Hello Daddy... (CHARMIE)

Ch1

Timmy stared at his computer, chewing on his lower lip, chin resting on his fist. He couldn't believe this was something he was literally about to do, that he was actually going to put on this profile on this stupid site, that he was fucking desperate enough to do something like this, to put himself out there like this, to just let older men basically......bid on him for companionship or sex or whatever for money, but fuck it, he was so fucking broke, and he'd tried everything else and his shitty jobs weren't helping and he wasn't talking to his parents and he just....needed to make it through college. But that didn't mean that this was a good idea. This may, in fact, have been the worst idea he'd ever had.

He'd originally mentioned it as a joke, and while Saoirse had stared at him, horrified ("a sugar daddy, Tim? Seriously?"), until he reassured her he was joking, Ansel had taken him aside later and asked if he was serious. When Timmy had shrugged a little helplessly, Ansel had told him he knew a guy who'd done it before, had actually found a totally decent dude, but you had to be really specific about what you were and weren't willing to do for money, clapped Timmy on the shoulder and then left him alone in his room. Alone in his room in his shitty apartment where the walls were cracked and the electricity didn't work half the time and he had too much time to get drunk on his shitty cheap wine in his fridge and decide that yes, putting up an ad on a site called 'sugardaddiesseeking' was a great idea.

Why the fuck was he doing this. God, he thought, pushing back from his crappy desk, pacing around the tiny one-room shithole, rubbing his hands over his face. Why was he doing this? Okay, so, the pros, he thought, stopping in front of his skinny, dirty window and staring out at the buildings around him. He was doing this because it would be (hopefully) easy money, he had no qualms about blowing some guy if it meant he could pay his bills, he might be able to find someone who would actually, like, be into some of the shit he was into (he'd been as specific as possible, even though he'd blushed halfway through filling out the profile when it got to specific questions about sex and kinks), he might actually be able to get more than paying his bills out of it, and he wouldn't (again, hopefully) have to live in this shithole any longer.

And the cons, he thought, blowing out a breath and leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the window, worrying his lower lip between his teeth again. Well, he could get murdered, he supposed, if the guy happened to be a serial killer or something, but since he'd had to go through a background check before even posting as a (god help him) sugar baby, he assumed the potential sugar daddies had to as well. But still, murder would be bad. He could end up with someone super old who was into the things he was into but was like eighty. He could get some sort of STD, that would be terrible. Saoirse would probably tell him he was being fucking ridiculous, and she was scary.

But really, he thought, turning back to the crappy desk and the ancient laptop, rocking from toes to heels and back again as he studied the "submit" button, the pros far outweigh the cons, and god, he needed the money. He needed the money, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was fucking lonely. He and his boyfriend had broken up six months before, and while it hadn't been super serious, it had been nice to have someone to just be with. So, he was lonely, he was broke, and god, as embarrassing as this was, he was into older guys, and this just seemed.....like the logical, wine-drunk way to get all of those things at once.

So he hit "submit" and flopped down on his back on the mattress on the floor before he could freak out about it, flopping one arm over his eyes and shoving his other hand down his pajama pants, stroking himself idly because he'd been half hard the entire time he'd been thinking about actually doing this, about actually having some older guy be in charge of his finances and be able to just sort of exist and be pretty and maybe get fucked occasionally, and he wasn't sure if it was so appealing because he was drunk or because he actually really wanted this, but he kept his hand moving, breath hitching a little as he thought of the possibilities this could provide, and he came with a broken curse, wiping his hand off on the towel next to the bed and draping himself in his blankets, burrowing down under them and resolutely not shivering because the heat was broken. Again.

When he woke up the next morning, blurry eyes and sore throat and headache from the shitty wine, he stumbled to the bathroom, brushing his teeth while he peed to rid his mouth of stale wine taste, and then shuffled to the refrigerator and swearing when he realized all he had in there was old milk and an apple. Grabbing the apple, he headed to his wallet, sure he had enough in there to at least get eggs or something. And then his eyes fell on his laptop, and he stopped, the apple caught between his teeth. Shit. The website.

Shit. Fuck. No. No. Fuck. Shit.

He scrambled to the chair, sitting and tapping impatiently at keys until the old computer whirred out of sleep mode, and the site flickered into the screen. His eyes immediately went to his inbox, and they widened, the apple falling from his mouth to his lap, and he fumbled to catch it.

There were fifteen messages in his inbox.

Fifteen....

He just kept staring for a minute, and then finally clicked on the icon, pulling them up. Two he immediately deleted because they just said "picture attachment" and he was not about to get random dick pics from people he didn't know, thanks. Three others followed suit, because they just had opening lines that were disgustingly cheesy and ridiculous, and two more after that because they were vulgar and he wasn't here for that nonsense, either. That left him with eight, and he ate the apple as he scrolled through them, discarding three more before studying the five left. Four were interesting enough, he supposed, clicking through their profiles but not really seeing anything that clicked with him one hundred percent, although one was appealing--and something around an eighty percent match rate wasn't bad. And besides, he thought, clicking on the last one, he couldn't be picky, really. He was the one desperate enough to offer to be a sugar baby, he would just have to take what he could get.

But then he saw the last profile, and his mouth went a little dry. They didn't use full faces in the photos, no one did, but god, the body on display in these was amazing, and the guy was only thirty-four, and (he swallowed, hard) he was into things Timmy was into and then some. He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, considering, flipping through the photos posted, reading and re-reading the list of sexual preferences, the list of parameters he was looking for (companionship, dates to public events, eventually a sexual relationship if they got along well enough, someone to take care of (and oh, that last one hit a very interesting kink button Timmy didn't even know he had)). This guy seemed perfect, and Timmy was.....interested.

Interested enough that he hit reply before he could think about it too much, replying to the rather formal introduction with a hurried one of his own, throwing out his class schedule for that week in case this guy wanted to meet in person, signed it with his screen name (Sweet Tea, something Saoirse and Ansel called him when they wanted to be clever and that he thought would be alluring enough to appeal to guys who wanted to spoil him) before slamming the laptop closed and just sliding off the chair onto the floor.

What the fuck was he doing?

***
Hello my lovelies!
This is my first fanfic, i hope you are enjoying it so far! I will be updating as soon as possible! Please comment!!<3