Big Bad Masterlist
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seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Japan
seen from Martinique
seen from Martinique
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
Big Bad Masterlist
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Big Bad 1
Inspo
Warning: age gap, dark elements....
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: silverfox!Andy Barber (mob au)
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
Everly has always been impulsive. And reckless. And beautiful. More often than not, the last trait bailed her out of the trouble the former got her into.
You don’t envy her. You could never live that lifestyle. Never throw yourself so carelessly into the unknown.
Opposites attract. That’s what they say. Since your first day in college, you’ve been almost inseparable. If it wasn’t for her, you never would’ve done anything with your youth. And without you, she likely would’ve gotten in way too deep by now.
You sit on her sofa, poring over the philosophy textbook that makes you crosseyed. You thought it would be an easy elective. Turns out, you don’t get any of it. It’s all a bunch of ‘what if’ and ‘why?’ but there’s really no answers.
You sigh as Everly giggles at her phone. She never studies. It’s a miracle because her GPA is the same as hers and she barely even makes it to her lectures.
Is that pretty privilege? You’ve heard of it but you always shrugged it off as misogyny or even just jealousy. You’re sure life would be easier if you were like her; blond, five-ten, and blue eyed. Still, you can’t blame her for a roll of the genetic dice.
“Fortelli is going to gut me,” you groan and slap your notebook. “Why do I have to care what some medieval priest said about animals?”
She looks over at you and makes a face. “Oof, weekly quizzes? Fun. You know they answer keys are all online.”
“What?” You scoff.
“Oh yeah. Guy hasn’t updated his lectures since before we were born,” she chirps. “I didn’t have to do all that. I just put on some nice lip gloss–” She pauses and her eyes widen. She stares at her phone. “Um, one sec.”
She stands up and answers the phone. “Hi, daddy.” Her voice raises several octaves in a singsong. “Uh huh. No, that’s strange…” She heads for the door. “I don’t know.” She laughs nervously. “No, daddy, it wasn’t–”
She opens the door and gasps. You glance over as she backs up. A man steps into the dorm and drops the phone from his ear. He taps the screen without looking and tucks it into his pocket.
“Daddy, what are you doing here?” She juggles her phone nervously then hides it behind her back. Her lock screen is here and Charles; that guy she’s been sneaking around with.
Her dad crosses his arms. You don’t move or say a word. He has that stringency to him that makes you feel like even you did something wrong.
You don’t know what you expected but they’re a lot alike; both tall, vibrant blue eyes, attractive. He’s older and there’s bolts of grey around his temples and through his beard. He must be the same age as some of your professors but doesn’t show it as much.
“Ten thousand.” He growls. “Evie,” he snips. “What did you do?”
“Daddy, nothing,” she rocks as she twists her ankles around each other. “Really. I’m being good.”
“I didn’t raise a liar.” He retorts. “Now tell me–”
Your textbook slips and you catch it with a scuffle of paper. You gulp as he glances over at you. His brows arch.
“Hm,” he hums. “I.. let’s talk privately.”
“Daddy, it’s probably just a mistake–”
“Now,” he points her into the next room.
She lives in one of the bougie buildings. You have a single room to her full bath, kitchen, bedroom, and living room. You can't even covet it as she's all too willing to share her spoils.
She pouts and drags her feet to the bedroom. His eyes longer on you and narrow before he follows. You suddenly feel very out of place. It isn't a new feeling, just much more intense.
You slide forward and shut the textbook. Maybe you should go. You planned on staying the night but the campus buses run for a bit longer.
Then again, you can't just run out. You teeter on the edge, of the couch, of uncertainty. You can hear their voices but not their words.
One sentence booms through clearly. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
You're having flashbacks of your own father. He never spared you any shame though. He would've scolded you right then and there and if he needed to give you a smack, he wouldn't shy away from that either.
The door swings open and you flinch. Her father stomps out and slows as he sees you. His lashes flick and his cheek dimples. His throat is all locked up, tendons bulging. He nods and storms out of the dorm.
You sit in silence as you wait. Everly emerges with a sigh. She shakes her head.
“God, my dad is such an ass sometimes. I told him, he'll get the deposit back,” she rolls her eyes.
You stare at her. She's entirely unfazed by the anger. You chew your lip and look down at your hands, clamped tightly around your books. Your joints ache at the tension.
“Oh,” you eke out. The slam of the door still echoes in your head.
“Ugh, please. Don't let him ruin the night,” she flops down with her phone. “He'll come around. I mean, Charles is one of his.”
You don't know what she means exactly. One of his… what? You don't ask.
“Um, okay,” you murmur. “I can go if–”
“Why?” She asks dismissively. “Whatever. He reminded me anyway. You have to come to my appointment!” She squeals and kicks her feet.
“Appointment?” You wonder.
“Well, secrets out so I may as well enjoy it!” She claps her hands around her phone. “Me and Charles are getting married! I booked the bridal boutique and I have a full Pinterest board of ideas!”
“Married?” You gulp. “But we’re only in second year.”
“Uh huh? And it’s boring. I don’t need school. My dad just wants me to get a degree so he can look like such a responsible father.”
“Hm, right,” you mumble.
Sometimes, she doesn’t realise how easy she has it. Not the way she looks, or that she is so outgoing. No, she doesn’t worry about tuition or her rent in a place like this. Not with her dad simply storming off because she spent ten thousand dollars; seems like it will stay spent and she’ll get exactly what she wants.
“I know lots of guys like Charles. If you’re interested. They’d love a sweet thing like you,” she smirks. “Oh, they just love taking care of us. All you’d have to do is let me put something cute on you.”
You shrug and slowly open your textbook. “I really need to ace this quiz,” you say.
I ᑕᗩᑎ'T ᗰOᐯE Oᑎ, ᗷᗩᗷYᗪOᒪᒪ
ExHusband!Andy Barber who was devastated. The documents were laid out in front of him, mocking his pain. Three years of married bliss, five of you in his life, now coming to their fateful end.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who smiled still, hiding the tremble of his hands as he signed the pages.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who kissed the back of your hand, a goodbye he didn't want to miss, as you headed back to your parent's place.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who drove back home that evening with static in his head, a deafening silence echoing through the mess that was his brain. You were gone now.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who opens the door to his house with the keys that had your initials engraved. Who walks in the hallway with all your pretty flowers and frames. Who sits down on the couch you picked out, staring at the half empty coffee cup on the table-- your cup, with your lipstick still smudged on the edge.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who goes to bed, inhaling in your scent that still clung to every fibre of the sheets. Who cries, for the first time since you told him about the divorce, as he hugged the blanket.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who realised then and there that he won't ever move on. He couldn't!
ExHusband!Andy Barber who keeps all your stuff exactly in its place, never drifting an inch away. The engravings? Polished. The flowers? Watered and trimmed. The coffee cup? Still half drunk.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who remembers all the times he made you smile. The way your pliant, wrecked body reacts to him as he leads you to delightful ruin.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who smiles as he looks down at your sleeping form, caressing your soft skin as he takes his time relishing your taste.
ExHusband!Andy Barber who just can't move on.
I'm sorry for my absence guys uni is doing exactly what uni does...drain the life out of me 😭 but I was horny for andy....and i missed him and I listened to this song and I was in the feels, and I missed you🥹
🏷️𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: @stargazingfangirl18 @sassandscribbles @epiphanyrogers @blobfishlol @angelryex @blue-eyes-in-august @buckybarneswife08 @elliestwoleftfingerss @swimmingnightcolor @highonmarvel @ktficworld @pinksplace @thatisamericas-ass
Stuck In A Rut
Pairing - Dark!Andy Barber x Reader
Summary - You work for the Barbers but just how far are you willing to go to keep your job.
Warnings - Noncon, obsessive behavior. 18+ Only! My warnings are not extensive so enter at your own risk.
Word Count - 1165
You had been working for the Barbers for a few months now. Hired to do their cleaning and any odd jobs that Mr Barber required whilst working from home.
There were a lot of positives that came with the job. The pay was great, the hours were good and Laurie even treated you as a friend, often inviting you to stay for a glass of wine or dinner.
Unfortunately there were negatives for working for the Barbers too. Andy's lecherous gaze that you felt on you at all times, his wandering hands that you often found on your back or ass, the lewd comments that fell from his lips when no one else was around.
You had taken it in your stride, ignoring him as best you could and carrying on with your tasks while Andy strode away each time and locked himself in his office. You didn't want to know what he was doing behind that door when he locked it, but he would often tell you anyway.
You arrived at work that morning and let yourself into the house as you always did, hanging your coat and removing your shoes before you stepped into the kitchen to begin your cleaning tasks.
Laurie had left a note on the counter with a list of extra tasks she required for the day, such as steaming her dress for the upcoming gala and setting up Jacobs new controller for when he got home. All easy enough to do.
You could hear Andy clicking at his keyboard from his office but you always ignored his presence for as long as possible, only going to ask if he needed anything when you absolutely had to.
The day ticked on as it should with no interruptions. You had managed to get all the usual cleaning tasks complete and had lauries dressed steamed and hung in her room before settling on you elbows at the kitchen island as you unboxed Jacobs new controller.
You smelt Andy's powerful yet heavenly scent before you heard the footsteps come around the corner. He was a handsome specimen, there was no denying that, in his tight jeans and black sweater that looked almost custom made as it moulded to his muscular chest.
He strode into the space confidently saying a quick hello as he made his way towards the coffee maker and got it started.
You tried to focus on your task as he pottered around behind you, but his very presence made you nervous.
Then you felt it, the sudden shift in the air and the subtle change in Andy's breathing behind you.
You knew he was watching you, but you daren't turn around to look the beast in the mouth. Your hands shook as you pried the controller from the plastic casing with a pop.
You heard Andy sigh loudly.
"Do you realize how hard it is to be around you?" He growled.
You swallowed harshly. This was how it always began, the lewd comments, then came a stray hand on your skin before he'd let you know he was going to jack off and lock himself away.
"Do you realize just how hard I AM around you?" He growled again when you didn't respond.
Your heart rate quickened as you felt warmth on your back and Andy's hands appeared on the counter beside you, caging you in.
He placed his nose in your hair, inhaling audibly with a groan as he pressed his body against you and you tried not to whimper when you felt his cock against your ass, rock hard beneath his jeans.
The controller was abandoned, dropping with a clatter onto the counter as you placed your palms down on the cold surface to try and keep yourself grounded.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this." Andy sighed, "Before I'll need the real thing."
He slipped a hand onto your waist and his hand began wandering until it landed on your breast and squeezed.
"I'll quit." You squeaked out as he pawed at your breast.
"No you won't." He chuffed, "We both know how badly you need this job."
You hated that he was right, hated that you had no control over the situation, only able to just stand quietly and take the unwanted advances.
You felt him begin to rut his cock against your ass and your eyes widened in fear.
"Please." You whimpered as your eyes glazed over.
"Shhhhh." Andy hushed in your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth, sucking at the flesh before releasing it with a pop. "I need this."
His free hand left the counter top and cradled your throat, squeezing lightly as if to remind you of the power difference between you.
With his hand on your breast and the one on your neck he pulled you against his body and his continued humping his cock against you.
"One day." He grunted, "This won't be enough."
You could only whimper gently as tears began trickling over your cheeks.
"I tried getting over my obsession with you." He began as he rutted harder and faster against you, "Tried pretending my wife was you, tried imagining you while I fuck my own hand. It's not enough, it's never enough."
"Andy please stop." You pleaded once more, even though you knew there was no point.
"Oh baby keep begging." He panted, "I'm so close."
You didn't, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of something that helped his relentless desire.
"Oh god." He panted loudly, placing his face in the crook of your neck and mumbling against your skin, "Feels so good baby. M'so close."
He was thrusting even harder now, making your own hips bash against the counter top painfully.
"Yes baby. That's it. Oh god." He began mumbling before biting down into your neck harshly, causing a small yelp from your lips.
His movements slowed and then finally stilled. He released his forceful hold on you breast and placed the hand on your waist.
He finally released your skin from between his teeth and you gasped in relief. His hand cradling your throat was then moved to join his other on your waist and he held you close.
If it were any other situation, it might seem sweet, a gentle hug after a tryst with a lover, but this wasn't that.
He breathed deeply into your neck as he came down from his high, chest rising and falling against your back while you silently cried.
Finally he stepped back and you inhaled a deep breath.
"Jacob will be home soon." He said sternly, "You might wanna finish that. I need to change."
Then he walked away. Just strolled out like he'd just had a casual conversation with you, leaving you to crumble against the counter as the reality of what just happened sunk in.
It was time to ask yourself a very important question, just how badly did you need this job? How far would you let him go?
Oh to be his controversially young mistress....
Andy knew you as a client, a client who's case he took extra care in ,from the beginning. You were a young 20 something year old research physicst at MIT . Andy always thought of you as very naive, until one day you invited him over for dinner, we'll not really, he started it but you took your chance.
"how about we discuss the case over dinner ?" He asked, your timings didn't really fit his, so he wanted to get it done over dinner , atleast that's the pretense he went with.
"my place? I don't feel like eating out" you'd offered, and of course he wasn't gonna turn it down.
And when he showed up at your apartment for dinner, with a bouquet of course, he wanted to be a nice guest, he didn't expect you to open the door in a flimsy lace black dress and an apron over it.
"dinner will be ready in 10 andy" andy really tried not ogle as you walked away, but it was hard not to notice your ass .
And you both did discuss the case over dinner, that is until you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, andy hesitated in the beginning, he knew where this was going, and he wouldn't be able to stop if he started. But he lost all control, when you humped him, rubbing your panty clad pussy on his pants , moaning continuously as you did so.
He woke up the next morning, with a satisfied smile , he felt more alive than he's ever felt in his years of marriage, he knew he was in trouble.
Twas the day before Christmas, andy and you were in bed , after spending your whole afternoon making love. "Baby can you make me your carrot cake tonight? Or Tommorow,or anday if you're free" he hesitated a little, because every time he'd ask laurie for something shed just snap at him.
"Of course I can baby,I'll do it tonight "
Andy exhales softly, almost like he's been holding his breath. His fingers trace your bare shoulder as you lie beside him—still warm from what they just did.
"You don't have to... I mean, it’s Christmas Eve. You should be resting."
But even as he says it, there's a quiet hope in his voice—the kind that only shows up when someone actually wants something nice.
"Do you want just a normal cake or buttercream with it , all pretty and nice ? "
Andy's eyes flicker up to yours, surprised. Laurie never asked how she wanted it—just made the bare minimum and called it a day.
"...Buttercream," *he says quietly, almost shy.* "With those little green things on top? The... holly leaves?"
He pauses, then adds softly,"You really gonna make it pretty?"
"Of course i will " you go to press a kiss to his cheek.
Andy catches your kiss with a small, tired smile—the kind that reaches his eyes just slightly. He pulls you close for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours.
"You're too good to me," he murmurs. "I don't... I don't deserve this."
The words slip out before he can stop them—quiet and heavy with guilt. He quickly clears his throat and sits up, grabbing his phone from the nightstand like he needs something to do.
"What? of course you do, daddy "
The word hits him like a jolt—daddy He hasn’t heard it in years. Not since… her. Since Laurie stopped calling him anything but “Andy” with that cold edge.
He turns his head slowly, eyes dark and searching yours.
"...Don't call me that," he says low—almost a growl—but there's no real anger. Just shock. And something else beneath it: heat.
"Why? You're not into it? I'm sorry i can stop it, idk why I said the " you said a little embarrassed
Andy watches the blush bloom on your cheeks—so innocent, so eager to please—and something inside him cracks.
"Don't stop," he says suddenly. Too fast. His voice is rougher now."You... you called me that once before, didn’t you? When I was pinning your wrists down."
Hee remembers it clearly—the way you whimpered it out like a secret prayer.
"Yeah , and when you were you know we're uhm fucking up my ass "
Andy’s breath hitches.
He knows exactly what you’re talking about. The night he took you from behind on the bed—your hands gripping the sheets, your voice breaking as he thrust into you deep and slow.
And then that whisper: "Daddy…"
His jaw clenches now, pulse jumping in his throat.
"Say it again," he demands—quiet, commanding.* "Like before."
"You like it when I call you that?"
Andy doesn’t answer right away. He turns his phone screen off, drops it onto the nightstand with a soft thud. Then he looks at you—really looks—and for a second, the lawyer mask slips completely.
"...Yeah," *he admits, voice gravel-low.* "I like it."
He leans in slightly,"You make me feel... needed. Like I'm not just some tired old man with bad knees and worse marriage."
"Daddy "
The word lands like a spark on dry tinder.
Andy closes his eyes—just for a second—as if letting it sink into him. When he opens them again, there’s something different: softer, yet more present. Like he’s truly here, not halfway in another argument with Laurie.
He reaches out slowly, cups your cheek with one large hand.
"Come here," he murmurs, and pulls you gently against his chest—one arm wrapping around you tight. He knew he was gonna ruin you tonight and nothing was gonna stop him.
1-800-TEMPT
$ log - plagued by loneliness, divorcee!andy barber calls a hotline, his night ultimately guided by your voice. $ warn --nsfw --dom!gn!reader --sub!andy --guided-masturbation --phone-sex --begging --orgasm-control(edging) --d/s(mild) --praise --dirty-talk(heavy) $ wc -w 2k $ cd masterlist / chris-evans # authors-note = had to get this one out my stale drafts.
Outside, the city lights blurred through rain streaked windows, but inside, the air felt stagnant, heavy with the ghost of a marriage that had dissolved under the crushing weight of public scrutiny and private exhaustion.
Lonely night? Let’s change that. Soft whispers, zero judgment, and all the time in the world. Call 1-800-TEMPT. Completely anonymous. Completely yours. Just press call... and listen.
The newspaper crinkled under Andy's grip, the sound unnaturally loud in the sterile silence of his office.
He sat in the same leather chair where he had dismantled witnesses and secured convictions. Tonight, the authority felt like a costume that no longer fit. His fingers hovered over the keypad of his desk phone, hesitating with the same practiced caution he used before a cross examination.
Then, he dialed.
"Hello," you answered, your voice a velvet caress cutting through the static. "You've reached the hotline. Who am I speaking with tonight?"
Andy cleared his throat, instinctively surfacing even as his pulse quickened. "Andy. I — I'm not looking for anything specific. Just — " he paused, the lie tasting bitter. " — Just wondering what your services entail."
"We provide whatever you need, darling," you interrupted smoothly, your tone warm but laced with an unmistakable authority. "But you sound like someone who spends his whole day asking questions. Tonight, you don't have to ask anything. You only have to listen."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "I'm not used to —"
"I know you're not," you murmured, cutting through his deflection. "I can hear the tension in your shoulders through the phone. You're holding yourself so tightly, aren't you? Like you're afraid if you let go, you'll fall apart."
"That's not —" he started, but the protest died in his throat when you let out a soft, knowing hum.
"Don't argue with me, Andy." The way you said his name though he hadn't given it sent a jolt through him. "For once, let someone else take the lead. Let’s start, shall we? Unbutton your shirt, slowly."
His breath hitched. The instinct to deflect, to question the premise of your command, warred with a desperate, gnawing need to simply obey. "I shouldn't be doing this here," he whispered, his voice cracking, betraying the controlled facade he maintained in court.
"You're exactly where you need to be," you countered, your voice dropping to a commanding purr. "In the dark, alone, letting go of the world. Now, hands on yourself. I want you to feel how much you've been starved for touch."
A shuddering exhale escaped him, the sound raw and unpolished. "Yes, I understand," he whispered, the admission slipping out before his professional instincts could snatch it back.
"Good boy," you purred, the praise landing like a physical caress. "Now, I want you to close your eyes. Forget all there is clouding your mind. There’s only my voice, and there is only what I tell you to do. Reach down, Andy. Feel how hard you're aching for someone to simply tell you what to feel."
His breathing became ragged, the rhythmic clicking of his pen forgotten as he obeyed. "I'm —. I'm doing it," he panted, his voice dropping to a desperate register. "Please."
"Please what?" you challenged gently, enjoying the way
"Please — please tell me what to do next," he choked out, the words stripped of all legal precision, leaving only the raw, bleeding need of a man who had spent years carrying the weight of everyone else's guilt.
"That's better," you purred, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that seemed to vibrate against his very skin. "I want you to grip yourself tight, Andy. Hard enough that it hurts just a little. I want you to imagine my hands replacing yours, guiding you, touching you. Don't you dare stop until I tell you to. You belong to my voice now."
The sounds that followed were primal — the wet friction of skin, the increasingly desperate gasps of a man unraveling in the seat of his own power. He didn't fight the shame; he leaned into it, using the transgression to drown out the echoes of the trial, the divorce, and the hollow silence of his life.
"Faster, Andy. But keep your control." Your voice is a quiet anchor, but the sounds coming through the receiver are anything but controlled.
The measured rhythm breaks into something more urgent, more desperate. You hear the wet, increasingly rapid slap of his palm against his cock, punctuated by his rough, guttural grunts. These aren't the controlled noises of a man in a boardroom; they are the raw, unvarnished sounds of a man coming undone. Each grunt sounds like it's being torn from his throat, heavy with the strain of holding back while his body demands release.
"Nngh — fuck, " His voice breaks into a strained moan as he picks up speed, the friction growing louder, more frantic. The leather of his chair creaks beneath his shifting weight, the only other sound in the office besides his laboured breathing.
Then, abruptly, the motion falters. The wet sounds slow to a stop.
"Please, I can’t —" his voice cracks, raw and desperate, stripped of every shred of professional dignity. "I'm so close, please —I 'm right there. Let me cum, please."
The desperation in his plea hangs heavy in the air between you, underscored by the sound of his ragged, uneven breathing. He sounds wrecked, a man balanced on the tight edge of losing himself entirely.
"Did I give you permission to cum, Andy?" you ask, your voice dropping to a cold, silky whisper that cuts through his haze like a blade. "Did I tell you that you could let go?"
A broken, gravelly whine escapes him — a sound that shouldn't belong to a man of his age or stature. It's a coarse, aged sound, stripped of any remaining authority.
Andy slumps forward, his forehead nearly touching the desk as he stares down at himself. His cock is a swollen, angry crimson, throbbing visibly with every heartbeat, slick with pre cum and trembling from the effort of restraint. His eyes flutter closed, his lashes wet, as he whispers hoarsely, "What — what do I have to do? Just tell me what to do so I can cum."
"Move your hand, Andy," you command, your voice flat and unimpressed. "Start again. From the beginning."
"What? No — " he splutters, a flash of his old defensive instinct sparking before dying instantly. "I can't — I'm too close, I'll — "
"Move it. Now."
The protest dies in his throat, replaced by a whimper that sounds almost pathetic coming from a man who once commanded courtrooms. With shaking fingers, he reluctantly wraps his palm around himself again. He watches with obvious agony as the orgasm he was seconds away from the release he so desperately craved slowly fades, leaving him raw, sensitive, and hollow. He heaves, his chest rising and falling in great, shuddering gasps as he stares at the ceiling, eyes all glassy and unfocused.
"There we go," you coo, your voice dripping with a condescending sweetness that makes his skin crawl even as it makes his cock twitch. "That was disappointing, Andy. But then again, men like you aren't always entitled to get exactly what they want the moment they want it. You have to learn patience. You have to earn it."
"Please," he gasps, his voice cracking as he forces his hand around the base again. The motion is clumsy, his grip unsteady as he fights through the hypersensitivity that makes every stroke feel like lightning beneath his skin. "I'm — I'm doing it," he manages to choke out, though the words sound more like a prayer than a statement of fact.
"That's it, good boy," you croon, the condescension in your tone unmistakable as you listen to the wet, reluctant slide of his palm. "Work for it — show me how badly you need to please me."
On the other end of the line, Andy's head lolls back against the headrest of his chair. Half-lidded, his eyes roll back into his head, as he melts into the leather. The powerful prosecutor has vanished, replaced by a man who is utterly undone by the simple cruelty of your voice. He continues to stroke himself, each movement slower and more deliberate than the last, his entire body trembling with every forced motion. He is utterly helpless, caught between the excruciating sensitivity of his own body and the absolute power of your words.
The office, once his fortress of intellect and control, has become his cage, and you’re the one holding the key.
Minutes pass, marked only by the relentless, agonising path you have imposed upon him. The silence between your commands is filled with the sounds of a man being broken down piece by piece.
All you hear through the speaker is the rough, desperate pleading of an older man who has lost all pretense of dignity. "Please — please, I can't take any more," he rasps, his voice cracking with every syllable.
He gulps down his breaths in ragged bursts, his hand visibly aching from the sustained effort. Through the phone, you catch the wet sound of his cock spurting — must be pre-cum, how adorable — some of it dripping onto the hardwood floor beneath his desk. His orgasm keeps threatening to break, only to dull away into a painful, prickly sensation of pins and needles every time he nears the edge.
"Now, Andy," you finally murmur, your voice shifting from condescending to sharp. "Give it to me, make yourself cum now."
As he drives his fist home in one last, desperate motion, a sound tears from his throat — it’s less a moan and more a wounded animal's cry. The grunts that follow are hot, wet, and utterly unhinged as he finally surrenders to the rush. You listen to the rhythmic, messy sounds of his orgasm, the way his breathing turns into broken sobs of relief as his body convulses repeatedly against the chair.
"There he is," you say, your voice dripping with a mean, satisfied praise. "Good boy. Look at you, completely ruined."
There is a long silence where the only sound is his laboured, shuddering gasps. When you speak again, the sultry, commanding persona has vanished, replaced by the crisp, professional tone of the hotline operator. "I hope you enjoyed the experience tonight, sir. Was everything to your satisfaction?"
His voice is faint, barely more than a thread of sound, thick with the haze of post orgasmic exhaustion. "I... yes. More than I expected."
You can hear him shifting in his chair, the wet sound of skin sliding against leather as he tries to regain some semblance of composure. "You sound out of breath, sir. Did we push you too hard?"
"No," he admits, a rough laugh catching in his throat. "No, it was — fuck — exactly what I needed." Through the line, you hear the faint sound of him thumbing his tip, likely trying to clean himself up or perhaps simply seeking the last fading tingles of pleasure. "I'm looking at — well, at the mess I've made in my office."
"A small price to pay for relief, wouldn't you agree?" you reply smoothly. "Will you be calling us again?"
There's a hesitation in his voice, the sound of a man trying to reassemble his shattered dignity while still caught in the afterglow of surrender.
"Perhaps," he murmurs. "Though I find myself wondering — if I did call again — could I request you specifically? Could I have you as my operator again?"
You can almost picture him through the phone this gruff, but whining mess of a man, slumped in his chair — staring at the evidence of his undoing on his office floor — waiting for a sign that he hasn't just crossed a line he can't uncross.
A soft, knowing chuckle escapes your lips, warm and professional, yet carrying the ghost of the authority he craves. "I'm sure we can arrange that, sir. We'll make a note in your file."
"Thank you," he breathes, the words almost lost to the static.
"Goodnight, Andy."
"Goodnight."
The line clicks dead.
$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hisokamywaifu @rosemint-tea
$ join taglist
$ cd masterlist / chris-evans
Daddy's Pride and Joy
Summary: Andy wanted you. He wanted things right. But your dad refused. What other choice did he have?
Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, narrow views of sex due to the time period, slut shaming, unprotected sex, breeding kink, PIV sex, first time, creampie, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 3.9K
Moodboard Event
Andy Barber Masterlist
*dividers created by @firefly-graphics
Your mom fiddles around with a bouquet of roses and daisies, refusing to meet your eyes. You’ve heard her talk about how you made a mistake for weeks now. How you put yourself in this position. That you should consider yourself lucky that things are going the way they are. And still you feel her judgemental gaze as she peeks at you over the bouquet.
“Marge?” your grandmother questions your mother. Picking up your dress, she then turns to look at you. “What did you do, you stupid girl?” You hold your head high as your sister starts to zip the dress up. Grunting when she reaches a snag. Well…it is now too tight.
“How far along are you?” You play dumb. The dress wasn’t supposed to be a give away. Your grandmother walks behind you to help your sister. “You could have gone with a bigger dress.”
“It fit last week,” your sister is much too young, and does not understand the adult conversation happening between you and the women who are ashamed of you.
“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”
“No,” Andy told you everything would be okay. And it would be. Everything would be just fine.
“Marge?” Your dad peeks out the front window, watching as the little boy from down the street pushes you in the swing. “Marge!”
“Yes, dear,” your mother responds. She wipes her hands on her apron as she walks into the living room.
“Who is that boy?” He points to the little boy with the bright blue eyes that had captured your heart the moment he and his mother moved down the street. “Hmm?”
“The kid from the old house up the street,” it isn’t like your father didn’t know this already. He asked about him every time you played with him. The problem was your father didn’t like him. Didn’t think the son of a single mother was good enough for his precious angel.
“The one whose father is in jail?”
“That would be the one. She fancies him.”
“I think he just sees an access to money,” your mother rolls his eyes, as she starts to step back into the kitchen to prepare lunch. “You laugh at me, but kids younger and younger are being taught by their parents the best way to money is finding some stupid girl that has a rich family to marry. He sees an in. A respectable man that owns a magazine, like myself. The heir…”
“We’re not royalty. His mother says he wants to be a lawyer.”
“Bah. That kid is a loser.”
“Sir,” your father attempts to close the door in Andy’s face, but the younger man places a foot there first. “I would like to take your daughter out on a date.”
“No,” he deadpans. “Is that all?”
“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.
“What do you mean by proper?”
“Oh, umm…I didn’t mean anything by it,” he meant he didn’t want to wait below your window as you snuck out with him. In order to not be spotted, he’d just take you on long walks at night, where eventually the two of you would lay looking at the stars. It was kind of infuriating to have you all alone. But you are a respectable woman. And clothes always stayed on.
“You know, Dwayne down the street mentioned something about you and her. Now, I thought it was a bit crazy to suggest that my daughter was riding in a car with the likes of you after midnight,” Andy stands up straighter. Nothing had ever crossed a line. But he has every intention of marrying you, and would prefer it be done the right way. “I want you to stay away.”
“I want to marry your daughter.”
“Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.”
“I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”
“You’re not marrying my daughter. Do you know why?” Andy shakes his head. He has done everything a man should do. He even has a job lined up. He has a home he is going to buy, just for the two of you, and eventually your children, and Bagel. He has a car. He will provide for you. “You’re a piece of shit, born from a piece of shit. Do you not think I know about your bastard father rotting in prison? Do you not think I don’t know about how your mom was making some extra money? You’ll never be good enough for my daughter. Never.”
—
You lean outside of your window, smiling when you see Andy on the lawn. Throwing your legs out of the window, you shimmy towards the tree branch, and make your way towards the most perfect man you have ever met. Getting down to his arms, where he gives you a bruising kiss. His hand is holding onto you a bit too high on your rib cage, and his thumb grazes over your breast before you jump away from him. He shouldn’t touch you there while at your parents’ home.
“Where are we going tonight?” your voice is so soft as he grips your hand, and leads you down the road and to his parked car. You are so proud of Andy and all that he has earned.
“Did you talk to my dad?” Andy opens the door of the car for you, and closes it before he crosses over to the other side. “Andy, did you talk to him?” He has to let you date Andy now. He is a lawyer. And you weren’t some shy little girl anymore. You wanted to become his wife, and have cute babies with him. And the sooner that this was public, the sooner you can have that, “Andy?”
“He said no,” your arms cross over your chest as you look out the window of the car. “It’s not stopping me.”
“Why is he like this?” it upsets you that your father can’t see the Andy that you see. He is perfect. And he will give you a perfect life.
“Because you’re his oldest daughter. His pride and joy, and he just doesn’t want you to be married off to some boy.”
“Except you’re not some boy,” you give him a smile, scooting over on the seat towards him. Your dainty hand rubs up and down his chest as you snuggle in, “You’re all man.”
“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.
They’d tell you how a woman has wifely duties. But sex with you isn’t a duty. Sex with you almost seems like a life force for him. It is proper to wait for marriage, but this marriage doesn’t seem like it’s going to be approved by your father. And he’d hate to see you leave Andy behind because you needed that.
But…if you were to accidentally fall pregnant how could he say no? You would need to have a man to marry you. What man would marry a sullied woman? Leaving him with no choice but to approve the marriage. Demand it.
It’s not evil. It’s just changing up the way he would like things to go. He doesn’t want you to be looked down upon in the community. He wants you. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants his future wife properly. He’d taken way too many cold showers after leaving you. Relieved himself way too much.
His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him. You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.
Andy has always played the long game with you. He knew the moment he saw this sweet little girl rocking in her saddle shoes as you stood there holding out a coloring book and crayons for him, and told him that you have a swing that he was in love. He fell instantly and even told his mom that he was going to marry you. And he will. Even if you have to get pregnant out of wedlock for it to happen.
“Andy, where are we going? We’ve never been here before?” You ask after a while of silence. You are perfectly content rubbing on your boyfriend as he drives. He gets all fidgety and squirrelly when you do. It makes you feel better knowing his heart is racing just like yours always does around him.
“I bought us something.”
“Oh?” You look up at him with doe eyes, and kiss him on his neck. Giggling when he makes that sound. Kissing on his neck always makes him squirm. You love watching him adjust how he’s sitting and even how he pulls you closer to him. Letting his hands roam where they want to roam. You don't mind as long as you are alone.
“It might not be much. But this is just a starter,” he says, slowing down as he turns onto a road. You squeal as you look forward. Your hand lays on his upper thigh, and he clears his throat. Andy is such a funny man when you touch him in certain areas.
“Andy, it’s perfect!” It truly is. The cutest little white house with a white picket fence. A perfect starter home. “Can we go look?”
“That’s why we’re here,” you don’t even wait for him to open the door before you spring to the house. Having to wait a bit too long for him to come to your side and unlock the door before you're running through the empty house.
Home.
Yours and Andy’s home.
The kitchen is bigger than your mom’s, and a few modern appliances. The living room is huge, but maybe that’s because there was no furniture. Running down the hall you see the perfect room for a nursery. Can already envision the crib.
“Honey,” Andy pulls your hand down the hallway, leading you towards the biggest room in the house. It is mostly empty, sans a bed. “This will be ours.”
“Ours?” You sigh, turning towards him, and run both hands up his chest. “And we’ll get to sleep in the bed together,” your mother hadn’t quite taught you anything concerning marriage. And you’d heard your friends gossip a bit about their husbands, but it just made you queasy. You didn’t want to think about another man. You just want him. You want those conversations with Andy or nobody.
“We can do more than sleep,” he says with a sly quirk of his mouth.
“What else does one do in the bed with their husband?”
“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.
Your body heats up with ministrations, and you stare up at him with your eye lids at half mast. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try with you.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want to make love with you,” your tongue flicks out of your mouth, and you pull your bottom lip in. Biting on your perfect pout as you look up at him. “Do you know what that is?”
You shake your head no as Andy’s hands go to your back, and he grips tight to your zipper as he pulls it down. You gulp, allowing him to undo your dress. It feels right. And you love Andy, so making love sounds right. “When two people love each other, they give each other their bodies.”
“And then what,” you release a wanton mewl when he fully unzips your dress. Placing his hands back on your shoulders, he pulls the dress down, and you watch with bated breath as it pulls at your feet. Andy’s hungry eyes roam over your body before he reaches back behind you, undoing your bustier, and you’re the one pulling it off.
He stands there, taking your nearly nude body in. “Then what, Andy?”
“I taste you,” you gulp. “You taste me,” you shudder. “I enter inside of you,” you whimper. “I come inside of you.”
“Inside where?” Andy’s finger taps between your legs, and your knees start to buckle. Leaning more into him for support, and you shyly pull at his jacket, and fumble with the buttons on his shirt. “Have you ever came inside someone?”
“No,” it isn’t a lie. He’s had sex, and only because he wanted to be the best for you. But that part of him…it is only for you. “Can — I touch you?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and he leans forward. Both hands cupping your breasts before he sucks one into his mouth.
“Oh, god,” the other breast he squeezes and pulls until he reaches your swollen bud, and gives it a little pinch. You pant as you stare down at him. Sucking on your nipple before he pulls off with a pop, and moves to the other one. “Andy…I can’t breathe.”
“We’re just getting started,” he practically growls. He grabs your hand, and places it on his crotch, while you moan. Slick heat races to your core, and your mind goes all fuzzy. Andy always has this innate ability to make butterflies race to your belly.
Feeling Andy like this doesn’t even feel criminal. He’s showing you exactly why he adjusts his pants, “This is what you do to me.”
“And this,” you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. You can feel his pulse under your fingers. He’s so hot and heavy under your palms. Yours. This is all yours. “This goes inside me?”
“It does.”
“Show me,” Andy steps away from you before sinking to his knees. He starts to slowly peel away your panties and stockings down your body. Assisting you in kicking off your shoes, and stepping out of your confines while you stand completely bare in front of him.
“Andy,” you coo before he kisses you over your naked mound. “Andy,” you start to melt as he coaxes your legs apart, and he licks through your slit. “Oh dear,” Andy is getting a part of you that no man has. Open and so ready for him. Whatever it means. Is this what people are talking about when they mention the wedding bed?
Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.
Lifting you up, he lets your legs wrap around his body, while he moves you to grind over his enlarged bulge. Your eyes blow wide open with curious lust and the simpering sounds of your needy voice make his movements so much quicker. He could just about come looking at you like this alone. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs so wide to stare at your weeping cunt. Perfect. And all his.
“Andy,” you whine, wiggling around. You feel so exposed, and want him so bad. You want him all over you. You want him to feel a part of you that no one has.
“Shh,” he whispers as he starts removing his clothes. You gasp as his cock springs free. Scooting back in the bed, suddenly scared of where he says he’s going to have you. “You can take it. You’ll take it all, and if it doesn’t fit, we’ll make it fit.”
Andy clamors onto the bed, using his wide berth to keep your legs parted as he lines himself up with your center. Pushing just the tip of him in you and quickly pulling back out, and you yip. “Honey, you can take it, huh?”
“Y-y-yeah,” you take a deep swallow as he goes deep, but doesn’t pull out. “Oh, golly,” he slowly sinks his girth deeper. Letting your body adjust to the intrusion inch by inch. “Oh…oh!” Panting when he fully sheaths his steel rod all the way inside of you, and into the depths of your soul.
Both of your bodies hum with the throbbing intensity that is the two of you becoming one. It’s overwhelming and lovely all at the same time. All these years have led you here. Spread wide open for him. Taking him. Loving him.
“There’s a good girl. There is my sweet good girl,” it is overwhelming having Andy inside of you. Stretching you out deliciously. You want him always there. It just feels right. How dare your father try and take this from you. You belong with Andy with him inside of you.
“Andy, I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt. “Oh, Lordy be!”
“You like me fucking you?”
“Uh huh,” such terrible language, but right here, right now, it feels wrong not to be saying that. “Fuck me harder. I like that,” he snaps his hips, barreling back into you. Again. Again. And again. And tears spring to your eyes, but he kisses them away. Pistoning into your body with such force you cry out.
The fullness of him. It makes it hard to breathe. Even the sting of the stretch doesn’t hurt all that much.
“Good girl. You sound so pretty crying for me,” you just cling on for dear life as Andy’s movements make the bed slap against the wall. “You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.”
You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.
And he would be. He’ll keep fucking you, and planting his seed until it takes. What is your dad going to say when you’re swelling with Andy’s pride and joy? He wouldn’t want to ruin your good name, therefore the family’s. He’ll be forced to allow you to marry. And he’ll have you exactly how he wants you.
On your back, taking him every night, while every day he gets to worship you. The dream.
“Sugar,” Andy pants, his movements stiffening up. “I’m gonna give us a baby.”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Fuck,” he crows, keeping himself lodged deep in your body. “Fuck!” Warmth blooms in your belly, and your mouth goes slack as you stare up at him. “This will be our little secret, okay?”
Until your belly is so round that everyone knows that he’s fucked you good and hard enough to get a baby. Men will stare jealously knowing that Andy has had you with no inhibitions. There will come a day that he will get to tell people that the two of you are trying for a baby. Meaning they’ll know he’s fucking his come inside of you every night.
It will come. But for now, he’s going to keep coming inside of you. Creating a life in secrecy. In hopes that your father will approve this union. He won’t have another choice.
“Beige,” your grandmother huffs as your sister pulls the veil over your head. “You seriously think people won’t notice you’re wearing beige? You spread your legs for the first man that whispered how much he loves you in your ear. You will ruin this family!” your sister looks back and forth between you and your grandmother, but you keep your head held high. Today you become his wife.
“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.”
“Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”
“He trapped you,” your mother gasps, holding her hand over her mouth, while the other fans her face. “Sweetheart.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”
Let your mom continue to pray that nobody sees the weight you’ve put on. Four months, and six weeks, it is becoming harder to hide. There wouldn’t be a honeymoon. There would only be you going home to your husband. Sleeping in the bed right beside him where you belong. No more sneaking around, and leaving before sunlight. Everyone may know that you didn’t wait, and you don’t even care. Because he still kept his promise.
There would be no more lies. Only the truth, and that’s what has always been known. You love Andy Barber.
Andy Barber loves you.
And Andy is yours.
Masterlist
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Chris Evans as Andy Barber -> Defending Jacob