#andy barber dark

[buckets-and-trees]

Sweet, sweet Aspen. You have been a very bad girl. This soft!dark guy, your boss, caught you doing something wrong—something that could easily get you fired—but he decided maybe, jussst maybe, he should keep your indiscretion, and your resulting punishment, between the two of you. After all, he’s been dreaming about filling you with his cock for ages 😏

(I picked this GIF because it looks like he’s saying, “On your knees.” lolll)

well, dearly beloved sister ho, you know we were thirsting over a particularly ... inspiring gif.

I don't think you anticipated your ask to spawn THIS, but... here we are! THANKS FOR POPPING MY ANDY CHERRY!

Fandom: Chris Evans Characters Title: I'm Your Man Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 3k

Summary: You've spent weeks working to pull off the perfect night for Andy Barber's big charity event. A rush job, but you worked meticulously and diligently over six weeks to coordinate the biggest event of your career to date. You weren't the only one with a plan for the night.

Content Warnings: extortion, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT, spitting, oral - male receiving, spanking, vaginal intercourse, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Logistical Notes: A NAUGHTY submission @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge. Prompts incorporated are in bold.

Additional Notes: I didn't want to write a summary. There's only enough plot here to smut you up. Dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @firefly-graphics.

You sit up straight when you hear the door to Andy’s home office open behind you.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says as he strides across the room and takes a seat in the leather executive desk chair.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barber,” you reply. Every part of your body is tired – tired in a good way from the long day of work – so you were eager to get home, soak in your tiny tub, and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend, but it hadn’t been an incredible inconvenience when he’d asked if he could speak with you before you left.

“Tonight was exquisite, you did well,” he doles out the praise, and you try to quell the blooming in your chest. In the six weeks working with Andy Barber to plan the charity event you’d just executed for his foundation you had seen that he wasn’t one to casually compliment, hard to impress. You had taken more and more satisfaction out of each meeting, email, or text exchange as you consulted and then presented him with options for the event when he had fewer and fewer notes, knowing you had cracked his taste and gained his approval. He’d been your toughest client to date, but by far one of the most rewarding as he had excellent taste.

“Nearly perfect,” he adds.

Your smile falters ever so slightly, and suddenly your chest floods with a chill. “Nearly perfect? I’m sorry, sir, what didn’t live up to your expectations?”

This was far from your first event, you had built an incredible portfolio over the years, and you knew you were finally ascending to be one of the best event coordinators on the eastern seaboard – you had received an email request from a goddamn Vanderbilt to plan a wedding for them in a year and a half that you were going to respond to and accept in the morning. You weren’t arrogant, but you’d worked damn hard and knew you were good.

“You.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I – what?”

“Only one misstep tonight.”

Your brain flies back through the evening, reviewing every moment, raking through trying to determine what you could have possibly missed.

“I’m very particular about what belongs to me, and I cannot abide theft.”

Your jaw drops.

“Empty your bag.”

Now your whole body is buzzing with incredulity. You shake your head.

“I know what’s in there.”

You almost didn’t take this job when it landed in your lap. He was the reason you knew you should have said no. There were whispers about his reputation, his real businesses. But you took the initial consultation because the pitch was more money than you’d made over the last three years. Then when you’d met him, he’d been so normal, so nice, maybe a little charming, and up until this moment you had convinced yourself there was no way any of those rumors had been right.

But before you even put your hand in your bag, you knew you were wrong to have thought he wasn't all those awful things.

Not one, not two, but three Rolex watches nestled in the bottom of the main pocket. Watches you'd never seen - wouldn't even have known where to find them.

You scoop them out and drop them on his desk, eyes burning with tears. “Why?”

“Yes, why? I was already giving you a fat paycheck. What a shame when I had just given your name to the Vanderbilts’ social secretary for their son’s wedding a few days ago, I’ll have to reach out and let them know.”

“No,” you breathe.

“I’ll have to discreetly let everyone in my network know it’s better not to invite someone in their home with such light fingers.”

Your breath hitches and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle an almost sob, trying to hold back the onset of tears. “Andy, no, please.”

His smile softens. “There we are,” he coos, “you finally called me Andy like I’ve told you to so many times.”

He leans forward resting his arms on his desk.

“Now, if you go upstairs, be a good girl, put on what I left for you in my room, and wait for me, maybe I can make all of this little misunderstanding go away.”

His steel blue eyes are hard, they demand an answer.

You cock your chin up wishing you could say no, wishing you could even scowl at him, but aside from the heat and hurt in your eyes, you know you can’t do anything more without risking further ruin, so ultimately you let your chin drop and nod, resigned to the impossible power this man wields.

“Now we’re back on track for a perfect night, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.”

You don’t know how long he makes you wait, using the promise of soon as another show of his power, but long enough that your knees hurt from sitting back on your heels in a submissive, kneeling position with your head lowered, hands folded in your lap, and back to the door as the card in the white box left for you had instructed.

Also in the box had been a set of exquisite black lace and silk balconette bra and cheeky underwear. That they fit you like a glove had been both humiliating and alluring.

Even though Andy was the reason you almost said no to the job, even though he was the humiliating reason you were in this position – extorted into a nearly naked state, no question of what was to come – he was also the reason you took the job.

Dread pooled in your stomach, but along with the dread and humiliation, there were rivulets of shameful desire.

You had taken the job for the money and for how quietly charming he had been. He had never outright flirted with you, but he always left you with the question of whether he was. You worked hard for him because it felt good to win his approval. He praised you and you had preened under his intense blue eyes every time. You had forced yourself to keep everything professional.

All for nothing since you were in the farthest position of professional now.

When you finally hear him enter the room, your sit up straight again.

He tsks and says, “Head down, sweetheart.”

Andy comes around to stand in front of you. You see his perfectly polished shoes, the perfectly tailored trousers. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. He runs his thumb over your lips, circling them.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

You do.

He leans closer, then spits in your mouth, and you blink in surprise, a surge of humiliation running through you, but his grip on your jaw is powerful, so you don’t move away.

“Close your mouth but don’t swallow.”

He moves back from you then, and he begins to silently undress. He had already taken off his jacket, but he doesn’t hurry as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, the buttons down his chest, and then shrugs it off his shoulders. He places it nicely on a plush armchair on the side of the room. Next he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes and socks.

The way he doesn’t watch you but does all of this in your line of vision, knowing you have to watch, is another move meant to communicate who is in control of this situation. Still holding his saliva on your tongue is starting to become uncomfortable. Your instinct is to swallow, but you don’t know what disobedience may mean with Andy, so you fight the urge, not wanting to tempt any more of his darkness.

He stands and takes the shoes and socks to a large closet off to the side of the room, and when he returns, he stands directly in front of you again, takes your jaw in his hands again.

“Show me,” he says.

Your eyes watch his face you open your mouth, showing him the pool of saliva.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs. You hate the small bloom in your chest those words immediately invoke again. He spits into your mouth for a second time, then with a caress that is too tender he urges you to close your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do.

Andy unbuckles his belt, unbuttons the top of his fly, then unzips and pushes down the waist of his trousers with his briefs, and reveals his hard cock for you.

He’s big.

You had gotten yourself off to the thought of him a few of times late at night alone in your bed, most recently a few days ago, and you hated that you had since you were now here like this, forced on your knees in front of him.

Your core is pulsing with heat at the sight of him though – bigger than you had fantasized, and bigger than any man you’ve been with previously. You know he’ll fill you in a way that will ruin you for other men. You want and dread it.

“Take me in your mouth, sweetheart,” he commands.

Instead of forcing his cock into your mouth, this is more possessive, having you submit yourself to pleasing him of your own accord. You know every way he’s manipulating you.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” he trails off, leaving the end open for your imagination.

You plant one hand softly on his hip and wrap your other hand around his shaft, leaning forward to take him in your mouth. As you push forward, he groans. He won’t hold back when he’s pleased with you – he never has, he knows it affects you. His hands go to either side of your head. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sucking him, bobbing up and down his length, and for a while he lets you control the speed and the depth, but his hands let you know he can and will control this when he wants to. After the first couple of minutes, he makes this clear when you push back to take a breath and wipe the mix of your spit and his pre-cum dripping out of your mouth and his hands firmly prevent you from moving off him. Instead, he pushes you down slowly – more slowly than you had been pumping – and doesn’t stop until your nose hits his lower abdomen. You try to push against his hips, and he pushes his hips forward with you still anchored on his dick. Your eyes well up.

“So pretty,” he says, “imagined you like this, but you’re more gorgeous than I thought you would be.”

Something in your chest melts. You wish he wouldn’t say things like that. It makes you weaker – weaker for him. He pulls back just an inch or two, then pushes his length into your throat again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, my perfect fucking girl.”

You whimper, and the tears spill over.

His right hand moves away from your face and around behind him. He’s quick, and when you can see his hand again, it’s to discover he’s taken his phone out of his back pocket. He takes photos of you, angling the phone a few different ways. Then he tosses the phone onto the chair where he’d laid his shirt.

Then he resumes his small, concentrated rutting, only easing out just enough to make the thrust back in worth it for him. As he does, he groans, swears, wipes tears from your cheeks, and the moment before it’s too much, he finally pulls you off him.

You fall forward, gasping for deep lungfuls of air, but he’s already putting a hand under your arm and hauling you up.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, man handling you with surprising ease, doing most of the work your weak and aching legs can’t do to hoist you up onto his Alaskan king bed.

He’s immediately up as well and behind you, the last of his clothing stripped off. His fingers quickly undo the clasp of your bra and pull it off your shoulders and toss it away. He pushes you forward, toppling you down to the mattress. He slaps your ass, and you gasp and jerk. He brings his hand down on your round flesh again, with another sting, but the second one has you moan, and he lets out a satisfied, “Yes,” before giving you a third slap, the hardest, and you moan again, but this one more guttural, and you’d be mortified if you weren’t shocked over the way it translated to pleasure so quickly to your brain.

Then he yanks the lacy underwear roughly down and off your legs, tossing it away as well. He pushes between your legs behind you, splitting your legs open, and his fingers seek your cunt.

He hums in approval, “So wet for me. Ready for me.”

You huff and pant.

He leans over your back, pressing you down into the mattress. “Are you eager for me?”

“Andy,” you whine.

“Say it and I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to. You bury your face in the covers.

He slaps your ass again, and you yelp.

“Admit you want me to fuck you.”

Another slap.

Another.

“Yes,” you finally concede.

“To breed you.”

You gasp, but he’s already hauling you further up the bed, and he drapes himself over your back, arms caging you in on either side of your body. His legs push yours apart as he leans down to press kisses over your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck, along your spine. He uses one hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your leaking entrance. He doesn’t care to stretch you. “Take me in your cunt, sweetheart, it’s mine.”

The only mercy is that he slots himself in slowly.

You press your hands up against the headboard and concentrate on taking deep breaths, on trying to relax your walls completely, because he’s entering you, in you, filling you, unrelenting invasion and it’s pleasure and pain and too much and not enough because every moment of more fullness is exquisite and you can’t even think about holding back the sound he’s pushing out from your diaphragm, up your throat, and out of your mouth, because that’s how it feels as he's filling you.

Once’s he’s fully inside of you, he presses his mouth right next to your ear. “I’m going to fill this pussy with my seed.” He anchors one hand on your hips, then begins pull out, only so he can start thrusting back in. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

You’ve never had an orgasm only from vaginal penetration, but the way he fills you as he fucks you, and at this angle, making you almost forget to keep breathing, you wonder if this is how you’ll go, strung out as his cock punishes you with the pleasure, but then his hand works around beneath you and his fingers quickly find your swollen and aching clit. You cry out, and one of your hands reaches back to cling to him, fingers clutching into his hair. He nips at your neck, chuckling darkly.

“My pretty girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well, you close?”

An immediate, “Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“Then let go,” he commands, pinching your clit harshly.

You see stars, and you cry out for him.

Hearing you scream his name and feeling you clench around him is all he needs, and he pumps his cum into you, saying more dirty, filthy, possessive things, but you don’t know what the words are, because you’re completely lost to coherency.

He sinks his full weight on top of you when he’s completely spent.

Both of you are silent while you come down, heartrates returning to normal.

You wait for him to say whatever he’s going to torment you with next, but he doesn’t speak.

After more long moments, he finally pushes up enough to turn you from your front to your back. He cups your jaw again and strokes his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches at the intimate gesture in the aftermath.

“Aw, why are you crying now, sweetheart?”

No, you didn’t want more tears, and not these - the soft tears. You try to look away, but he forces your face back to look at him.

“I would have slept with you if you’d asked, Andy, why did you have to do it like this?”

“Because this is so much more than that, sweetheart. I didn’t want to just sleep with you, and I needed you to know from here on out that you’re mine. I own you. I’m very particular about what belongs to me. I didn’t want you to have any illusion that there’s a choice here.”

He brushes the tears off your cheek.

“I’ll have my men move your things here in the morning, and we’ll elope in a few weeks. I’m closing the deal on a resort in Lake Como, doesn’t that sound perfect? We’ll tie the knot and then spend our honeymoon there – we can stay all summer if you want.”

You hesitate.

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do. Now I asked you, ‘doesn’t that sound perfect?’”

“Yes, Andy,” you whisper.

“Of course, it does.” He finally kisses you – and it’s dangerously soft. Warm lips engulfing yours, insistent, sucking your bottom lip between his. You whimper, and he licks his tongue into your mouth, lapping you up. He rolls over with you, putting him back on the mattress with you on his chest. He holds you pressed to him with one hand, the other hand securing your head so you can’t escape his kiss until he’s done kissing you.

It isn’t until you think you might pass out from how breathless you are that he finally breaks off the kiss. He shifts his pelvis up against you, his cock hardening again. “And I was serious about you carrying my child. But first you’ll ride my face until I’ve made you cry for a good reason, and then I’ll fill you up with more of my seed. You’re not leaving this bed the rest of the weekend.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

ARE YOU OKAY? AM I? DO WE EVEN CARE IF WE'RE OKAY?

read: -> THE MORNING AFTER

#andy barber x female reader #andy barber smut #soft dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #tw: dubcon #aspen wrote something #navy and roo's sleepover #i'm your man collection

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

#andy barber #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #dark andy barber #dark lloyd hansen #dark ransom drysdale #dark!andy barber #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!ransom drysdale #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #the gray man #defending jacob #au #multicharacter #multifandom #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #three for one

[miserable-sarah]

Sit

18+

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Warnings: Cocky Chris, (Dom)Chris, (Sub)R, unprotected sex, cock warming, talking down on you, dirty talk, daddy kink, nsfw

Summary: Chris back from a business trip and very frustrated.

***

“Hi baby!” You yell running up to Chris, you wrap your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist. You give a welcome home kiss, you pull away smiling. He was not.

“Hey” he says putting you back on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” You ask concerned usually he’s all over you when he gets home.

“Nothing” he mumbles grabbing a beer from the fridge. Maybe he just had a rough flight. He walk out the back door to the back yard. You stand in the kitchen unsure what to do. Usually when he’s mad he likes to be alone to work through he’s feelings but he just got back from a 5 day trip he should be all over you. You take a deep breath and put on a tough face. You walk outside.

“Hey” you say louder than you intended. He looks over at you eyebrows raised “uh” you shift uncomfortably “what’s wrong? You’ve been gone for 5 days and then you come hom-“ he cuts you off

“Not right now Y/n” you hesitate to say anything, Chris isn’t scary or abusive in anyway it’s just he’s usually not like this and you don’t want to push him.

“Yes right now” you cross your arms standing your ground. Chris gives you a ‘oh really look’ he moves in his chair so he’s sitting straight up.

“No Y/n not right now” his leg is draped over the chair keeping himself wide open. You bite you lip quickly.

“Why?” You try to keep your mind straight. Chris leans back in his chair and sips his beer. “Why?” You repeat yourself, he still doesn’t answer. He’s ignoring you, he knows how bad that pisses you off. You always tell him it’s one of the worst things he could do. “Are you seriously ignoring me right now?” He just flicks his eyebrow and takes another swig. You scoff and shake your head. You walk back in the house pacing back and forth. What the hell is wrong with him? Ignoring me? He’s been gone for 5 days 5 whole days. You just wanted some love and attention. You walk back outside.

“Why are you ignoring me. I just wanted some attention you’ve been gone for a long time then you come back looking good as ever and you toss me away like garbage.”

“Sit” he says stern not even looking at you.

“What?” You ask confused

“Sit.” He says more stern and hot as ever, he pats his thigh. You feel your knees getting weak and a familiar wetness creeping. You take a second before walking over to his chair. He looks up at you, you put your leg over his and straddle him. He gets inches close to you, you feel his warm breath on your face. Your breathing is shaky. “I said not right now.” Your whole body is confused, you're mad but so turned on you just want him right now. You go to get off him but he grabs your hips hard and forces you to sit on him.

"You just want me to sit here?" You ask, he just looks at you. "And you're going to ignore me?" You ask louder. You try to squirm but he won't let you loose. "Chris really" you sigh, he looks at you and pulls your dress up letting it settle on your hips. You don't say anything you just let him do what he wants. He slowly slides his hand down to your lacy thong just rubbing slow circles on the fabric. You bite your lip trying to hide any moans or demands you want to scream out. He slowly slips your panties to the side. You let out a little whimper, he tapped on your clit making you shiver.

"Unbuckle my belt" He says quietly, you do as he says. You undo his belt and hand it to him. “Good girl” he praises he grabs your arms “ behind your back baby” he says sweetly but there’s a stern dominance in his tone. You put your hands behind your back and he ties his belt around your wrists. “Go ahead grind on me” he puts his arms behind his head. You let out a shaker breath and start grinding on him, the friction of his jeans rubbing against you just right makes you let out a moan. “That’s good” he encourages you, you move a little faster. You can feel your slick getting on his jeans, you know he loves it just as much as you do.

“Are you going to” you pause letting out a little moan “are you going to fuck me daddy?” You ask licking your lips.

“Not yet. You don’t know how to listen.” He shakes his head giving you a disappointed look. You throw your head back with groan, you should’ve listened to him and left him alone but you just had to stand your ground. “Lean back” you do and he brings his hand to your clit rubbing it fast.

“Oh” you moan loudly he sticks a finger in thrusting it at a good pace “please I’m sorry” you try to beg. His other hand open his fly and brings out his hard huge cock. “Fuck” you moan just at the sight of him. He chuckles at you and your desperation. Chris removes his fingers.

“Sit on it” he smirks at you. You waste no time, you hover him and start to slowly sink down, he grabs your hips and slams you down on him. You let out a loud moan and so does he. You try to move but he holds you there. Still.

“It’s okay baby I can move” he laughs at you. Your eyebrows furrow confused

“No honey you’re not moving” he says in a mocking tone. “You’re going to sit here and keep my cock warm since you want to be so needy and not listen to what I say” you groan in frustration “no complaining, no moving, no talking or you won’t cum tonight understand?” He asks you throw your head back “understand!?” He says louder

“Yes daddy” you say defeated. Chris goes on his phone placing bets on a game. You sit there thinking about just moving up and down, he couldn’t resist you. Or maybe he could. You close your eyes trying to control yourself. You think about talking dirty to him, telling him his thick cock filling you up feels so good, and how much you’ve missed him and the way he makes you feel. You open your mouth but don’t say anything like a good girl. Chris moves his hips causing him to move a little deeper. You close your eyes tightly and bite your lip. Fuck this going to be hard. He’s going to tease you the whole time. You open your eyes and look at him. His perfect face, his amazingly good jaw line just asking for kisses, his perfect plumb lips looking the same. His large hands makes you more wet, his chest isn’t bare but his shirt is tight enough to show his muscles. God he was perfect and making you so horny that you just want to move and get fucked. Or at least just lay on him and cuddle, but mostly get fucked.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks smirking putting his phone down. You hesitate on answering not knowing if you should. “I told you no moving and you were just moving”

“I-I didn’t mean to. Promise”

“Don’t do it again. I mean it” he goes back on his phone placing his stupid bets. You patience running thin. He moves again making you whimper very quietly. You pray he didn’t hear you.

After sitting there for about a half hour you lean forward, your body was losing balance since he tied your hands behind your back. You lay on his chest and look up at him.

“Tired baby?” He asks making fun of you. You nod your head. His arms wrap around you and hold you to his chest. “Daddy’s almost done. You’re doing good” he kisses your head. You smile feeling good. He thrusts into you randomly, you let out a moan. “Was that a moan?” You shake your head no quickly “now your lying?” He tsks at you “well that’s what bad girls do” he repositions you, you bite your lip so hard you think you’re drawing blood. He picks you up and walks you inside you keep your mouth shut the entire time. He lays you on the couch. “I said no moving, no talking, no noises.”

“I didn’t mean to” you plead “you moved and you know”

“I really don’t want to punish you, but you broke the rules” he says picking you up standing you in front of him. He sits on the couch spreading his legs so you can get in between them. He unbuttons his pants and slips them off. “Knees” you fall on your knees and get in front of him. He pushes your hair out of your face and guides you down to his cock. You start sucking on the tip slowly.

“No teasing bullshit you’re already in enough trouble” his hand pumps what your mouth can’t reach, you take as much as you can as possible. You lick and suck on him like your life depends on it because right now it feels like it does. You hear Chris’ groans which turns you on even more. He reaches over and unties your hands. You pump him and suck, his hand grabs a fistful of your hair and shoves you down on his cock. You choke but stay put not fighting him. You can feel spit falling down your chin, he loves when you look this sloppy, this desperate. He lets you go and take deep breath’s looking at him through your eyelashes.

“You’re doing so good chocking on my cock just how I like” he praises moving hair out of your face once again. He looks at how swollen your lips are, how red your cheeks are, how your chin is covered in spit. “My needy dumb baby” he coos. You go back to bobbing your head back and forth working up the courage to take him all again. You moan just listening to his. You push your head down taking him all again. “God look at you, taking all of me. Just like you should.” You can feel tears rolling down your cheeks but you don’t stop. He yanks on your hair pulling up then pushing you back down. He lets out a loud moan before pulling you back up. You wipe your chin, he stands you up and so does he. He smashes his lips on yours, you kiss back sloppy. Just wanting all of him.

“I need you” you whine. He chuckles and lays you down on the couch. “Please daddy” you beg “please fuck me” he crawls on top of you, his fingers go straight to your clit rubbing it making you squirm. “Please no teasing” he kisses your neck sucking on the spots he knows you like. He moves his lips right to your ear

“I’m supposed to punish you. You were a bad girl. Too needy. Too dumb to stay still for daddy” he whispers you can feel tears in your eyes, you want him so bad.

“Daddy, I’m sorry so sorry. Please I need you” you say meaning and groaning. Chris looks at you studying your face. He kisses your lips sweetly.

“Fine.” He says you feel so relieved you smile.

“Thank you daddy I’ll be good I promise.” He positions himself in front of you and slips the tip in.

“You’re soaking wet for me huh?” You bite your lip and nod waiting for him to go in fully. “How bad do you want me?”

“So bad, I need you. I need you to fuck me so good I can’t remember my name” he smirks at you and thrusts into you. He goes almost all the way out and right back in bottoming out in you, it feels so good you could scream. He keeps hard thrusting into you making your back arch.

“Feel good? Look at you falling apart on my cock.” His eyes never leave yours “taking my cock so well.” He says through his teeth. You close your eyes tight letting out loud moans. You feel your body heating up, you know you’re not gonna last long. It’s all because of the waiting.

“Close already?” He teases “my dumb baby so pathetic can’t even last a minute when I have my cock buried in her” you moan even more listening to his words.

“Daddy I-“ you try to say but can’t “I”

“Go ahead cum all over my cock” you do as said and cum hard your legs start shaking, your eyes roll in the back of your head you see stars. You scream his name loudly. When you come down from your high you realize Chris never slowed down for a second. He’s still pounding you, your legs keep shaking and your body keeps squirming. Chris rubs your clit making you squirm more.

“Chris please” you beg not even sure what your begging for. It’s a lot of pleasure you don’t know how to react. Chris pins you down with his body trying to keep you still. “Oh my god!” You moan out

“Fuck” he groans. He stops everything and pulls out. He stands up and lifts you up throwing you over his shoulder taking you up stairs. You lay there lifeless enjoying the break. He throws you on the bed and you get into position, hands and knees. He comes behind you, he brings his hand down slapping your ass then rubbing it. He slaps you again making you jump and whimper. He lines himself and slips in you. He holds onto your hips and pounds into you over and over again. You bite the sheet trying to muffle your moans it’s not working though. He pulls your hair bending your head back.

“I love fucking this pussy. You fit me so well.” He groans, you can’t form words or even speak. You feel another tightness coming on. Chris leans on you whispering dirty things in your ear. Saying how much you’re made for him, how you’re just his dumb little baby, how your pussy was made for him, how dumb you are that you can’t even make words. Chuckling at you making fun of you and you love every word and every second.

“I” you start to say but can’t finish. Your brain won’t work, your drooling, your legs are shaking, you’re face down in the bed barely able to keep your body up. He’s holding your hips up. You moan loudly your legs shaking, your vision goes black, you can’t hear anything. You are in complete and total pleasure, you’re pretty sure your screaming bug you can’t tell.

“Good girl” he says kissing your back. Chris thrusts a few more times before getting sloppy. “You want me to fill you up? Fill this pussy up?” You nod your head yes. “Say it”

You try to gather yourself enough to say something but only moans and whimpers come out. He slaps your ass a few times.

“Please daddy” you say breathless “cum in me” you groan. He kisses your back again, his thrusts even more sloppy, his moans and groans still getting to you. He pulls out and flips you over, he sets your legs on top of his shoulders and slams into you again.

“I want to look at you when I cum” he explains. You throw your head back enjoying the new position. “Look at me” he says to you tapping your face. You look him in the eyes biting your lip.

“Cum daddy, make me feel full” he kisses your neck biting on it.

“Fuck” he groans “you feel so good around me” he nibbles at your ear. He at you and kisses you softly. You can feel yourself filling with warm cum. You sigh at the feeling.

“I love you” you whisper. Chris pulls out and flops on the bed next to you. “I love you too” he says catching his breath. You move over laying on his chest.

“I missed you” you say breathlessly

“I know I could tell” he chuckles pulling you closer.

“I’m serious” you laugh. “And you were mean” you pout at him.

“I know I’m sorry” he sighs

“What was the problem?”

“Honestly?” He looks at you “I missed you the whole time and had a terrible trip all I wanted when I came through the door and saw you in that dress was pound the fuck out of you” you look at him confused “I just pretended to be mad”

“Chris” you say hitting his chest laughing “you could’ve just had sex with me”

“I wanted it to be fun” he wiggles his eyebrows. You shake your head and give him a kiss. “Alright I’ll get up and get you cleaned up. Tomorrow it’s stay in bed all day and do whatever daddy says day” he winks at you. You smile and nod agreeing.

#dark chris evans #chris evans smut #Chris evans #chris evans x reader #lloyd hansen #andy barber smut #Andy barber #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ari levinson #ari Levinson smut

[flordeamatista]

THE DEVIL

pairing: dbf!andy barber x reader

concept: The lure of temptation, seduction, and lust he offered filled your head ecstatically.

word count: 1k

warnings: sex tape + corruption kink + pussy slapping, nicknames: (Angel)

a/n: The devil card depicts intense sexual desire and physical attraction.The Devil is the gateway into the future kinks.

THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23

masterlist

The lure of temptation, seduction, and lust he offered filled your head ecstatically.

Your wings were scattered at your feet as you stood rigidly in his home office.

His radiant blue eyes met yours with a languid gaze, making you feel heat prickling beneath your skin. He swept his eyes up and down your body, and his hands slowly moved over your curves. “I wonder if your parents are looking for you,” lifting you onto his lap with one arm while the other braces against your chest.

A hand slapped your pussy as it dug through your naked form, exploring every inch of it.

"The party gets drunk downstairs, but my touch will make your pussy drunk here." When your head fell back against him, his hot breath heated up in your ear. He grinned into your neck while biting your skin. “So desperate to be touched, aren’t you?”

You closed your eyes and wondered if it was all a dream or if reality had tricked you. The Halloween party had already begun earlier that evening, and you’re almost naked on his lap, wearing only your angelic halo. 

Your body vibrates in anticipation as you sit on the devil’s lap, with your once pure angel wings lying on the ground.

An inferno looms to consume you whole when the spark within you ignites.

Your heart surrenders to his touch, allowing yourself to be influenced by the promise of pleasure and the unknown.

There is an electrifying quality of being around him, but it is also terrifying; you know it is dangerous territory, but you can’t help feeling drawn in by his dark charisma. His midnight blue eyes promise a night of sensuality and debauchery beyond your wildest dreams.

You’re helpless as he whispers softly and tastefully, and you’re beckoned into the unknown by his sinful dirge. 

A tingling sensation runs down your spine when you catch sight of his gaze.

There is something dangerous about your attraction to him, and what will happen if you comply with him?

While you appear angelic, his aura is testing you into darkness.

A knowing smirk curls his lips as he stares at you as if he knows exactly who you are and what you want.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and swiped it until the camera was on.

His right hand was poised over the phone while his left touched your body. He spoke low and velvet-smooth, saying, “I want this recorded proof that even angels can moan for devils.” Taking your lips in a passionate kiss, he traced circles across your skin, generating sweltering heat.

With a smile, he roars like a devouring demon, and his firm contours blend perfectly with my angelic features.

When you both pulled apart, you saw his eyes blazing with desire. With each slap of his palm, a fire ignited within you, threatening to burn out of control.

“Show me how the devil can make pretty angels moan. Aren't you my pretty angel?.”

Deep, slow breaths push warmth into the air.

“You like that, don’t you?” His warm slaps glide across your clitoris, and he holds the phone close to your pussy.

As he taps your clit each time, pain and pleasure wash over you simultaneously. You need his fingers in your clit for him to release the orgasm and touch, so a slap does not suffice.

It feels like he might slip his fingers inside, but he slaps it away, leaving the breeze to cool the air.

In a warm embrace, his finger traces shapes around your pussy. A gentle tickle alternates with a firm slap that makes your hips jerk. Every time you shudder, you are slapped harder. 

You muffle a small moan against your palm as your body burns and your eyes tighten. 

His dark and menacing voice whispers in your ear. The phone moves closer to your face. You feel your body quiver as he punctuates the words with more intense pussy slaps. “Such a good angel.” 

There were no words between you as you walked forward and kissed the fiery.

Every step brought profound relief that swallowed light and sound.

The only force you could understand was a burning desire to be with him, but you could neither understand nor resist it.

There is no escaping the devil when the night is dark and your heart is led by him.

#THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23 #dbf!andy barber #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fic #andy barber smut #dbf!andy barber x reader #kinktober #andy barber au #soft!dark andy barber #andy barber x latina!reader #chris evans smut #andy barber x poc!reader #andy barber x woc!reader #defending jacob #chris evans fanfiction

[krirebr]

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore. 

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.” 

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.” 

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked. 

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.” 

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.” 

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing. 

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on. 

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you? 

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut. 

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact. 

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.  

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t. 

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on. 

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on. 

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it. 

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.” 

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered. 

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @foulpersonahandsvoid

#dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #dark fic #dark!andy barber #dark!fic #reader insert #chris evans fanfiction #ce characters #fanfic #trapped au #kris wrote something

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

time to go home

Pairing: Mob!Andy Barber x female!reader

Summary: You thought you'd slipped out of his grasp but you should have known better than to underestimate Andy Barber.

Warnings: petnames (honey), dark!Andy, threats of violence, controlling behaviour. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: It's rare I go a bit dark but this was very fun to write and I am not above writing more (word count: 659)

"You look beautiful, honey."

Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice. The deep baritone causes goosebumps to rise across your skin and a shiver to run down your spine.

You had been so careful. You changed your name. You moved state. You waited. You waited years before letting yourself live again. Before letting yourself believe you were safe, that he would never find you.

You'd been wrong.

His name is nothing but a whisper on your lips as you urge yourself not to cry.

You hear the door shut softly the lock clicking into place as your heart sinks.

"I told you I'd find you."

His voice is closer now and you know better than to turn around. You can feel your muscles tensing with every painful second that passes as you wait for him to come closer to you.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. In thirty minutes you were supposed to be walking down the aisle to start the rest of your life with the man you loved.

"You don't love him, honey. Not like you love me."

You spin around on instinct, forgetting exactly who you are dealing with as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind.

"How dare-"

He cuts you off with a laugh and a tight grip on your jaw.

"How dare I?" he laughs, but there's no humour there. Pulling you closer until you're against his chest, wincing as his fingers dig into your cheeks. "How dare you, honey. I've got to say you didn't make it easy. How long has it been exactly?"

You don't answer. Putting all your energy into keeping your tears at bay as you look into the cold eyes of the man you once loved, the man you now feared.

If you had known what Andy was, you would have never let yourself fall into his trap. But, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Andy was charming, doting, protective and handsome. He was everything a girl dreamed of. He treated you like a queen, you wanted for nothing.

But there were two sides to every coin.

For as charming as Andy was he was just as manipulative. For as doting, he could be just as cold and indifferent. For as protective, he was even more possessive.

You knew Andy was a powerful man from the moment you met him but you had no idea just how much power and influence he possessed.

He made you dependent on him, had you let go from your job, and cut off from your family and friends. You became isolated. He was your only source of comfort and he never let you forget it.

"That's not what love is, Andy," you whisper, no longer able to keep your tears at bay.

The dark look in his eye should scare you but you've seen it enough times. Accustomed to what it means and you know you're not getting out of this this time.

"Just please don't hurt him," you whimper. Thinking about your fiance waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Andy shushes you gently, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, "Oh honey, you're really not in a position to be making demands."

Your eyes widen as a sob tears out of your throat.

Sighing, Andy rolls his eyes at your tears, clearly bored by your attachment to a man who isn't him.

"Fine, I'll let him live," Andy concedes, one hand slipping down to wrap around your throat.

You choke on a sob as his hand tightens enough to convey his next warning.

"But if you ever try and leave me again, I will put a bullet between the eyes of everyone you care about. Do you understand?"

You nod weakly, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Good girl," he purrs, placing a soft kiss against your lips and sealing your fate, "let's go home."

This was fun!! I wouldn't mind writing more if any one has any thoughts... thank you for reading, as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ✨💜

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fic #dark andy barber #chris evans fic

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Don’t Speak Masterlist

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (Andy Barber)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Part 40

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Return to Sender [5 of 7]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark! Andy Barber x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he's going to keep that promise.

Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Smut, MORE TAGS TO BE ADDED

A/N: 👀 is… is anyone still there? i promised i’d update this this weekend, and i delivered. an hour before midnight, but i delivered. 😅 i know it’s been a while for this fic, but it hasn’t been forgotten about. i really hope you all enjoy this latest installment, and please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! as always, comments are great, reblogs are golden. thank you for reading, and mind the warnings. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

 Where am I?

You stare blearily at the distant ceiling, dull and rusting metal beams criss-crossing over exposed brick. You reach out for Dove, and when your fingers meet empty air, your throat tightens as you remember. 

Pronge walking away with your baby, and Ari—

You sit up, your fingers knotted in the thin blanket. The repurposed garage office is still and silent, the springs creaking quietly underneath you. The air smells like old motor oil, singed rubber and citrus-scented antiseptic, and it burns your nostrils. You’re almost afraid to shatter the fragile silence with the sound of your movement, but it can’t be helped as you shove your feet back into your sneakers. The office is long abandoned, the desks all pushed up against the sides of the room to make space for the bed.

The hallway is slightly better, boxes of papers and car parts lining both sides, lit by old yellow florescent bulbs that give off less light than they should. There’s a dusty, unlit neon sign that reads Gary’s Auto-body, leaning against the wall. Down the hall, you can see that the light is on in the garage proper, this one bright and brilliant white. You squint as you pass through the doorway, spots dancing in front of your eyes as they slowly adjust to the light. 

In its previous life, this place had been a car mechanic’s garage, but now it serves as something like a speak-easy operating room. The car lifts have been mostly dismantled, and sitting on the concrete in the rusted outline of where they used to be are two operating tables. Ari is on one of them, speaking quietly to the man winding a length of beige bandaging around his right shoulder. 

Zemo. Ari called him Zemo.

“Mouse, you’re up.” You cover your mouth with both hands to stop the surprised squeak from reaching him. Guiltily, you peer around the door frame, waiting for a reprimand that doesn’t come. The “doctor” regards you with cold, calculating eyes. 

“So this is the young woman Mr. Barber is tearing the city apart to find,” he says. “How nice to finally meet you.” Andy’s name sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you clutch yourself. Zemo’s welcome feels less like kindness and more like tolerance. It makes you wonder how long you’ll be staying here. 

“You know Andy?” You ask, careful to keep your face as neutral as you can manage. 

Zemo scowls. “Well enough to know we do not get along.” He shakes his head, before regarding you with a cold smile. “Your husband has just as many enemies as he does friends.” Beside him, Ari sits up on the table with a pained grunt, swinging his legs over the side. 

“We can trust him, Mouse.” Ari offers you a watery smile. Nervously, you step closer, skirting around the now defunct counter as you attempt to give Zemo as wide a berth as you can manage. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, cleaning his tools with a cloth before dropping them with a loud, metallic pap into the metal tray next to the table. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him in a quiet voice as you approach, fingers dancing nervously around the gauze. You shake your head, closing your eyes as you blow out an exasperated breath. “I mean, I know you’re not okay, but—” Ari places a warm hand over your own, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Lucky for you Pronge is a terrible shot.” Zemo quips. “He missed bone.”

“See?” Ari says, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “I’m just fine.” 

“You’re not fine. You have a six millimeter hole in you.”  

“Semantics.” 

“Keep activity to a minimum. I shouldn’t have to tell you this,” Zemo replies dryly. “And keep it clean, I’m not going to do it for you. This isn’t a hospital.” You watch him pack up his tools, ferrying them over to the deep sink on the other side of the room. Ari slides off of the table with a grunt, and you watch him press his lips together as he stands upright, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Ari mutters, cutting his eyes at Zemo over his shoulder. “Six millimeters.” The doctor tosses him a worn looking cloth sling. Ari tries to fit it over his shoulder, and you rush to help him. “Thanks, Mouse.” Your cheeks warm with an uncomfortable heat. “I could have done it myself.” 

“This is all my fault,” you mumble angrily, shaking your head. “I have to do something.” You step back from him, tucking your chin. He rests a warm, comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“No it’s not.” 

“If I—If I hadn’t—” Guilt is an achingly heavy cowl about your sagging shoulders. 

“Mouse, what good is this going to do you?” The gentleness in his touch makes you flinch.

“As much as I am enjoying this conversation,” Zemo clears his throat. “I have my own wife and son to be getting back to.” You watch as he places his cleaned tools back into his bag. “Do remember what I said about your… hole.” He gestures to Ari’s injured arm with a grimace. “I’m rather keen on not amputating.” 

“You and me both.” Ari says. The two of you watch as he makes his way over to the front of the shop, pulling the metal garage door up enough to slip underneath it. “What time tomorrow?”

“Noon.” 

The garage door slams down hard onto the concrete, and then there is silence. You stand there awkwardly, twisting your t-shirt in your restless hands. They’re so used to holding the baby, without her sure weight in them they feel… useless. 

You feel useless. Adrift. 

And it isn’t just Dove—it’s everything. Despite what Ari says, you know this is your fault. He’d never have been hurt if you hadn’t been so fucking helpless. And it’s your own fault, you’d let your guard down, let Andy back inside, let him make a home inside your head, and it was your fault. 

“What are you thinkin’ there, Mouse?” Ari’s voice interrupts the self-depreciating internal monologue running rampant in your head. “I hope it’s about getting some sleep, you need it.” Again, his earnestness puts you on edge. You don’t know what to do with it—it feels alien to you now, almost like you’d prefer Andy’s smug cruelty—at least then you know what to expect. 

You don’t want to admit that you’re blaming yourself, thinking about all the ways you could have prevented this exact course of events just by being better. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m exhausted.” If anything, you’re too awake, recalling last night’s events with perfect clarity. You can’t even look at Ari as the two of you silently make your way back to the repurposed offices, shuffling along beside him as your insides squirm. You feel too much to go to sleep, so many warring desires it feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.

You suppose that’s one thing you sort of miss about Andy—you didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. He did it all for you. You arrive back at your “room”, fidgeting nervously before you cross the threshold. You don’t think you can sleep in here now, now that the adrenaline has worn off. Now that the terror has been waylaid by your other earthly concerns. 

 Ari notes your hesitation. 

“I can stay with you util you fall asleep, if you don’t think you can.” 

You duck your head, shaking it emphatically. “I should be looking after you,” you reply, shooting him a look over your shoulder. “You should, um, rest.” Ari looks around, raising an eyebrow. Oh. There’s only one other bed—and it’s current occupant is currently snoring so loud you can hear it in here. 

“You sleep here, and I’ll—” You look around. “I’ll sleep in one of the rolly-chairs or something.” He laughs softly at your sudden determination. 

“You know I’m not letting you sleep on chairs, Mouse.” Ari rests a hand on your shoulder. “You take the bed.” 

“You got shot, Ari!” You hiss. “I-I-I can’t—”

He holds up his hands placatingly, like he can see you working yourself up. Hell, he probably can. 

“Okay.” He threads the fingers of his good hand through his blond hair. “I’ll sleep on one side, you on the other. Fair?” 

“Y-yes. Fair.” Your words shock the both of you, and you feel your face heat as he regards you with a look of pleasant surprise before you look down at your feet. 

“You don’t have to agree if you aren’t comfortable, Mouse. You know that. I wouldn’t—”

“I know.” You grip your own forearms tightly as you speak, like you’re afraid saying the words out loud will make them untrue—like speaking the name of your demon will bring him down upon you. “You’re not Andy.” 

Ari takes the left side of the bed, and the springs creak under his weight. You crawl in beside him, holding yourself as stiff as you possibly can to avoid even brushing him by accident. The truth is, you are scared—but not of Ari. 

And that frightens you, too. 

He’s a man, a stranger, wearing a face too similar to the one you’re running from. Now, though, when you’re brave enough to peek at him, you see Ari—not Andy. And the longer you’re here, the clearer you see him.

You lie there in the dark, your arms held painfully stiff over your chest as you search the dark with wide, glassy eyes. The ceiling is far enough above you that your brain begins to construct patterns and shapes on it’s popcorn-textured surface. Grinning faces, tall, shadowy figures—

“Mouse, are you sleeping?” 

You hesitate. “…No.” 

“Go to sleep.” You swallow against the thick lump in your throat, blinking back hot tears. 

“It’s… It’s hard without Dove.” It’s so silent without the baby, the darkness uncomfortably quiet without the sound of her sleepy burble. She’s probably awake right now, wailing for you. You press the heels of your palms against your eyes like you’re trying to hold the tears in. 

“I know.” The mattress creaks, and you feel Ari’s weight shift. The weight of your loss settles in on you, then, the crushing vacuum of your daughter’s absence sucking the air out of your lungs as you gasp for it. You can’t keep quiet anymore, your hiccoughing breaths rising in pitch until you’re sobbing, hot tears streaming down your cheeks to soak your hair and the thin pillow beneath. 

“Hey, hey, come here.” Ari’s touch is hesitant. He lets his fingers linger on your shoulders before he hugs you, like he’s waiting for you to rebuke him. You don’t. Instead, you curl into his chest, your wails muffled by his body as you tangle your fingers in his over-shirt. You cry so hard it hurts, your throat raw and aching. 

Ari’s hands don’t stray. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t murmur false platitudes or make promises he knows he won’t be able to keep. He just…holds you, his breath steady and heartbeat slow and even under your ear. 

And then, finally, you fall asleep.

—

In the light of day, Irene looks terrible. Her left eye is swollen black and purple, a patchwork of burst blood-vessels and yellow bruises spread out over  cheek. The other side of her face is not much better, the other eye open but blood red, and her nose swollen. It’s obvious she took a beating, a bad one. Still, she seems to be in higher spirits than last night as she shovels the last of her cereal into her mouth. You’re doing the same thing, hungrily crunching down the contents of your own bowl. 

“We need to talk about next steps.” Irene draws the back of her hand across her mouth, her one good eye focused on you. “We need to move.” 

“I’m not going anywhere without Dove.” 

“That isn’t an option anymore.” 

You clench your hands into fists on the table. “I’m. Not. Leaving.” 

“We will figure out a way to get her back, but right now? You cannot go back to Boston, he is never going to let you go, do you understand that?” It’s like you’re speaking two different languages, talking around one another in dizzying circles. You shove yourself away from the foldout table, knocking over your plastic chair. 

“I’m not fucking leaving without my daughter!” You haven’t felt like this in months, and something about it feels freeing as the hot rage pools in your chest.  No, it isn’t that you haven’t felt it, you haven’t let yourself feel it. Anger was hopeless with Andy, firm and stone faced in the hurricane of your rage until you exhausted yourself, your freedom, your life still frustratingly far out of your reach. 

You storm away from the table, kicking aside one of Zemo’s silver trays, and his tools skitter across the concrete. Behind you is the sound of Ari’s voice. 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you need to be away from them. Alone. The bathroom is on the far side of the garage bay, and you slam the door behind you, your chest heaving. You can’t leave without Dove, you won’t. 

You won’t abandon her. 

You grip the porcelain edges of the sink hard as you blink back fresh tears. You turn on the water with a fierce jerk of the knob, and begin to rinse last night’s tears from your face. This is the cleanest room in the building, fresh towels stacked on on the shelves, and medical supplies arranged neatly in the glass cases across from the standing shower. 

It’s probably the only room Zemo actually uses. 

As you’re drying your face, a knock sounds at the door, and you glare at it as you huff. 

“What?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?” You chew your lip. 

“Fine.” 

You unlatch the lock, and fold your arms across your chest as it opens. Ari peers around the door. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” You repeat, and he chuckles, stepping fully inside as the door swings shut behind him. “I’m not leaving without Dove.” You say it firmly, watching his shoulders sag with his deep sigh. “It’s not happening.” 

“Mouse. Look at me.” Reluctantly, you drag your gaze from the air over his shoulder. “Your husband—”

“We’re not married.” You spit, and Ari rolls his eyes at the technicality. 

“He’s dangerous, Mouse. You know that.” Ari places gentle hands on your shoulders. “You know that as soon as you step foot back in that house that he will never, ever let you go again.” Your stomach twists at his words.

“I can get out again.” 

“Will you want to?” His bluntness feels like a slap across the face, and though Ari hadn’t struck you—would never—your cheeks smart anyway. You know what he’s implying—Andy scrambled your head all up inside, and half the time now you don’t know up from fucking down.

But it still hurts to know he knows. Knows how changed you are, even though he never got to see the before, just the after.  

“Fuck you!” You snarl. “I am not leaving her! And if you won’t help me get her back, then I’ll—I’ll go back my fucking self!” For the first time since you’d met him, Ari actually looks angry at this, his eyes darkening beneath his furrowed brows. “If you don’t care about her—”

“I let Leah go back.” It takes you a moment to realize who he’s talking about, what he means. “I let Leah go back, and then I had to bury them both.” Ari’s hand is a pale, trembling fist on the bathroom sink. His next words are hoarse. “I didn’t know they made coffins so small.” 

“Ari…”

“I care about Dove.” The words are heavy, and you hate that you know he means them. “We are going to get her back.” His eyes are shiny, but he doesn’t cry. “I fucking swear we will get her back, but you are not going to do that. Okay? You’re not.” 

“You promise?” Your mouth trembles. 

“I promise.” Ari wraps his pinky around yours, holding your entwined fingers up at eye level. “And you aren’t going back.”  

“I-I won’t.”

“Promise.” His dark eyes burn so fiercely you want to look away. “Promise.” He repeats it firmly. 

“I promise.” 

And then he’s kissing you, cupping your chin with his good hand as he presses his lips desperately against your own. Your heart pounds in your ears as you go stiff in his arms. Ari breaks away, releasing you with a soft curse. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Mouse, I—I didn’t mean to do that, I just—” For once, he’s flustered, his cheeks ruddy beneath the shadow of his beard. Ari cards his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.” 

The moment hangs between you in the air, held like a breath. 

Your body stays tensed, like you’re ready to fight, or run, like it remembers Andy’s strict instructions. Except… Andy isn’t here to deliver them himself. 

“It’s…” You don’t know what to say, hell, you don’t even know what you’re feeling. Everything is all mixed up, the emotions all biting the tails of the ones they’re chasing—you’re terrified, you’re exhilarated, you’re nauseous and scared and happy and—

“I’ll go. I should go.” Ari mutters the words more to himself than to you. You’re moving before you really mean to, leaning up on the tips of your toes to press a clumsy kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I—I don’t want you to go.”  With a sigh, Ari melts against you, resting his forehead against yours.  You know you have done this before—many times, even just with Andy—but somehow there is a marked uncertainty as you lift your own hand to Ari’s face, stroking your thumb along his stubbled jawline. He hums, turning his face into your palm, and you feel the press of his lips. 

 Ari wraps his good arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into the meat of your hip through your pajama pants. His right arm flexes, his fist clenching and unclenches in the sling like he wants to move it, but he knows better. Instead, he buries his nose in your hair, the tips of his fingers creeping up beneath your t-shirt to stroke at your belly. You tense at his touch and then relax again, shivering. 

“You tell me to go, I go.” Ari repeats softly, nosing down the side of your jaw. “I won’t be angry.” You look for the pool of cold dread that usually sits in your belly whenever Andy touches you, the reluctant fear that you stamp down to please him but find it entirely absent. 

“You don’t have to make me happy, you don’t have to do what I want because I want it.” You have to stand on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around Ari’s broad shoulders. There is undeniable excitement uncurling in your belly, warmth skipping under your skin at his touch. You want Ari to touch you.

“What if… it would make me happy?”

Ari huffs out a breathy laugh, his lips curving against your own. “That’s all I seem to want to do.” He takes your mouth again with a fervor that leaves you pleasantly breathless. Ari tangles his fingers in the curls at the nape of your neck, holding you still. His teeth tug at the weight of your lower lip and you gasp, opening for him. Ari tastes faintly of cinnamon sugar and something distinctly him that makes you shiver. 

“Been wanting to do that for a goddamn week.” He sighs the words against your mouth. He smooths his hand down the back of your neck, tracing a gentle finger along the length of your spine. You don’t know you’re holding your breath until you release is as his palm skirts over the curve of your ass. He chuckles. “Is this okay?”

“Y-yes.” Ari palms your ass in response and you gasp, tangling your fingers in his over-shirt. It feels strange to be asked what you want, to even consider your own feelings as worth listening to. Andy tells you what to want, what to think, how to feel—Ari simply…allows you to be. Just as you are. 

“I wanna touch you, Mouse,” he breathes. The admission sends a sharp bolt of electricity straight down your spine. “Can I?” You can’t avoid his eyes anymore, reluctantly meeting his gaze with your own. The words stick in your throat.

“You have to tell me, Mouse.” He strokes your trembling chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not him.”Andy always played at giving you choice, but you know Ari isn’t. That if you tell him to, he’ll walk away, and he won’t punish you for it. 

You close your eyes hard, pressing the lids shut till they hurt. You don’t want to think about Andy right now, don’t want to think about Dove without you—you just want this. It feels like you have to reach down your own throat to find it, pulling your own voice up and out through your mouth with force.

“Please?” 

Ari groans, plunging his hand into your loose sleep-pants to wrap around your thighs. He’s strong enough to lift you one-armed as you adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist as a reflex and he hums approvingly, his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips. 

The hard planes of his body press against yours, and your face heats as you think of the new weight that has settled around your hips and belly, but Ari does not seem to notice its presence, his fingers skimming appreciatively along your skin. You can feel the bulge of his cock pressing against your core, and the breathy, surprised noise you make in the back of your throat at the feel of it prompts a chuckle. 

Ari grips your hip hard as he takes a few long strides backwards until you feel cool tile beneath your back. He holds you there, pinned comfortably between his body and the wall as he grinds into you. He ruts against you with a groan. The thin, stretchy fabric between you offers little protection, considering, you can practically feel him throbbing through his zipper. 

“See, Mouse?” He says lowly. “All for you.” Ari releases you, and your feet have barely touched down on the tile before he’s pulling at the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Let’s take this off.” You nod, tugging it up over your head breathlessly, unaware of where it lands after Ari tugs it from your fingers. He drops to his knees, hooking a finger under the elastic band holding up your pajamas. You tense, remembering the last person who had been between your legs, but Ari grounds you, his lips brushing over the curve of your hip. 

“Don’t.” His mouth moves softly against your skin. “Stay here. With me, right now. Don’t go anywhere else.” Ari peels the layers of clothing back from your skin, his hands roaming hungrily over each newly revealed inch. You step out of them and then quickly scoot off your socks. Ari looks up at you from between your thighs, making hard, heavy eye contact as he places a hand beneath your knee. 

“Can I do this for you, Sweetheart? Can I make you feel good?” God, you want to let him. Everything’s out of you control—Andy, Dove, your whole life, but this? This is yours. This, you get to choose.

“Yes.” Even the act of consent feels unfamiliar. “I—I want to.” You don’t know how to describe the way you see the relief leave his body, his broad shoulders relaxing as he widens your stance, pushing your thighs apart till he can kneel between them properly. He squeezes the back of your thigh reassuringly before slowly lifting it to rest on his good shoulder. Ari holds your gaze as he leans forward to place a kiss on the chubby curve of your vulva through your cotton panties. 

His mouth is warm and soft—reverent as he mouths at your swelling lips through the fabric. Ari strokes your hip as he catches the fabric with his teeth, before pulling it aside to marvel at your bare pussy. You want to look away but you don’t, your mouth dropping open as he delivers a sloppy kiss against your slick folds. 

“O-oh,” the sound falls from your lips unbidden, and you feel his mouth curve against you. He pauses briefly to shrug out of his flannel, and dimly you are aware of the sound of his zipper before he’s back, his face thrust hard into the soaking place between your thighs. You mumble his name. 

“Ari, Ari, Ari—” 

He rolls the pearl of your clit against the roof of his mouth, circling your entrance with one finger. You press your head back against the tile, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. You do not remember threading your fingers through his hair, but as you tighten them, tugging, he moans, throaty and low. When you chance a look down, Ari is staring at you with lidded eyes. He flicks your clit sharply with the tip of his tongue, humming appreciatively as you jackknife. 

“Go ahead and cum, Mouse,” he murmurs the words against your slick, twitching skin. “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know you need it.” One hand remains buried in Ari’s hair, tugging on it helplessly as the other scrabbles for purchase against the tile, looking for something—anything—to hold onto. You push against the hot water knob, and the pipes rattle as water rockets through them. You are tangentially aware of the spray of warm water from the shower head—but only barely. You whine helplessly, hips rolling against Ari’s face as you cum. 

He presses the tip of his finger into your cunt, groaning at the feel of you, wet and swollen and sucking at him. He gently lowers your leg, and your trembling knees nearly buckle. You watch as Ari wraps his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly as he stares at the sticky, messy spot at the apex of your thighs. It’s thick, veiny like his forearms. He sweeps his thumb across the tip,  spreading the dewy drop of precum gathered there. 

Ari stands, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. From inside, he produces a wrinkled—but sealed—condom. He tears into the packet with his teeth before discarding it. He fumbles with one hand, nearly dropping it, but you help, gingerly pulling the condom from his fingers. Ari stands stock still as you roll it slowly down to the base before he grasps your chin, his mouth crashing against yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. 

This time when he lifts you, he uses the wall to leverage your weight, sinking you down slow as you lock your ankles behind his waist. Ari’s head lolls, his lips parting in a silent “o” as he draws his hips back, and then fully sheathes himself inside. The air in your lungs escapes in a sharp, needy whine. 

“F-full.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until Ari hums in agreement. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it Mouse?” He breathes. “Shit, you’re squeezing me so nice,” he breathes, drawing back until your cunt is sicking at the tip of him before driving all the way back inside. You manage a nod, your hips rolling greedily into his.

“I-I—fuck—again—” The words don’t want to leave your tongue in any sort of sensible manner, but Ari understands them, grinning hungrily as he picks up the pace. He skims your clit with his thumb, and you can feel the sparks skittering up your spine and you gasp as he does it again and again—

“Come on, Sweetheart, you’ve got one more in there for me, don’t you?” He mutters, angling his hips up into yours as you writhe against him. “Wanna feel it on my cock—mmm, fuck—” You do, leaning forward to bury your face against his chest as you wail, your cunt clamping down around him like a fist. Ari curls his massive body over yours as he empties into you, his hips pressing softly against yours. He holds you there, his cock jerking and throbbing inside of you as he mumbles soft ‘mm’’s and ‘yeah, fuck yeah’’s into your hair until he’s done. 

You stay like that, your body buzzing as the warm water streaming down over you. Eventually, when you can no longer feel the hammer of his heart against your cheek, he pulls out, and you press your lips together in embarrassed amusement at the crinkle of latex. He knots it off before tossing it into the trash bin. Your cheeks burn as Ari cleans between your legs, cupping your swollen cunt with an appreciative hum. He slides his fingers through the folds of your sticky sex, and your breath hitches. 

“I’m just cleaning you up, Mouse, I promise.” He’s true to his word, there’s   hungry, lustful intensity in his touches, only care. You str heady yourself against his shoulder, and your heart drops at the  sight of his bandages. The center is tinged with a pink circle, and as you stare at it, it darkens a little. 

“You’re bleeding.” Ari looks down at his shoulder and grimaces.

“Occupational hazard, Mouse. I’ll be fine.” He attempts to reassure you with a smile, but it doesn’t completely do away with the cold feeling in your belly.

“We’re going to need to change these, at least,” you say, fingering the edge of his wet bandage. “I think Zemo will be mad if we don’t.”

“He’s always mad.” Ari replies, and you laugh. “But yes. We’ll change them” 

It somehow feels more intimate to stand there in the shower with Ari, slowly washing off the events of the last day and a half. He shampoos your hair, rubbing it in gently at the roots with the tips of his fingers. When you’re finally done, he helps you towel off, before producing a generic grey sweatshirt and pants from one of the cupboards after a bit of rummaging. 

When the two of you return to the garage, dewy cheeked and differently clothed, Irene snorts. 

“Had a good time, did you?” 

—

Dove won’t stop crying. 

Andy isn’t a bad father, he knows he’s not, but for some reason, he can’t get her calmed down. Her little fists are clenched tight, beating the air above her head with a frustration Andy as her father, cannot seem to quell. He bounces his daughter tiredly as he paces around the nursery, mumbling soothing baby speak as he rubs circles on her back. 

She’s been wailing practically nonstop since Pronge had delivered her, his expression grim as he’d handed her over. 

I couldn’t get your wife.

Andy had wanted to rage, then, and he almost had, itching to slam the whiskey glass in his hand into Robert’s face for the trouble—but Dove’s fussing had provided a sufficient reminder that it might not be appropriate to do so. She cries herself to sleep, hiccoughing in his arms until her breathing evens. Andy carefully lays her down in the crib, stroking his hand over the curve of her cheek. He closes the door to the nursery, and to his disgust, Robert Pronge stands in the hallway, the decanter of whiskey from his office held in his hand. He takes a swig from it. 

“Who else was with her?” 

Pronge grimaces. “Irene. And her new assistant. Fucker’s as big as a goddamn house. Name’s Ari Levinson, he owns some shithole bar.” Andy’s eyes narrow.

“Get out.” He shoulders past the killer in his hallway, not bothering to take back the bottle.

“And do what, exactly?” He sneers. 

“Finish your goddamn job, and find my wife.” Andy waits to hear the sound of the front door before returning to his office. He’d had you—and you’d slipped right through his fingers again. You wouldn’t want to be apart from Dove, at least, that much he could be sure of. You’re a good mother, regardless of the doubts he knows he’ll have to plant in your beautiful head to get you to stay. 

Ari Levinson. 

The name is unfamiliar, and a search through both Massachusetts and New York state databases return no results. He does, however, get pings on basic search engines.

Ari Levinson. Dishonorable discharge, tried for murder, dismissed as self defense.

Now that is interesting.

It’s after midnight when he finally decides to turn in for the night, and as he closes his office door, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He reaches for it, frowning at the unfamiliar number—but then his eyes widen at the caller I.D. 

Albany.

“Hello?” At first, there’s only grainy silence on the other end, until finally, you speak. 

“I’m ready to talk, Andy.” 

He smiles. “Oh, Honey. I knew you would be.” 

to be continued…

previous next

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#cevans fic #cevans fandom #christ evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fandom #chris evans fic #andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fic #ari levinson imagine #andy barber imagine #darkfic #dark!fic #return to sender fic #boxofbonesfic

[nickfowlerrr]

This picture has ruined me. Now I need a fic with Bucky as your professor banging you in the library during regular hours.

clear your mind

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

words: 7.5k

warnings: 18+ ONLY. smut. public sex. cockwarming. student/teacher relations. possible age gap depending on how you read it (reader is at least 25 or older but it’s not really specified and bucky is late 30s or older but again, not specified. imagine whatever you like.) i added an alternate kind of darkish ending that is separated with a divider near the end (duh) but of course you can choose to not read it and stick to the original cute ending lol. if i’m missing anything you feel needs to be added, please let me know.

notes: disclaimer: i never technically went to college so i don’t really know what i’m writing about lmao but when i say this was instant inspo, i mean instant. i’ve been in such a funk since i lost chapter four of keeping secrets, but this really ignited something in me so i just went for it. it was originally gonna be a little smutty drabble but then i started writing and it just became a whole one shot - not that i’m complaining lol. this was so fun to write, thank you @sammyisfat for sending it in! 🖤 i hope you all enjoy it! as always, feedback and comments are welcome and appreciated. and thank you in advance for reading and reblogging!

You were sitting hunched over, eyes scanning the same sentence repeatedly, trying to force yourself to focus. You were reading the words but you weren’t really putting them together. You were too bored to make them make sense. Your brain was far off and you were sure you were about to burn out completely at this point.

Why you thought going back to school after so long was a good idea was beyond you. Was the degree really worth it? You’d gotten this far without one, hadn’t you?

As you were contemplating your life choices, and working on convincing yourself to just screw it and drop out, you’d failed to notice the presence of two of your professors passing by.

You had been alone at the far back of the library, closed in by the sturdy cases of books around you, for so long you’d nearly forgotten you were actually there. You had needed solitude, lest the chatter of other students in study groups or working on projects distract you further than your mind already did on its own. Your back was to the open aisle so as not to get distracted by anyone passing by, either. The zone you were occupying was normally a hot spot, but on a Wednesday afternoon, not so much. And for that you were grateful.

The knock on the bookcase next to you accompanied by your name being called, almost in question, startled you as you quickly corrected your posture and looked toward the noise, adjusting the glasses you were wearing as you did. You were greeted with two pairs of blue eyes looking back at you. Standing next to the bookcase, waiting for your response were two of the most lusted after professors on campus. And that wasn’t just you thinking so. The way students fawned over both Mr. Barber and Barnes was near juvenile. They were like kids gossiping about their crushes in elementary school. It was always funny to you seeing the line of people waiting to speak with Andy at the end of class every Wednesday and Friday, whether they had a genuine question to ask or not. You couldn’t say you didn’t get it, though. He had great hair, a soft smile, kind eyes.. He was gorgeous. It was clear why so many people had a thing for him. But you always found yourself a little more than preoccupied with thoughts of Mr. Barnes. Though they were both at least six foot tall and unfairly attractive, easy enough to spread your attention between both of them, as most of their students did, there was just something about James that had you in a hold since the first day you met him.

It was your first day on campus and you’d accidentally bumped into him with your green tea as you were leaving the small corner cafe after your first morning class. You apologized profusely, but he’d claimed it was his fault, that he wasn’t watching where he was going. He insisted on buying you a new drink as he removed his tea damp jacket. You didn’t fight him on it, walking back into the cafe as he held the door for you. You introduced yourselves as you waited for the drinks to be made and spoke a bit. It wasn’t a super long interaction, both of you having places you had to be, but you would have sworn there was something there. And the glimmer in his eye as he smiled and told you he’d see you around convinced you it wasn’t one sided. You were instantly smitten, hopeful you would see him again, that maybe it could lead to getting to know him better, lead to something more.

That was until you walked into your afternoon class the next day to find him standing at a podium, setting up his orientation slides. You had been hoping all day to run into him, but this was certainly not how you’d been imagining the circumstances. Of course he was your professor. You breathed a humorless laugh to yourself as you found a seat. You got your laptop out and looked back up at the same time he looked up from his, making direct eye contact with him. You saw the instant he recognized you and gave him a tight lipped smile that he returned before you diverted your gaze back down. His look of disappointment matched your own, but at the very least, it made you feel wanted.. The “professor x student” trope was never really your cup of tea, but as the weeks went by, the stolen glances and secret longing stares you exchanged were starting to change your mind. After one particular heated night of self pleasure, absentmindedly picturing him while you were reveling in your own touch, imagining it was his, you knew you were really gone for him. And heaven help you, the idea of it really happening was growing hotter and hotter the more you told yourself you couldn’t. Imagining showing up to his office hours one evening and just letting him have you any way he liked. Letting him take you apart on his desk, or sucking him off under his desk while he works. God, you’d daydreamed so many scenarios.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to act on any of it. You didn’t know how to. More importantly, you knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t like you were some barely legal star eyed student he’d be taking advantage of, but still, you were his student. You weren’t sure how that dynamic might play out or the optics of it for either of you. Instead you willed yourself to stay focused on the work, to keep your thoughts set on passing the course and that was all.

Even when you would find yourself needing actual help from him or needing to ask him about an assignment, you would always talk yourself out of it. You didn’t want to let yourself be alone with him, you couldn’t be trusted. You were worried you’d make a fool of yourself the second you got the chance. So instead, you’d get help from a classmate if you could or you’d end up just winging it. It had been working that far.

The real problem started just last week. This most recent section was challenging to say the least. You had tried the study group offered on Monday nights, but you got absolutely nothing done.

Your last essay assignment had been returned to you on Friday with a note on it, asking you to come by his office hours before the next class. You had been putting it off all week, but knew you’d have to go by Thursday. You just weren’t expecting to see him around any earlier than that.

“Professors,” you greeted, slightly taken aback.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Mr. Barber apologized. “Thought you might’ve heard us walking up.”

“I was uh, lost in the text, I guess,” you replied, giving them an awkward smile.

“Well, I’m glad someone’s reading it,” he laughed.

“Do you mind if we join you?” he continued, motioning to the otherwise empty table you were sitting at the end of. It was big enough to seat at least 8 people easily and it’d, of course, be rude of you to try and keep it for yourself. But what would they need to be in the library for anyway? The question must have been written on your face as Mr. Barnes answered it for you.

“The heat isn’t working in our offices. We’re just grading some work.”

“Right, yeah, of course. Go for it.”

“Thank you,” Andy smiled.

They took seats at the other end of the table, surely trying to avoid distracting you. You appreciated the gesture, but it was futile. As they worked on grading papers, they were talking and laughing every so often and even if they hadn’t been, their presence alone was not at all aiding you in your attempt to focus on schoolwork.

You’d given up trying to finish the passage you’d been reading and instead pretended to start making notes in your laptop. In all actuality, you were really just googling alternative career paths and the question: “Do you really need a college degree to be successful?”.

Thirty minutes later, Andy’s phone went off and he began to gather his things, telling Mr. Barnes, who he called ‘Bucky’, that he had a lecture in 45 minutes but he’d see him later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Andy pointed at you as he passed by.

“Bright and early,” you affirmed with a nod and a small smile.

“Have a good night,” he smiled back.

“You too,” you returned.

The second he was gone, you became fully aware that you were now alone with Professor Barnes, the situation you’d been trying to avoid for the past almost three months. Despite your efforts, your entire focus was being pulled to the man just down the table from you. He was still grading, in the middle of someone’s essay as you glanced over to him. You admired the quirk of his brow as he read and how his tongue jutted out to lick his lip as his eyes scanned the words on the page. You pulled your gaze away from him and back to your laptop, deciding to close it and put it away, begrudgingly returning to your textbook. Just one more hour. You had promised yourself 2 hours of studying today minimum, you were halfway there. You could do it.

Not ten minutes later you heard the flipping of paper and glanced over to see he’d just finished the paper he was on, writing the grade on top of the first page. You looked back to your text just as he slid the paper down the table to you. You furrowed your brows as you watched it slide into your book. You saw the “C-” he had given it circled in red ink and immediately recognized the title. Your lips parted and you clicked your tongue as you looked back up to meet his eye.

“Anyone else that would’ve been a D,” he told you, sounding slightly disappointed. “Your work is normally a lot better than what you’ve been turning in lately. That’s why I asked you to come by my office hours.”

“Yeah, I- uh. I don’t know, I’ve just been having a hard time with this section,” you explained. “And I wasn’t ignoring your note, I was planning to see you on Thursday.”

“Well, we’re both here now, right?” he said and you nodded.

“Good a time as any,” you shrugged.

He got up and moved his stuff down the table to take the seat next to you. You closed your textbook and straightened up in your chair. Nerves eating at you as he sat and turned to angle himself towards you.

“My main concern isn’t really about you understanding the materials, all the concepts are there in your work, it's just..lackluster. Sloppily written, a bit jumbled here and there. Nothing like what you had been turning in at the start of the semester,” he said. “Are you sure it’s the section you’re having a hard time with?”

You looked at him for a moment, not really knowing what to say.

“What else would I be having a hard time with?” you questioned quietly.

It was his turn to look at you for a moment as he thought about how to word his response. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it before he finally spoke.

“You’ve seemed more and more distracted during class lately. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said sincerely, his blue eyes gleaming into yours. He was already close, but you suddenly found yourself mindlessly leaning closer to him. You took a breath as you sat back, licking your lips ever so lightly without realizing as you looked away.

“I’m okay,” you told him. “Sorry I’ve seemed distracted. Well, uhm, been distracted. I don’t know why I’ve been having such a hard time focusing on this,” you lied, “but I appreciate your concern. I’ll work on being more present. And putting more effort into my writing.”

He smiled softly and nodded before he turned back in his seat, returning to his pile of papers.

You bit your lip as you sat there. Of course you knew why you were so distracted, but you couldn’t just tell him it was because of him.

“You know there’s a study group you can sign up for,” he said as he was still looking down, reading the new paper in front of him, red pen in hand.

“Yeah, I know. I just, uh, work better in smaller groups,”

“Alone isn’t exactly a group,” he lightly smirked with a slight tilt of his head.

“I’ve never really had the best focus when it comes to studying, anything. I get off topic and then I get everyone else off topic and then we end up having spent the entire session debating something trivial, like who the best Batman is,” you said.

“Christian Bale,” he responded.

“Obviously,” you agreed with a smile. “But uhm, yeah. Less distractions the better, so I try to avoid big groups. Though I’ll admit, just trying to stay focused on my own is a feat in and of itself,” you laughed lightly.

“Sounds like you just need someone other than yourself to hold you accountable. Have you thought about one on ones? I offer tutoring sessions that no one seems to want to take me up on,” he laughed. “I have three one hour sessions all still open for tonight, actually.. Not that you need tutoring, but you could use the time to work on your assignments without distractions - and I'd be there, of course, if you need any help.”

You told yourself to say no. You really did..

“Well it couldn’t hurt, right?” you breathed, a small smile on your lips. Just then the clock chimed three, drawing both of your attention.

“I have a class in twenty, I have to get going. But I’ll be in my office from five to eight, you can come whenever. Like I said, no one else has signed up, so whenever you can make it. Hopefully the heat should be working by then.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Please, James is more than fine,” he told you. “I’ll see you later.”

When he left, you packed up your things - letting yourself off the hook for your two hour promise. You were gonna be studying later now, anyway so it wasn’t like you just checking out for the day. Your apartment wasn’t too far from campus, so you drove home and decided you’d head back around 6.

You made yourself a late lunch/early dinner and then got your things together for when you’d leave. You figured you had time for a quick nap, so you laid down on the couch with the tv still playing in the background. After about 45 minutes, you woke up feeling more flustered than you had felt all week. You were starting to regret your quick agreement to his one on one offer, but you couldn’t just not show up now. You were getting yourself worked up over nothing, you were sure. Really what could you do that would be so bad? It’s not like you were planning on seducing the man. You’d probably just ask him to review the essay you’d been working on that would be turned in at the next class and ask for clarification on the requirements for the part of your midterm paper you’d been confused about for the past two weeks. You probably wouldn’t even stay the whole hour.

Checking the time, you decided to head back to campus. You’d get to his office a little after 5 and you’d be home by 6:30 at the latest. It’d be fine.

As you walked up to the sturdy oak door that led to his office, two cups of coffee in hand, your nerves started anew. You took a second before you knocked lightly. A few moments later, the door was pulled open as he greeted you, ushering you in.

“I got you a coffee,” you offered with a smile.

“That’s very much needed, thank you,” he smiled back, taking the drink you’d extended to him. “Please, have a seat.”

You took the only chair across from his desk as he sat.

“So, I was wondering if you’d be able to go over my essay for this week. See if it’s missing anything, or if it needs to be rewritten entirely,” you laughed nervously.

“Yeah, of course,”

“Great,” you breathed, “I just emailed you a copy.”

He pulled it open on his screen and you watched for a moment as he began reading before you pulled out your laptop to work more on your midterm. You couldn’t focus though. Not with him right across from you. The little noises he’d make as he read caught your attention repeatedly and when you’d glance up, you’d find yourself admiring the shape of his face, the quirk of his lips, the squinting of his eyes.

“The whole point of this is so that you have no distractions,” he said as he continued reading before turning to look at you. “Something distracting you?” he asked, his eyes finding your own with something akin to a playful glimmer shining in them.

You opened your mouth to speak but you just shook your head instead, taking a steadying breath.

“No,” you answered after a second. He looked at you hard.

“You sure about that?” he asked again.

“No,” you repeated softly.

“Well since you can’t seem to focus on what you’re working on, why don’t you come over here and we’ll go over this together.”

You stared at him, gawking before your body finally moved. You stood up and he did the same, pulling his chair back for you to sit in as you rounded the desk. He pushed you back in and then leaned down behind you so he was at the same height you were, looking at the screen.

You were stiff and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. He was so close. And he smelled so good. And he was so pretty. God, you didn’t know what to do. You really couldn’t focus, even as he read your words aloud and went over a line you’d blubbed.

“Are you listening to me?” he asked, standing to his full height as he spun the chair around, looking down at you. Your eyes immediately landed on his crotch before you quickly looked away, trying to not look so flustered.

“Sorry,” you eked out.

“It’s obvious you have something on your mind. You’re clearly distracted,” he said, finding your eye. “I think you just need to clear your head to find your focus.”

“Right, well, I don’t really know how to do that,” you breathed.

“Why don’t you let me try to help,” he returned softly as he leaned down and grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to meet his as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours.

You were definitely not expecting this to happen, but you weren’t upset in the least. His lips were soft and he tasted like coffee. Your hand found his hair as you pulled him closer to you, the gentle kiss turning into something hungrier the longer it went on. He pulled away suddenly and pulled you out of his chair before taking his seat and pulling you down onto his lap just as quickly, his lips returning to yours the instant he had you on him. Your arm wound itself around his neck as your other cupped his jaw, keeping his face close to you as he held you close to him.

Slowly, his hand traveled under your sweater and along your waist, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He easily slipped his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you as he did. You felt his erection growing as you sat on his lap, smiling into the kiss as you teasingly rubbed against him, earning a groan from him in response. He broke away from you for a moment as you both caught your breath, “Tell me if you want to stop,” was all he said before he maneuvered you with ease. He sat you on the edge of his desk while he took your boots off before he pulled your leggings down your thick thighs, his touch sending chills through you as he did.

He made quick work of his trousers, pulling them down before he took himself out of his briefs. He sat back down on his chair as he looked at you with lust filled eyes. “Stand up,” he told you. When you were standing before him, he pulled you close by your wide set hips before his fingers hooked the band of your thong, dragging it down until they were past your thighs and dropped to your ankles. “Step out of them, sweetheart.”

You did as he said before he pulled you closer and got you onto the chair, positioning you so you straddled his lap, barely hovering above his hard cock. You were breathing heavily as your hands grasped his shoulders and his hands held your fleshy hips. He looked up at you like he was waiting for your permission and so you nodded softly down at him. He gripped himself with one hand and moved the tip of his cock along your wet slit, you gasped in unison at the feeling. He took his time and just played with you a bit until you were moaning, whining above him. Your eyes squeezed shut as he circled your clit before he moved to finally align his cock up to your slick entrance. He pushed his tip just inside of you and groaned at the sensation, his hands returning to your hips as he gripped you tightly, holding you there despite you wanting desperately to take more of him.

“James,” you whined. He shook his head.

“Call me Bucky,” he instructed headily.

“Bucky,” you whined further, trying to lower yourself further onto his cock.

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” he laughed. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you moaned as he took your lips in his again.

“You want more? Want more of my dick inside you?”

“Yes, yes, Bucky, please,” you mewled.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you,” he said, kissing you along your neck, “but then you’re gonna focus on your work, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed without really hearing him. You just needed more, you needed all of him.

He pulled you down further onto his cock torturously slowly as you gasped and mewled until he was seated fully inside of you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes shutting in pleasure at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him, at the warmth of your cunt around him.

You tried to move, but were stopped again by his hands holding you in place. He tutted as he looked at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart? We just agreed you’re gonna focus on your work now,”

“Huh? Right, right now?” you huffed.

“Right now,” he told you firmly.

You pouted as you leaned against his chest, your face pressing into his neck, even just that movement sparking pleasure through you.

“No pouting,” he laughed against your temple. You turned your face up to him, pout still in place before you leaned up further to kiss him again. Slow and heated, he got lost in your kiss. He almost didn’t stop you when you started rocking your hips against him. Almost.

You whined again as he held you still. His strength was impressive, you had to admit.

“Stop. Moving,” he growled, sending a new wave of arousal through you. “You’re gonna sit right here on my cock while we go over your essay and if you do a good job listening to me and stay focused, I’ll give you what you really want after. Understand?”

“Yes, professor,” you said quietly.

“Good,” he smiled, caressing your cheek as he looked down at you.

It was thirty five minutes of pure torture. He read a loud your entire essay and had you make corrections as he went, the entire time you could feel his thick cock throbbing inside your dripping cunt, just begging for any kind of movement. Near the end of your essay corrections, his hand dropped from your hip until he found your clit, slowly beginning to rub it in tight circles. You mewled pathetically and your walls tightened around his dick still deep inside of you while his lips attacked your neck with gentle kisses and love bites.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” he praised. “You took this from a C to an A with just thirty minutes of actual focus. All you had to do was face your distractions head on, find the right motivation,” he smirked against your skin.

“So we’re done with the editing then, right?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed against you.

“Great,” you breathed as he brought you closer with his every touch.

“Fuck, you’re squezzing me so tight,” he groaned.

“I’m gonna come,” you mewled, breathing heavier still as his left hand tightened on your hip and his fingers worked your bud faster, sending you head first into your orgasm, his name falling off your tongue as you cursed and panted through your high, collapsing onto his chest.

“Oh my god,” he whined with a small gasp, his eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, can I come inside you?” he asked. You nodded your answer as you were still trying to catch your breath. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips into yours, hot and needy, while you felt him tense suddenly as his cock pulsed inside you and he moaned deeply into your mouth as he let himself go, you could feel the warmth of his release against your walls.

The evidence of your orgasm was all over his lap, coating his dick as he pulled you off of him.

“Holy fuck,” he panted. You didn’t think it was possible, but you felt yourself heat up even more than you already had been. “Hand me a tissue,” he said pointing to the box he had on the corner of his desk.

He cleaned himself up quickly before he pulled his briefs and trousers back up. He had you again on the edge of his desk as he bent down to clean you up, too, admiring the way his cum was leaking out of you before he grabbed your leggings from the floor, handing them to you. He pocketed your thong before he stood back up to his full height, towering over you.

“That was nice,” he laughed softly as he leaned down closer to you, his right hand framing your face, tilting it up to meet his eye, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin of your cheek before he leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

You smiled in response. “Yeah, it was,” you agreed.

“I hope you don’t find this inappropriate, but I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

“The feeling is more than mutual,” you assured him. “But uhm. Is this..,” you gestured between the two of you, “allowed?” you questioned as you hopped off his desk to pull your leggings on.

“Well, it’s certainly not encouraged, but there’s nothing in my contract that explicitly prohibits it. I made sure a few months ago,” he said, eyeing you with a shy smile as if he hadn’t just come inside you after making you cockwarm him for nearly 45 minutes. It made you laugh. “I would prefer to keep this between us for as long as we can, though,” he hedged.

“Yeah, I completely agree. Don’t need these kids gossiping about me, too.”

“They do love to talk, don’t they?” he grimaced, causing you to smile at him.

“I’m sure we can keep this under wraps,” you said as you pulled your boots back on. “And I’d like to sign up for next week's one on one sessions, too, if you're available.”

“I’ll be sure to block it out for you,” he grinned.

“Might as well make it a standing weekly appointment,” you suggested as you walked back over to him from where he was perched on his desk.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he responded as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer while you stared up at him, your arms wrapping around him in return. “Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Dinner?” you questioned, pulling back slightly. “That doesn’t sound very underwraps,” you teased.

“A private dinner. At a private residence. My residence,” he clarified with a smirk.

“I’m free,” you nodded as you backed away and went to the other side of the desk as he turned around to watch you.

“Great, I’ll message you the address.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it,” you said as you grabbed your bag and slipped your laptop back inside of it. “I should get going, but, thank you. For everything,” you simpered. “I really appreciate your help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. My door’s always open. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow it is,” you nodded in agreement as you walked to the door. But before you could open it, Bucky was behind you, turning you around to face him. His lips met yours in a soft, unrushed kiss before he pulled away slowly, opening the door for you.

“Have a good night,” you breathed.

“You, too,” he smiled.

Three weeks later you had a routine set in place. Nothing changed much in class, except you found yourself paying more close attention to the material now that you weren’t so hopelessly longing for your professor. Wednesday’s were your one on one sessions in Bucky’s office and Friday nights had been spent at his place. This last week, you’d even stayed the three day weekend with him. You knew you weren’t crazy when you had thought there was something real between the two of you when you had first met, but you didn’t expect to have clicked so well the way you had. Your chemistry was unbelievable and you got on so well together. Plus the sex was incredible.

Fucking in his office was so cliche, but that didn’t make it any less hot. In fact, it was really the only place you called him “Professor” these days. The title just made things that much sexier. It was Wednesday afternoon and you’d just gotten out of your last class for the day. You were going to head to Bucky’s office in a few hours, planning to go to your apartment to freshen up before picking up some food for you both on your way back.

You’d just finished changing into more…accessible clothes when your phone rang. It was a text from Bucky letting you know that the heat in his office wasn’t working again, so you’d have to meet in the library instead as they’d be working on the unit in his room. You frowned slightly, accepting that you’d changed for nothing, but at least the skirt was still comfortable. You texted back asking if you should still bring food and he promised he’d take you somewhere after instead. Apparently only two of his students in his 3:20 class showed up, so he dismissed them for the day. He was already on his way to the library, so you grabbed your things and headed back to campus.

You walked around the library looking for him with no luck before you decided to walk up to the second level, which was technically closed off for some construction work, in order to get a better view. You spotted him easily in the far back section of the lower level as you stood at the railing of the second floor. He was sipping on a cup of coffee and you smiled as you spied a cup of tea waiting for you next to his satchel on the table while he read over some work.

You walked back down to the first floor and made your way to him.

“Professor,” you greeted as you knocked on the bookcase blocking the table he was at from an easy view. He greeted you in return as he looked up from his work, a smile on his face. His eyes caught on the low v-neck of the top you were wearing, your cleavage on perfect display. His tongue jutted out along his lower lip as he admired the view. You cleared your throat as you looked at him with a raised brow.

He looked back up to your eyes, smiling charmingly as if he hadn’t just been caught leering at you so openly.

“I’m here to study, not be perved on,” you accused.

“You know you need to clear your mind to get your focus, first. And you know what helps clear your mind best,” he alluded.

“You know we’re in public, right?” you asked, voice hushed as you walked closer to the table.

“It’s a Wednesday, no one’s gonna come back here,” he said smoothly. “We’re hidden from sight.”

“Not true,” you denied. “I saw you from the second level,” you informed him.

“Was anyone up there?” he asked.

“No..”

“Didn’t think so,” he said smugly.

“There’s not right now. Anyone could come in at any time. It’s the middle of the day.”

“You’re right,” he aquesqued, hands up. “All work, no play today. I got you a tea,” he offered.

“Thank you,” you smiled as you took the seat across from him.

“Wow, why are you sitting so far?”

“Where do you want me to sit?” you laughed.

“Preferably, my lap,” he started, earning a humored scoff from you. “But right here would be good, too,” he said, gesturing to the seat next to him.

You got up and moved spots, getting comfortable before you pulled up your essay on your laptop.

“Still going through midterms?” you asked as you looked over to him making marks on the paper he was reading.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Have you gotten to mine yet?”

“Not yet,” he said absently.

You nodded as you took a sip of your tea. You looked back to your essay and found yourself trailing off. It was pretty much finished, just needed to be read through again for any edits you needed to make. It wasn’t enough to keep your attention. Too easy. You could do it later no problem.

Instead you took out your text for Andy’s class and started reading next week’s assignment. You didn’t have much else to do. Funnily enough, you’d been getting most of your work done earlier than normal so you’d have less to actually do on Wednesdays, instead spending your “study” time focusing on other things…

You weren’t paying attention to anything, lost in perverted thoughts of last week when Bucky had fucked you agaisnt the wall in his office, while twirling your pen as you stared down blankly at the words on the page, not reading them at all. Pulling you from your perversions, suddenly you felt Bucky’s hand smooth its way under your skirt and up your thigh. His hand was so warm and strong as he touched you, sending chills through you as he scooted his chair closer to yours. You didn’t stop him and absentmindedly spread your thighs for him as he inched his way closer and closer to your inner thighs before his fingers made their way between them, gently rubbing at your warm, barely clothed pussy.

You came back to earth as you remembered where you were and reached your hand under the table to hold his, stopping his movements.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, professor?” you breathed.

“Helping,” he responded. “What did I say about distractions, sweetheart?”

“Who says I’m distracted,” you whispered as you heard chatter coming from the other side of the bookcase before it passed as some students made their way to the front desk from the back office you weren’t too far off from.

“You have that far off look in your eyes,” he spoke quietly, “and I saw you squeezing your thighs together not ten seconds ago.” You exhaled a breath so softly you barely even heard yourself.

“Maybe we can end this session early and call it a day?” you asked, wanting to get out of the library and meet him back at your place, or hell, meet him at his car and let him take you apart in the faculty parking lot.

“No, I don’t think so. We both have some work left to do.”

“Bucky,” you whispered.

“No calling me Bucky outside my office while we’re on campus,” he reminded you. “You know better.”

You bit your lip before whispering sorry.

“You just need to face your distractions so you can get past them,” he said. “Let me help.”

You let go of his hand beneath the table and spread your thighs a little wider.

You almost stopped breathing completely when he slipped his fingers past your panties and gently pushed inside of you as one of the librarians passed by the aisle over. She peered behind the bookcase that was shielding you from the side to see who was at the tables and greeted both of you quietly before she returned to the aisle and reshelved some books. Bucky’s fingers didn’t stop for even a second as he returned her greeting and went back to grading.

The second you knew she was gone you panted a breath. “James,” you chastised as you sat in your seat still, making no attempt to actually stop him.

“More?” he questioned without looking up from his work, only speeding up his fingering, curling them inside of you. You bit down harshly on your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your thighs tensing with the impending wave of pleasure you were teetering on before he slipped his fingers out of you, a school boy smirk playing on his lips.

You exhlaed heavily and shakily before looking over to him, shocked. He finally looked back at you, still smirking.

“I wanna try something. If you want me to stop, tell me,” he said as he removed his hand from your thigh and stood up abruptly. You could see the outline of his erection through his trousers and found yourself getting more aroused. You didn’t know what he wanted to do, but assumed it'd be something at least a little discret. Along the lines of putting you in his lap again, or even just having you get him off. So when he pulled you up and spun you around, pushing you down against the table, you were surprised to say the least. You heard him unzip his pants as he pulled himself free and then pulled your panties down your thighs. You couldn’t even think as he prodded you with his cock, and gasped loudly when he finally pushed into you. His hand was on your mouth in an instant as he leaned over your back, his mouth next to your ear as he spoke. “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he panted. “You don’t want anyone to see us back here, do you?”

Your gurgled moan was his response as he began fucking into you, keeping your chest firmly againt the sturdy table, one hand on your mouth and one holding your wrists behind your back. You were panting as quietly as you could as he slid in and out of you, getting deeper with each thrust. He took his hand away from your mouth after a moment and gripped your hip to keep you a little more steady, trying to keep your hips from slamming so hard into the wood. The salacious sounds of his pelvis slapping against your ass with his thrusts were only making you more slick as he moved his hand from your wrists to keep your skirt pushed up as he fucked you from behind.

It was taking all of your willpower to keep quiet, your mouth open in silent moans as you tried to keep yourself breathing. His thrusts were getting more powerful the longer he went. Each time you heard people passing by, your cunt gripped his cock even tighter at the thrill of the proximity, and Bucky didn’t miss it.

“Who knew you were so fucking kinky,” he panted into your ear. “You like getting fucked in public, huh? Like the idea of anyone walking by and seeing you get fucked out of your mind? Seeing you getting claimed by me,” he husked.

You mewled as quietly as you could and nodded your head in affirmation. “I like it,” you whispered pathetically.

“I know you do,” he laughed before fucking into you deeper, making sure you felt every inch of his thick cock gliding against your velvety walls, squeezing him tightly.

“Professor, please,” you pleaded quietly.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted as he gripped your hip harder still, pulling your ass flush against him before he began rutting into you desperately. He leaned his weight onto you as he kept you pushed down, flush against the table. His hand left your skirt and found your clit, adding to the growing pressure building in your abdomen as he rubbed you, fucking you and stimulating all the most sensitive spots along your walls. Before you knew you were, you came completely undone, the familiar white hot pleasure induced euphoria spreading through you as you came around him, squeezing him like you never wanted him to leave you empty again. And truth be told, you didn’t. You’d never felt so fulfilled or satisfied in your life.

He could barely move as you came around him, but after a few more thrusts, he shot his load inside of you, cursing under his breath as he came, panting. After a moment, he pulled out gently and slid your panties back up for you, pushing your skirt down before he fixed himself. You were still reeling from the intensity of it all when you stood, a little wobbly, from the table.

Cute planned ending:

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you breathed, turning around to face Bucky. “We really just did that,” you said, still in shock at yourself while Bucky grinned proudly before looking around a bit, just making sure you were still alone. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close, leaning down to kiss you deeply, letting you go for a second before kissing you harder again.

“We did. And now,” he said, ushering you back to your seat, urging you to sit down, “you're gonna finish editing your paper while I grade a few more of these midterms, no distractions.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered as you looked up at him still standing while you were seated once again. “I’m the one sitting here with come leaking out of me,” you complained.

“Is it that distracting for you, sweetheart?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yes,” you responded.

“No problem. I can help with that, too,” he smirked as he got down on his knees, crawling under the table to kneel at your feet as your eyes went wide while you watched him. He pulled you to the edge of the chair before he slipped your panties off completely. “That essay better be ready to turn in by the time I get back up, do you understand?” he warned. You could feel his breath against your folds as he got closer.

“Yes, professor,” you mewled pathetically as you spread your thighs even wider for him.

Alternative kind of darkish ending:

You felt eyes on you as you turned around, but it wasn’t Bucky. You looked up to the second floor and could have sworn you saw Andy passing by, worry flooding through you instantly. You weren’t sure, though. Maybe he was really just walking by and hadn’t seen anything. Maybe it was no one at all and you were just imagining things. You almost didn’t even want to say anything about it, just act like you hadn’t seen, or thought you saw, anyone at all.

Until Andy came knocking on the bookcase, from the opposite direction, startling you as you gasped and spun around, hands flying to make sure your skirt was smoothed down completely, unconscious backing toward where Bucky was. Andy looked between you both for a second before he spoke, a knowing, devilish smirk growing on his face as he looked at you in a way you’d never seen him look at anyone before. Lewdly, leering, lustful, even.

“What’s goin’ on down here?”

You looked back at Bucky, hoping to find some kind of reassurance or protection, but he was completely unphased at the presence of his friend.

“You enjoy the show?” he asked, unamused.

“I think I could put on better,” he shrugged, eyes still locked on you, even as Bucky pulled you into his side.

“What do you think, sweetheart? Wanna let him try?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #professor!bucky #professor barnes #professor bucky x reader #professor barnes x reader #professor!bucky barnes #professor!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #andy barber x curvy!reader #soft!dark bucky x reader #andy barber

[lilacevans]

meet some of the pete's place regulars!

˚ ♡ ✧.* : ̗̀➛ requests by: two anons, @welight-theway, @crokitheloki, @hansensgirl, @buggy14, @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

this is a dark au/verse. minors need not interact. happy endings don't happen here.

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫

41 years old.

6’2’’.

Suburban dad with a dark side. 

Likes flashing the cash for a look as he doesn’t get much attention back home.

Never misses stopping by when he’s in town.

Has a type and it just so happens to be you.

Brings you gifts; new outfits, new shoes, gold chains, etc, every single time he visits the club.

Will spend the whole night promising you the world– and his wallet, if you just go home with him.

Top Three: Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Praise Kink. 

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐕𝐞𝐭

45 years old.

6’4’’.

Oh, what a nice man–

Warning sirens sound in the distance.

Danger! Danger! 

The man will make you beg, make you cry, rearrange your insides, make you fall in love and break you down all within a night.

The man is all kinds of fucked up. But knows how to hide it well.

Under Lloyds employement so like, you can guess the kinds of fucked up. 

Did awful things while serving in the army, brought some of that back home with him.

Protect you? More like slaughter anyone who gives you a momentary glance. 

Top Three: Rough (Violent) Sex, Service Kink, Corruption Kink.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐲

28 years old.

6’1’’.

Cocky motherfucker, hot and he knows it.

The embodiment of a hyper puppy. 

Acts like he’s always got the zoomies whenever he’s in the club.

Annoys the absolute shit out of all the girls but he’s hot, so they deal with it.

Secretly a sweetheart but never shuts his mouth.

Gets a little too handsy when he’s had a drink– or five. 

Always asking Pete to loan him one of his girls for the night.

Don’t get him twisted, the guy FUCKS. and he's NASTY about it

Top Three: Dirty Talk, Deepthroating, Body Worship (receiving). 

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟

43 years old.

6’0’’.

Corrupt little wank, like’s to make Pete nervous when he comes around, but he’d never spill on the shady things as he likes the club’s views. 

Talks big shit but you’ll find him in the VIP rooms on a Saturday night. 

A little wrong in the head, but treat him right and he’ll make you scream. 

Can get a little rough with the girls when he's had a few.

Tight with money so always tries it on for a discount for not opening his mouth.

Has a big cock and is smug about it.

Likes 'em on their knees with an wide open mouth.

Top Three: Daddy Kink, Corruption Kink, Choking. 

𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐲𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫

32 years old

6’0’’.

Troubled addict that’s in the club; Every. Single. Night.

Likes just to watch, girls kinda hate him in the club because he won’t even throw a dollar bill but will spend a paycheck on drinks and other things.

Spends money he doesn’t have, does the odd job for Pete when he’s in a little legal trouble which gets him the odd night in the VIP rooms.

Don’t underestimate him though.

Will have you crawling back for seconds.

While not the roughest by any means, get him high enough and annoyed enough, he’ll make sure you’re not walking for the next two weeks.

Top Three: High Sex, Overstimulation, Throat-Fucking. 

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐦𝐩 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

35 years old

6’1’’.

Idk, fam, somethings off about this one but we're gonna ignore it, okay?

Stares a little too long, kinda like he’s hunting.

Makes your heart race a little being around him– fuck or fight i guess. I know which I’m doing. 

Tips nicely but never wants a private dance, likes to watch and drop cash at your feet after.

Weirdo tbh. It’s not like he ain’t got the money. 

Sucks to be you if you decide to go home with him.

You ain't coming back, honey.

Top Three: Blood Play, Knife Play, Bondage/Rope.

*** if by chance, i have missed your req and you know you sent it before reqs were closed, please let me know asap so i can add it to this list!! thank u all sm for u patience. i love u all<33

#lila writes #chris evans #sebastian stan #pete's place #dark au #dark verse #steve kemp #bucky barnes #andy barber #mike weiss #lee bodecker #johnny storm moodboard #lila's concepts #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #dark chris evans fic #dark sebastian stan #seb stan gifs #seb stan fics #sebastian stan fic

[buckets-and-trees]

Prepare For Takeoff

Title: Prepare For Takeoff Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: vaginal fingering, dubious existing engagement

Logistical Notes: Another piece early in the days of the I'm Your Man AU.

Author Note: I started this AU when I was at an airport, and my recent trip had me thinking of these two again, and it had me wishing I were Andy's to spoil.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

While you aren’t used to being chauffeured to every aspect of your life (nor did you want to get used to it, the driver and vehicle yet another element that Andy insisted on in the new life he inserted you into), you know a security checkpoint where your driver had to stop and speak to someone else is not part of the typical route back to the palatial Barber Estate. You sit up straighter in your seat, looking first to the men in the front, but neither of them give anything away, your bodyguard Shep’s face is the same stoic expression as ever, and your driver Mark only glances into the rear view mirror to meet your eyes briefly.

Your brows furrow and you look out the window. You can only see large white buildings on either side of the SUV, and the overwhelmingly industrial feel has you at a loss for guessing the where and why of your location.

That is until you reach the end of the building and the car pulls around the corner. Now you see these large white industrial walls make up the sides of a row of aircraft hangars. While your jaw doesn’t drop, your mouth opens slightly. The jaw dropping moments as a character in the life of Andy Barber are so frequent, but you are starting to control your reactions a bit more.

The SUV pulls up smoothly to the side of a private jet, sleek and black, the late afternoon sun shining off its metal sides. Mark stops the vehicle, and as Shep opens your door, you are not surprised to see you are stepping out exactly onto a long, blue carpet that leads from the SUV to the bottom of a set of white stairs. At the top of them, Andy emerges from the plane, nodding to you. You smooth down the front of your clothing and glare up at him.

“What is this?” You call up loudly.

“You know what it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away for the weekend. Now, don’t be difficult, sweetheart, you’re going to love this.”

You feel a sting in your eyes but quickly blink it away.

You hate this because you know he is right.

Yet again he will undoubtedly give you exactly what you want and go beyond what you could even imagine for it, but because he wants to, not because you want any of it.

That is the constant curse in this relationship.

Everything you want, but all your choices stolen from you before you can make them.

You concentrate on taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase, mustering the strength that you will need for this. You have to armor yourself against his charm and his cunning. Every moment with him is dangerous.

“I thought it was time to take you away, make you forget the everyday. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

You blink, open your mouth, then shut it again. He is the source of the stress, but you don’t trust what would happen if you said that.

He smirks, then sweeps you into a kiss that immediately sends tingles all through your body, from where his lips press insistently against yours, tongue teasing into your mouth, to the hand he plants possessively onto you hip and the other on your back, pressing you flush against him, down to your toes, legs feeling unstable as he takes your breath away. You are helpless but to cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, because your traitorous body willingly surrenders to him, damn near craves him.

He finally lets you breathe again when you tap against his chest and turn your head, gasping for air.

He kisses your cheek, then your neck just beneath your ear.

Getting your breath back, you give a small huff. “So, what? I don’t even get to pack? You just have whatever I need for the flight and when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll just arrive to a closet full of new clothes and accessories?”

“Naturally.” You can feel his smirk against your skin for a moment before he bites at your delicate flesh.

“This is insane.” You push away from him and step through the open door of the jet.

“It’s not insane,” he says, stalking close behind you.

The interior of the plane is sleek, minimal, but the flavor of the furniture and decor evoke the same feeling as the common spaces of his estate with lush leather and dark wood.

The fact that there’s furniture…

“It’s not normal.”

Hand to your back, Andy ushers you further into the plane. “You’re never going to be subjected to normal again in your life.”

“But what if I liked normal?”

He sits on a leather loveseat and pulls you down immediately next to him, nearly in his lap. He counters, “You liked needing to get to the airport early, check your bags or haul them through security with your three-ounces-or-less limit on liquids, take off your shoes, and trek through the terminals to your gate?”

You sigh and look straight ahead.

He chuckles and beckons over a gentleman who offers a tray of drinks.

“Bourbon or champagne?”

“Thank you,” Andy says, and takes a glass of the dark bourbon.

“No, thank you,” you decline.

“The captain says we are clear for take off on your word, Mr. Barber.”

Andy nods. “Wheels up then. We’ll take dinner in ninety minutes. You can leave us until that point.”

“Call if you need anything, sir.”

You hear the click of a door as the man disappears. Andy takes a slow drink, then presses the glass to your lips, forcing you to take a sip before he sets the glass aside.

You feel the jet begin to move and then turn toward the runway.

“You deserve more than normal,” Andy says, eyes on you, returning to your conversation from moments before.

“Andy…” you hedge.

“I will whisk you away anywhere in the world. I’ll give you everything you want. You’re mine to spoil. You’re going to live a beautiful life with me.”

“Andy,” you start again, but unsure how to counter.

He growls your name and yanks you abruptly into his lap. He cuts any argument you were about to launch into by biting at your lower lip and grinding you down onto his hard bulge.

You whimper and throw your head back.

Andy assaults your bared neck with heated kisses. He knows he’ll have you a pliant mess for him to slake his lust in a matter of moments.

You know it, too.

And you know he’ll overwhelm you with pleasure of your own, never a selfish lover even though every other bit of him is selfish.

His fingers slip under the fabric covering your core without hesitation, and he strokes your labia, gathering more and more of your arousal as the plane picks up speed. Slow strokes back and forth, back and forth. The pad of his forefinger circles your clit and you bite back a whimper.

“Mmm, you know I love those noises you make.” He circles your bundle of nerves again, this time with his thumb, letting two of his fingers dip just slightly into your slick channel. “Give me what I want,” he coos, coaxing with another circle, and another, and you finally break, moaning openly for him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me know how good I make you feel.”

He pumps his fingers full into the knuckle now, and not like anyone else you’d ever been with intimately before. It’s only been a few weeks, but Andy has taken every opportunity to become a master of your body and coax and command pleasure out of every inch of you. He knows just how much pressure to apply when fucking you with his fingers, and he pushes into that spongy spot at the front of you walls insistently, repeatedly as the jet leaves the ground, making you cry out and shake on an abrupt orgasm.

You sink forward, hanging your head on his shoulder, but it’s only the first orgasm he plans to ply from your body on this flight. He draws your left hand to his mouth, and hums as he places a kiss first against the band of your engagement ring on your finger and then into your palm, before trailing his lips to your wrist. He eases you down to the floor, and you lay back and watch as he shucks off his pants above you before descending down to sheath himself inside you next, demanding more.

And as he fucks you there, then on another of the chairs, then takes you back to the sleeping quarters for yet more, you bend to his will and his demands and his lust, overcome with everything he is and everything he makes you feel, lost in the complexity of what he’s confined you into. His spoiled and ruined sweetheart.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #mafia au #chris evans characters #soft dark andy barber #I'm your man #aspen wrote something

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.

In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.

Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.

A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!

You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.

"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"

His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"

You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."

"I came in last week," he says.

You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."

"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.

"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."

"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."

"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"

He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."

He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"

"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."

"Is that what you wear?" He asks.

"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.

"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."

He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.

"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."

"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."

"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.

"How do you know?" You say.

"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."

"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"

"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."

"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."

"Charlie Brown," he repeats.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."

"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."

"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."

"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."

You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.

"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."

"Well, he was nice," you say.

"Kinda cute, too," she intones.

"He was shopping for his wife."

"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."

"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."

"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.

"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”

🎀

Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.

You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.

“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”

No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.

You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns. 

“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.

You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.

“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”

“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”

“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”

“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”

“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”

“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”

“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”

“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.

“What do you mean?”

“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”

“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”

“You don’t think I have money?”

Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.

He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”

You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”

“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.

You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”

“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”

“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”

He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”

“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”

“It won’t turn on,” he growls.

“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”

“Double As?” He repeats.

“It needs batteries, sir.”

He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.

“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”

“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”

“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.

“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”

“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.

“It says on the receipt, sir.”

“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.

“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”

“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.

“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”

Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.

“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.

“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”

“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”

She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.

“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”

You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.

Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.

🎀

It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.

You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.

“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”

“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.

“Right, can I get a name?”

“Why?” He challenges.

“For… for the package,” you sputter.

“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.

“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.

“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”

“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”

“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”

You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.

“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”

“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.

“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”

“Why would you do that?” He asks.

“Er, because… it’s policy?”

“You think I can’t afford it?”

“N-no, I didn’t say–”

“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.

“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.

He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”

You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”

“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”

“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”

He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.

You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”

“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”

“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”

“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”

“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.

“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #dark lloyd ranson #dark ransom drysdale #dark!andy barber #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!ransom drysdale #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #multicharacter #multifandom #knives out #the gray man #defending jacob #series #three for one

[rainydayandmondays]

Secret Santa is Coming....

Summary: Time for the Secret Santa gift exchange and Andy knows you deserve only the best gift. And who says it can’t be a gift for both of you.

Pairing: Andy Barber X Reader, Jake Jensen

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, male masturbation, female masturbation, voyeurism, Daddy kink, slight non-con

Author’s Note: A follow up to the Thanksgiving Potluck. I don’t think Andy is okay with just a one-shot with his sweet girl.

“Mr. Barber.”

Andy looked up to see you standing just inside his doorway. Your hands dropping to be held in front of you, he watched as you momentarily shifted from foot to foot. You were uneasy and that should never be how you feel around him. He dropped the affidavit he had been reading back to his desk, before rolling his shoulders, and sitting back in his chair. Something had you skittish and he wouldn’t have that.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

You bow your head at the nickname, your bashful reaction to it would never get old with him. However, he did try to use it sparingly. Waiting until you two were mostly alone, he would softly say it and watch you smile before catching yourself.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You looked at him, your brow furrowing as you waited for his response. Something was wrong. He could feel his own unease build up the longer he watched you, your fingers now fidgeting in front of you.

“Is that even a question? Of course, you can,” He gestured to the seat in front of him.

You seemed to loosen up at his response, your hands dropping the gripped hold you had them in. Turning to close the door behind you, you gave him a small hopeful smile before taking the offered seat.

He continued to sit back, despite wanting to inch closer to you. You were calmer now and he didn’t want to break you from that peace that you had regained, “What’s going on?”

You took a quick inhale before asking your question, “Are you the one leaving coffee on my desk every morning?"

The coffee. You knew about the coffee. After Thanksgiving, he hadn’t wanted to give up the feeling he felt watching you enjoy him so much. He embraced the flashes of you licking your lips after finishing his potluck offering. They would keep him busy popping up over the long holiday weekend.

Laurie had ordered in catering for their family meal. Things were starting to pick up for her at work as they entered the holiday season. Buying everything and then cooking the turkey dinner wasn’t something she was willing to take on. Instead, they had pulled the plastic containers from the takeaway bag, quickly heating them up before sitting down to the saddest Thanksgiving meal. Thoughts of you were the only thing that pulled him out his funk to start pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic.

He decided that weekend that he would find a way to share that with you again. Your friend may have thrown out that thinly veiled threat, but he would find a way around it. Returning to the office after the holiday, he decided to keep his ritual to his nightly shower. No more parking garage camera feed for your noisy friend to make noise about. He found if he worked late enough, by the time he got home, there would be no one up to ask why he took a tumbler with him to shower.

Filling up his trusty tumbler every night, he would grab it from the refrigerator each morning as he waved goodbye to a wife and son who seemed to be more enthralled with their phones than anything he was doing. Heading to the local coffee shop after his morning swim, he would sit in his car adding his special ingredient to the small light roast brew with double espresso shots and half and half.

Making sure to get in as early as possible, he would leave the cup of coffee on your desk before hustling to his office. He had done so for the last week, a smirk lighting up his face when you brought the cup to the weekly team debrief for the latest cases. But now you knew it was him. He should have known you would figure it out.

Trying his best to not react to your question, he pulled on all his skills to keep the best poker face. He could come up with a reason for it that wouldn’t return you to that ball of nerves that had stood in his doorway.

He cleared his throat before responding, “You caught me. I know the late nights you have been putting in. That can’t be easy to do and then only to go home and help your parents. Figured you might need something to look forward to.”

You hummed at his explanation, looking down before returning your gaze to him, “That’s very kind, Mr. Barber. Sweet even. It’s just…people like to talk. I’ve worked so hard. And I don’t want anyone to think that I got anything because of…because of anything else other than work.”

Your eyes had continued to flit between him and your hands in your lap as you spoke. He could tell that you had thought through your small speech, probably even prepped yourself on your drive in. He also knew that one of the office gossips had gotten to you. He was selfish and he wanted the moments with you but not at the risk of you feeling uncomfortable.

Leaning against the desk, he looked at you straight on, expressing as much empathy as possible, “Understood. No more coffees.”

Your shoulders finally came down from around your ears and you sighed, nodding back in thanks.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber,” you replied before rising to walk towards his office door. He wanted to correct you. Remind you to call him Andy. However, he figured it was best not to push his luck. Watching you push the wrinkles from your skirt as you walked away, he called back to you, “I don’t want you worrying about this or what anyone may say, okay?”

Stopping to look over your shoulder, you reached to grab at your necklace, “I won’t.”

“Promise me?” He smirked as you continued to twiddle with the gold chain.

“I promise,” you answered as he nodded for you to leave.

With the click of his door closing, he looked down at his desk, saving your promise to his memory. He’ll use it later tonight.

Holding the slip of paper in his hands, your name neatly scrawled across it, he smiled to himself. A couple of people in the office decided to put together a Secret Santa exchange. Apparently, the Thanksgiving potluck was such a success when it came to team building, the higher ups agreed to the next holiday activity. Even had HR sign off on it.

Andy had been in court when the bag of names had been passed around. He didn’t give it much thought. Since your stop in his office a week ago, he had kept his distance. It wasn’t something that he wanted in the slightest. But he was willing to respect your genuine worry about office gossip. No more tumblers, no more early coffee runs. The research requests still happened but always through the weekly team huddle.

However, now seeing your name chosen for him, he had to smile to himself. Of course, it would be you that he would get. Of course, him trying to keep his distance would mean you finding a way back to him.

He sat down, leaning his chin in his hands, “Okay, sweet girl. I understand.”

The office had pretty much cleared out with most people starting their holiday vacations. The last few streamers from the small Christmas luncheon had been balled up and chucked in the bin, when Andy made his way out to the bull pin. You were waving off the last of the other paralegals as you collected your stuff to make your own way home.

“Hey sweetheart,” he saw you jump a little before turning to him.

You had worn a red Christmas sweater with a white bow handstitched along the collar. Your normal pencil skirt had been replaced by a pair of black slacks. And although not his favorite, the pants had done wonders for your ass. He had watched as you moved around the office putting up the last-minute decorations, only to take them down.

“Hi Andy.” You replied turning and looking up at him from your office chair. He caught the small smile that wanted to break free at your utterance of his name. That was good, you were comfortable around him again.

Clearing his throat, he brought the gift bag from behind his bag, presenting it to you, “Merry Christmas.”

“So, you were my Secret Santa,” you smirked looking at the packed gift bag he had hastily bought from the Walgreens down the street.

“It’s a three-part gift,” he answered, nodding towards it and urging you to open it.

Taking the stuffed tissue paper from the top you reached in pulling out a pink tumbler. You let out a small giggle, “For my coffee?”

He fully smiled this time, before shrugging his shoulders and pointing to the remaining items in the gift bag. Putting down the tumbler, you turned back to the bag, reaching the bottom of it, you pulled out a wooden paper weight. Carved into the center was the seal for Boston College Law School. Your brow creased as you tried to piece together the meaning of the gift. He watched as you finally looked back to him, your look pleading for an answer.

“That’s the second part. An old college buddy of mine is the registrar. I told him about a paralegal that had aced her LSATs, had helped on numerous high profile ADA cases, but hadn’t had the chance to enroll yet.” He looked on as the puzzle started to come together in your mind. Your brow creased further as tears started to line your eyelashes.

“They have grant funds set aside every year for students that display great potential. He took care of everything. You can enroll whenever you’re ready. There will be a space for you. That’s the third part.” He whispered the last of his explanation. The tears that had been threatening to fall now ran fully down your cheeks.

“Oh my God. Thank you.” You jumped from your chair, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

Initially taken by surprise, he hesitated momentarily before letting his body relax into your hold. His hands landing on your back as you sniffled into his dress shirt and whispered quiet thank you’s in his ear.  He threw up his own thanks at the office being empty. Something tells him that you may have restrained yourself more with an audience.

Starting to feel you pull away, he resisted the urge to cling to you. It had been a while since Andy had a genuine hug. He had been mostly regulated to side hugs with Laurie. Every once in a while, it would include a kiss to the cheek. And Jacob, well he was fully rooted in his teen years and any idolization that he might have had for his dad had been long gone. He would only get quick nods of recognition from over the top of the phone from his son. But now with you, he could feel the heat of your body, the small catches in your breath as you tried to regulate your outburst. This was something he couldn’t give up.

“I’m so sorry. That’s not very professional of me. It’s just…this means so much to me.”

Your tearful smile at him tempted him to bring you back into his embrace. To just hold you as all the happy tears flowed out of you.

You giggled again, shaking your head, “I have to tell my parents. I have to…”

He nodded at you, seeing all the possibilities run through your mind. He had opened doors for you. Had given you a better future. Had put that delighted smile on your face. He had done that. You quickly began to pack up your remaining things, yesterday’s brief stuffed in with your laptop. Turning to him again, you smiled again grabbing onto his forearm and squeezing.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas Andy.”

“Can you believe it, Jake? I can enroll whenever I’m ready. There’s a space just waiting for me.” You talked animatedly to your best friend as you placed the carved paperweight on your bookcase. It would sit perfect with your old undergrad books and picture of Jake and you from your graduation.

“That’s amazing, Ace! So, he just called a friend and got this all sorted out?” Jake asked facetiming you from his room.

He had suspicions about your kind of boss since before meeting him Thanksgiving. You had mentioned how many late nights you had been spending at the office recently and how walking out at night gave you the heebie-jeebies. The protector within him woke up immediately at that, ready to offer to pick you up if he needed to. You would never ask him to do that yourself. That’s when you brought up Andy Barber and how he started walking you out.

It hadn’t taken Jake long to dig up information on the ADA. He had the white picket fence life, although there wasn’t too much about his past listed. That was the first red flag. Hacking into the courthouse’s camera feed had been relatively easy. These older government buildings never bothered upping their security.

Andy Barber always parked in one of the garage’s blind spots. That would be the second red flag. After you left, Andy wouldn’t be seen exiting until half an hour later. What could he possibly be doing in a parked car for thirty minutes? That was the final red flag.

“His friend is the registrar at the school. He was able to work it out. What?” Sitting down on your bed, you leaned back looking at Jake on your phone. He was making his slightly worried puppy dog face.

“It’s just that’s a lot to get coordinated so fast.”

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Jake?” You asked only to see Jake’s face immediately deflate. The worried puppy dog look morphing to kicked puppy. His eyes widening behind his glasses.

“Of course, I’m happy for you Ace. It’s just that you’re too trusting sometimes.”

“I’m not a child,” you grumbled back, and Jake wanted to jump through the phone and ease your anger.

“You’re not. You’re a person with a good heart that wants to believe the best in people,” he saw the crease in your brow ease as he spoke, “And that’s why I gotta look out for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide your small smile at Jake’s statement. From the first moment he had run into on his skateboard, knocking both of you over in the quad in college, he had looked out for you.

“When do you come back?”

“Why? Do you already miss me?” You watched Jake wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, causing a round of giggles to erupt from you. He pretended to be hurt by your outburst before continuing, “Probably not until the new year.”

You hummed, sitting back up, Jake and you sat in silence as he watched the disappointment take over your expression. He searched for a way to get you to smile again when he heard the knock at the door. Quickly looking back at the door, he breathed a sigh of relief seeing he had locked it.

“I gotta go, Ace.” He watched you nod a short okay, before finally getting up from your bed.

“I miss you.” “I miss you too, Jake.”

Andy sat down at the desk in his home office. Neck stretched back along the back of the chair, as he thought back on the last couple of hours since getting home. Walking in, he noticed all the lights were off, not even the Christmas tree in the den was lit. Disengaging the alarm, he made his way into the kitchen to see a sticky note stuck to the fridge. Laurie had to go back into the office to finalize the preparations for the end of the year gala, while Jacob spent the night at a friend’s. So much for family time.

Putting an order into the local Italian place, he went upstairs to change out of his work clothes. He contemplated jumping in the shower, until he heard the doorbell ring with his takeout. Turning on the tree in the den, he ate his pasta dish with only the twinkling Christmas lights on. What had his life become? What had his family become?

Dropping the to-go containers in the trash, he wandered back to his office. He thought about powering up his laptop and finishing the closing remarks for one of his cases, when he found the holiday favors that you had passed around the office this morning. Your red sweater on, you greeted everyone with such joy for the upcoming holiday. He couldn’t help but smile up at you, as you left the favor on his desk.

You were a sweetheart. His sweetheart. His sweet girl. He rubbed along his bottom lip as he remembered your reaction to his gift. The hug had surprised him. But fuck if he hadn’t loved every minute of it. He didn’t even mind the soft sniffling you made as your tears stained his tie. He had made those tears.

Opening his iPad, he logged into the recently downloaded program. Would you have already told everyone about what he had done for you? Would you have passed around the carved seal of your new school for everyone to admire? Would you have put it in a place of pride? He wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

Finishing entering the credentials, he watched as his screen came to life and he saw your bedroom space. It was cheerful like you, with multiple pillows adorning your bed and bursts of color in the pictures you hung on your walls. He devoured the scene, greedily taking in everything he could see, when he heard the click of the bedroom door. The small camera was powerful and could zoom 10x but was stationary in the middle of the school seal.

He waited, hearing you hum a Christmas song along the with opening and closing of drawers off camera and the tossing of a bath towel on the bed. Finally making your way into view, he saw your silk two-piece set. The navy-blue pajama top with white piping along seams hugged your tits. Your free tits, there’s no way you were still wearing a bra with the way your nipples poked through. And the shorts that accompanied it, covered the curve of your ass, but he watched as they inched up as you started to turn down the bed.

He shifted in his seat as he set the iPad to lean against the monitor stand on his desk. Widening his legs and easing back into his chair, he adjusted himself. He hadn’t had a chance for his nightly ritual. But seeing you now, he was happy to see he would have new things to add to his memory. You always knew how to take care of him. His sweet girl.

After setting most of the pillows aside, you climbed into bed, reaching over for your earbuds and phone. He couldn’t tell what you were listening to but judging by the content smile on your face, it must be good. He watched as you closed your eyes, listening to whatever was piping through your earbuds. Reaching down, he rubbed himself through his pajama bottoms. Nothing too aggressive, just softest of touches. The kind he always imagined you would give him. Always delicate and soft at the start.

He sighed to himself as he watched you, “My sweet girl.”

Lost in the moment, he didn’t catch you shifting at first. However, looking back at the screen, he saw your hand move to your top. You let out a small sigh as your fingers started to flick at your nipple, rolling it between your fingers. He frantically sat up, engaging the zoom function to watch up close. Your nipples were amazing, and he knew given the chance he would lap at them, giving them little bites to see you squirm. Your eyes were closed, breathing harsher, as you played with your tits.

“Play with her tits, sweet girl. Show me how sensitive they are,” He whispered as he took full hold of himself. After hitting his fist on the underside of the desk, he pushed back from it to make room for his hand as he continued to slide up and down his shaft.  

He could hear the little sighs you were making as they started to get louder. He knew you would be vocal. You would tell him everything that made you feel good. Both your hands covered your tits while the buttons of your shirt lay open from where you had torn it open to get your hands in.

“Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me.” He squeezed around the tip before breaking contact with the screen to spit down onto himself. At feel of his warm saliva, that winking eye dribbled out onto self.

Hearing shifting, he looked back to find you grabbing one of the pillows you hadn’t bothered to put aside. Now, what were you doing now? He watched as you grabbed the forgotten towel still at the foot of your bed. Placing the pillow in the middle of the bed, you draped the towel over it before swinging a leg over and straddling the setup.

“Fuck me. Take what you need, sweet girl.” He grunted as you started to rock back and forth on the pillow.

Your hips started a natural rhythm, one hand still pawing at your tit while the other held you steady on your perch. As he looked on, the more he dribbled out on his hand, and he finally reached down pushing his pants and underwear off. His ass was momentarily cold on the leather of the seat, but he couldn’t be bothered to care as you kept humping your pillow.

“Daddy.”

Andy nearly swallowed his tongue when he heard your whisper. Your bottom lip now caught between your teeth as you whined.

“Daddy is here. Fuck, I’m right here.” He fisted himself, finally dropping to grab onto his balls and rolling them in his palm.

“Daddy, please.” You mewled out your whimper and he had to grab tight at his base to avoid blowing his load right then and there. You were close, but fuck him, if he missed it by losing it first.

“What do you need, sweet girl? What do you need from daddy?”

“Daddy, I can’t.”

How could you answer him? You had to know. His sweet girl was so smart, she could figure anything out. You had to know he was here. That he could see you. That he was watching you. You were doing this for him.

“Yes, you can. Daddy says you can. I’ll even count down. Five.”

You stuttered slightly before picking up your pace again.

“Four.”

He tightened his grip, corkscrewing his hand on each trip up.

“Three.”

Your breathing was getting harsher as you brought down your other hand, using both to steady you as your hips rolled.

“Two.”

He was almost there. His balls had already started to pull up as he planted his feet to thrust into his fist.

“One. Come on, my sweet girl. Come for daddy.”

He nearly lost it, as you threw your head back, mouth gaping in a silent cry, and the rest of your body spasming. Fucking his hand, he watched as a gush of liquid flew out of you, wetting the towel beneath.

“Oh fuck. Such a good girl. Such a good, fucking sweet girl.”

Standing up, he aimed for the screen as he lost it on the image of his sweet girl squirting for him. He twitched and continued to rub out every ounce he had for her. For once, he didn’t think about it going to waste. It hadn’t, not with what you had given him tonight.

Bracing against the edge of the desk, he flopped back into his chair, as you rolled off your pillow completely drained.

“Thank you, daddy.” You gave one final whisper before peeling off your pajama shorts and grabbing the covers to go to sleep.

“You’re more than welcome, sweet girl. Rest now.”

Andy watched you snuggle into bed, returning to the woman he knew from the office. No longer the horned up, little one that just needed her daddy to take care of her. Taking a tissue from the console behind him, he wiped himself down before wiping the screen and desk. Pulling his boxers and pajama pants back up, he started to log out of the camera’s app, when a dialog box popped up, asking to save or delete recording.

He hesitated only for a moment, before clicking save.

Maybe these work holiday functions weren’t the worst thing in the world.

@sarahdonald87

@buckybarnesisdaddy

@theinheriteddutchess

@welp-heregoessomething

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #dark andy barber #defending jacob #jake jensen #the losers (2010) #the holidays with andy

[flordeamatista]

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙈𝙚

pairing:  soft dark!professor andy barber x reader

concept: Feeling my body spasming as I fall apart, I learn from your lessons.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: possessive Andy, hair pulling, dom Andy/sub reader undertones, age gap , edging, fingering,  fingering, oral (f receiving),pussy slapping,manipulation — soft dub con to be safe but reader is excited,  power imbalance, dumbification, praise, Professor kink, reader sent a nasty email to Professor Andy, Sir kink, dirty talk, spanking, size kink, rough sex, blowjob, throat fucking, unprotected sex, degrading, nickname- (love, princess, slut)

a/n: @sunshinebuckybarnes Now, have fun daydreaming hehe. Thank you for that beautiful ask.

the cute gif and moodboard made by me

line divider: @s-tarksintern

lovely betas: @writing-for-marvel, @purpleshallot and @beach-daydreaming

Masterlist

His path leads you into the darkness of blue but all you can see is the fire of desire

After he picked you up from the bar, you were cold and he was lustful, so it wasn't your fault.

As soon as you decided to go out, have a little fun, and were two tequila shots in, you sent him an email in the bar telling him that his grading system was terrible. You totally deserved that A in his human relations class and he needed to be more knowledgeable about the world. You were required to take Professor Barber’s class to finish your degree, and in doing so everything changed for you. 

It was Andrew Barber who gave you your new warmth and moans.

Now, who do you break your rules for?

"Professor Barber..."

You turned your head, your lips hovering over Andy's. Your heart raced as you stared into his blue eyes. The normally bright blue shade darker than you’ve ever seen; nearly black as his pupils were blown wide with lust.

"Did I tell you that you could talk back to me, Princess?" He whispered, his voice grating your senses like gravel.

You shook your head lightly, feeling that you had just dug yourself a deeper hole. Now that he has read that email, he was picking up the pieces.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"Turn around and read the email back to me," Andy commanded.  Compliant as if you were sitting in his class, your eyes drifted away from him to the laptop sitting atop his kitchen counter.

Your email glared back at you, taunting you :

Subject: Fuck You, Prof. Barber.

 The courage and vitrol that fueled your desire to give Professor Barber a price of your mind was astonishingly absent as you stood in his kitchen with his chest pressing against your back. Instead, seeing it filled you with dread and fear for what he may do to your academic career. Its heat pressing against your skin filled you with a desire you never knew existed, much like a coin has two sides.

Suddenly, you’re taken aback by the sensation of his hands sliding down your arms, then back up, enough to make goosebumps erupt across your skin, and for you to take a sharp breath.

You read the first line of the cursed email out loud, your voice wavering as Andy’s body heat intensified against your back. His reflection a shadow  staring at you through the laptop screen. You bit your lower lip to stem the tears that had begun to gather in your eyes, looking at the keyboard leaving your face raw and exposed to his punishment.

Andy wave his hand through the sweater and rubbed his fingertips against your nipple, and gently teased it. You felt your skin tingle in a frenzy of static as he pinched them.

A simple squeeze left you feeling as if your body was falling apart. 

As the warmth from Andy's center propelled you into overdrive, your tongue stroked across your lower lip. Andy laid light kisses over your neck, his fingers coming closer as he neared the center of your warmth.

In the palm of his hand, Andy swiped his thumb up, caressing the smooth skin with his fingertips. In the blink of an eye, he pulled back his hand and took your chin in between his fingers. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, his lustful eyes stared into  yours. Andy pressed his lips against your ear, and growled, "Repeat what you said in the email." 

Nervously, you swallowed.

How could you be so stupid to send him that email?

It wasn't your intention, but his grading system was out of date and he needed to fuck someone off to let his grumpy state see the light.

"Repeat what you wrote to me, word for word...don't make me ask again."

The thudding of your heart echoed in your ears. Each breath shook in your lungs. 

You mustered the courage you felt when you wrote the email and repeated, "Professor Barber, your way of living is sad, which explains why you are divorced and lonely—”

You paused.

Andy took his hand off your chin, gliding down your neck to the collar of the sweater. Pulling the collar away from your neck, he buried his teeth in your neck. “Did I tell you to stop reading?"

It was a new, fresh pleasure to wince in pain.

"N-no, Professor," you said shakily.

You felt Andy’s hand leave your neck and follow the curves of your body, stopping only when  it rested on your inner thigh. A tingle zinged throughout your body as Andy pulled your legs apart and revealed your lace panties that were soaked from your dripping cunt. 

"You insulted me, Princess," Andy growled.

Your lips curled into a soft moan as your eyes closed. Andy's eyes glowed with lust, his grin widening as he placed his palm on your wet pussy, forcing the lace aside to feel  the wetness that was his.

"Look at you," he beamed, “I've barely touched you and you're so wet for me."

You lost control from the  the warmth of his hand that rubbed your wet pussy. You believed  that you would stand your ground and he would change, but you were ── in his house, in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, half-naked- and his touch destroyed your strong aura as an independent woman. 

"You've been such a little tease all semester." He reached down to undo your lacy underwear, taking them off without any effort.

Was this an exam of desire?

"You are such a-"

Your insult cut short by a harsh slap. 

The harsh smack against your throbbing pussy left your body shaking, and you learned, in that moment, that he was holding the strings to your desire. 

"I don't hear you reading, Kitten." Andy’s voice slithered through the fog like a siren to a pirate.

But, instead of reaping your reward from a Professor knocked down, you walked willingly into his trap.

The second smack made your entire body tremble and your knees wobble.

"Are you getting quiet?" he smirked. When his hand smacked your throbbing, wet center again, your fingernails dug deep into the counter. 

Your voice quiet, you continued, “Your methods are ineffective, and no one is warming your bed with the ridiculous sweaters and ties you wear to hide your life and I bet your co—."

Trying to maintain your composure, your nails dug deeper into the counter as your body slowly reacted to the sudden change in events; as if you were stuck in molasses. One moment, you’re filled with a righteous indignation at his grading system that fueled your deep desire to have him know what you really thought of him and his course with no thought as to the consequences of your actions as you pressed “send”  The next moment, you are at his house, bent over his kitchen counter. You haven’t the faintest clue how you got here, your mind filled with nothing but thoughts of Andy.

You are sober but drunk with desire.  His desire. His attention.

You wanted to know how far this would go when you felt his touch. There was no doubt that you lied, but Professor Andy was a man.

A man who just needed you.

With ragged breaths, you tried to calm yourself, but your body rejected your silent plea for self-control as you fell back against his chest. Andy's fingers sped up, and as you trembled and instinctively tried to close your legs, you knew it was not possible to regain control from Andy.

"Mmm, Princess, let's talk about what you said about my manhood," Andy said softly as his lips met your cheeks, a soft kiss that contrasted with the strong smack he employed on your swollen clit.

In spite of your pleas for him, he ignored you and slowly inserted his fingers inside your body while he laughed at your squirming. With each movement you made, he slapped you again and again. Your moans were all that was heard and the feel of his fingers inside you with a slap to keep your mind from wandering.

His disciplined approach keeps you motivated and hungry for more as he leaves his mark on your body

"Princess, you deserve to be tortured the same way that you've tortured me all semester." Andy said as he swiftly pulled  his fingers out of you., Your eyes widened as he licked your juices off his thick fingers before turning you around to him. "You taste delicious and all dripping for me"

You gasped at his sheer strength, trying to push back against him. 

Andy held you down with his free hand as adjusted himself behind you. Knowing what was likely to happen, you moaned at the sound of his belt buckle rattling.

“Professor…”

"I won't leave you unpunished." He snapped his belt, making you shiver with arousal. "You don't want to be expelled from university because of your actions, now do you?"

“No, sir I will do anything” you pleaded as his fingers edged your heat. 

You screamed when he landed a stronger blow to your pussy before you could say anything further.

“Please…” you cried. The sudden intrusion of his middle and ring fingers in your body caused you to scream in agony as he didn’t allow you to adjust.

A steady rhythm of his fingers blurred your vision as you felt yourself edge toward your end; to the abyss of your orgasm.

“Oh, my God! Sir...” you cried. "I- I'm going to cu-cum..."

You were right there, right at the precipice of ecstasy. 

Andy ripped his fingers out begrudgingly and pulled you back from the edge of your orgasm. You squirmed and slowly cried out his name from the absence of his touch.

"I'm not going to let you off that easy, honey", Andy said condescendingly. He spanked you hard on your ass, then pulled you by the neck to stand straight.

“Take off the sweater, put it on the floor, and get on your knees.” 

You have taught me more about myself in your presence and reflection, his slut

Andy smirked and gripped the back of your neck, “What was the line you said about my cock?” You let out a soft moan when you saw his cock up close and immediately opened your mouth to let him use it.

Andy stroked your face with his free hand as he rubbed his cock's tip along your lips. "It’s time for you to learn your place and respect me,” He slapped your face and shoved his cock in your throat.

Tears fell from your eyes from the sudden intrusion in your throat. 

You felt the heat between your thighs increasing and wanted to please him. You enjoyed the gagging sensation his cock gave you in the back of your throat. You preened as you felt him tense up and his dick swell in your mouth.

Your ability to think clearly and to resist anything he did to you was gone. You were intoxicated s by his size, taste, attitude, and your own arousal. Your hand drifted between your legs to touch yourself at how hot it was.

Andy took a deep breath and tugged at your head, controlling your movements, your head bobbing down toward him when he saw your hand wander down your stomach. He pulled out of your mouth and pulled you upright by your hair. 

He smiled down at you as he reached down to grab your legs. He lifted you into the air, your legs wrapping  around his waist, as he carried you to his living room. Despite your behavior, the soft kisses on your hair remind you that he cares for you and that you are his princess.

The smell of his skin lingers on my body, and I crave more.

The soft cushions of his couch bounced when you landed. As he stripped off his clothes and got down  on his knees, his lustful blue eyes stared at you like a predator.

"Look at you lusting for me," he groaned. "Want to see what my tongue can do for my slut's pussy?"

He leant in as he listened to your desires, blowing soft air, inhaling your scent, and rested his nose on your pussy. 

His tongue came out and almost hesitantly licked your clit.

“I'm sorry for— the , please let me--” you moaned and grabbed hold of his hair, fists clenched tight. It was his tongue that reminded you he controls everything in your body. His beard burned your pussy and tickled your entire being. He gave you punishment so easily, you knew it wasn't even close to the end. 

You knew his game of seduction.

You moaned as you wrapped your body around his cool lips, and a smirk appeared on his face as he marked your legs beneath his fingertips and watched your breasts move with his rhythm.

“Andy, I’ve been so good for you, please... I promise I will do anything you ask of me, please fuck me up.” You cried, desperate to feel him.

The chuckle on his face was accompanied by a lick of his lips. Your hips jerked in anticipation of another kiss, but he stood away from you instead. In his hand, he spat, briefly stroked his cock, and then moved closer to your pussy.

“Oh, aren’t you so desperate for me?” Andy leaned over and roughly kissed you. You could taste yourself on his lips as you tried to pull his tongue closer to yours. You were his needy little slut

The tip of his cock teased you as you pleaded for him to fuck you.

“What makes you believe you deserve this? ”

“Please…” you begged.

"Well... " he said as you groaned beneath him. "Since you asked so nicely, and I respect desire"

Despite your squeal, he pushed steadily inward. While working in your cunt, he groaned with satisfaction, knowing he would be the only one to touch it.

He pulled his hips back and, for a moment, you thought he was pulling out, but the next instant he slammed his cock deep, pounding hard against you. You squealed out your wants.

Andy stroked your pussy passionately, fucking it deeply. When your pussy squeezed Andy's dick like a fist, he knew you had the tightest pussy he had ever felt. "Look at your pussy welcoming me in, it is so good, damn it is so good, do you feel it" he groaned in your ear as he leaned forward to grow louder and louder as he rapidly thrust into the pussy as he knew that the cunt was meant to be fucked hard, fast, rough, and deep.

It was a blissful feeling as your hardened nipples scraped against his chest while he rocked against you in response to each grinding thrust. "It feels so good, Sir...don't stop." 

Andy bent down to capture your lips,pushing his tongue down your throat. “You are my new fucktoy now. Your only responsibility is to warm your professor's dick whenever he needs it, right? I will never stop fucking you, my princess. "

It was a struggle for you to respond as Andy thrust hard and fast into your sodden hole, moaning softly while unable to reply, "Yes, Professor.". 

Putting his hands around the top of your head and linking his fingers, Andy rammed you down brutally using his own hands to hold you in place.

"My pussy, my princess," Andy whispered with every thrust as he slammed his cock in you, planting sloppy wet kisses on your jawline.

A deep expression filled his face as he gazed into your eyes. "Who are you?" 

You couldn’t answer him.  You wanted to tell him you were his slut and his only. Your vision spun as Andy dragged out your orgasm. Feeling as if you might pass out, you dug your nails deeply into his back.

Feeling my body spasming as I fall apart, I learn from your lessons.

The sweater was a reward for pleasing, and a punishment for looking gorgeous with it on. 

You sat in class, and awaited the professor's arrival. When you got a text message saying, "My sweater fits nicely on you and let me see my pussy," "you opened your legs so he could see it.

To know what is his, he needs to see it.

In front of you, Professor Andy was licking his lips and getting ready to begin his class.

Your ragged breath fills the air as I savor every drop, because we both know the fun is only just starting.

#-soft dark!professor andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #soft!dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber #soft dark!professor andy barber x female reader #soft dark!professor andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x y/n #andy barber one shot #andy barber smut #chris evans characters #andy barber x woc!reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x latina!reader #defending jacob #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fandom #chris evans smut #andy barber imagine #andy barber x poc!reader

[krirebr]

I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~1k

Summary: Andy gives you an early Christmas present. Why aren't you happier about it?

Warnings: Dark elements, threats of punishment, implied punishment, it's dark fic but mostly by implication. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge. The prompts I used, from the Naughty list, were 23. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.” 12. “Smile pretty for me.” and 19. “No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.” Thank you for the fun challenge, Navy and Roo!

This was my first time writing for Andy, aside from his brief appearance in Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire, the winner of this poll. Big thanks to @paperweight91 for helping me figure out my take on him. This is basically just a long drabble, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You sat stiffly on the loveseat as Andy rummaged around under the tree. You pulled at the hem of your black, sparkly cocktail dress. It was much shorter than you were comfortable with, but you were used to that now—your comfort not mattering. 

He made a noise of triumph and stood up tall, coming back to sit next to you on the couch. He handed you a beautifully wrapped package. “I know it’s a bit early, but I wanted you to open this one before we go to the party. Merry Christmas!”

You’d been dreading his office’s holiday party all week. All those people judging you, all those opportunities to mess up. You took the package and quietly said, “Thank you.” 

He chuckled, lightly. “You haven’t even opened it yet. Go on.”

As you carefully unwrapped the gift, your fingers trembled, uncovering a medium-sized square jewelry box. You took a deep breath, girding yourself before you opened it. Inside was a delicate silver chain with a pendant that spelled AB in elegant script. It took a moment for your brain to catch up, looking up at him as your confusion gave way to dawning horror. 

“I want everyone to know who you belong to,” he said, so softly, so sweetly. It was almost like he hadn’t just given you his brand. “Now is when you say thank you, sweetheart.” His tone was still gentle, but his eyes had started to take on that hard glint you were so terrified of.

“Thank you, Andy,” you whispered. 

He smiled, his eyes softening again. “You’re so welcome, honey. Now, turn around so I can put it on you,” he said as he took the box from you. You did as you were told and turned to face the other way. He draped the necklace across your chest and fastened it behind you. His hands ghosted over the back of your neck and you suppressed a shiver. “There. Turn back around now.” You did and he gave you an appraising look. “Smile pretty for me, baby.”

You gave what you were sure was a strained, brittle smile, but he still hummed in satisfaction. 

“Absolutely gorgeous.” His hand moved up to brush your cheek and you couldn’t help but flinch away from him. You regretted it immediately, but no matter what you told yourself, how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your body from being afraid of his touch. 

He sighed, exasperated, and turned away from you. “I don’t understand why you insist on treating me like the bad guy,” he said, dejected.

Because you are the bad guy, you thought to yourself, but you were smart enough this time to not say it. You’d finally learned that lesson. “I’m sorry,” you said, reaching for his hand, but he pulled away.

“If you were sorry, you’d stop being so ungrateful! No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.”

 You nodded quickly. You needed to placate him and do it now. “I know! You take such good care of me. I know that.”

He stood up and turned on you with his hands on his hips. “Do you know that? Because you don’t show it. It’s not how you act. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

The way he loomed over you made you want to cower, but you did your best to control your body. That would only make things worse. You had no idea how to respond. Another apology would only make him more angry.

He looked at you expectantly, but at your silence, he just sighed again, running a hand over his beard. “Maybe we need to continue this conversation downstairs.”

You sprang up at that and threw yourself at his feet. Not that. Anything but that. “Please, no, I’m sorry, I’ll be better. Please, no. We don’t need to go downstairs.”

He bent over to grab your arms and lift you off your knees. “That’s good,” he said softly, back to being gentle with you. “I don’t want to go down there, either. You know I don’t. I just want you to be good for me. Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner. At the memory, you couldn’t help but go weak in his arms, letting him hold you, taking any comfort you could get. “I just want to have a perfect Christmas with you, sweetheart, show you how much I love you. I need you to stop resisting it.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words falling out of you, too scared to think of anything else. You blinked back your tears, not wanting to ruin your mascara or get his dress shirt wet. He wouldn’t take kindly to being late to the party after all this.

He rubbed a gentle hand down your back. “Shhh,” he cooed. “You’re ok, you’re fine.” After another moment, he pulled away from you, looking you up and down. “Now,” he said, “take a deep breath and get yourself together. We’re going to go to the party and have a nice time, aren’t we?” You nodded, hurriedly. “Then when we get home, you can show me exactly how sorry you are, how grateful you are. Good?”

“Yes, Andy,” you said, quietly. You couldn’t make your voice get any louder. 

He stepped back into your space and wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. He kissed you slowly, languidly. You let him. You had to. You matched his movements with your lips as much as you could, but he never cared too much how passionate the kiss was on your end as long as you didn’t resist him. As long as he was in control. He pulled back and stroked his thumb down your cheek. This time you didn’t flinch away. “That’s right. There’s my good girl. Come on, go touch up your lipstick. We don’t want to be late.”  

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling

#dark fic #dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #navy and roo's sleepover #defending jacob #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #andy barber #kris wrote something

[shadeysprings]

Eyes of the Devil

—Boss!Andy Barber x Assistant!F!Reader

Summary — Happiness blinds you from the horror that looms around the corner.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, forced oral (m receiving), betrayal, blackmailing, cumshot to the face and implied kidnapping if you squint. Mean!Andy is present.

Word Count — 2.7K

A/N — My first entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. This is also the first time I'm writing for Andy. And honestly it was hard yet fun ^^ Should you expect more Andy from me in the future? Fuck yeah.

Shoutout to my betas by @vellicore and @lunarbuck. But all mistakes are mine alone.

Gif by @barneswilsonrogers

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Once again, you’re burning the midnight oil.

With the holidays fast approaching, Dolores in accounting has you working double time on filing the pending paperwork that needs to be audited before the year ends. Even so, it’s work you don’t mind—you have nowhere to be and no one to see, your cubicle serving as a fortress, your home away from home. 

“Aren’t you heading out yet?” You look up from your computer to see Mr. Barber smiling down at you, his coat hanging from his arm where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up his elbows. He already looks run down from the day’s work, yet he still manages to be chipper. 

“Just finishing up on some tasks, Mr. Barber.” You respond with a smile. “I’ll get going as soon as I’m done.”

“Is that the year end report?”

You nod and hold back the sigh that wants to escape. “Dolores doesn’t want to wait until the last minute to finish it so she’s asking for the report 3 weeks in advance.”

“Seems a bit early, don’t you think?” You think he’s talking to you, but his eyes are cast down, his lips twisted in thought. He must have forgotten that he approved her early leave, yet you don’t find it in you to correct him. “Well, you take it easy then. I wouldn’t want you getting too worked up over it.” Your boss says, concern laced in his voice. “Just finish what you can. And if there is anything I can help you with, you just say the word.”

“Don’t worry, Sir. I have everything I need—just have to double check then compile them before sending them off to her.” The assurance you give seems to placate him, and you feel a sense of joy that you see him about to take off. 

Not that you don’t enjoy talking to your boss; he’s the only one, aside from the other department heads, you interact with on a daily basis. But he’s still the CEO, and you can’t help but think about his rank and see him as a superior, even in an informal setting. 

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it.” He says, the smile once more present on his lips. But before he leaves, he adds, “Oh, before I forget,” Mr. Barber places a festive paper bag on top of your desk, one you failed to notice him holding when he passed by your desk. “Merry Christmas.”

A gift. Something you never expected to receive from your boss.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bother, Sir.” You tell him as you stare at the bag in awe. A plain white box is nestled between the sheets of pink and purple paper when you peek inside.

“It’s really no trouble. Just a little something I picked up from my overseas trip last week.” He explains, the smile on his face seemingly growing wider, more playful, something you’ve never seen on him before. “I hope you like it.”

You return his smile. “I’m sure I would, Sir. Thank you.” 

A snow globe. That’s what Mr. Barber gave you. 

But it isn’t just any snow globe, no. It is a limited edition collectible of your favorite cartoon character. You don’t even know how he got his hands on one, with it being sold out within minutes of being released, or how he even knew it was your favorite—probably from the small figurines you keep on your desk—but you feel elated just by looking at it. 

You examine it with excited hands, curious at the button that sits underneath the base. They never advertised it as something electronic. You press the button, and to your surprise, a soft melody plays as the faux snow within blows on its own, making it even more magical than you thought it to be. A tiny blue light at the chest of the character begins  blinking along with the tune, a squeal of glee leaving your lips. 

It has you thinking of buying him a really good present, one of equal value to the one he’s given.

With a smile, you stow away the packaging and set the snow globe on the shelf where you keep the rest of your collection. This one, though, has a special place at the center of all the others, the star of the show as it should be.

You stare at your computer in shock. 

The image of you naked in bed, one hand on your tit, and the other grasping a toy with the other end buried in your cunt with your face twisted in pleasure. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you immediately close the image, looking around to see if anyone witnessed it as well. But no one resides on this side of the floor aside from you and Mr. Barber.

Panic rises in your throat as you try to think who sent it to you. But most importantly, how they got such a picture of you in the privacy of your own home. 

Your computer pings once more, and your stomach turns when you see the same unknown email address pop up from the corner of your screen. You don’t dare open it, too afraid of its contents. Instead, you delete it, even empty out the trash all the same to completely purge it from existence. 

Beads of sweat form at your nape, the beating of your heart growing heavier by the second as the fear continues to bloom in your chest. What do they want? Why are they doing this to me? The thoughts swirl in your head, and all you can think about after is going home to hide. But you can’t; they’ve made it known to you that the place that should be the safest no longer is. They only have footage of you in your room, but it isn’t certain that they don’t have eyes in other parts of your apartment.

“Do you have a moment?”

Mr. Barber’s voice startles you, making you sit up straight  in your seat and look up at him with wide eyes. The smile on his face dwindles and turns into a curious frown, most likely recognizing the trepidation painted on yours.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, worry laced in his voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uhh—yes, Sir. I just—I think my breakfast isn’t sitting well in my stomach.” You lie, but you’d rather let your boss know that you’re about to shit your pants than telling him the truth.

“Maybe some soda would help? Or I think Angie in HR has some medicine you can take.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll figure it out.” You tell him, forcing a smile to hopefully stop him from prying any further. “Did you need help with something?”

As if remembering what he came to you for, he says, “Ah, yes. I actually do.” Pulling away from your cubicle, he adds, “I made some changes to my itinerary for my business trip—I was hoping to run them by you.” But there’s still apprehension visible around him as he makes his request known. “Do you have time to come to my office? Or do you want to grab some fresh air first?” 

You want to say yes, to deal with your anonymous harasser head-on, but deep down, you know you can’t. The fear would only grip you tighter and render you useless for the entire day, and the last thing you want is to show your boss an ounce of incompetence and a chance for him to ask what’s running in your head. 

“No.” You respond, already standing from your seat. “I can step out after our discussion.” Grabbing the folder you compiled for his trip and snatching your notepad from your desk, you follow him back to his office.

Work will help you take your mind off of things.

“Lock the door, please.” Mr. Barber instructs, and you do as you’re told. “If you can just take note of the new arrangements I made.” You step over to the side of his desk, taking the sheet of paper he holds out to you.

Yet shock grips you once more when you look down at it, your hands shaking as the sheet he gave you has the image that was sent to you earlier printed on it.

“You—”

“You scream and I’ll send it to the entire office.” Mr. Barber says, his concern from earlier is now gone and replaced with something vile as he looks up at you from where he’s seated. “So be a good girl and kneel.”

You don’t understand what’s happening. How did he get a hold of this picture? Was he sent the same email? Has your harasser already done the unthinkable, and your boss is using it to his advantage? Unless—

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Sweetheart.” From the way he says it, you know it’s a threat, and the one he said earlier circles in your head that you quickly obey, placing the folders in your hands atop his desk and getting down on your knees. You watch him with fear as he rolls his chair closer, trapping you between his thick thighs.

“Sir, what’s g—”

“Did I say you could speak?” Mr. Barber scolds, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him, his sapphire eyes looking darker than you recall. “You do what I say when I say and that includes talking, am I clear?” His words weigh heavy in the air, and you can do nothing but nod your head in agreement. “Good girl. We don’t want the entire company receiving such a scandalous Christmas present, do we?”

You shake your head, too afraid to speak, knowing he hasn’t permitted you to do so. 

A sinister smirk forms on his lips, and you keep your eyes on the button of his white shirt when he releases your face. You swallow thickly in fear, already knowing what comes next, what he would have you do as his hands fumble with the buckle of his belt and the zip of his pants. 

He groans low, the sound, although soft, echoing loudly in your ear when he pulls his cock free of its confines. It’s already stiff from what you can see, with precum beading at the tip. You shiver when he places a hand on your shoulder, fingers tapping, caressing the fabric of your chiffon blouse before he wraps them around the back of your neck.

“If you can fuck yourself with that toy, I’m sure you know how to suck a cock.” He utters, his other hand taking his length and tapping the tip gently against your lips. “Think of this as a performance review. You please me well enough, I might just give you a raise.” It’s a challenge, one you know you have no way of winning.

With shaky hands, you take his cock from him and stroke it a few times. Fear envelops you, the small space he’s trapped you in rendering you claustrophobic that you feel the pounding of your chest right at your ears. Slowly, you part your lips and wrap them around the tip, disgust rolling in your stomach as the pad of your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. 

But all of a sudden, he pushes your head down, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock. Tears pool in your eyes when he hits the barrier of your throat, choking around him. You try to pull away, doing your best to breathe through your nose while you push a hand against his stomach and the other slapping onto his thigh. 

You want to pull away, to spit him out and endure the humiliation of having your colleagues see the vulgar image, but Mr. Barber—no! He deserves no respect! But Andy is being forceful, keeping his hand around your nape and holding you down longer. Until finally, he lets go, and you gasp for air as you pull him away from your mouth, spit dripping while you cough profusely from the roughness he’s bestowed.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” He says between chuckles, taking you by the back of your head this time and pushing you back between his thighs. “We’re just getting started.”

He doesn’t even give you enough time to recover from his assault when he drives his cock back into your mouth, the saliva gathered at your tongue serving as lubricant, one he uses to his advantage as he pilots your head up and down against him. 

His groans of pleasure fill the expanse of his office, mixed with your muffled grunts of revulsion and torment. Though you do nothing to fight back, afraid of the consequences you’ll suffer if you do and choose to endure his depravity, to allow him to use you as he so desires.

“Did you like my gift?” He says between shaky breaths. “I knew it was perfect.” 

The snow globe! But why?! Why is he doing this to you?!

Shutting your eyes tight, you do your best to shut him out, to think of someone else, someone from your past who’s receiving the lustful deed of your mouth. But the way he says your name, the ways his voice continues to permeate your senses, makes it all too difficult. That it’s only Andy you feel, Andy who controls. 

Tears stream down your face when he takes hold of your face with both his hands. Instead of guiding your head the way he wishes, he fucks your mouth with reckless thrusts. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I saw you playing with yourself.” He says between grunts. “Couldn’t stop thinking of what else you could do.” Once, twice, several more times, the tip of his cock hits your throat. You stop yourself from gagging, staying strong to please him and deciding to pleasure him, hollowing your cheeks and caressing the veins of his cock with your tongue. 

If he finishes soon, your torment will be done as well. 

Placing your hands over his, you move to your own volition—much to his surprise when you hear the grunt from his chest and the way he frees you from his hold. You take more of him, all of him, one hand reaching to caress his balls while the other strokes what you no longer fit in your mouth. You even moan for added effect to make him believe that you enjoy what he’s thrust you into and that you share in his pleasure—one you can confirm when you feel him throb between your lips.

But once again, he surprises you, gasping when he pushes you off of him, yet his hand returns to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. 

“Open your mouth. Eyes on me.” He commands, and you do as you are told. Sapphires look down on you, even darker than before, and you hang your tongue like a dog while he takes his cock tight in his hand and strokes himself fast. Within seconds, he lets out a garbled grunt, and you close your eyes in horror when hot strings of white shoot out of him and paint your lips as well as your cheeks.

You’re crying once again, confusion swirling in your head. He played you for a fool—infiltrated the safety of your home without even so much as trying, because you let him in. But you fail to understand why. Why he’s treating you this way, why he even thought about treating you like this. 

You think he’s done when he leans back in his seat and loosens his hold on himself. But that’s far from it. Andy chuckles, deep and dark, pressing the tip against his come and smears it over your lips, pushing it once more into your mouth. 

“Swallow.” Another command. “Suck me clean.”

And you do. The warmth of his seed scalding your throat, and you fight the bile that rises in return.

“I already booked your holiday leave,” Andy says breathily with a sinister grin, his thumb rubbing at the back of your neck.

You look at him with wide, fearful and curious eyes. What? Holiday leave? But you never booked one. 

His laughter then fills your ears, seemingly sensing your distress. “It’s the changes to my business trip—you’ll be accompanying me.” He answers, slipping his cock out and taking your chin, rubbing his thumb against your lower lip that’s still sticky with his come. “I need all the time I could get to see if your cunt feels as great as your mouth.”

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber #eyes of the devil #tbschristmaschallenge #defending jacob #chris evans characters #shadeysprings fics