though it was briefer.
When he’d kissed away your anxiety, Ari set about extricating himself from you, pulling free from your body and helping you down from the tree. He quickly stuffed his softening cock back into his pants and then helped smooth your dress back over your hips before doing up his slacks. You turned to him, brushing his hair back from his face and warming at the way he was smiling down at you.
Ari had an infectious grin on his face, and you couldn’t help but return it, your heart feeling warm and cozy in your chest.
The two of you smiled goofily as you helped right each other’s appearances. Once you’d fixed yourselves as much as possible, Ari stooped down to pick up the basket of apples you’d picked, then grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and planting a kiss on the back of your palm before heading off back to the farm stand.
As you walked past all the crowds of people, you were certain everyone knew what you and Ari had gotten up to in the orchard, but no one stopped or stared or said anything. They were all too focused on their own friends and families and the task of apple picking to notice you and Ari, or your big, silly smiles.
At the farm stand, Ari paid for the apples, then loaded them into his Lexus before helping you into the passenger seat. He dropped a kiss to your forehead, then rounded the front of the car and slid into his own seat.
You were quiet on the drive back to the city, your mind ruminating over the beginning of your relationship with Ari. When you thought back to your first few dates, you realized you’d been the one who was hesitant to answer any personal questions from your sugar daddy—and you’d never asked any of him. You’d also been the one to balk at the idea of either going back to his place or your apartment, leading him to get hotel rooms.
Ari had been the one to respect your boundaries, even as he’d tried to get to know you better. He’d tried to ask you questions you felt comfortable answering—it was how he’d found out you liked apple picking, because you’d chosen it as a fall-themed date. He’d been so careful with you, it made your heart hurt a little that you’d kept him at arm’s length for so long.
Turning from the scenery of the foliage fading into the cityscape of New York, you ran your eyes over Ari’s profile. His expression was easy, relaxed and open, the hint of a smile on his face. You’d thought he just always looked like that, but you realized it was because he was with you.
Reaching across the center console, you scooped up Ari’s hand and laced your fingers through his before settling your joined hands on your thigh. He glanced at you, shooting you a quick smile and squeezing your fingers, before turning back to the road.
By the time the car pulled into the underground parking garage of the high-rise on the Upper West Side where Ari lived, you were resolved to try to let your guard down a little more around him. Ari had shown you he could be trusted with your heart just as much as your body, and you were determined to show him you trusted him with all of you.
Still, it was a little intimidating walking into his apartment for the first time, the anxiety that he was only bringing you there because he wanted something from you—something you didn’t want to give—was a knot in your stomach. But then you looked at Ari and you realized he’d never do that to you. He was bringing you to his home because he wanted to, not because he wanted something from you.
Ari’s penthouse was warm and cozy, decorated in dark brown wood and warm golden tones, with hints of blue that reminded you of the ocean. You realized you knew Ari was a fan of the beach, because so many of the trips he’d taken you on had been close to the water. Walking into his home felt like walking into a reflection of his heart, and you didn’t take that for granted.
After setting down the apples on a table next to the door and stepping out of your shoes, Ari took you on a tour of his apartment, both the upstairs and the downstairs (because it was big enough to have two floors!). He showed you every room, including his bedroom and his study, tugging you into each by your joined hands when you seemed hesitant to enter his spaces.
Ari left the kitchen for last, but the two of you lingered in the living room, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park. Ari wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying you lightly from side to side, almost like you were dancing.
“You have a beautiful home, Ari,” you said, looking out over the city and appreciating the way the buildings and treetops were cast in the warm, yellow glow of afternoon sunshine. An errant thought crossed your mind, that you could get used to the view from Ari’s apartment. It was stunning.
“Thank you, honey,” Ari murmured, dropping a kiss to the base of your throat while his arms squeezed you tighter. He buried his face in your neck, so his words were a little muffled when he said, “I always hoped you’d like it enough to want to come over again and… again.”
You could hear in the pause of his words where he’d stopped himself from saying something different, and you wondered over it. But you knew yourself well enough not to ask. If just walking into his apartment felt like a big step, you knew asking him what he’d meant to say might spook you a bit too much, and you didn’t want that. So you just hummed in response.
Ari chuckled, like he somehow knew it was taking effort for you to be in his apartment, and he thought it was cute how difficult it was for you. His mouth trailed up your neck, effectively distracting you from your thoughts, before nipping at the edge of your jaw.
“Want to see the kitchen now?”
Nodding so eagerly, you nearly head-butted him, you turned in his hold and looked up at him with expectant eyes. Ari gave you an affectionate smile, then grabbed your hand and led the way to the kitchen.
He’d saved it for last, and when you stepped inside, you understood why. A gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the beautiful space. The color scheme of the apartment carried over to the kitchen, with dark brown cabinets and lighter wood countertops. There was a pop of blue in the backsplash, and all kinds of expensive gadgetry.
You were so busy taking everything in, it took you a moment to spot the brand-new stand mixer sitting on the counter in a color that matched the rest of the room. Beside it were some of the ingredients you’d need for the apple crisp cheesecake you’d told Ari you wanted to make and you realized his assistant must’ve already come and gone.
Walking over and running your fingers over the sleek mixer, tears welled up in your eyes. It took effort to blink them away, and you shook your head slightly at yourself. It seemed silly to be crying over a stand mixer, but it felt bigger than that, like it was a sign of Ari making room in his life for you. He wanted you there, he wanted to keep you, like you’d begged him to.
“Everything ok, honey?” Ari asked, coming to stand behind you, but not touching you, giving you some space while you processed everything you’d realized that day.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice thick, no doubt giving away the emotion you were feeling. Before you could overthink it, you spun around and threw your arms around Ari’s shoulders, launching yourself at him for a tight hug. “You bought a mixer,” you stated, as if that was explanation enough.
A soft laugh rumbled in Ari’s chest and he swept a hand down your spine, comforting you while a few tears leaked down your cheeks and into the collar of his denim shirt.
“Well, yeah,” he responded good-naturedly, a smile in his voice. “I did say I wanted you to want to come back, didn’t I?”
“Uh huh,” you mumbled, laughing a little at his comment. Then you murmured, in a small voice, “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Ari said, sounding genuine.
For a long moment, you hugged him, and then you pulled away, swiping at your cheeks to clear away any tears or makeup.
“Is the offer still open to bake while wearing only your shirt?” you asked, tipping your head back to smile shyly at Ari while your fingers played with the collar of his button-up.
A grin spread across his face while shrugged out of the denim shirt. Then, to your surprise, he yanked his t-shirt off over his head, asking you which one you wanted.
You took the denim one with fumbling fingers, your eyes raking over his bare chest while warmth bloomed deep in your core. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Ari shirtless, of course, but you never got tired of looking at the expanse of his golden skin, dusted with dark brown hair that you wanted to rake your nails through.
Ari let you look for a moment, using your distraction to help you slip out of your dress. Then he eased your arms into the denim shirt and buttoned it up, his big hands pausing briefly to grope your soft body every few moments.
There was a glimmer of deep satisfaction in his blue eyes when he stepped back to look at you in his shirt.
“Mm, you look so pretty, honey,” he rasped, taking one last look before crowding you into the counter at your back. His gaze darkened as he stared down at you, his grin turning wolfish when he rumbled, “I think I need a snack before you start baking.”
That was your only warning. You shrieked with surprised laughter when Ari hauled you back into the living room and tossed you down on one of his leather couches. Your giggles cut off abruptly in a moan when Ari descended on you, burying his face between your thighs and feasting on you like he was starving.
Your fingers twisted in Ari’s brown hair while he ate your pussy, encouraging you to scream your pleasure in the comfort of his home while he made you come against his mouth. You shattered apart with a loud cry while he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth greedily devouring your release, and the come he’d buried inside you earlier, like he hadn’t eaten in days.
When he finally pulled away, Ari’s beard was soaked in your juices and he grinned up your body while you lay limply on the couch, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Chuckling at the sight of you sprawled out on his couch, Ari pressed wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, licking the traces of your release from your skin.
“Fuck, honey, I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbled, his big hands kneading your plush thighs and hips, proving his point since it seemed like he couldn’t stop touching you. The blatant need and desire in his voice sent a shiver racing down your spine.
“If you keep going, I won’t have the strength to bake,” you warned him in a breathless voice, managing to lift your head enough to give him a stern look.
Ari laughed into your thigh, pressing one last kiss to your skin before he raised up and gave you a wink. “Can’t have that,” he quipped, grabbing your hands and helping you up off the couch. You stumbled a little, your legs weak from your orgasm, but Ari caught you easily, wrapping his arm around your waist while he led you into the kitchen.
Once you were propped up against the counter near the stand mixer, Ari left to retrieve the apples from the entryway. When he returned, you noticed he carried a pair of slippers that matched the ones he’d put on. Without saying a word, he set them on the floor next to your bare feet and carried on to start washing the fruit in the sink.
You stepped into the slippers, your heart warming when you realized they were a perfect fit. For a long moment, you stared at Ari’s bare shoulders and broad back, wondering how you’d ever kept such a thoughtful man at arm’s length. Well, you decided, once again, you wouldn’t be doing that anymore.
Turning back to the stand mixer and the ingredients, you organized everything on the counter, going to the fridge to pull out everything else you’d need.
To your surprise, you and Ari worked well together in the kitchen. Once he was done cleaning all the apples you’d picked, he asked what he could do next, and you put him to work peeling and coring the fruit while you worked on the other elements of the cheesecake.
When it came time to bake, Ari took the pan from your hands and popped it into the oven while you set a timer. Tension crackled between the two of you after the oven had snapped closed, and you came together in a flurry of limbs. Ari guided you back into the living room while he kissed you, his hands making quick work of removing all your remaining clothes.
You rode Ari to another orgasm while the sweet treat baked, the golden glow of the New York City sunset keeping the apartment awash in warm hues that made you feel cozy—like you were home.
Once you were both sated, you collapsed on top of Ari’s chest, burying your face in his neck and nuzzling into his beard. You inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, vetiver and leather, with a little bit of cinnamon from baking, and melted against him. You wanted to breathe in nothing but that scent for the rest of your life—and you refused to let that thought scare you.
Ari pulled a flannel blanket off of the back of his couch and wrapped it around you both, your pussy keeping his cock warm while you cuddled together until the timer went off.
You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Ari take the baking pan out of the oven wearing only an oven mitt on his hand. You, meanwhile, stood off to the side with the flannel blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He’d told you the blanket was highly flammable and insisted you stay clear of the oven with a stern look that made your insides go all gooey.
The two of you made out in the kitchen and made dinner while the cheesecake cooled. All the while, you kept thinking how easy it was to be with Ari, how you could see what your life would be like together. And you liked how it looked. You liked kissing him whenever you wanted and asking him about what movies he liked and what was the last book he read.
After dinner, you ate a slice of cheesecake together, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Ari’s face, enjoying every little groan and expression of pleasure he made. It was erotic enough that you left the last bite for him, getting to your feet to walk around the table and straddle his lap.
He fucked you to another, blisteringly hot orgasm, and laughed only a little when you fell against his chest with an exhausted, but satisfied, sigh.
In a soft voice, Ari asked if you’d stay the night, and the hope in his tone made your heart warm enough that you ignored the brief flicker of anxiety the question prompted. You shushed the worry inside you and said yes.
Together, you cleaned up the kitchen and then Ari led you upstairs to the bedroom, pausing every few minutes to kiss you, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there.
He gave you some of his clothes to wear to bed and showed you where everything was in his bathroom. You couldn’t help but notice that he had all of your favorite products, and a spare toothbrush for you. You smiled as you got ready for bed and slipped under the covers with him.
“Did you have a good day, honey?” Ari asked, pulling you into his body and wrapping you up in his arms. You were wearing one of his t-shirts—a clean one—while he had on a pair of boxer briefs. You hummed happily when your legs tangled together, enjoying the feel of his warm skin and tickling hair against you.
“Mm, I had the best day, Ari,” you murmured sleepily, the comfort and warmth of his bed making it easy to let your exhaustion creep in. “Kiss,” you said, turning your head and repeating the greeting Ari had given you when he’d picked you up.
Your sugar daddy chuckled, the sound rumbling down your spine and making your heart flutter with delight. Your eyes were already closed, but you could feel his smile when he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips.
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll still be here in the morning,” he promised, his words assuaging a fear you hadn’t realized you’d felt, and you sighed in contentment.
Everything had changed between you and Ari, and you couldn’t help but think it was for the better. You were still a little anxious about opening yourself up to someone, especially a sugar daddy, but Ari had shown you that you could trust him—really trust him, with all your heart—and you were determined to do just that.
“G’night, Ari,” you whispered into the pillow that smelled like him, a hint of a smile in the curve of your mouth as sleep claimed you.
“Good night, honey,” Ari crooned in your ear, his voice gentle and soft and oh so affectionate. “My sweet, sweet honeycrisp.”
summary: Despite your family being part of the mafia, you led a quite free life compared to the other single women in the mob. However, it's all about to change when the head of the mafia decides to make you his wife.
warnings: dark and soft-dark elements; arranged marriage; forced marriage; threats; dominant and possessive behavior;
Author's Note: For now it's just a collection of short musings and ficlets, not a full story. But since this Curtis gained quite a lot of attention, I think he needs a separate masterlist (for potential future purposes).
Thanksgiving has always been… a little difficult with your family, but whose isn’t? You tried warning Curtis about how terrible they could be, but he didn’t think it was this bad. Year after year, they ask you if you’re bringing a special someone, giving fake sympathetic smiles when you say ‘no’ yet again. So they stopped asking, until you showed up with this beefcake on your arm this year. And of course you cousin gets up to instantly tear you apart in front of him, like she always does because how dare someone have something better than her. Jealous priss. But you’re not gonna let her get away with it. Not this time. And as soon as you stand up to her, Curtis is so proud to be with someone so strong, giving you this look, an admiring smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, from his spot next to you at the table.
Oh Essie, this prompt tapped into some extended family stuff for me. It's been many years since I've had to do the whole big family holiday thing, and I'll be honest, I don't miss it.
I hope you enjoy what I came up with!
Let Us Eat Quickly
Pairing: Curtis Everett x demisexual demiromantic female reader
Word Count: ~1.5k
Warnings: friendly but toxic family, probably a little aphobia, amatonormativity out the wazoo, explicit language All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @strangergraphics
Masterlist
A/N: Big thanks to @stellar-solar-flare who helped me gut check this and @darsynia who poured through so much Thanksgiving poetry to help me settle on a title. It comes from Home for Thanksgiving by Linda Pastan
You stood at the door, Curtis beside you with his hand on your back. “It’s not too late to turn around,” you mumbled to him.
He just chuckled good-naturedly. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one, meeting your family for the first time. Relax, I know how families can be. It’ll be fine.”
“That’s what you think,” you said under your breath, then pasted on a smile as the door opened to reveal your aunt.
She immediately threw her arms around you. “Oh my god! It’s been so long!” She pulled back and then looked at Curtis, her eyes widening. “Holy smokes, he really does exist! When your mom told me you were bringing someone, I couldn’t believe it. Figured it had to be a figment of her imagination. But look at him! He’s real!”
You took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. This is Curtis. Curtis, this is my Aunt Jan.”
Curtis reached out to shake her hand, a completely bewildered expression on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Jan pulled him into a hug instead. “So nice to meet you, honey! You don’t know just how much of a miracle you are!” Once she let him go, she ushered you both inside. She called into the house, letting everyone know you were there. “And she’s brought her real-life boyfriend!”
“What the fuck?” Curtis mumbled.
You squeezed his hand. “That’s just how she is,” you whispered.
You moved through the house, greeting various aunts, uncles, and cousins, weathering the over-the-top shock from all of them. You could tell Curtis was getting irritated, so you tried rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand in soothing circles. You finally reached the den and found who you’d been searching for.
Your dad leapt up from the couch excitedly to wrap you in a big hug. “Hi honey,” he said. Then, low enough for only the two of you to hear, “You should have turned around when you had the chance.”
“Yeah, well, this idiot,” you affectionately gestured to Curtis, “really wanted to meet my family.”
Your dad shook his head with a chuckle, “Rookie mistake,” he said, then pulled Curtis into an equally big hug. It’d never not make you so warm inside, just how much your dad loved Curtis.
Once he’d been let go, Curtis just sort of gaped at the two of you sheepishly. “I’m not sure I knew what I was walking into,” he muttered.
“Rookie mistake,” your dad said, again, before sitting back down. “Your mom is in the kitchen.”
You made your way there, finding her cooking away with Jan and the rest of her sisters. Just like your dad, she was thrilled to see Curtis. It made your heart swell.
A few of your aunts continued to make “good-natured” comments on what a surprise and relief it was that you’d finally brought someone. You nodded through it, barely listening, before tugging Curtis behind you to go find your grandma.
He stopped you as soon as you were in the hallway. “Babe, do they not know you’re demi?”
You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “God, no! Can you imagine? It’d take forever to explain it, and then when I was done, I’d just get a lot of ‘Isn’t that how everyone is?’ while still giving me all of this bullshit. It’d be a waste of breath.” Curtis did not look happy about that, so you grabbed his hand. “Hey, all of the people I actually care about know. That’s enough for me. These are just people I have to see once a year because of an accident of birth. They don’t get to know all of me.” He seemed to relax a little at that and you smiled. “All right, let’s go find Grandma. Get ready. She’s gonna say all sorts of shit that’s gonna make you really uncomfortable.”
Sure enough, the first thing your grandma said to Curtis was, “I’ve been praying a nice young man would come into her life. She’s been so lonely for so long.” You turned your head away as you rolled your eyes, hard. But luckily you looked back in time to see the shocked look on his face when she said she sure did hope she didn’t die before she got to see you get married. You tried so hard not to laugh, that you sent yourself into a coughing fit.
Extracting yourself with a chipper, “Ok, grandma! We’ll see you at dinner!” you took Curtis into the backyard to kill time before food.
Sitting on the decorative retaining wall, Curtis threaded his fingers through yours. “I can see why your sister doesn’t come to these things.”
“Oh yeah,” you laughed. “She has to deal with all that and go hungry. These people have no idea how to cook for a vegetarian. They put chicken broth in the mashed potatoes!”
He just stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re too nice to them.”
You took a step closer, fully in his space, and shrugged. “They just– They can’t conceive of a life experience outside of their own. They all got married in their early twenties and had kids right away. The traditional way works for them, so why wouldn’t it work for everyone else? They don’t really know what to do with someone with different priorities, different feelings, and attractions. It’s how it’s always been. I’m used to it. I mostly just think it’s funny now.”
He wrapped you in his arms so that you could feel his warmth in the crisp fall weather. “I hate that you’ve had to get used to this.”
You rested your head on his shoulder. “You make things better,” you said softly. “I’m really happy you’re here.”
You stayed like that for several moments before your phone buzzed with a text from your dad, letting you know that dinner was ready.
You both settled down at the far end of the table, about to start filling your plates when your heavily pregnant cousin Kat took the seat across from you. “Oh, sunovabitch,” you muttered under your breath, causing Curtis to look concerned.
Before you could reassure him, Kat got both of your attention. “Oh my gosh, it’s been such a long time! I’m so glad you could come!” Then she turned to the man next to you. “And you must be Curtis! You’re all anyone can talk about. I’m Kat, her favorite cousin.” Before Curtis could respond, she continued. “So tell me, ‘cause I’m dying to know, how exactly did she get you here?”
Curtis looked at you, confused, then raised an eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”
“Well, she’s just never brought anyone before. Not ever. And then when she finally does, it’s someone who looks like you?? My theory is she hired you off of Craig’s List. That or blackmail.” And then she laughed, in that very specific way that was just friendly enough that she could claim she was only joking. You knew it well. She’d been doing it for over thirty years.
You felt Curtis stiffen next to you, One look at him told you he was itching to respond, his mouth beginning to open, but you knew Kat. You knew she was just getting started and whatever response would just feed into whatever she wanted. So you covered his hand with yours in what you hoped was a soothing manner to hopefully stop him.
You caught Kat’s eye and she smirked, but then it faltered when you matched it with one of your own. “Actually, Kat,” you said, so casually, “I also have something I’ve been wondering. Is it the pregnancy hormones that have made you so unpleasant or have you always been this way? Since I genuinely can’t remember the last time you weren’t pregnant, I thought I’d ask.”
She gaped at you for a moment, as you looked at her calmly, patiently waiting for an answer. You didn’t need to look at Curtis to know that he was trying to hide a grin. Across from you, Kat finally found her words, “How dare–”
“I’m sorry,” you cut her off, “was that invasive? Rude? I should probably mind my own damn business, huh?”
“I–” she started again, but you weren’t done yet.
“Someday, I hope you’ll figure out that there are so many ways to be happy, not just one prescribed path. And hopefully, you’ll find whatever you’re looking for on the path you’ve chosen.”
There was a long beat of silence. Then, quietly, her eyes a little wide, she said, “I have. I’m happy.” There was a note in her voice, you thought, that sounded a little like she was trying to convince herself as much as you.
“Good,” you nodded, decisively, “I’m glad. I’m happy too. I was happy before Curtis and I’m happy now.” Without waiting for a response, you turned fully to Curtis beside you. He was beaming at you, pride just oozing out of him, his eyes sparkling. You smiled too, the biggest since you’d gotten there. “Do you want some stuffing?” you asked him, completely shutting down the previous conversation. “Aunt Jan’s stuffing is really good.”
