𝟓𝐬𝐨𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐕𝐨𝐥.𝟏

Sugar, oh honey, honey (Sugar Daddy!Ashton Smut)

Summary: Ashton just wants to take care of his girlfriend, in any way he can.
(Smut/ Sugar Baby-Sugar Daddy Dynamic / Unprotected Sex / Choking / Spanking / Unprotected Sex / Dirty Talk / Marking/ Face Fucking / Degradation / Fingering)
This is an NSFW imagine. If you feel uncomfortable reading stuff like this one, please scroll through the chapters to find something you might like. 
(Request: georgiaawoolley)  (Words: 10k) (Part 1) 
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I tiptoe my way to my small kitchen, my nostrils already filling up with the smell of batter on the pan. I fix the white shirt that I slipped into as I enter the kitchen, being greeted by Ashton's back; it is weird how this is the first time I notice the tattoo on the back of his neck, or how his back is sculpted to perfection. 
"Hi." I whisper, wrapping my arms around his torso, resting them above his navel.
"Hey, pretty girl. How did you sleep?" He asks, not turning to look at me, but his voice conveying the smile on his face. 
"Fine. How did you sleep? I know my bed can be uncomfortable..." I mutter; I did everything I could to stall Ashton staying at my place since compared to his is a freaking rat hole, but last night the moment came. 
"I got used to it. However, your stove is being a bitch to me today..."
"Yeah, she is usually like that with men." I giggle, making him turn around and look at me. 
"I am not the first man to cook you breakfast in this stove?" He asks, fake-offended. 
"Well, I didn't want you to find that way..." I giggle as he picks me up to place me on the counter.
"Oh my God... This is breaking my heart... Tell me who else has tried making you breakfast."
"Well, there was this time I was shit-faced drunk and my best friend Tim made me breakfast. And that one time my brother did, so..." I giggle, while Ashton's hands bunch up my shirt. 
"Is this my shirt?" He asks, pulling me to sit on the edge of the counter. 
"Yeah. Sorry. It was close and I picked it up. I can take it off..." For a moment I freeze, realizing that this shirt probably costs as much as my rent if not more. 
"No, I like it on you. It is definitely better on you than me." He smiles, feeling the soft fabric with his fingertips. 
"Are you sure? It looks expensive... What if I stain it? I'll go change really quickly..." I try to hop off the counter, but Ashton's hands go to my thighs, keeping me in my place.
"First thing first, if you stain it, the dry cleaner can take it off. And second, if you are worrying so much, I can take it off for you." He states, gripping tightly on my thighs. Momentarily, I feel insecure about my thick thighs and his fingers dipping on them, but as he brings one of his hands to the back of my head to pull me in for a kiss, the feeling fades away. 
His tongue pries my mouth open, humming as our tongues move together, trying to become in sync. 

And while we are kissing, his fingers move to undo the buttons of his shirt that I am wearing. 
He is half-way done removing it, but the burnt smell makes him stop. 
"What's that?" He asks, scrunching his nose. We both turn to the stove, finding the pancakes turning onyx black. 
"The fucking pancakes..." He cries, taking the pan off the stove. I hop off the counter, moving to open the window and let the smoke out.
"Goddamnit..." He groans, turning off the stove. 
"It's ok, baby. At least you tried..." I try to comfort him, wrapping my arms around him. 
"Let's go get dressed and get breakfast at that place you like." Ashton suggests, pressing a kiss on my forehead before he moves to get out of the kitchen. 
"Ash..." I stop him by gripping his wrist.
"What?" He asks me, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.
"I don't have enough money." I whisper, looking at my feet. 
"It's my treat." Ashton says like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
"Ashton... You paid for dinner last night." I protest, making him roll his eyes at my remark.
"And your point is...?" He asks me sarcastically.
"Ash..." I protest again but receive the same response.
"(Y/N), I want to pay for you and treat you right. You don't have to worry about money anymore. You are my girl." He states, making my stomach tighten; I love that he refers to me as his girl, but that doesn't mean I don't feel bad about him paying.
"I know you mean no harm, but it kinda makes me feel like I am using you for money." I admit and he chuckles. 
"If you were using me for money, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I know how it is to live from paycheck to paycheck and for the last few days of the month eating crackers with ketchup because those are the only things in your cupboards. And I know your situation is not that dramatic, but still, I can offer you a much better life. So please, let me buy us some breakfast." He sighs, holding both my hands in his. For a moment I stare at him; I seem to forget where he comes from, how he wasn't always that comfortable with money. And for a moment I feel bad because I know that he probably had to eat crackers and ketchup at some point in the past. 
"That place you want us to go to is very expensive. But I know a diner close to Santa Monica pier which is far less expensive and has great food. Plus, it's less likely for paparazzi to spot us there." I offer and he sighs in defeat. 
"Fine. Just get dressed. I am hungry." He pulls me in for a quick peck before he picks me up over his shoulder to take me to my bedroom.