Big Bad Masterlist
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seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Mexico
seen from Belarus
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
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.
Come Plan Our Escape
Summary: Finally you get to get away and enjoy a relaxing vacation with your friends! And you get to meet a beautiful stranger who seems to be everywhere you go on the resort.
Pairing: Andy Barber x reader
W/C: 8.7k
Warnings: Angst, fluff, dark (implied)
A/N: It has been a literal month since I started writing this, but I finally got this finished. Special shout out to @krirebr for all her help and support (especially when I wobbled on the ending 😬) I appreciate all you do to help me be better!
The sun felt hotter than home, but in the most wonderful way, you were so excited to be away from the cold. This winter had felt so long, so much worse than you remember them being. Although you were pretty sure you said that every year. You let your head fall back as the sun kissed your skin, warming it. You felt like you were glowing, and soon you would feel relaxed.
You sat at the meeting looking around for your friends. No one was around. You loved the beauty of the location your friend group had chosen, although it was somewhat out of your comfort zone. You thought about texting to see where your friends were, when your phone buzzed in your bag.
We’re at the beach! Let us know if there’s any good excursions! - Tanya.
Of course. You were the responsible one. You didn’t really mind, you just wished they would wait for you sometimes. Checking the time on your phone, you huffed and anxiously started tapping your foot. You were eager to get to your vacation.
A man cleared his throat next to you, shaking you from your anxious thoughts. As your gaze traveled up his form you saw a tall man with khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt stretching broad across his chest. You feel heat gather as you find yourself unable to really pull your gaze from him. As your eyes travel up to his face a small sigh escapes your lips without permission. He has a strong jaw covered with a thick neatly trimmed beard, full lips, high cheek bones and - wow. The most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen.
Eyes that were looking at you. Eyes that looked confused?
You cleared your throat in hopes it would hide the fact you’d been openly gawking at this man for far too long. “Sorry, um, hi?” You tried weakly. If it wouldn’t have been wholly embarrassing you would have smacked your hand to your face, but chose to spare yourself further.
The man chuckled, and the sound seemed to vibrate deep in his chest. “Hey,” His lips quirked into a smile that had your heart skipping a beat. Calm yourself! “I was just asking if this is where we meet the travel rep?”
”Uh, yeah, yes? I think so?” Stupid! Stupid! Why were you saying it like a question? You knew this is where you were supposed to be. Your embarrassment had left you stumbling over your words.
Fate seemed to be on your side and saved you from further embarrassment by having the travel rep appear as if from thin air, then went on his spiel about tours, none of which appealed to you, but you knew your friends would probably like the tequila tasting. Maybe you would tag along, at least then you wouldn’t be sitting alone while they had fun. Your foot started tapping anxiously again, the dull rhythm only serving to drive your anxiety higher. You felt fingers nudge your thigh and your gaze snapped up to the bearded man who had claimed the seat beside you. He had a concerned if not, mischievous look on his face. He leaned in, his breath ghosting across your cheek. “Doing alright?”
Your eyes widened and you nodded before settling your gaze back on the travel rep.
Finally he told you when the bus would pick you up. You set a reminder in your phone as some people went to go book their excursions. The man beside you got up at the same time as you, and you awkwardly gestured to follow him out of the seats. He looked like he wanted to say something, but you quickly gave an awkward smile and a wave before dashing to the nearest bathroom.
A quick text to Tanya while you splashed some cool water on your face and you knew where to find your friends. You checked your appearance in the mirror one last time and then set off for the beach volleyball area, wherever that was.
**************************************************************************
“Ugh, this is it you know?” Sarah sighed out beside you, “The sun, the water, this is where I’m meant to be.”
As much as you hated to admit it, you had to agree with her, she seemed to be like a maiden stretched out on the beach lounger. She looked impeccable. You glanced down at your old bathing suit and tried to adjust your cover up, feeling more self conscious.
“I can’t believe they are still playing volleyball.” You laughed as Tanya dived for a shot and missed. “I think I’m gonna get a drink, you want anything?”
Sarah merely shook her head as she eyed one of the guys playing with Tanya biting her lip. You were suddenly glad you had insisted you all get your own rooms.
You picked your way along the beach, wondering how everyone else made it look so effortless. You felt like a mermaid who had just gotten her legs. You really wished they had a bar closer. You tripped over yourself just as the bar came into sight, and prepared to make a crash landing into the sand.
Except, it never came.
Two strong arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into a firm chest. “Woah there, that could’ve been really bad.”
You stuttered out jumbled words mixed with apologies before turning to the man behind you, his hands slipping to your hips. “Oh, it’s you again! Thank you! I don’t know why I can’t seem to navigate the sand.”
He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, a hint of pink high on his cheeks. “You could always buy me a drink to say thank you.” His smile filled you with warmth and sent a tingle through your body. “Although, I think I’ll stay close by so we avoid any accidents.” You nearly swooned at the wink he sent you.
The man kept his hand securely on your waist as you both walked towards the beach bar. You felt your anxiety rise as you got closer, and suddenly blurted out your name. At the man’s confused expression, you continued, “That’s my name. Sorry, God, why am I like this?” You whined to yourself, although you were sure he heard you based on the chuckle to your left.
”Beautiful.” He murmured. At your questioning look he merely shook his head and continued. “I’m Andy.”
“Nice to meet you Andy.” A broad smile spread across your face. It was odd, this ease with a stranger.
With Andy’s help you both finally made it to the beach side bar and each ordered a beer. “Why don’t you grab a table and I’ll bring them over?” His suggestion sent a thrill up your spine. Which you quickly tamped down, the girls. This was supposed to be a friends trip for the three of you. Not the time to be finding a man.
Andy watched as your face twisted and quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Uh, I’ll see you around.”
Your stomach dropped. “No!” Without thinking you reached for his hand. “I’m really sorry. I would love to sit, but I’m here with my friends, and I just-I would feel terrible if I abandoned them on the first day.”
You do your best impression of a puppy while staring up at Andy, not really sure why you have this intense need for this stranger to believe you, but you do. The lines on his face soften, almost against his will. He hums and he licks his lips, your eyes tracking the movement. “Well, then I won’t keep you from your friends.” Dipping his head close he murmured so only you would hear, “Maybe I’ll find you later tonight.”
With that he pulled back and winked at you before walking towards the pool. The opposite direction of you. You stood in shock for a moment before chugging your beer and heading back to the beach.
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The music in the club was pounding against your ears, helping to keep your floaty drunk feeling going. You were surprised that Sarah and Tanya had convinced you to go off-resort. Your normal hesitance and nerves about being somewhere foreign left behind. You laughed as the three of you twirled and danced with the beat of the music, not caring about how ridiculous you all must look.
When the urge to pee became too much you yelled to Sarah and pointed to the back where the restrooms were. She barely acknowledged you, instead turning to grind on a man you somewhat recognized from the beach. Weaving your way through the crowd proved somewhat harder than expected as the writhing bodies and bass seemed to pull you into their rhythm. Giggling as you finally made it to the restroom, the light and floaty feeling taking the edges off of the night.
Finally relieved, your head felt slightly clearer, you exited the bathroom and ran straight into a broad chest. Arms gently steadying you. You placed your hands on a firm chest and your eyes widened. It was him again, Andy. He smirked down at you and pulled you slightly closer as someone skirted around you two. “I’m starting to think you’re following me.” His tone was teasing and light.
You laughed, and the tension in your body drained as you settled closer to him. “Scouts honour!” You held up a salute, that you were pretty sure wasn’t right, but felt the rumble of his laughter in his chest. “Hey! I can actually buy you that drink now!”
You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the bar, jumping up and down. He wound up pressed behind you, from his chest down to his thighs as he leaned over you to give his order to the bartender. When you reached for your purse his hand covered yours, passing bills to the man behind the bar with a nod. You turned in the enclosed space of him and the bar and gave him a stern look. “I was supposed to buy!” Your features drew into a pout that had Andy chuckling to you.
Andy only shrugged, a small smile on his face as he took a sip of his beer. More people surged to the right of you, pushing you ever closer to the man in question. A look of indignation flashed on his features so quickly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been looking so closely. He pulled you away from the bar leading you into the dance floor. With the bass it was impossible to talk so he held up 1 finger. One dance. Your heart fluttered, he remembered your words from before about not abandoning your friends. You twisted around to see the girls not far, each dancing with someone themselves. Turning back to Andy you smiled and nodded, reaching for him to come closer.
You weren’t sure how long you and Andy rocked together to the beat, as servers kept bringing drinks. The music and time all started to blur and everything felt hazy around the edges. It was only when Tanya started tugging on your arm, that you realized how long you’d been dancing with Andy. You leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek as Tanya’s hand insistently pulled on your own. Andy’s hand lingered on your waist for a moment before smiling softly to you and pulling away.
The three of you giggled and traded stories on the ride back to the resort. “Who was that guy you were dancing with?” Sarah slurred in your direction. You giggled as you tried to think of the words to describe your chance meeting with Andy, before you could open your mouth to respond, Tanya cut across you.
”He was so hot.” You sealed your mouth in a thin line and simply nodded. Your friends laughing and joking the whole way back, while you itched at the thought of your friends being interested in Andy.
**************************************************************************
You groaned into your pillow. How much did I drink last night? Your head seemed to be pounding with the same beat from the club last night. You remembered flashes from the night before. Burning blue eyes, strong hands on hips, so much alcohol. The images flew through your brain before you could identify any of them accurately. There was burning anger roiling through your stomach. That one you couldn’t place at all.
Caffeine and a shower would clear your head.
**************************************************************************
Spa day babes! You better be in! - Sarah
Right, the spa. You were just not into it today. A lazy day by the pool, that sounded more like what you wanted. You hesitated before texting her back. Would they be mad?
Sorry girls, just feeling like a pool day today.
You smiled at the string of crying emoji’s followed by Tanya’s response.
Your loss, we are gonna look fabulous later 😉- Tanya
Sipping on your iced mocha you pulled your book from your bag. You were eager to read while you had the time alone. It wasn’t often you could score a chair in the shade with perfect access to the bar. A server came over and you ordered a beer, wishing you had some chips or something to snack on.
It was after a few hours you decided to reapply your sunscreen, when you saw him. Taking long strides on the other side of the pool, Andy. Something made you want to get his attention. He was making his way to the pool bar…you could meet him from the other side. Mind made up you sprang into action, placing your bag atop your chair lest you lose it, you slipped on your sandals and made a beeline for the bar. The line was long, but you didn’t mind. You weren’t really looking for a drink anyways.
It took you a few minutes to locate him in the throng of people, but once you did, a small smile graced your lips. You were able to get through with minimal upset, and a few “excuse me”s. Reaching out you placed two fingers on his wrist to grab his attention.
”Hey Andy,” Heat rose through your body, you were nervous and you weren’t sure why.
His head whipped around at the contact and your voice. A smile spreading wide across his face that made your stomach flutter. “Sunshine! Wasn’t sure I’d see you around today.”
At your confused expression he continued.
”The club?” He raised an eyebrow and let out a bark of laughter at your confusion. He shook his head. “Nevermind. Any plans for today?”
You beamed at his attention, “Actually, none. I’m really excited. I have a chair,” You gestured to where you had been sitting. “And when I left there was an empty one beside me if you want to…” You trailed off, your impulsive want had given you courage that was starting to diminish. “I totally understand if you’ve got plans or something though…”
Andy didn’t answer right away, his eyes took you in. From your overheated face to your aged bikini. He licked his lips, “Are you sure? What about your friends?”
”Oh,” you perked up, understanding his hesitance now. He’s so respectful! “They have been giving me hourly updates from the Spa. I’ll be lucky if they make our dinner reservations at this rate.”
Andy inspected you for a moment, your eyes round and a little pleading. A small smile played across his lips, “Lead the way.” He grabbed two beers from the bartender and followed you closely back to your lounger. You stopped short on your approach, realizing the group beside you had claimed the previously empty lounger.
“What’s wrong?” Andy’s voice rumbled behind you.
You turned to him and pouted, “Someone took the empty chair.” Andy chuckled and motioned you forward to your seat. You moved your bag to the ground and perched near the bottom, “Come, sit!”
Andy plopped himself to the back of the lounge chair taking a long pull from the neck of his beer, you could see his eyes dancing with mirth behind his sunglasses. His thighs spread wide on either side of the chair with his feet planted on the ground. “You’re pretty insistent, huh?” A small smirk played across his lips.
Heat gathered in your face, “No, I mean not really. Sometimes, if you know I need to, I guess.” You fidgeted with a loose thread on your cover up. You had been so determined to see this man again, but now that he was here, you found yourself at somewhat of a loss for what to say.
As if he sensed your nerves, Andy launched into conversation. Asking you about your work, about your friends. Before long you found yourself openly talking about all your family and your cat. You were so absorbed in your conversation with him, you hadn’t noticed yourself leaning into him more.
”Oh God, I’ve been talking about myself way too much.” You settled yourself closer to him again, “Why don’t you tell me more about you? What do you do for work?”
Andy sighed, as if he had been dreading the question, “Normally I lie when people ask that question.” At your confused expression he chuckled and continued. “I’m a lawyer, actually Assistant District Attorney back home.”
Your face must have shown your shock, because Andy chuckled quietly as pink rose on his cheeks. He scratched at the back of his neck nervously. “Wow, I’m just surprised,” His lips thinned and you knew your mistake, “No! You just don’t look the type! Sorry, God this is coming out wrong. Like um, in my head I always saw lawyers as these stuffy old guys with no hair and like beer bellies.”
Andy let out a bark of a laugh that soothed your nerves instantly, his hand smoothing along your arm. You felt a trail of goosebumps follow his fingers, despite the hot weather. You opened your mouth to ask more, when a sweet voice cut across you.
”Hey girl, come on, we got to get back to the room if we’re going to make our reservation.” Tanya’s voice was that fake nice one she did when she was working. You raised an eyebrow at her, but the only response you got was a glare.
“Sure, okay. Um, I guess.” Andy frowned, “I’ll text you guys when I’m ready, just give me a minute?” You motioned to Andy and Sarah rolled her eyes. The girls stomped away back towards the building you were all staying in.
“Sorry about them. Figures they’d get butthurt when I don’t want to do what they want to do.” You started to gather up your things, before digging your phone from your beach bag. There were several missed texts and calls from the girls which sparked a twinge of guilt in your gut. “This is probably too…forward but um, would you want to exchange numbers? So we can, maybe meet up tomorrow?” You didn’t dare look him in the eye, instead boring a hole through your phone with the intensity of your stare. There were only a couple more days in your trip, you didn’t even know where this man lived. But you couldn’t fight how drawn you were to him.
His hand pulled your phone from your fingers, and he tapped a few times before handing it back. “I added myself and sent myself a text so you’ll have my number. Look forward to hearing from you Sunshine.” His hand held yours for a moment, and you looked up to him seeing a sweet smile on his face. Before you could second guess yourself you leaned up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.
You were really excited for tomorrow.
**************************************************************************
Sarah and Tanya cheered up after you spilled on the details of your day with Andy. They also seemed to relax when they realized you hadn’t ditched them for him, he had just happened to be by the pool and you invited him over. They gushed about the spa and the massages you had missed out on. You laughed and drank and agreed to join them in the resort club later that night.
You felt your phone vibrate in your skirt pocket and fished it out.
Hope things went okay with your friends - Andy
Heat swooped through your body, pleased he had texted you first. “Is that your lover boy?” Tanya asked teasingly.
”What? Lover? No, no Andy’s just…umm” You weren’t sure how to describe him.
“Well you should get some while we’re here.” Sarah said, while gulping down a glass of wine. At your surprised look she continued. “I just know it’s…been a while. And it’s harmless, we’re only here for so long and then we get to go back home and back to work.” You all collectively ‘booed’ at the mention of work. “So, I am in full support of you getting laid! He’s hot.”
”Sooo hot.” Tanya chimed in. A pinched expression crossed your features, feeling the need to defend Andy.
”He’s also really smart, he’s a lawyer.”
”So he says.” Sarah covered her mouth after knowing she had overstepped. “Sorry, but I mean, I’m sure you didn’t tell him you did data entry for a living. He’s probably like working in the courthouse or something, and figured…nevermind.”
You frowned. Andy wouldn’t lie to you. You hadn’t lied to him. Even still you left him on read.
**************************************************************************
Another morning, another pounding headache. You pulled the spare pillow over your eyes to block out the sun while groaning loudly. You were glad you only drank like this occasionally, you weren’t sure how Tanya and Sarah did this every weekend. Your phone chimed for the nightstand signalling a message. You slowly pulled the pillow from your face and glared through half open eyes in its general direction.
Pulling open the message app, you rubbed your eyes in hopes of waking up more.
Morning! Wanna get coffee and walk along the beach? - Andy
Your stomach swooped in joy making you feel all warm and tingly. You contemplated your message back for a few moments before responding.
Just need to take a shower, give me 30?
You saw the typing bubbles pop up almost instantly, frowning when they disappeared. Maybe he changed his mind? You stretched as you waited to see if he would respond. After a few moments you decided to just get ready, and check once you were feeling a little less hungover.
Showered and dressed you felt slightly more awake than you had previously. Although you knew regardless of Andy, you would still be heading down to the little cafe to get coffee. Checking your phone you saw he had responded, and felt giddy at the sight.
Sounds good, can’t wait 😊- Andy
You swore to yourself as you checked the time and realized you had about 5 minutes to get to the other side of the resort where the little cafe was, you typed out a quick On my way before dashing out of your room, in hopes that Andy would still be there. On your way you listened to the voice note from Sarah, letting you know her and Tanya would not be making it out of their rooms before noon. You laughed knowing that they would regret not getting chairs at the beach or the pool, and knowing that was why she had left you the voice note in the first place.
Rounding the corner, you saw Andy standing outside the Cafe with two to-go cups. His eyes lit up as you approached and you found yourself smiling despite the lack of caffeine.
”I sure hope one of those is for me.” You pouted up at him.
”Well I couldn’t invite you on our coffee date, and not supply the coffee.” He winked as he passed over your cup.
Taking your first sip, you sighed as the flavour hit your tongue, and began to shake loose the last remnants of your hangover. “Thank you Andy.”
He sent you a beaming smile, gesturing with his free hand in the general direction of the beach. “Shall we?”
You nodded and followed his slow pace towards the beach. The wind had calmed from the first day you were there with your friends, allowing you to soak in the sun without sand whipping your face. The two of you walked in amicable silence for a while, each sipping your coffees.
“So,” You started, feeling unsure of yourself, “Are you here with friends, or family?” You weren’t sure why the question left you feeling uneasy, and yet it did.
Andy scratched at the back of his neck, pink tinging his high cheek bones. “I uh, came by myself actually. Had a lot going on at home, and just needed to get away for a bit. Clear my head, you know?” He chuckled softly, as you nodded along. “I think I’m pretty lucky though.”
”What do you mean?” You supposed it wouldn’t be the worst thing to be on vacation by yourself, but knowing yourself, you never would have actually come if it was just you.
”Well if I had come with a bunch of people, I know I wouldn’t have met you.” He winked, before grabbing your empty coffee cup and jogging to toss them in the empty cup bin not too far away.
You felt tingly from his words, and a little giddy. Andy walked back to you with a small smile on his face, and you found yourself drawn to him. Still, you wanted to know more about him.
“So, what’s your life like when you’re not on a beach?” Andy’s question left you kind of struggling. You wished you had a great story to tell, or some fun hobbies to share. But the reality made you feel kind of boring.
You laughed to try and hide your embarrassment, but it came out more like a wilted groan. “There’s not much to it really.” You sighed, just open up a bit. “I kind of hate my job, but it pays well and has good hours, which is so hard to find now.”
Andy nodded along as you spoke, you couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but you could feel his intense gaze on you.
”I go out with Tanya and Sarah the most, but I’m not really a huge ‘party’ person. So I don’t go out with them a lot. I recently got into baking though!” You could barely contain your excitement at your recently acquired hobby. “I haven’t done a lot, but it’s been so fun learning and getting to have sweet treats all the time.”
Andy chuckled at your enthusiasm, “Well that sounds like a fun way to spend a weekend.”
You beamed at his response. He doesn’t think you’re boring! You could have done a happy dance. “What about you? I’m sure being a lawyer, you have a hard time getting time to yourself?”
Andy sighed, “Yeah, you know. Most of the time it’s good, it feels like a good job. But there are times that I question why I chose this for myself. I always have to be on, which makes it really hard when I need to relax, you know?” Well no, your job was mind-numbingly boring, but still you nodded along, because you still understood.
“Oh!” You exclaimed, smacking your forehead with your hand, “I wanted to ask, where are you from?”
It was an innocent enough question, and yet Andy’s brow furrowed above his sunglasses. Realizing your mistake, you flushed in embarrassment, again. “Oh no! Not like ‘I wanna stalk you and find your home’ where are you from. No, I mean you sound like you’re from around Boston, and I have family there. And they have the same accent.” All in one breath, you said that all in one breath. Why were you so awkward?
The tension in Andy’s shoulders eased as he watched you speak. A twitch in his lip as if to smile, but he was holding it back. “No you’re right, sorry about that. I just get a little…nervous I guess. A lot of people don’t like people with my job.” Andy shrugged and you realized he had started steering you both back to the resort. “I’m from just outside of Boston actually, just a small town I guess. But it’s really nice.”
You nodded and tried to send him a bright smile that came out more strained than you intended. To say you were mortified was an understatement. You couldn’t even find words to continue the conversation. Andy must have noticed your change in demeanor, because soon he was pulling you behind one of the buildings.
”Hey, what’s wrong?” He pushed you against the wall gently, and framed your face with both of his hands. His sunglasses now tucked in the front of his shirt, you could see the concern shining through his eyes.
”I’m so sorry Andy. I didn’t mean to be-“ He cut you off by leaning down and sealing his lips over your own.
Your eyes were wide as saucers, shocked at the sudden turn of events. Maybe he found boring, stalkers charming? It only took a few moments before you let your eyes drift shut, and you let yourself respond to the kiss. And boy, did this man know how to kiss. You felt the scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and they way his palms gripped your jaw now, holding you in place. You placed your hands on his arms, and slowly soothed them up until your arms were wrapped around his neck. His tongue licked across the seam of your lips once, before pulling away.
You kept your eyes shut, as you panted for breath. Andy’s eyes were on you as you blinked your own open owlishly. “Sorry,” He smirked down at you, clearly not sorry at all. “I couldn’t help myself, you just looked so sweet.”
Your hands still wrapped around his neck, you pulled to urge him back to you, and he came willingly. Just as you were about to kiss again, your phone started ringing obnoxiously. You both groaned in unison, and you dropped your head to Andy’s chest. Leave me alone! But instead of listening to your thoughts, your phone just kept on ringing until you finally reached to check who was calling.
Tanya’s name flashed across the screen.
”I’m sorry,” You bit your lip as you gazed up at Andy, “It’s Tanya, I should check to make sure her and Sarah haven’t died of alcohol poisoning from last night.” You rolled your own eyes, knowing exactly what the call would be.
Andy’s expression was hard to read, but he nodded anyways.
”Hey Tanya, what’s up?”
”Hey girl! So where did you get a seat? I can’t seem to find you anywhere? And it looks like all the chairs are taken on the beach and by the pool.” You narrowed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, in hopes it would prevent you from sighing.
”I’m actually just taking a walk,” Andy motioned towards the lobby, where you saw them setting up for an event. “Probably going to head to the lobby to see if they have anything going on.”
Tanya huffed on the other end of the line, “Oh, cool. I guess I’ll text you if I find a spot?”
”Sure, sounds good!” You clicked off the line, bitterness and guilt swirling in your gut.
You hadn’t meant to lie to Tanya, and really you hadn’t. Just omitted the fact that you were with Andy. And still, you were annoyed that she had expected you, once again, to make sure everything was all set up for the day.
Andy’s hand guiding you to the lobby, pulled you from your thoughts. You peaked up at him, but he seemed to have pretty well ignored your phone call with Tanya. The resort staff had set up a painting session with different options ranging from knick-knacks to clothing to paint. “What do you think?”
You glanced up to see him inspecting you closely. With his gaze so acutely focused on you, you found yourself fiddling with the hem of your skirt. You weren’t sure how but you knew he was asking you to choose. With the bitterness of Tanya’s most recent call still on your mind, the choice was easy. “Only if you promise not to judge my terrible art skills.”
Andy’s laugh had the tension easing in you immediately. He placed his arm around your waist more securely and picked a spot at one of the more secluded tables. The two of you set to work each painting your own items. You had chosen a shirt, and had roughly sketched out the shape you wanted to paint. Andy had grabbed a small canvas bag and had just dug in. You couldn’t really see what he was doing, but he seemed to be pretty intensely focused.
“So, you wanna talk about the phone call?” You glanced up to see Andy still focused on his painting. Giving you the room to decide if you wanted to confide in him. You stared at his hands for a long moment, watching as he delicately applied more paint to his brush and began layering the colours.
“It’s not a big deal.” You could hear the sadness in your own voice. You added some red to your brush to add some boldness to your painting. You sighed, but kept your eyes focused on your work, afraid you would make a mistake. “I don’t really mind when they’re like this.”
Andy’s fingers brushed against your knuckles that had turned white with the force you were using to hold down the shirt. When your eyes met his, they were full of warmth and concern. You flexed your fingers under his, before threading them through your own. You gave him a weak smile, that you could feel turning watery. “I just get annoyed sometimes.” He hummed to encourage you to continue, “I’m the ‘responsible’ one, you know? I plan everything, I book everything, I make sure we get chairs, whatever. It’s my job. And I’m good at it, so it’s just easier. But I feel like…” you trailed off afraid to make the declaration that had haunted your thoughts out loud.
Andy’s fingers squeezed yours slightly, there was a pinched expression on his face. Like he was trying to puzzle out the best way to say something. Before he could you let free the thought that had tormented you for years, “I sometimes feel like it’s the only reason they keep me around. That if I just went with the flow, they wouldn’t want me around.”
“Oh Sunshine,” He scooted his chair closer and pulled you onto his lap, a soothing hand on your back. He placed a featherlight kiss to the top of your head and pulled you to his chest, “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
Your response was a mirthless laugh buried in his neck, “Or maybe they know enough.”
Andy pulled you back by your shoulders and tilted your chin up forcing you to meet his eyes. There was a fire that seemed to be burning in them now, and when he spoke his voice was stern. “No. Anyone who thinks that isn’t worth your time.” He placed both hands cradling your face now, “It’s only been two days and I know that all I want to do is spend more time with you. You’re beautiful, you’re kind, clearly smart, all I can keep thinking is I want to know more. There’s no way that anyone who does know more than me would want to spend less time with you.”
You tried to smile at him, but it came out more like a grimace. Instead you leaned into his hands and their strong, calming feeling. You let your eyes close and inhaled his woody scent, finding more comfort than you expected. Turning you placed a peck on his palm, “You want to finish your painting? Maybe go for a walk?” You shook your head and made to get off of his lap, at his confused look, you leaned in and kissed his lips.
“No, let’s finish these before they kick us out.” Your eyes darted to the staff wandering through the tables, who were starting to gather items from guests who had already finished their work. Andy sent you a smile that was half encouraging, half worried, but you placed yourself back in your seat and focused back on your painting. The little bird on a twig you had sketched out was so close to being done. It wasn’t going to get you rich and famous, but it was cute and you were pleased with how it was coming along.
You both worked in silence for the next little while, although you felt Andy’s eyes on you every so often. When you were finally done you held up your shirt to show Andy, his smile had you beaming at your work. When he held up the canvas bag to show you, you were in shock. He had painted a beach landscape, including palm trees and chairs with the most beautiful sunset above it.
“Andy! That’s incredible! I wouldn’t believe you did that if I hadn’t been sitting here the whole time.” His face took on a pink hue, and he was scratching at the back of his neck again. You grabbed his free hand with both of your own and said to him solemnly, “Thank you for showing me your talent.”
He pulled you to him as he stood, his lips placing a teasing kiss on your nose that had you giggling as you tilted to meet his lips with your own. Instead of acquiescing to you, he started peppering kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids, and even the corner of your mouth, teasing you as your giggles turned more raucous. You finally managed to grab his head between both of your hands and guide him to your lips. He rumbled in his chest, as you licked at the seam of his lips. He opened to you, but didn’t deepen the kiss further.
”Why don’t I get us a drink, while you find us somewhere to sit?” He suggested as he pulled away, you nodded and started to gather up yours and Andy’s things. Just as you started stacking away the supplies for the staff, one of the ladies came over, “Your boyfriend seems like such a wonderful man, you shouldn’t let him go.”
You weren’t sure how to respond to that, but gave her a sweet smile and looked around for somewhere to sit. Andy was still over at the lobby bar, so you chose a table that was shaded with a view of the resort. You pulled your phone from your bag and saw all the missed messages from the girls.
I still can’t find a spot 😩- Tanya
Me either! Are we all still looking? - Sarah
Nah, let’s go get drunk. - Tanya
There were several more messages, but nothing directed right at you. You stared at the screen for a moment, your emotions coming in waves. Until finally a settling peace came over you. Andy was right, and you were done taking care of everything for them.
You were startled from your thoughts by Andy’s return, he raised his eyebrows at you, but you simply smiled and accepted your drink from him. “What on earth is this?” You laughed as you looked at the multi-coloured monstrosity in your hand.
Andy looked sheepish and chuckled with you, “I have no idea. It was their daily themed drink, and there’s rum in it.” He took a sip of his own and then winced, “And apparently half a cup of sugar.”
You giggled at his reaction, taking your own sip, pleasantly surprised at the flavour. You wound up moving your seats to sit beside Andy, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder pulling you tight into his side. You felt the pressure of a kiss on the top of your head and sighed.
“So one of the ladies working the painting thing said something when you went to go get us drinks.” You didn’t dare look at him, not sure why you were bringing this up. Maybe to reassure yourself it was crazy, maybe to gauge his reaction, maybe both.
Andy stiffened subtly beside you, but hummed.
”She said you were my boyfriend, and that I’d be a fool to let you go.” You chanced a glance up to see his expression, as the tension eased from his shoulders. A smirk was pulling at his lips, but he was clearly trying to contain it.
Instead of responding, he angled himself towards you and turned you to fully face him. His hands framed your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. Nudging your nose with his own before sinking into your lips. He licked at your lips, his fingers tickling along your neck causing you to gasp. Andy took full advantage and deepened the kiss further, his hands drifting down your body.
After your initial surprise had worn off, your tongue met his to battle for dominance. A fight that you were already losing. Your hands started to touch of their own accord. His hair, his neck, his chest. You squeaked as you felt your seat move from an impact, jolting you into Andy and back to reality. You felt flush at the realization that you had been making out in public.
You soothed your fingers along the crease in his brow, which eased immediately and turned to follow his gaze. Behind you stood Tanya and Sarah. Sarah looked annoyed, if somewhat pleased, while Tanya just looked frustrated.
”So, when you said walk on the beach, you meant hooking up?” Tanya’s sneering words hurt more than you’d want to admit.
You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to form the words you wanted to say in response, but everything in your head sounded like excuses or pathetic.
“You know what? Whatever, you want to spend the rest of your vacation with him, it’s fine.” With that Tanya stormed away in the general direction of the bar.
Sarah gave you a halfhearted smile and squeezed your shoulder gently, “Have fun, just tell us the truth next time.” You winced, but nodded and reached for her hand squeezing softly. The look in her eyes held caution, something you rarely saw on either of your friends. She gave Andy a stern look before following in the direction Tanya had stormed off to.
Andy shifted nervously beside you, and you found yourself struggling with what to do. Chasing your friends meant abandoning what was happening with Andy. Staying with Andy felt like it was going to be a line drawn in your friendship. You grabbed his hand and whispered softly, “What do I do?”
For the second time that day, you felt tears gathering in your eyes. With his free hand, Andy stroked your hair back from your face. “I can’t tell you that, Sunshine.”
You whined at his words, knowing they were true, but wishing someone could just fix this for you.
”I can tell you I’m sorry.” Your eyes met his, seeing guilt and sadness swirling there. “I’ve been so selfish. From the moment I saw you, I was drawn to you. But, you’re on vacation with your friends, and I’m so, so sorry that I’ve come between you.”
”How do you do that?” You traced along his jaw with your finger, he quirked an eyebrow in question and you continued. “How do you-just.” You hummed and searched your brain for the words, “You haven’t done anything wrong Andy. They’re right, I shouldn’t have lied to them.”
”So what do you want to do?” There was no accusation in his tone, rather warmth and if anything curious. You shrugged once before shaking your head.
“They need time to cool off, and so do I.” You reached out to Andy again and cupped his cheek in your hand. “I want to stay with you.” Andy beamed at your choice and nuzzled into your palm. He placed a chaste kiss there before pulling you into another conversation.
You spent the rest of the day talking, walking, and drinking with Andy. The time had passed so quickly, that you didn’t even realize how late it was until the sun started to set. The two of you grabbed dinner together at the buffet, before he walked you to your room and you said your good nights.
While you got ready for bed, you decided to make a conscious effort to apologize to Tanya and Sarah tomorrow. Thankful for the early night, you snuggled into the bed feeling more content than you had in a long time.
***
The next morning found you down by the pool, with your things strewn across three lounge chairs. Once you were sure that no one would steal your seats, you made a quick trip over to the cafe to grab three iced coffees to bring back.
Hope you have a wonderful day Sunshine. ❤️- Andy
You smiled down at your phone as you waited in line, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
You too! Miss you!
You bit your lip, considering if you should have sent that text. You didn’t have much time to think on it though, before the barista was calling out that your order was ready. You thanked them and headed back to the chairs to see Sarah and Tanya waiting for you there. You passed each of the girls their own drink before taking a seat in the middle lounger.
“Listen, about yesterday-“ Tanya cut you off before you could continue.
”It’s fine.” From the thinning of her lips, and the way she refused to look at you, you knew it was not in fact ‘fine.’
”Just let me say this, and then you can decide if you’re still mad at me.” Tanya huffed, and Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing. I promise, I didn’t mean to lie. Andy had asked me to get coffee and go for a walk in the morning, and you guys had already left me messages that you were sleeping in, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal to go.”
You paused to gauge their reaction. Tanya was busy studying her coffee, giving you no indication that she was even listening let alone cared. Sarah was nodding along, which was at least better than Tanya.
”By the time you guys called that you were coming down, I had already realized that there was no chance we were gonna get chairs anywhere. So, I was already going to just wander the resort. But I should have told you then that I was with Andy. I’m really sorry I didn’t. And I’m really sorry that you thought I ditched you guys.”
Sarah pulled you into a quick hug, “Thank you! Now we can get back to gossiping and drinking and having fun. Right, T?” Her smile fell as she looked at Tanya, who seemed to be more interested in the guys throwing a football in the pool than the two of you.
”Hmm, what? Oh! Yeah, sure. It’s fine, I was really just trying to make you sweat it out anyways.” She giggled and winked at you when you finally made eye contact with her. “We should go flirt with them.”
You and Sarah laughed, but followed her into the pool. Spending the day laughing and joking with your friends had eased your guilt and your anxiety about everything that had happened.
Since it was your last day there you had nice dinner reservations at the steakhouse where you all mourned the return to reality. Just as you were eating your dessert your phone pinged in your pocket.
Since it’s our last night here, do you have time to see me? - Andy
You hesitated, you wanted to see Andy. You weren’t sure if you would ever see him again after this place. But you had just gotten everything right with the girls again. You cleared your throat pulling their attention to you. “Would you guys mind if I went to meet up with Andy after dinner?”
Tanya and Sarah shared a look before both turning to you with broad smiles. “Of course not, girl! Go, have fun with your hot, hot lawyer.” Relief flooded you with Tanya’s words. You pulled them both into tight hugs and went to meet Andy.
He was standing on his own, just outside the club entrance when you saw him. He had light dress pants and loafers on, paired with a bright blue button down t-shirt. From the distance he still looked so good to you. He was busy with his phone so you took your time taking in the arch of his brow and the way he bit his bottom lip.
Shivering you tried your best to sneak up on him, and tapped him on the shoulder. He swung around, a grin spreading across his face as he saw you. He swept you up and spun you around, which had you giggling and begging him to put you down. “I wasn’t sure if I would see you tonight.” He murmured before locking lips with you.
You gave into his kiss immediately. Tangling your fingers in his hair, while his own pulled you so you were slotted firmly against his chest. You both sighed as you parted, breathing in each other’s scents.
”It’s our last night, we should enjoy it, right?” Although you were so glad to see Andy again, you felt a twinge of sadness as you said the words. Andy cupped your face with both of his hands, his thumbs gently tracing your lips. You could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt the same as you.
”C’mon Sunshine.” He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, before pulling you into the club behind him.
The two of you danced and kissed for a while before the sadness started to tug at you once more. You pulled Andy to the seating area furthest from the dance floor. Once in the cover of darkness, you tucked yourself as close to him as you could. You could feel his breath against your ear as he murmured to you, but couldn’t catch the words over the music.
It felt like all too soon, you were ready to call it a night as you had to be up early to make your airport transfer. Andy walked you back to your room again, and you debated inviting him in. But of course, he had to be up early for his transfer too. You both promised to text and call, to try and get together once you were back home.
Part of you felt like it was you both placating each other. But you gave him a tight hug and a lingering kiss before closing yourself in your room.
**************************************************************************
Your routine seemed to creep back up on you once you were settled back at home. You smiled fondly to yourself thinking of your trip as you danced around the kitchen while you made dinner. Nothing fancy, just some pasta and chicken. As you reached into the fridge for a bottle of wine your doorbell rang. Confused, you checked your phone to see no missed calls or texts - it must be an Amazon delivery driver that got lost.
You cleaned off your hands, and jogged to the door as the doorbell went again, followed by a loud knock. “Hang on! I’m coming.”
You were shocked when you pulled open the door to reveal, “Andy?” You squealed and launched yourself into his arms. He laughed as he carried you back over the threshold and into your home. “Surprise Sunshine, I had to come see you.”
You leaned up and kissed him hungrily as Andy kicked your door shut behind him. You both were pulling on each other's clothes, when you suddenly froze in place.
”Sunshine? What’s wrong?” Andy cradled your face in his hands, his eyes shining with worry. You stood stock still, before your hands moved to Andy’s, his grip on your jaw unwavering. The worry in his eyes, slowly being replaced by something else, something darker.
Because you realized, you had never told Andy where you lived.
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Taglist:
@stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @rebeccapineapple @precious1610 @bval-1 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @thezombieprostitute @awkwardgiraffe726 @blobfishlol
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?
You'd Be Like Heaven to Touch
Pairing: Dark ghost Andy Barber x female reader
Word Count: ~6.7k
Summary: You can't believe your luck when you find the perfect house for cheap.
Warnings: Dark fic, horror, haunted house, danger, SMUT - somnophilia (of a sort), sex dreams, masturbation, p in v intercourse - references to murder and suicide, gore, a horror ending, explicit language, adult themes All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me
Masterlist
A/N: Oh boyyyyyyyyy, you guys. Happy Halloween!!!!! I hope this story helps make your season a little spookier.
Huge thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for the initial inspiration for this and then for talking the whole thing through with me. Thank you, Siri!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
You stood in the middle of the living room, hands on your hips, surrounded by boxes, and felt, possibly, the happiest you’d ever felt. You’d done it. You’d bought your first house. And it was beautiful. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d been. Priced to sell was an understatement. Especially for this neighborhood. Especially for the pristine condition. Especially for how recent a build it was. You were only the second owner. The realtor had seemed a little cagy about answering questions, but when the inspection came back clean as a whistle, you stopped worrying about it. You weren’t going to borrow problems. You’d bought it from a bank, so you assumed it was some sort of foreclosure situation. Well, as crass as it was, their loss was your gain. You owned a house! Eeee!
It couldn’t have come at a better time. You needed a change, a big one. You’d been deeply unhappy, caught in a rut with no one to lean on. So you’d picked up everything and moved to a new place. A completely fresh start. You couldn’t wait to see what this new life held in store for you.
For now, what it held in store were high ceilings and built-in arches. Your old apartment could never. This was the first step to the ideal, happiest you.
You were celebrating by unpacking boxes, aided by a moderately expensive bottle of wine you’d been saving for a special occasion. You’d made sure to unpack your wireless speaker first and were now blasting a high-energy oldies mix, reveling in the fact that you didn’t share walls with anyone anymore. “I love you, baaaaby,” you shouted along to the music, “and if it’s quite alright, I need you baaaaaby, to warm the lonely night.” Your half-drunk glass of wine sloshing dangerously in one hand while you rifled through a box of knick-knacks with the other. And yes, you were a little drunk, but that didn’t explain the intense chill that ran up your spine. And then–
BANG
BANG
BANG
The house shook with the force of whatever had just happened. You jumped, wine spilling across the hardwood floor in a gruesome red splash. Your heart was in your throat. Adrenaline rushing through your veins. What the fuck was that? The sounds had come from upstairs. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your body. It’d probably just been a stack of boxes falling or– There was obviously an explanation, and you just needed to go upstairs and look.
The chills were still crawling through your body, but that was just the adrenaline, just your spiked heart rate. As you approached the staircase off your front hall, you grabbed an umbrella that’d been haphazardly leaned against the door frame until you could find a permanent place for it. With a vice-like grip around the handle, the sharp tip pointed out to stab any would-be intruders (Oh god, please don’t be an animal. You had no idea how you’d get rid of it yourself), you forced yourself up the stairs. The first thing you noticed when you got up to the top was that the doors to what you’d decided would be your bedroom, the guest room, and your office were all closed. You hadn’t done that. Holding the umbrella out in front of you, you cautiously opened the first door, then shrank back in defense. But there was nothing there. It was completely empty. The gentle sounds of the suburban neighborhood at night filtered in through the open window. Oh right. You’d opened all the windows upstairs to let the lingering mustiness of the unoccupied house air out a little bit. A gust of wind must have blown through and shut all the doors. That was all. You let out the tension in your body with a laugh, then closed all the windows. But you didn’t glance outside to see that no wind blew through the trees and the air was completely still.
Your first night, you slept a little weirdly. You couldn’t remember your dreams, beyond the fact that you had some, but whatever they were, they’d left you feeling unsettled. You chalked it up to being in an unfamiliar place and got out of bed, ready to start your day.
You went for a run, excited to explore your new neighborhood. You also hoped that being out and about would give you a chance to meet some of your neighbors. You never really knew anyone in your apartment building. People were always moving in and out, which made it hard to forge any real relationships. Now that you were somewhere permanent, you were hopeful that that would change.
But as you ran, you quickly became discouraged. People were out: working on their yards, getting the mail, bringing in groceries. But anytime you tried to initiate contact, with a friendly wave and a happy “Good morning!”, you were just met with uncomfortable stares. The worst was an elderly couple tending to their flower beds. At your greeting, the woman leaned over to her husband and whispered something in his ear. He looked up at you, making eye contact, and sadly shook his head. Then they both got up and went inside. You didn’t understand what you’d done wrong.
You reassured yourself as you got back to your house that these communities could be insular. Maybe new people didn’t move in very often. You would just strengthen your resolve. Win them all over. You could do it. They’d see. You were gonna be a great neighbor.
Two days later, you were making good progress. You’d unpacked all of the essentials you needed to live, and now you were focusing on the little sprucing-up projects you wanted done before you’d get the furniture all in place and art on the walls. Fresh coats of paint in some of the rooms, updated fixtures here and there. The house didn’t need much work, but you were making it yours. It filled your heart to do it.
Currently, you were on the highest step of your stepladder in your bedroom, taping where the wall met the ceiling before you started painting an accent wall. You weren’t the most comfortable up so high, but you’d checked to make sure the stepladder was perfectly steady before you’d gotten on it.
You were about halfway done when a chill went up your spine, and you swore that you felt something behind you, and then, as you instinctively turned your head to look, the step stool just tipped over, the right two feet coming fully off the ground and you tumbled off of it with a shout, landing in a jumbled heap on the ground.
You breathed heavily as your brain tried to catch up with what had happened. Without thinking, you were already cradling one hand against your chest. It’d taken most of your weight when you’d hit the ground. It hurt, but the pain wasn’t blinding. You tentatively touched your wrist and then carefully rotated it. You could move it. It wasn’t broken. With a sigh of relief, your heart still pounding in your ears, you picked yourself up and turned back to deal with the stepladder. But– That wasn’t right. It was just sitting there, perfectly upright, like nothing had happened. No. It’d fallen over. Hadn’t it? Maybe– Maybe when you’d felt something behind you, you’d turned around more sharply than you’d realized and lost your balance. That was what happened. It was the only explanation.
As you went to wrap your wrist, just to be safe, you ignored the loud voice in your head insisting that you’d been shoved.
You loved this kitchen. You loved it so much. Marble countertops, a gas stovetop with six burners and a built-in griddle, an honest-to-god breakfast nook. It was like the whole thing had been plucked right out of your dreams. You still had no idea how you’d been able to afford a kitchen like this, how this whole house hadn’t been snatched right up above asking the moment it’d been put on the market, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You just let yourself be happy with it.
Your music was blasting, and you danced around the built-in island as you made yourself dinner. Your first real meal in your incredible kitchen, all of your cookware finally unpacked, put exactly where it all needed to go in the ample cabinet space.
You were sauteeing vegetables when your favorite part of the song hit, and you did a little shimmy as you sang along. But you were cut off when, right up against your ear, you heard a warm, low chuckle. You jumped and whirled around, your spatula held out at the ready. But there was no one there. Of course, there wasn’t. You were alone.
You shook your head at yourself. It must have been something in the song, or the sound had traveled in from outside, or– Or any number of things. You were just scaring yourself. It was fine. You took a deep breath to settle yourself and went back to making dinner.
You were in your bedroom. Well, except you weren’t. Not exactly. The shape was right, and you knew it was your room, but none of your things were there. None of your decorations. None of your furniture. Still, it felt familiar to you. You were on the bed, lying on top of the covers in a short, gauzy nightgown. The bed was a little softer than you preferred, the comforter a little downier. There was an armchair set across from the bed, with a man sitting in it. You’d never seen him before, but he was familiar too. He was tall, you could tell, even sitting down. Broad. He had soft-looking dark brown hair and a thick beard. He was staring at you.
He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he wanted. You placed one hand on the inside of your knee, slowly moving it up your thigh. With your other hand, you grasped your breast through the nightie, tweaking the nipple with one finger. You let out a little gasp and he visibly swallowed. The hand on your leg rose higher, but you didn’t rush it. You were taking your time, letting yourself feel. That was what he wanted.
Your hand finally reached your core, and you moaned softly. Oh. You weren’t wearing any underwear. You brushed your fingers across your lower lips, slowly, gently, moving your way between them. Over on the chair, the man leaned forward, and you spread and lifted your knees so he could see.
As you brushed your thumb against your clit, you wanted to close your eyes, sink into it. But you kept your eyes open. He wanted you to look at him, see him. He wanted your eyes on him as you came apart.
You didn’t try to stifle your gasps and moans as you moved one finger inside of yourself and increased the pressure on your clit with your thumb, moving it in small, fast circles now. With your other hand, you pinched your nipple hard. His icy blue eyes were on you. He licked his lips. The wave was rising inside of you, higher, higher, but you needed more. You slipped another finger inside yourself, spreading them slowly. You moaned at the stretch, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enou–
You woke up with a throbbing between your legs, and your breath caught in your throat. Memories of your dream slammed into you. That was– What? What was that? You rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow, muffling your embarrassed laughter. Then you reached over to your nightstand to grab your vibrator so you could finish yourself off before you moved on with your day.
You checked the thermostat for the third time in just a few hours. It’d been chilly all morning, but the readout still said 70℉, exactly what you’d set it at. You must just be running cold today. You grabbed a sweatshirt and hoped you weren’t getting sick. Maybe you’d pick up some zinc at the store.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You were alone in your house. You knew this for sure because, as silly as you felt, you’d checked all the rooms. You’d checked the windows too, but of course, there was no one there. You closed all of the curtains anyway.
Now you were standing in your bedroom, trying to talk yourself into getting dressed. You were being so ridiculous. You knew it, but something you couldn’t put your finger on had you so completely unsettled. You took a few deep breaths. Come on come on come on. And then, finally, you changed as quickly as you could.
And you were fine. Of course, you were fine. Even though your heart thumped. Even though your skin crawled. You were fine. Another deep breath, and you left your room, turning off the light as you went.
But once in the hall, you realized you’d left your phone on the bed. You turned around to go get it and stopped abruptly. The light was still on. You’d turned it off. You knew you’d turned it off. You forced yourself forward and then paused in the doorway. You flipped the light switch. The lights turned off. Then you flipped it again. The lights turned on. Flipped it again. They turned off. Everything was working exactly like it was supposed to. You must not have actually flipped the switch all the way when you’d left the room. There. Simple explanation. Everything was fine.
You moved forward to grab your phone, sitting at the foot of the bed, exactly where you’d thought it was. As you started to turn back around, but before you were fully facing the doorway— you only caught it out of the corner of your eye—something rushed past the door, through the hallway. A flurry of movement alone. You saw heard felt it. What the fuck? What the fuck?
Your whole body was frozen, a chorus of nope nope nope running through your head. What was going on? You coaxed yourself forward enough so you could look through the hall. Nothing was there. But you had seen something. You knew you had. You had to get out of here.
You sat in the corner of the coffee shop, both hands wrapped tightly around the large, warm mug of herbal tea. Something calming. You’d settled down. Your breathing was back to normal. It was time to think about this rationally.
Ghosts, the supernatural, none of that was real. It was just things people made up for movies and books. Whatever you saw was because you were already on edge this morning, your brain in overdrive, looking for things to be afraid of.
Still. You took out your phone and googled “what to do if my new house has a weird feeling,” and were met with pages upon pages of results telling you it was perfectly normal to feel uncomfortable in your new home. Unsettled even. It could even send your brain into fight or flight, checking for threats everywhere in a new environment.
You breathed a sigh of relief. This was perfectly normal. Nothing was wrong with you. You just needed to keep working to make the space your own, and everything would settle out.
Later, when you were getting out of your car in your driveway, you noticed your next-door neighbor at her mailbox. Perfect. Forging connections would definitely help you feel more settled. But as you started to walk over, she turned around and quickly walked into her house, slamming the door behind her. You were sure she’d seen you. Why was everyone in this neighborhood so cold?
You were back on the bed in the room that was and wasn’t yours. The man stood over you now, his fingertips hovering over your naked body. You couldn’t move, but that didn’t worry you. He didn’t want you to move, and you wanted to do what he wanted.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, his voice sonorous, hitting you deep in your gut. “And here you are, just for me. I’m so lucky.”
There was deep tenderness in his eyes, but something else too. Possession. It sent a thrill through you. No one had ever looked at you like that before.
He hummed to himself as his fingers ghosted over your thigh. “But now that I have you, what should I do with you?”
When you opened your mouth, you found that you couldn’t speak. But once again, it didn’t worry or scare you. You were his; you'd do what he wanted.
He tentatively pressed his fingers to your skin, like he was testing something. He closed his eyes when he made contact and exhaled. His touch sent a shock up your spine. “It’s been such a long time since I've been able to touch anyone,” he rumbled, full of awe. “You really are perfect.”
He dragged his fingertips up your thighs, but then skipped over your core, landing his hand on your soft stomach. You whined in displeasure, trying to tilt your pelvis up at him. He ignored it.
“I don’t even know where to start. I want all of it. All of you. All of you, forever.”
You whined again. Your wetness was pooling between your legs, starting to soak into the sheets. You needed more of his touch, anywhere. Everywhere.
“Patience, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world. All we have is time.”
You opened your eyes, suddenly thrust into full wakefulness. You were soaking wet, with only fragments of memories of what got you that way. But you barely had any time to focus on that. You were freezing. Your entire bedroom was absolutely freezing.
You stepped back from the door to let the HVAC technician in, wrapped in a thick blanket over your sweatshirt and thick leggings. He paused over the threshold, rubbing his hands together and exhaling. “Oh shit,” he exclaimed with a whistle. “You weren’t kidding. It’s freezing in here. Must be at least a twenty-degree difference from outside.”
“Yeah,” you said a little helplessly. “It’s been a little chilly the last week, but it feels like it got much colder in the night.”
You led him to the thermostat, and he examined it. It still read 70°. “Hmm,” he hummed, opening the cover and giving it a once-over. “Seems like it’s probably just not communicating properly. Maybe triggering your AC when it shouldn’t. I’ll take a look downstairs and see what’s going on.”
You were trying to force yourself to focus on reading a book when the tech came back upstairs. His brows were furrowed, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts. You set your book down, not trying to be quiet, and he looked up, like he was surprised to see you there. “Everything okay?” you asked nervously.
“Huh?” he blinked at you. Then he shook his head, like he was trying to rid it of something. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He paused, then looked at you very carefully. “You been in this house long?”
You shook your head. “Just a couple weeks.”
His gaze narrowed. “Has everything been okay?”
“What do you mean? Besides the thermostat?”
His eyes focused on you, like he was surprised by your presence again. “No, I– I don’t know. Sorry. Don’t mind me, I just must be feeling a little off today.” He shook his head one more time, then returned to business. “Furnace and AC both seem to be working fine. So it must be the thermostat. I’ll just replace it with a new one real quick, and you should be right as rain in a few hours.”
You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling even better once you heard warm air being forced through the vents. It made it easy to ignore the way it seemed like he couldn’t get out of your house fast enough.
In the room that wasn’t quite yours, you stood in front of a free-standing full-length mirror. You were wearing a short black dress that hugged your curves, a silver necklace around your neck, matching bracelets on both wrists, like cuffs. The man was behind you, pressed against you, his head hooked over your shoulder, making eye contact with you in the mirror, one possessive hand on your stomach, the other coming up to gently wrap around your neck.
“I’ve been waiting for something for so long,” he whispered into your ear. “Now I know I was waiting for you.” Both hands moved away from you, briefly, coming back together behind your head. Gently, carefully, reverently removing your necklace. He moved slowly, a look in his eye like he was unwrapping a gift he’d been staring at for ages. The necklace disappeared, and he moved on to the zipper of your dress. He lowered it achingly slowly. You didn’t move. He didn’t want you to. You knew that.
He moved the dress down your body at a glacial pace, revealing you inch by inch. His gaze flicking back and forth between your back and the mirror. Taking all of you in. Once it was down to your hips, he let it drop. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, fully exposed to him. For him. It didn’t occur to you to try to cover yourself. Why would you?
One hand came back around to touch your stomach. It drifted lower, and then he dragged it, oh so slowly, up to your chest. You felt his cold breath on your neck as he sighed–
You were lying on the bed, and he was on top of you. Finally. Your bracelets were still on, and now they were hooked together, keeping your arms above your head. You didn’t try to move them. You stayed where he put you. Of course you did. Your breath felt trapped in your chest. You were waiting. For him. You needed it. He was touching you, your whole body, like he couldn’t get enough. Like it would never be enough–
You were on your side. He was pressed up behind you. The mirror was next to the bed now. So you could see yourself. See him behind you, as he kissed up your neck. Behind your ear. His fingers danced along the cut of you. Between your lips. One, two, three fingers briefly slipped inside. You didn’t need it. You were ready.
You were ready you were ready you were ready you were ready.
You whined. Low and loud and needy. He hushed you. Then. Finally. Finally finally finally he thrust himself inside you. Forcing a grunt a whine a moan out of you. You kept your eyes open, locked on the mirror so you could see your face and his as he was finally inside of you, where he belonged. So you could see the ecstasy on both your faces.
He kept his eyes on yours as he thrust. As he set a punishing pace. As the pressure inside of you built and built and built. As one arm held you so tight to him, arm over your pelvis, hand between your breasts. His fingers pressing bruises into your skin. The other was between your legs, pressing pressing pressing against your clit, tight circles too much too much too much not enough just right. The hand on your chest pressed even harder, pushing you into his broad chest like he was trying to meld with you.
As you climbed up up up and finally crested over, the air between his mouth and your neck, in all of the spaces where your bodies made contact, went blurry, squiggly, like he was literally breathing you in. You felt something inside of you go, but it wasn’t a loss. It was right. It was perfect.
You came with a scream. “Andy!” A name on your lips you hadn’t realized you’d known.
“Mine mine mine,” he chanted as he chased his own release. “Forever. Eternity.”
You woke with a start. Your chest heaving. You were exhausted, like you hadn’t slept at all. And you were sore, stiff, all over. Between your legs. Inside of you. Almost like you’d–
Before you had time to wrap your head around that, you realized something else. You were absolutely freezing. The whole room was freezing. So much colder than it was before. No! You’d fixed it! No!
You didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this. You were too cold, too worn out. Too fucked out, your traitorous brain supplied. You didn’t want to deal with that either.
You went into your bathroom and turned on your shower as hot as it could go. You didn’t turn on the exhaust fan. You needed all the steam you could get. Once the small room had warmed up a little, you quickly stripped and stepped into the glass shower stall. You stepped directly under the stream of hot water, pushing everything else, all of the very not right, out of your head. Focusing on just getting warm. You weren’t sure how long exactly you stood there for. Awhile. Long enough for the chill to finally leave your bones. Once you stopped shivering, you started cleaning yourself. Trying to let yourself go through your normal routine on autopilot. But that wasn’t possible when you found so many tender spots. On your legs, your hips, your stomach, your chest. New bruises. Like fingerprints. Like someone had gripped you too tight. Like your drea–
You pushed that thought away before you could even fully think it. Not real. Not real. Not real. You were losing it. Starting to come apart at the seams. Maybe you’d been too isolated. Maybe that was it. That had to be it. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. Then, as you started to get back to washing yourself–
Something brushed against the back of your neck. Like someone’s hand. Like someone had touched your neck. You weren’t making it up. It wasn’t just in your head. It’d happened. You’d felt it.
With your heart in your throat, you whirled around on instinct. And right there, over where your shoulder had been, in the steam, was the shape of a man’s face. You saw it. You saw it. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
You crashed out of the shower, barely keeping your feet under you. You were soaking wet, but you didn’t stop to dry off. You couldn’t. You had to get out of there. You tore into your bedroom, grabbing the first leggings and sweater you could find, throwing them on as you continued to move. You grabbed your phone off your nightstand as you rushed past it. You had to get out of there. You couldn’t get out fast enough.
You didn’t feel safe until you were standing in the street in front of your house, trying to catch your breath, water dripping down your back. You bent over like you’d just run a marathon, adrenaline coursing through you. You needed to get your head on straight. You needed to think about this rationally. It was just a house. It was just a house. If you thought it enough times, maybe you’d believe it.
You slowly straightened up, trying to force yourself to breathe normally. And that’s when you saw your next-door neighbor, sitting on her front porch with a friend, staring at you. And maybe it was just the adrenaline that hadn’t dissipated yet, but– No. Absolutely not. Not today.
You stormed across her lawn, your best ‘fuck you’ smile on your face, not caring that you were still dripping. Not caring that you looked like a crazy person. “Hi!” you greeted when you’d gotten to the porch, too loud, too aggressive. “We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m your new next-door neighbor. I moved in a few weeks ago,” you gestured at your house, like they hadn’t just seen you run out of it like a bat out of hell.
“Oh my god,” your neighbor’s friend exclaimed, her eyes wide.
“I know,” your neighbor, whose goddamn name you still didn’t know, said to her, shaking her head.
“I can’t believe you moved into the Barber house,” her friend said to you, her voice tinged with horror. “Why would you do that?”
“What?” you asked, confused, some of your righteous anger leaving you.
She shook her head instead of answering your question, no longer able to look at you. “It was so awful, so awful, and then you just moved in like–” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Without another word, she got up and fled into the house. You and your neighbor both stared after her. What was going on?
After a minute of silence, your neighbor turned her steely gaze onto you. “You know,” she said, her voice cold, “maybe it seems like a lot of time has passed since it happened, but it’s still very fresh for this whole neighborhood. We’re still trying to recover. We don’t need someone coming in here and trying to dredge it all up again.”
“What–” you stuttered, “what happened? I don’t–”
“It isn’t easy for anyone here to talk about. They were our friends. I’m sure you can understand that.” Then, without another word, she got up and followed her friend into her house. And you were left standing on her porch alone, trying to catch up.
All you could do for several moments was just stand there, gaping. Your hands were shaking. Your mind was racing. But then, suddenly, you realized how creepy you were being. Oh god, she’d probably call the cops. So, with dread building in your chest, you forced yourself back to your own property.
You stopped at the end of your driveway. You couldn’t make yourself go further. Something was happening. You were missing something big. But you knew now, for sure, that there was something very wrong with your house. So, finally, you did the thing you should have done when things first started getting weird. When you first moved in. Before you even bought it. You took out your phone and you googled your address. Now with the added knowledge of adding Barber to the end of it.
Barely breathing, you clicked on the first result. Three Dead in Gruesome Apparent Murder Suicide. And there right at the top, a picture of your house surrounded by police. Oh god oh god oh god. You wanted to puke. But you made yourself keep reading.
The Barbers were a family of three: Andrew, Laurie, and their teenage son Jacob. Andrew was an assistant district attorney. Laurie ran a children’s community group. They were well-liked. Pillars of the community. And five years ago, all three bodies had been found in what was now your basement, a shotgun laying next to Laurie. It had rocked the entire community, leaving everyone desperately searching for answers.
You kept scrolling until you stopped dead in the middle of the page. A picture of the Barbers, happy and alive. Laurie was beautiful, picture perfect, smiling adoringly at her family. Jacob looked like any normal teenage boy, hair in his eyes, annoyed to be there. But that wasn’t what had your heart going still in your chest. No, that was the man looking straight at the camera. Looking at you. Andrew. Andy. Without a fucking doubt, the man from your dreams.
Your phone slipped from your fingers, landing hard on your driveway. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. What was happening? What– How– The fear was louder than anything else. You’d never been so scared in your life. You had– You had to go.
You ran into your house for the last time. You raced up the stairs, not looking around you. In your bedroom, you pulled a duffel bag from your closet, then just started shoving clothes into it indiscriminately. You didn’t know where you were going to go or what you were going to do. You just had to leave now now now.
When the bag was full, you tore back down the stairs, grabbing your purse and your car keys, heading right for the door. You were going to be okay. You were going to get out. But when you tried to open the door, it was locked. You didn’t remember doing that. You hadn’t done that. With trembling fingers, you flipped the deadbolt and then watched with horror as it flipped right back. No no no no no no no no.
You rushed to the nearest window in desperation, but it wouldn’t budge either. You cried out in frustration and panic. You moved to grab your phone then remembered that you’d left it on your driveway. No.
As you were about to run to your back door to see if you could get out that way, all of the lights in the house began flickering. On and off on and off on and off. And your bluetooth speaker suddenly buzzed to life, filling the house with music.
You’re just too good to be true
Can’t take my eyes off of you
You’d be like heaven to touch
I want to hold you so much
And there he was, standing in the middle of your living room. Andy. He was there and not there. You could see through him. But it was him. It was unmistakable.
“Shhh, calm down, honey,” he cooed. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”
“A– Andy,” you could barely get it out, your voice was shaking so badly. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, couldn’t get control of your fear. You were talking to a dead man. “Please let me go.”
“Honey,” he started, his tone placating, “you know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” It came out as a sob, helplessness crashing down on you.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, his brow furrowing at your distress. “Because we belong together.”
That’s when your tears started. This was another dream, right? It had to be. Maybe you’d never actually woken up. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.
The music got louder, and Andy crouched down in front of you. “This is our song,” he said softly, “remember? From your first night here. I’m sorry I scared you that night. I was– I was very upset. You were barging into my house and– Then you started changing things, changing my house and– you understand that’s why I had to push you right? Why I tried to make you go. But then. Then you stayed, and I started to get to know you. And I realized all the ways we fit. I realized the truth. That you were brought here for me. So that we could be together forever.”
You took a deep breath, forcing it. You wanted to tell him he was insane, but it was even worse. He was dead. A ghost. How could you reason with that? “Andy, no,” you started slowly. “All I did was buy a house. I’m so sorry that something awful happened to you, but this is my house now–”
“THIS IS MY HOUSE!” he roared, suddenly floating above you. The lights flickered even more intensely, and all of your shelves shook, books toppling over. And just for a moment, just for a flash, Andy’s face changed. Half of it disappeared, blood and viscera and bone and emptiness where his skin should have been. But then it was gone, back to normal, and he was once again on the ground in front of you. “This is still my house, that I had built for my family. The people who are meant to be my family are just a little different than I thought.”
You swallowed hard, trying to stop shaking. You had to find a way out. You had to get out of here. Andy was moving, floating, pacing, back and forth, mumbling to himself now. “That fucking bitch. Destroying everything I’d worked so hard for, everything I’d earned.” He was distracted by his own anger. You took the opportunity to start to crawl backward, see if there was something you could do to force the door open. “And then after all that, they left me alone here on top of it,” he continued, before his eyes locked on you, halfway to the entryway. “But you understand that better than most, don’t you, sweetheart? Being alone.”
You stopped in your tracks, collapsing back onto the floor. “What? No, I’m not alone!”
He shook his head sadly at you, like you were being ridiculous. “Honey, come on. I know you. I see you. All I do is watch you. You never go anywhere. You never see anyone. You never talk to anyone. You’re just as lonely as I am. But it’s okay. We have each other now. Forever.”
It was that word, forever, that made the bottom drop out of what you were feeling. Oh no oh god. It was only pure terror now. What was he going to do? What could he do?
He was crouching down in front of you again, so close to you that you could put a hand through him. But it wouldn’t do any good. You knew that. “Andy, I–” you didn’t know what to say, but you had to make him understand. Make him see sense. At the very least, to buy you some time. Get you out of this house. Burn it down, maybe. Destroy every part of it so that you could start over. Again. “You’re right. I see that now,” you lied, trying so hard to keep your voice even. “We fit. But– But we just can’t be together. I’m alive. I need– I need to live my life. We– We aren’t on the same plane.”
Andy shook his head, gliding closer to you as you tried to back up. He was practically on top of you now. It was a horrifically unsettling feeling. It made all the hair on your body stand up straight. “No,” he said, “no, we don’t need to worry about that. You’ve made me so much stronger. Since you came here, I can do so many more things. Things I never dreamt of when I was all alone. And after last night, I made you feel so good, and in return, you gave so much of yourself to me, my love.” The dream, you realized with a start. When it looked like he was actually breathing you in– And the exhaustion you’d woken up with. Like he’d taken part of your lifeforce. “Now I’m strong enough to do what I need to do. To make sure you never leave me.”
Your eyes got wide, and the panic that’d been ebbing and flowing this entire conversation spiked to a degree it somehow hadn’t reached yet. “Andy, Andy, wait, no! What does that mean? What are you going to do?”
He didn’t respond, just brushed his translucent fingers down your cheek, leaving an awful chill in their wake. And that’s when you heard it, the barely there hiss coming from the kitchen, accompanied by a sulfuric smell that you’d been too afraid, too heightened to notice until this point. Oh god, your beloved gas cooktop. You started sobbing. You couldn’t stop. Doubled over on the floor of this house you thought you’d been so lucky to find.
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re alright,” Andy consoled you. You could feel the whisper of his fingers over you’re hair. “It won’t hurt at all. You’re going to fall asleep, and then when you wake up, you’ll be here with me. Forever, in our beautiful home. It’ll be perfect.”
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Just One Morning After [Obsidian Stain & Sin]
Characters/Pairings: tattoo artist!Andy Barber x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 4k Summary: It's been years since Andy's experienced any kind of real morning after.
Content/Warnings: strangers hooking up; explicit smut (kissing, cock stroking, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slow and frantic fucking, clit play, finishing inside)
Author Notes: I've been working on this since maybe two days after the first part? Part of what got me seriously thinking about even doing Valensmut. I realized that I had grossly not indulged you getting to admire Andy's tattoos, but then given the context of how frenzied the sex was once he got you to his place, it also made sense that maybe you'd be both much more focused on the fucking than enjoying the view. Plus probably darker/dark-ish in his room, right? So... gotta spend time in the morning glow now.
previous part: Lightning In A Bottle | Obsidian Stain & Sin Series
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Morning. Pleasant but unfamiliar warmth in his bed. Light blares through the slits of his bedroom shades, branding the sheets tangled around your body with stripes.
He blinks, slow, and it takes him a full ten seconds to remember your name, but when he does, the flood of what happened last night comes in fast. The tattoo, the dinner, the hungry, almost animal intensity of you. The way you’d laughed—genuinely, with the snort that made the bridge of your nose crinkle.
He’s never liked sharing his bed. His ex used to sleep with her knees and elbows at angles sharp enough to threaten laceration. Later, hookups either fled at first light or lingered out of misplaced optimism, hoping to turn an evening into something with a future—he’d learned to nudge them awake and make his intentions clear, even when those intentions were simply to be left alone.
But with you, he lies there for a long time, feeling the weight of your thigh across his thigh and the press of your knee against his calf, the motion of your ribcage as you breathe, perfectly content to be nothing but naked with you. You’re still asleep, mouth parted, a faint snore barely audible, and for some reason this is wildly endearing. He wants to touch your jaw, see if you’d lean into it even while unconscious. He likes that his sheets smell like your shampoo—a clean, unplaceable scent, something not expensive but honest.
He doesn’t want to move. It’s been years since he’s willingly risked this: the post-night honesty, the chance for things not to be perfect. Laurie used to say he turned cold the second sex was over. Maybe she was right, but then again, maybe that’s just what happens when you share a house and a life with someone who was only the illusion of what you think you’re supposed to want, only to break when at last the relationship can take no more pressure, and he’d never wanted to experience that again.
He’s still trying to parse whether this is good or bad when you stir. Not a gentle waking—a slow, reluctant groan, the kind that suggests a hangover or a night spent in a stranger’s bed, or both.
But his chest expands with warmth knowing which one it is.
And only one.
Because you fucked each other like that stone cold sober last night.
You roll onto your back and immediately pull the sheet up over your chest. You squint at the ceiling, rub your eyes, and then, after a second, you glance sideways at him. Your hair is a mess, and your eyeliner is smudged in a way he finds unexpectedly beautiful. You blink at him, slow, like you’re trying to make sense of what you’re seeing.
You say, “Oh. Hi,” voice sandpapery from sleep.
Andy grunts what he means as good morning. He drags his hand through his beard, scratches at his jaw, and tries to will coherent words out of his mouth. But only manages a simple, “Hi.”
He expects it to be awkward, for you to start gathering up your things, or at least to hedge your bets. Instead, you drop your head back onto the pillow and stare at the ceiling, then let the sheet slide down a little so your shoulder is exposed.
“Sorry,” you say, “I think I drooled on your pillow.”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t the first time.” He means his, but realizes immediately how it could be taken. You chuckle anyway.
The silence is actually comfortable, which is new for Andy. He tries to remind himself that this is just nice sex with a nice person, and not to get carried away. But he does want to know what you’re thinking—if this is as unexpected for you as it is for him.
“Do you—” you start, then clear your throat, try again, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
He nods at the door attached to his room and you’re up, bare feet padding the short distance before snapping the door closed behind you.
Maybe he should feel awkward. He usually does. He doesn’t. Instead, he drops back onto the mattress and listens to the tap run, the preposterous, cheerful tinkle of you peeing a few steps away in his house—his solitude invaded with the kind of little noises he’s spent a decade living without.
He closes his eyes for a second, lets his head slip sideways into the pillow dent left by you. The pillow’s still warm. He should probably be more concerned about how much he likes that, but then there’s the flush of the toilet, the run of water in the sink, and you're back, slipping swiftly back beneath the sheets. You don’t seem embarrassed. You say, “Your bathroom is really, really clean. Suspiciously clean,” and he knows you mean it as a joke, but also maybe as a genuine observation.
He grins. “Haven’t lived with a woman in a long time,” he says. “Don’t generate a lot of mess myself.”
You shrug, unimpressed. “Still. Most men’s bathrooms are horror shows. It’s the law.”
He lets himself look at you, really look, for the first time in the brutal daylight.
You’re not the type he would have bet on for himself, years ago or now. It’s only one morning, but he likes how you fit here: stretched between his dark sheets, hair still a little mussed, the sharp black trace of his tattoo on your upper chest. You’re not a dainty thing—he likes women who take up space, have weight to their presence, women who won’t be erased by the outline of his body. It’s only now, in the brightness of day, that he notices how your frame really is all soft where last night you felt sturdy, and that you look better now, rumpled and unprepared, than you had in your crisp first impression at the shop.
“Do you have anywhere you need to be?” he asks you. It’s a question open for you to use for what you want, whether it’s an exit plan or more.
You shake your head, slow, thoughtful, and Andy sees a smile brewing, held back just a little. “I don’t,” you say. “I could stay.”
Andy’s stomach knots with the pleasant anxiety of not knowing what happens next. This is not an advertisement for anything permanent, he tells himself. Just an unseasonable thaw in the long winter of living alone.
You seem to be studying him as well, eyes roving over his face, his arms, his shoulders, his upper chest. Specifically you seem to study the lines of his arms, the places where pigment takes over for freckle or scar. You reach out, tentative, and touch the web of black and red along his bicep. He flexes, not for show, but because that’s what the body does when it’s being examined. You trace the circle at his shoulder, the fractured glyphs splayed down his forearm.
He puts a hand over yours. “If you really want to see them, you need a better angle,” he says. “Come here.”
You scoot closer to him, but he’s more proactive, hooking a hand down at the back of your thigh, and shifting you up and over him until you’re straddling his waist. You sit low on his stomach, legs bracketing his sides, and he settles back to enjoy his own view.
He waits, savoring the weight of you, the warmth where you’re pressed against him. He runs his hands up your thighs, palms spread wide, appreciating every inch of you.
“Better angle,” you repeat, almost to yourself.
You trace the art on his arms, fingers skating over the topography of his muscle, skin, and ink. He expects you to ask for the story behind one or another of them, but instead you ask, “Which one’s your favorite?” then press your palm flat to his chest where an old-school anatomical heart blooms.
He shrugs, weighing the question. “Maybe this one,” he says, twisting his bicep so you can see the tattoo there—a wrap of circuitry—snaking bands of black, echoing the aesthetic of his profession and maybe more than that, maybe the obsessive desire to structure chaos. “Or this,” he adds, rolling his wrist to display the quick, fine lines of a compass just above the veins at his pulse point. “I did that one myself, actually.”
Your eyes widen, skeptical. “On yourself?”
He nods. “Was still learning. It’s not as painful as you’d think. Fiddlier, though.”
You toy with the ink at his wrist, running your finger along the fine, slightly raised trackwork with the kind of reverence he doesn’t know how to acknowledge, so he acknowledges it by going completely still and letting you have the moment.
You’re warm, your hands gentle, but there’s a near-scientific curiosity in the way you roam his arm, then back up to his chest, as though layering his tattoos over their human tableau is a puzzle worth waking up for alone.
He watches you do it. Watches the concentration. The quiet calculation. You’re not like anyone he’s woken up with. So comfortable, impossibly familiar though he hasn’t known you more than fifteen hours, and not all of them waking.
You scoot lower, shifting yourself down his body, until your hips are flush with his. He’s not hard, not yet, but sensation is returning to his body, a slowly stretching electricity up his thighs and into his belly, hunger stirring, but he’s not ravenous yet, settled in letting this moment stretch longer.
You trace the line of his collarbone, skim up to the newest ink at his shoulder, then back to the hollow just above his heart. Your hand is heavy with intent, but you don’t leer or linger. It’s science, it’s poetry, it’s the only moment that matters, and Andy feels the undertow of last night—the way you’d studied him with your mouth instead of your eyes, the way you’d said yes to everything.
Andy slides his hands up and down your thighs again, more intent and heat behind the motion than before. He feels your thighs tense, a little spark of movement, and your hands plant themselves against his chest, sifting through the coarseness of his hair there. You glance down at his body this time, not the ink, and he can tell the difference. Your eyes rove over the plane of his ribs, the curve of his stomach, the lines of faded scars and old bruises in the daylight before flicking your gaze up to his.
You lean forward, the slope of your shoulders casting a triangle of shadow across his chest. He runs his hands from the base of your spine up your back to your shoulders, drawing you in for a kiss. Slow, searing, but utterly unhurried.
Andy loses track of time, just lets himself drown in the shape of your mouth and the small, hungry hitches of your breath when he drags his hands up your ribs, palming your curves. You taste like sleep, like toothpaste and something sweet, and you kiss him back with a deliberation that says you don’t need to hurry. You’re greedy for it, but not impatient. You relearn his mouth, kissing with incremental adjustments, like you’re mapping a new city one corner at a time.
He moves his hands up your back, lazy circles with his thumbs, then down again to your hips, where he pulls you tighter into him, not grinding, just anchoring. He can’t remember the last time he did this—kissed for the sake of kissing, not as prelude or punctuation, but because it was the only thing he wanted to do.
But he does want more.
And so do you.
You’re the one who shifts things to the next gear, slotting your mouth over Andy’s, not tentative but with the kind of certainty that says you know he wants you, and you don’t want to be demure about it. Your hands frame his jaw, the press of your fingers deliberate, and the next second you’re kissing deeper, greedy for the next more of him this morning after.
Andy lets himself plunge headlong into it, lets the delight of your soft weight over his body overwhelm the more disciplined parts of him. He slides his hands under the sheet, presses his palms flat to the backs of your thighs, and squeezes, claims really. You shift, working your hips against him in small, slow adjustments until he’s hard, until the friction is perfect, and you roll your whole body to chase it.
You break the kiss to catch your breath and Andy presses his mouth to the side of your throat, then drags it back up, tasting sleep, salt, and the faint note of last night's sweat sweetening your skin. He can feel the thrum of your pulse under his tongue. He positions his hands at your hips, guiding them with a little more pressure. Andy ruts his cock against you, slow and heavy. You meet him, hitching your hips, the slick of your arousal warm and messy and welcoming, and a pulse of want runs through both of you. He shifts lower, mouths along your jaw, then buries his face in the side of your neck.
“How long do you want me to keep kissing you like this?” he ruts his cock against your cunt again, relishing the deep groan it draws out of you. The words lie naked in the air, nearly as sharp-edged as the teeth Andy bares into your shoulder as he bites, gentle, then harder, before backing away for a second to see how you react.
“For at least the rest of the morning?” The inquiry is heated and bold, but then you follow up with a more searching, “Would that be a problem?”
“Not even close.” Andy tangles his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and pulls you down for another kiss. You hum into it, your body melting even more into his.
You reach down, sliding your hand between your bodies, the backs of your knuckles brushing his stomach. Andy’s cock is already half-hard, and your fingers close around him with the kind of urgency that makes him shiver. He grins into your mouth, wolfish and pleased—he likes that you help yourself, that you won’t wait for more permission. He lifts his hips to meet your grip, pushing into your palm, and when you break the kiss to look at him, he sees your eyes are glassy, dark at the centers.
“Take what you want,” he says, voice gone gravel and static. He means it, too; you see it in the stillness of his body, the way he yields to your touch. You angle his cock properly, guiding it with your fingers, and he huffs out a low, broken sound when the tip slips slick against your cunt, not quite inside but threatening. You rock gently, back and forth, teasing and testing. He lifts his hips when you need him to, and as you sink onto his cock, the friction is perfect again, his thick, hard cock sliding into your tight, pliant, slick cunt. The way you both want and need.
He groans, deep and guttural, the sound vibrating into your hands. Andy can’t keep the praise in. It comes out in a muttered, “Fuck, you feel so good,”—he’s almost angry about it, like he can’t believe you’ve done this to him, made him want this, crave this more even while he’s in the middle of it.
Maybe this is why nothing worked with Laurie, he thinks, why it wasn’t worth bothering with anyone afterwards.
You brace your palm on his chest for leverage and roll your hips, slow, making him feel every inch. There’s nothing delicate in it—there’s no use pretending this is anything but what it is. Intense. Greedy. You move, and he moves with you. You ride him, hips working in a slow pulse, drawing up until just the tip drags against your entrance, then sinking down, all the way, every time a little different angle, a little closer to losing him entirely. Andy runs his hands up your thighs, then sinks his hands into the meat of your ass, pulls you in tighter, like he wants to keep you anchored to him for as long as possible. You seem to like that. Your mouth opens, but you don’t say anything—just breathe, big and raw.
The pace is slow, but it’s not gentle. It’s exact—every roll of your hips is decisive, designed to hit the last nerve in both of you. Andy grits his teeth, every muscle in his thighs clenching at the way you take him. It’s not supposed to feel like this, not on a morning after, not with someone he barely knows. He’s always thought sex should be a thing you can turn on and off. Something you can survive without. But this, right now, is a necessity so deep it almost embarrasses him to have gone without it for so long.
He digs his fingers into your hips, holds you steady, meets every roll with a grind that pins your clit to his pubic bone. You clutch at his chest, nails scraping through coarse hair, and every time you move, you mutter a curse or a plea or just let sound spill from your lips. He can feel how close you are, the way your cunt tightens and clings. It’s indecent, how much he wants to draw it out, to have you milk his cock so hard you can barely stand when it’s done. Yesterday, he’d have called it depraved. Now, it feels like the only honest thing he can do.
His eyes are riveted on your face as you fuck yourself on him, and when your head tips back, the line of your neck exposed, he brings a hand up, cups the back of your skull, not to control but just to hold, to keep you anchored with him while your whole body trembles. He’s never been the type to lose himself in a partner’s bliss—but watching you, how you give in to it, how you let every wave roll through you without a mask or shield, it fucking undoes him.
He brings your face down to his, kisses the corner of your mouth, and you let him, sinking your teeth into his lip in return, almost biting hard enough to draw blood. When you pull away, your breath comes in sharp huffs, your hair wild. He loves that you’re not trying to look pretty, you’re not trying to look like anything other than a person who is riding his cock for the pleasure of it, because you want to, because you need to, because you can.
“Harder,” you whimper. Andy obliges, raising his hips to drive up into you each time you sink down. The slap of skin is loud in the room, wild, obscene if anyone else were to hear.
You bring your hands to his ribs, pin him and ride him harder, your breath gone to pieces. You say, “Fuck,” and, “Andy,” and once or twice you say nothing, only let the sounds tumble out of your lips.
He can’t take his eyes off you, the way your tits bounce with every thrust, the way your eyes squeeze shut, face warped by pleasure into something infinitely more beautiful than calm. He braces you harder at the hip with one hand, hunts your clit with the other, circles it, slow at first, then building, because he wants you to finish before he does.
Your voice is broken with the next, “Andy, fuck, please—” and it’s not a cute, porn-script please, it’s a desperate, involuntary spill of vowels, guttural and raw. You can’t even finish the sentence, you just move your body harder, chasing it, and he gives you everything you want. He lets go, rutting up into you with pace, matching every frantic roll of your hips, bracing you, pinning you.
He feels every exquisite element the moment before you peek, feels it in the way your cunt clamps down, the tremor in your thighs as you lose control.
He doesn’t stop. Not when you tip over with a sob—no sound, really, just a silent shudder, your hands digging ragged into his shoulders. Not when the muscles inside you clench so hard he nearly blacks out, not even when your body collapses forward, your forehead on his shoulder, and you cry out into his skin.
He holds you steady, won’t let you lose it alone, rides the last spasms of your orgasm, and then, only then, lets himself follow you over, hips slamming up, vision going white at the edges. It rips out of him, every part of him surging to fill you, pumping every spurt of his hot seed into you, needing every final thrust he can give, until he’s sure he’s emptied all he has to fill you completely.
You’re trembling, spent, hands still bracing at his ribcage. Andy holds you for a long minute, neither of you moving or speaking, just letting the heat between your bodies recalibrate the world. Andy wraps an arm around your back, thinking he’s only meant this gesture platonically before, never with the intent to keep someone in place. He breathes in your hair, as if the scent could explain anything.
You shift, just a little, and your laugh is ragged, all the air gone from it. “I think my spirit just left my body,” into his neck and he laughs and presses a kiss into your temple, unthinking.
Andy’s still lost in his own sensation of you. The aftershocks, the sweat cooling between your bodies, the mess slicking over his thighs and yours. He doesn’t feel the need to say anything, which feels new and rare, like the silence is enough because you are both here, and nothing is missing yet.
Eventually you shift again, less because of comfort and more because your breathing has slowed. You scoot down his body, cheek pressed to his clavicle, arm splayed firmly over his chest as if bracing against the tide or taking possession. Andy’s too spent, so he just closes his hand around your upper arm, the easy, present weight of you burrowing further into his bones.
Finally, when it seems like there has to be a next for this moment, Andy asks, “You want breakfast?”
You hum, but then say, “No. Maybe brunch. Can’t move.”
He likes that you’re not in a rush. He likes it so much he can feel the pleasure of it in his jaw, the way it goes slack, the muscles unbracing from a tension he didn’t realize he’d held. The whole point, after all, is that you could stay if you wanted. That you might.
That he can ruin you again before you leave and this spell breaks.
Because he knows it’s just the intensity of right now.
And that’s enough.
Endorphins, thoughts, emotions, actions, they’re all intense during sex, and he knows last night and this morning is the most intense sex of his entire life.
So he knows this will ratchet down to normal once you’re out of each other’s orbit.
And that’s natural. That’s normal. He likes what this was.
You’ll think of him when you see the tattoo, and he’ll like knowing that will be what lasts from this hurricane.
So.
That's all.
in the meantime:
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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.
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