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#dark!andy barber
americasass81 · 3 days
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Promises To Keep . . .
Warnings:- Oral (female receiving), Edging, Use of Pet Names, Blindfold, Previous Bad Relationship, Implied Kidnapping, Overstimulation. 18+ only. Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. Feedback is welcomed.
By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.
Author’s Note 1:- This was written in response to the fabulous ask pictured below.  Sent by our wonderfully talented @stargazingfangirl18 , thank you so much Siri for this inspirational thot as well as helping me prove that I am hopeless at writing drabbles.  1k words or less?  Yeah right, maybe one day 🤣.  For now I just hope anyone who reads this thoroughly enjoys the ensuing filth.
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Author’s Note 2:- As always, all images have been found through google search.
Synopsis:- A deal with an angel didn’t seem so bad until a devil was revealed.
Pairing:- dark!Andy Barber x Female Reader
Word Count:- 3,215
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Waking up to the eerie sensation of strangeness all around you, opening your eyes on an all consuming darkness you had never known before brought an overwhelming sense of panic when you reached up to remove the fabric you now acknowledged covering your eyes only to have those same hands brought back down to the bedsheets by another.  Struggling now against this intruder's hold before opening your mouth to scream out for help you knew would never come, a warm mouth descending upon yours brought the stark reality of what lay before you into frightening clarity.
At least until the stranger spoke.
Pulling back from your mouth while now running his hands along your arms, he waited just a breath for you to stop moving as his words, and as a result his identity, finally hit you.  Andy had found you.  Oh sure, it's not as if you were actively running from him.  Why should you?  But if you were being honest after all you had been through dealing with another man had not exactly been something you were ready to dive back into ..... even if it was just dinner.  After all, how many times did men in Andy Barber's profession or of his caliber for that matter write off their fees for a simple dinner.  No, it was safe to say he was looking for something more and right now more was not something you were willing to entertain. 
You wanted freedom.  You wanted fun.  You wanted to do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted without having to plan, make apologies or excuses.  But it seemed Andy took your promise seriously.
"Did you really think I wouldn't be able to track you down, gorgeous?  You promised me a date.  One dinner and a night of your glowing company for making sure your deadbeat ex was out of your life for good.  Surely you haven't forgotten?" he now asked before rolling you over onto your side and slipping his body beside yours.  Spooning you closer now as he continued talking about how all he wanted to do was to show you not all men were the assholes you were used to but this didn't really get him the reaction he was hoping for.
"Not all assholes?  Have you lost your mind?" you asked as your voice finally worked now that you had stopped fighting him and Andy in turn seemed happy with the way things were going.  "You break in here, blindfold me and hold me down against my will while my bed covers I assume lay scattered on the floor.  You really think you're not being an asshole right now?" you continued, but stopped short when a laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrated against your back and settled in your own.
It seemed he thought you were being funny.
Kissing softly against your neck now as his hands continued to soothe you while the blindfold held fast and made everything feel more intense, you had no idea just what lay in store until Andy spoke again.  It seemed he had really done his homework before taking your case to the point where he had somehow discovered the feelings you harbored towards him and the fantasies your overactive imagination had conjured up about him.  You wanted him.  Deeply.  Badly.  Intimately.  Nights spent alone after a fight with your ex who had once again gambled away the week's rent or not fixed something he had promised you weeks ago he would and thoughts of Andy had quickly invaded your dreams and taken on a life you never imagined.
Moving next door after the tragic events that had altered his life beyond recognition, Andy had been only too happy to help out with any tasks that proved too much for you and often gave a willing ear when conversations inevitably made their way to the man sharing your life while treating you worse than the dog poo fouling Mrs. Delaney's front lawn.  No, if Andy had his way your deadbeat boyfriend would soon be a distant memory and then he would find a way to become a permanent fixture in your life.  Thankfully for him you would present the perfect opportunity without even realizing it.
Bemoaning once more to Andy what a lousy, no good piece of trash you had shacked up with as a busted faucet spewed water all over your bathroom floor, a trip by your kindly neighbor to the basement to turn off the water and not two weeks later to the day your useless boyfriend returned to not only bum some more cash while begging your forgiveness, but also to find himself on the receiving end of a police raid.
Arrested along with him as he swore blind, black and blue that the drugs, guns and ammunition had been planted by you as some perverted means of punishing him, your one phone call had resulted in you calling the only person you knew could get you out of this sorry mess.  Something he was only too happy to do.  Relaying then to all who would listen the litany of offenses your other half had committed while leaving you to scrimp and borrow just to keep your head above water, you soon walked free with the court's apologies only to discover the true price your freedom would cost.
A cost you thought very little of until that debt came due.
Lying beside Andy now as all these memories warred with the sensations his hands, lips and beard were presently creating, your thoughts lingered on how to talk him out of his plans until a sudden nip just below your ear produced a flood of moisture between your legs and a sound from your lips you never dreamed yourself capable of producing.  Whatever he had done had felt oh so good.
Continuing to explore this newly discovered pleasure point now as his hands left your midsection and wormed their way up your night top, a quick squeeze of your tits and Andy knew he was finally getting through.  "Hmm, you love that, don't you gorgeous?" he now asked as he pulled his lips back from your neck and focused once more on squishing your mounds like one would a stress ball before trapping each nipple between his fingers and twisting sharply.
Screaming out in both pain and ecstasy now as your legs clamped tight to hold back the fountain leaving your pussy, it seemed Andy knew more about the workings of the female body than you ever thought possible as his right hand moved down to cup your intimate area while his lips returned to rest against your ear.  "It's weeping for me isn't it gorgeous?" Andy asked with a smirk before continuing, "Crying out to be fucked and filled.  To feel my beard burn it up so good you'll remember me every time you try to close your legs."
Biting your bottom lip hard now so as to neither confirm or deny his outrageous accusation, him nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck to leave a taste of what he promised still couldn't distract you from the reality of what had gone before.  Your ex had tried this once and it had been a complete disaster.
Coming home drunk one night very early on in your relationship, his prodding and pleading had seen you relent and the experience had not been a good one.  Sharp coarse hair, a tongue that flopped around like wet, limp celery and the resulting infection that left your private garden needing lots of t.l.c. was definitely a sexual encounter you were not looking to repeat ever again.
And yet something was different here.
Flipping you onto your back now while at the same time ripping your top clean down the middle, the cool air of the room kissing your skin hit differently now that your eyes were still covered and your other senses compensated for their loss.  Straining to hear and feel what Andy was doing now while still not one hundred percent sure you wanted what he offered, you instead tried once more to reach up and remove the blindfold only to cry out when Andy's mouth descended towards your left breast and bit hard.
Soothing it quickly then with his tongue before pulling back and warning you now not to try that again, you nodded obediently while also noting the striking difference in your two lovers straight away.  Andy it seemed knew exactly how and what to do with his tongue.  Which may work in your favor after all.
Relaxing a bit more now as the man above you began to pepper soft kisses, sharp nips and tickling brushes along your front, you were surprised by the shiver along your spine and the fluttering in your stomach at the next words that interrupted the rhythm of your ragged breaths.  "I'm gonna mark you all over gorgeous and maybe then I'll see about giving you what you need."
Pouting at the threat now that offered no relief yet also still somewhat reluctant to accept what your body craved, Andy moving ever closer to the oasis calling out to him proved far more powerful however than any bacterial infection or embarrassment at your physician's office.  Having him was worth anything and so you gave in.  This time when he released you and settled himself between your now parted legs, your hands reached out to gently massage the ache he left around your chest, the blindfold thoroughly forgotten in your zeal to touch something substantial.  Something that was yours.
Placing his lips against your calf then as he slowly and sensually worked his way back up towards your center, your ragged breathing was now replaced with whispered yeses that gave life to his ever hardening cock as your own body tried to focus on what exactly it was experiencing.  Soft and thick, unlike the scouring pad your ex might as well have used, yet still short enough for you to almost feel the individual hair strands penetrate your tender flesh, you knew come morning your legs were going to resemble someone that had spent just that minute too much under the sun but at the same time no antibiotics or medicated cream were going to be called into action this time.
But somehow that outcome no longer mattered.
Letting your mind go blank and focusing simply on the here and now, you wondered if this was heaven.  As Andy's lips and teeth left hickeys you knew would linger long after this night ended, the beard was something you secretly admitted to wanting to feel forever.  Delighting now in the heat left behind wherever he rubbed his chin, combined with the wispy, soothing breaths he then assaulted the tender skin with, you soon found yourself an active participant in an activity you had now discovered a new appreciation for.
Grabbing hold of Andy's head now as he reached your center once more, you somehow convinced him through action alone to meet you halfway and soon your lips were meeting up once more in a kiss that conveyed a heat and passion you had never experienced with a lover before.  Melding your lips together as your tongue first explored his mouth before allowing his to do the same, the moan that traveled between the two of you as your fingers scraped his scalp spurred you on to finally let go.
Falling back onto the bed again as your lungs now welcomed some much needed air, the blindfold still covering your eyes robbed you of seeing what Andy was doing, but the rustling of fabric and his naked chest touching yours moments later told you all you needed to know.
He was moving things along.
Kissing you once more before moving down your body once again, you were prepared to finally lose your shorts but lost your cool instead when Andy reached out and began the same sequence on your left leg that had worked so successfully on the right.  And it frustrated you no end.  "Andy, baby, please," you whined now as his bearded chin rubbed clockwise and anticlockwise circles along your calf and inner thigh while your core got wetter and wetter with no relief in sight.  No, you needed him now.
Debating taking off the blindfold once more and allowing him to see the full force of your disapproval, you instead decided you liked the effect it created in this experience and chose a different tack instead .... you pulled hard on his locks and at least got his attention.  "Fuck gorgeous take it easy.  I kinda like my hair attached to the roots.  Is there something specific you needed?" he now asked and you didn't need your eyesight to know the fucker currently sending your body towards orbit was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
Which only infuriated you all the more.
"I need you there Andy," you answered crossly with an accompanied finger pointing directly at your now long neglected flower.  "I need to feel you burn me up.  Drown my garden, spread your seed and make me question how I ever thought my dreams could compensate for the reality."
Chuckling once more now at how needy you had become without yet experiencing the full arsenal of his sexual repertoire, he thankfully decided to take pity on you it seemed when he removed his head from your hands before pulling down your shorts and exposing your core to him, the night air and all the plans he had for you.
Removing the rest of his clothes then if the sounds of a belt, falling shoes and rustling fabric were anything to go by, you took the opportunity to situate yourself in a more comfortable position before the main event actually kicked off.  And what an event it turned out to be.  Kissing gently either side of your flower now before giving into your whining and diving in, the sensations here were even more intense than what had come before.  Rubbing his bearded chin back and forth along your mound before blowing softly on the heated flesh, Andy kept this rhythm going until you had enough and once more tried to exert some measure of control.
Grabbing hold of his head again and this time employing a strength you never knew you possessed, you shoved his face against your pussy and simply held it there.  Waiting now for the man to get with the program and give your body what it ached for, you were instead treated to the full force of his professional resolve when, like you, he simply did nothing.  Not a tongue, not a wisp, not a strand of his glorious beard offered any relief and it seemed a stalemate was the only possible outcome.
That is if you weren't already a desperate, sex starved mess.
Nudging his head once more and still getting no response, a tiny part of you wondered if perhaps you might have smothered him but the greater part told you he was simply playing the long game.  Waiting for you to cave and beg him again to take you.  But that you weren't about to do.  Giving up silently instead, you now released Andy's head and honestly, a part of you was sorry for it.  But at least he got the message.
Holding down your hips now the second you let go, Andy's tongue, teeth, lips and beard worked outside and inside your pussy with a skill that put all your toys to shame and as the tears flowed freely from your eyes and soaked the blindfold you knew you were fucked.  Oh not in the sense you craved, no.  This was more in the 'how is anyone or anything ever going to satisfy me again?' sense.  The man was ripping you apart and it was divine.
Nipping at your clit every so often now as his tongue twisted inside your pussy as far as it could go, the vibrations from his laughter every time he heard you pleading should have been enough to break you and send you hurtling over that unseen cliff edge, but Andy was still in charge.  Talking against your pussy now in a room filled with nothing but sex, breathing and a man you thought had never seen a meal throughout his life, you felt your ears were playing tricks on you when his muffled words finally broke through your orgasm starved haze.
The bastard couldn't be serious?
Eating you out now as if he were fully prepared to die right here between your legs, there was no way the smarmy git could have told you to hold it, to stave off the building orgasm your body was literally crying out to release.  Letting go of the sheets again and reaching for his head once more, you took a deep breath knowing the loss you were about to feel and pulled him anyway before speaking in the direction you knew him to be.  "Did you just .... seriously tell me .... to hold it?" you panted out now while the bastard laughed out in confirmation before actually dignifying you with a response.
"Absolutely gorgeous.  You'll come when I tell you and or you come at all," he answered firmly before removing your hands from his head and returning back to the activity you had so rudely interrupted.  Starting back up again while now adding his right hand fingers to the mix, your clit, pussy and asshole all now receiving an equal amount of attention and you didn't know how much longer you were meant for this world.
Could someone actually die from sex you wondered?  From an orgasm so powerful it sets all your synapses firing at once in a chain reaction that resembled the big bang?
Setting this thought aside momentarily to focus instead on your breathing so your lungs at least didn't give out before you got your reward, you thankfully didn't have long to wait when Andy suddenly tapped your stomach to get your attention.  It seemed he was finally ready.  Easing off the break now before the bastard changed his mind and tortured you even further, you relaxed every muscle your body possessed and let the feelings previously trapped within your body wash over you.  And that's when all hell broke loose.
Spasming outward from your core in one continuing burst, the tears continued to flow, your keening broke the silence and Andy's slurping competed with your voice as he drank down every bit of your delicious essence while still holding your body flat against the bed.  He drank so deep in fact you wondered if your soul had actually left your body when the shockwaves finally subsided and your spent body rested back against the pillows as Andy traveled up the bed to join you where you lay.
Reaching up to remove the blindfold then and wipe away the stray tears the intensity of your release had just produced, Andy now kissed you deeply and placed your hand around his shaft before uttering the words that told you a very long night and many more orgasms were all that lay in store.  "Buckle up gorgeous, there's a lot more real estate left to claim and I'm just getting started.”
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hansensgirl · 1 year
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💭 — 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧
summary. — for so long, he’s wanted to hold you down and tell you that he loves you.
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pairing. — Dark!Stepdad!Andy Barber x innocent!fem!reader.
warnings. — DUBCON, stepcest, large age gap (andy is 51, reader is early 20s), coercion, lying, manipulation, gaslighting, grooming, taking advantage, perversion, possessiveness, obsession, isolation, loner reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, smoking, smut, Daddy kink, fingering, mentions of oral (both receiving), overstimulation, degradation, praise, blowing smoke in face, missionary, cowgirl, mentions of male masturbation, size kink (andy’s cock is huge), pet names (little girl, little one, baby, sweetie, sweet girl), creampie kink, reader is extremely innocent, inaccurate explanations of sex, virginity loss, spanking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. — 9k
author’s note. — here’s the continuation of my step dad!andy concept that i posted in may. this is before, during, and after the concept. i copy and pasted some of the concept and inserted it here! everything is legal. andy married the reader’s mom when the reader was 18, and he formed feelings for the reader then. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY! @hansensfics
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Andy sighs deeply as he sits in his room, bones aching immensely. He’s been standing by the window, behind the sheer white curtains for far too long. Fifty-one years of turmoil have caught up to him, but thankfully, it doesn’t show as much as it should. 
He feels your discomfort as much as he does his stiffness. The awkward angle he’s been stuck in is a reflection of your personality. You never socialise like you should, and when you’re forced to, it’s all wrong. 
Andy hates seeing you out of your element. The sight of you sitting on a white lounge chair in a dress you clearly don’t like is painful for him. He knows you prefer his company—that’s why he’s always offering it. 
Today, he planned on showing you his notes from court on a case about a man assaulting his neighbour with a wrench.
It’s almost as if said wrench was thrown into his plans, because now he has to watch you try to keep up with the brain-rotting chatter of unruly college girls. 
Your mother had organised the day with her fellow neighbours who incessantly brought up how lonely you are at the community barbecues. Andy remembers that day very well—he caught you crying out of frustration when you didn’t want to go.
Endlessly, he’s had to tell your mother to let up and leave you alone. Andy understands how you are all too well. Lonely, but content. You never connected with anyone growing up and stuck to your devices—books that are either overrated classics or underrated masterpieces. 
It was no surprise that you were immediately drawn to the twice exiled, unlucky man. Like a moth to the flame, you looked at him with such wonder and stuck yourself to him, yet still remained far. 
Your close connection was only formed when he found you in a pile of tissues and drowning in your own tears. Seconds away from hyperventilating, he pulled you back into the ocean everyone calls reality. To this day, however, he still isn’t sure why you were in such a state. 
The laughter he hears is either fake or simply aggravating. He can’t find yours in that mess, though, and he tries to come up with a reason to take you away.
Andy is your stepfather—he can say anything he wants. Chores haven’t been done yet, your mom’s calling you, we have somewhere to be—I want you all to myself. 
But it feels wrong—feels fake. He strives for authenticity after years of ingenuity. Before, he’d patched the cracks in the facade of his forced suburban life before anyone else could see them. Now, he embraces the breakage. In fact, there is none, because there is no farce.
From the low level of the bed, Andy unfortunately cannot see you. Even though your company is the sun, you remain in a white dress. It’s the face of ingenues all around the world. You shield yourself from the scorching sun, the brightness making your eyes ache. 
The idea of making some lemonade (for you and only you) crosses your stepfather’s mind, and he decides to do it.
“Oh my gosh—So, basically, Elijah and I’s anniversary is coming up! Apparently, he wants us to go to Vegas, which I’m so down for. I’m not sure what to get him, though,” a woman in her early twenties, like you, nearly squeals. Her excitement makes you smile. “He’s not a fan of jewellery, so anything like that is out of the question…”
Her name is easy to remember, and very pretty as well. Gianna, and she’s an interior design major. 
A snort is heard from the chair over—Kennedy, who finds humour in anything and is the nicest to you. “Sex, sex, sex! Dude, that’s the easiest thing ever. Just indulge in whatever fantasy he’s got. Maid, landlord, plumber—”
“—Ha! Let him do anal, GiGi. Get a sparkly plug, some decent lube, and spread those cheeks,” the other friend, Imogen, giggles. She claps at the end of her sentence, and the three women laugh for a few seconds. 
“...We’ve already done anal. For his 25th…” The sheepish admission from Gianna makes her friends hoot and holler. You’re not sure what to say—you don’t understand. 
“Is there anything you haven’t done?” Imogen questions in shock. “Listen, y’know that frat guy that keeps hitting on me? Well, I gave him a chance and we were, y’know, getting it on,” she eagerly spills.
“Getting it on? Just say you guys were raw-dogging and spitting in each other's mouths,” Kennedy interrupts, sipping on a fruity drink. Honestly, they’re all sweet. They keep trying to rope you into their conversations, but you’re not sure what to say, so you stick to little hums and gestures. 
“Shush!—Anyway, we were fucking, and he started to talk a lot. And it was so hot, like he was saying the hottest shit ever. He checked every single kink-box!” Imogen brags, and the others are proud of her. “Like what?” Kennedy prompts, curious to the point where her eyebrows raise.
“Breeding, degrading, praising—even a Daddy thrown in every now and then,” she whisper-shouts. “And, get this, he made me squirt!”
The women continue trading stories about their debauched experiences, and you feel as if they’re speaking another language. You’re not sure what they mean or why the things happened. Questions fill your brain as you purse your lips, trying to give yourself the answers.
“—Uhm, I can take that in for you. I think I forgot to cancel this appointment and they keep you on hold for a while during the afternoon,” you lie, standing up and grabbing Gianna’s empty cup. “Oh, you’re so sweet. You’ll be back soon, right? We wanna get to know you better,” Kennedy says, and her girlfriends nod their heads.
You join them in their motions, before jogging to the sliding door and slipping past it. You place the cup in the sink, and then make a beeline for your room. It’s the space you spend too much time in, to the point that your stepdad has had to coax you out of it on numerous occasions. 
The ceiling is at an angle due to the triangular roof of your home. The decorations might not match but they add a cosy feeling that is reminiscent of autumn. You wish the season could remain all year round. 
There is even a window seat. Andy had it built and installed for you last year on Christmas. It was a dream come true—something you’d always wanted. 
You plop yourself onto the space and pull your laptop over. You turn off SafeSearch and look up the things the women were talking about. Videos with dirty thumbnails pop up, along with articles and a warning about the setting you turned off. You’re too scared to click on the videos, so you stick to reading the articles.
But the words don’t translate well in your mind. You feel like you’re the last person in line in a long game of broken telephone. You’re left with more questions than answers, and so you snap your laptop shut. 
Gnawing your lip, you let your curiosity eat away at you. It nags and it nags until you can’t take it anymore. So you wander down the hallway and stand outside the slightly ajar door to your stepdad’s room. 
“D– Daddy? Are you busy?” you shyly question, standing with your hands clasped behind your back. At the sweet sound of your voice, Andy immediately rushes from his place in front of the sink. His hands smell of your lotion—a bottle he stole from you because he couldn't help it. “No, not at all, little one. What’s wrong?”
The older man opens the door even more for you, ushering you inside. You sit on the end of the bed, and he joins you. Your palms grow sweaty as nervousness takes you over. Bite the bullet, it won’t hurt you.
“Uhm…” you start, “I have some, uh, questions.”
“Hit me. I have some answers,” Andy jokes. 
“Okay…” you unfold the sticky note of the things you wanted to know more about—the things your friends were talking about. “What’s a– anal? Like, the bad one,” you ask, whispering and worried.
Your innocence is like a drug that Andy has tasted for the first time and it has kicked in quickly. He swallows thickly and he wonders why you’re asking. 
“Well… There’s numerous ways to have sex… With penetrative sex, you can penetrate any of your holes. And, you see, you have three holes. Your mouth, a– and your private parts. Anal sex is when someone penetrates your butt, essentially,” he explains, not sure what words to use.
He watches as your face twists in confusion. “What do you mean? They can do that to any of your holes? Like, they put something inside?” you press, voice incredulous and shocked. “Yeah, they put something in, and they move it back and forth. There are things meant to go there, though,” Andy tells you.
Clearly, you still don’t really get it. It’s neither your fault nor Andy’s.
“I– I have more.. S’that okay?” Andy immediately nods his head, looking down to try and look at your list. 
“Squirting… Can you explain that one? Please? And why do people like calling other people mean things? And getting called those? I mean, I get why someone likes it when someone else says nice things—but the mean one, I don’t understand. And why do people like using the word Daddy? I thought that’s for certain people…” you ramble, pulling at the yellow paper until it slips.
“Shh… One at a time, baby. Squirting is something that happens during sex. It’s a kind of ejaculate. And with the mean names, it’s just what people like. It makes them all happy, y’know? All tingly on the inside—like when they get praised,” he says, cock fully hard and face flushed.
“Yeah, but, what’s sex? Oh! I get those tingles a lot… But not in my tummy…” you sheepishly admit, and it piques Andy’s interest. But then, he replays what you said. What’s sex? A question that normal people would laugh at—but Andy is anything but that. “...You don’t know what sex is, baby?”
You let out a whimper—something of frustration and fear and insecurity. It makes his cock throb within the confines of his pants. “...Nuh-uh,” you sigh, ready to dart and lock yourself in your room.
“Oh, that’s alright, baby. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Daddy’ll explain it all to you—I’ll be your teacher,” he smiles, but then frowns when you shake your head. “B– But I don't understand any of it! Not when you explain it, and not when I read about it. It’s all so confusing and doesn’t make one bit of sense.”
Annoyance with yourself seeps from your words, and Andy detects the leak. He’s quick to patch it up, though.
“No, baby! Daddy’s gonna teach you it in an easy way! Remember how you didn’t know what acquittal meant? And I told you the definition? Now you tell other people what it means when they don’t know!”
Andy chooses to ignore the fact that it was only your mother who didn’t know what it meant. 
“But that’s different! Even if you explain it simply, my brain just won’t grasp the concept,” you try to reason, so desperate to learn about the things that other women your age are so well-versed in. “Can you show me it, Daddy? Please?”
Your stepfather nearly asks you to repeat yourself. Your request is innocent and full of desperation—you want to be in on the joke that everyone seems to know. His cock has chubbed up inside his boxers, begging for a release and even crying tears of pre-cum.
“You want Daddy to show you those dirty little things, hm? C’mere, baby. Daddy’ll tell you all about it,” Andy encourages, motioning with his hands for you to move closer to him. You scoot your body until your right leg touches his left. “You’re gonna be a good girl and do whatever I say, right?”
When you nod your head, the older man wonders if he’s won the jackpot. Luck is on his side, clearly. After years of struggle, he’s finally got a good thing. And he’s going to take full advantage of it—he’s going to cherish the treasure he’s been bestowed with. 
“Good girl—” Andy cuts himself off with a groan as you preen under the praise, “—so good for Daddy.”
Your stepdad slowly leans in and presses his mouth against yours. The kiss is searing and passionate, but it soon turns rough and possessive. You try to keep up with Andy as he claims your mouth—biting, licking, and sucking at your supple, wet skin.
He tastes of beer and cigarettes, and the smacking of lips grows wetter and sloppier. You let him take control and try to replicate some of his movements as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Andy holds the sides of your head with two large, strong hands.
But his touch is gentle and encouraging. You let the older man do whatever he wants to do, sure that you can ask him for another tutorial later on. Eventually, he pulls away with swollen, red lips and blown out eyes.
The pale blue (with a tinge of green) has disappeared. Like black paint spilled, darkness is all you can see. 
“You’ve got such a cute little mouth, baby. Think I can fit my cock in there, all nice and snug,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. You’re not sure what he means, but you go along with it and nod your head. Your eagerness is almost unreal—maybe because Andy has fantasised about it for so long.
Moments with his hand wrapped around his large, leaking cock after you said or did something his perverted mind twisted and misconstrued. Showers longer than they should be, and boxers gone in the wash sooner than they would.
“But don’t worry your pretty head with that just yet, little one,” Andy tells you, standing up and in front of you. He gently pushes you back on the bed, and you land with a small thump. Be brings your feet to rest against the edge of the mattress, caressing your skin with his rough, warm hands. “So soft…”
The lawyer brings your left leg up, and meets it halfway. He presses open-mouthed kisses on your moisturised skin, taking in your scent. Eventually the romantic feeling turns ticklish, and you giggle and try to writhe out of Andy’s grip.
Though, there’s a warm feeling that blooms in your cunt. You folds ache, but you’re not sure why. It’s like the tingles you seem to get every now and then, especially when you’re around the older man. 
“Daddy… I feel funny,” you tell him, and Andy halts his movements. 
“What do you mean, little girl? C’mon, tell Daddy,” he urges, genuinely curious. Is it fear? Excitement? Or something more physical? 
“Tingly… And warm… And it kinda hurts—but not in a painful way…” you try to explain.
“Where, baby? Show me where,” your stepfather demands. His eyebrows are mildly knitted in a bit of concern—curiosity. “D– Down there,” you whisper, looking away from his intense gaze. 
A broad hand that belongs to Andy makes a bold move. It moves to your mound, and pushes at your pussy. “Here, baby?” he nearly growls, feeling your warmth and folds through the two layers of fabric that protect you from this ravenous man. 
His fingers dig into your skin and find the bump of your clit, pushing on the nub and watch as you moan softly from the unfamiliar yet pleasurable sensation. “Uh-huh, right there, Daddy,” you mewl, subconsciously bucking your hips upwards.
The feeling is reminiscent of the kind you feel when you press your thighs together—just amped up by a few hundred volts. “Well, Daddy’s gonna make you feel better, okay, little one? This happens sometimes, and from now on, you gotta tell me whenever you feel those tingles. Understood?” Andy orders, and you shyly nod.
“Words. Use your words, little girl. I need to hear it.”
“Y– Yes, Daddy. I– I’ll tell you when I feel tingly—P– Promise.”
“Good girl.” Andy’s hands move to the waistband of your white skirt, and he pulls it down. Your panties go along with it, strings of wetness pulling and breaking when he gets too far. Your pussy glistens in the cracks of sunlight, his white curtains a blessing for once. “Such a gorgeous fuckin’ cunt.”
You bring your hand up to your face and shy away behind it, making Andy coo at you. He throws your bottoms behind him and pulls you a bit closer by your legs. He then looks up at you, pink tongue slowly darting out just a peek. 
Three of Andy’s digits move upwards. He gives them one long, slow lick, soaking them in spit. “Gotta open your legs wide, little girl. Can you do that for me, baby?” he requests, and you immediately nod your head. 
For your stepdad, you open your legs as wide as they can go without hurting. Anything he asks, you’ll do.
“Good girl,” he hums, and he brings his dominant, wet hand to your sopping cunt. Your stepdad tests the waters for a moment, swirling your slick around and caressing your swollen, achy folds. You gasp at the sensation as his large hand covers practically everything. From your clit down to your creamy fuckhole. “Feels good already, doesn’t it?”
You nod your head, and Andy smiles at you. “It’s gonna feel even better soon, little one. ‘M gonna get my cock in that little honeypot’a yours—fuck it nicely and ruin you for other men.” As he speaks, Andy maintains a trained gaze on you. “But you won’t have other men, will you?”
“You only want your stepdaddy, huh? Daddy’s girl—All mine,” Andy murmurs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, gently biting down. “I gotta stretch you out first,” he tells you.
Andy pushes his pointer finger in first, and groans as your walls welcome it immediately. He lets the digit slip into you entirely, until it’s buried to the hilt. “You’re doin’ so good for me, little girl,” the older man smiles at you. 
Slowly, he begins to thrust in and out of your channel. His finger glistens with your creamy slick, and Andy curses. Once he believes you’ve adjusted to the first digit well enough, he pulls it out and prods two. 
“How was that, baby?” he questions, but you’re too breathless and at a loss for words to say anything. You give him a simple thumbs up, hoping it’ll suffice. “Use your words, little one,” Andy urges, and you whimper out a simple ‘was g– good’ for him.
“You’re soaking, y’know that? Makin’ a mess all over my hand,” he notes aloud. “So innocent but so needy… You make such a perfect whore for Daddy.” 
Andy thrusts two digits into your drooling hole, and he fingers you with that same slow pace. Every now and then, he makes scissoring motions meant to open you up even more. “Daddy… ‘s so much now. Feels even more tingly,” you tell him, looking at your stepdad for reassurance.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he prompts, and you hesitantly nod your head. Andy is right—it feels so good. It’s like the fluttery feeling you tend to get, the one you felt just a few moments before, but it’s not nagging and it’s better in comparison. “Yeah, that’s it. Take Daddy’s fingers, slut.”
Your stepfather knows he shouldn’t be saying these demeaning things to you—shouldn’t be ruining you—but he can’t help it. 
It’s almost hypnotising with the way your cunt sucks Andy’s fingers in as he penetrates your tightness again. And the way you cling onto him as he pulls them in and out of you is downright pornographic—just like the sounds you’re making. 
“Bet you never even got this far, little one. All you ever did was rub this li’l cunny on whatever you could find, hm?” He wonders out loud. “Poor pussy’s been neglected. S’okay, Daddy’s here, baby,” Andy whispers, and he picks up the pace of his hand. 
He finds that rough, spongy spot inside you. It makes you toss your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, limbs trembling. “D– Daddy!” you cry out, confused yet welcoming his touches. “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Andy soothes, stroking your sweet spot with his fingers.
Purposefully, he neglects your clit. He knows it’s pulsating—aching to be touched by your stepfather. Your volume raises just a bit, and his cock throbs with every other noise. Your pretty face has formed a frown of pleasure, and Andy thinks to himself he can really get used to this.
“W– Wait. Feels like I needa go to the bathroom…” you shamefully admit, and this time, Andy really chuckles. “You’re so cute and innocent, little one. Gonna give Daddy a cavity with how sweet you are,” he says, picking up the pace of his fingers. He makes sure to keep stretching you out, though.
“Feels like it’s burning and building, huh? That’s normal, baby. Don’t worry. Just take one more finger for me, okay?” Andy skillfully brings you closer and closer to your release. The wet, lewd sounds of your cunt grow louder. “You’re fucking soaking. S’that all for me?” your stepfather asks.
You don’t really know what he means, but you chose to nod your head. At your answer, Andy decides to push a third digit into your cunt. The fit is strugglesome—tight, warm, and snug. You can barely handle his thick fingers, pussy struggling to adjust to them at first. He can’t wait to get his cock inside you.
“H– Hurts, Daddy,” you whine, the stretch uncomfortable. Andy shushes you gently, whispering praises until the pain dulls away and all you can feel is fullness and pleasure. “You’re drippin’ everywhere, little girl. I can’t wait to get a taste of that sweet pussy,” he murmurs, and he continues to attack your g-spot. 
Your cries grow louder and more high-pitched, and Andy knows you’re close. The older man grunts, “That’s it, good girl. C’mon, give Daddy your cream, baby.” Your body goes from thrashing just a tiny bit to seizing when your orgasm hits. 
It takes you by storm. Your eyes squeeze shut and you sob, cunt clamping down on his hand. “Atta girl. Goin’ all dumb for Daddy—that’s what I like to see, little one.” Andy fingerfucks you through your climax, admiring the creaminess that coats his skin. He’s sure some has dripped down to your rosebud, and that makes him so hard.
“Oh– Oh my gosh,” you pant, tears stinging your eyes from the stimulation. “See what I just did, baby?” Andy questions. 
“Uh-huh.” He looks at you, carefully examining the fucked-out look you have on your pretty face. 
“Only Daddy gets to do that to you, little girl. No one else. Understood? You belong to me.”
Obediently, you nod your head. “Uh-huh. All yours, Daddy.”
Your words have his cock twitching underneath the confines of his pants. Andy slowly pulls his fingers out of your wet channel, consoling you when you whine from the sudden emptiness. Your fuckhole gapes just a bit, and it makes your stepdad eager to get his cock out. 
“Damn right, little one,” he grunts, unbuckling his belt and pulling his thick cock out. “See this, baby? It’s Daddy’s cock, and it’s the only one you’re ever gonna go near. Y’know, your pussy was made for it,” he hums, stroking himself from the thick base to the leaky, bulbous head. 
Your mouth parts in interest. Whatever he says and does soaks right into that empty mind of yours. 
Andy pulls you up to the bed with his other hand, strength coming in handy. He puts your head on his pillow and then crawls between your legs, making you part them wide once again. He hovers above you, and you involuntarily clutch the blue fabric of his sweater for comfort.
The older man slaps the fat tip of his engorged dick on your clit, making you flinch from the jolt of pleasure. He then slides the head down to your slightly-stretched hole, and he begins to push in.
When your face contorts in confusion and mild discomfort, Andy is quick to tell you everything is okay. “Shh… It’s alright, baby. You’re fine,” he says, speaking gently and pressing chaste kisses to your face. 
He looks down to where his fat cock pushes into your tightness, stretching you wider than ever before and claiming your fuckhole as his. The sight is mesmerising, and Andy can’t help the groan he lets out from it. 
“Taking my cock like such a good little fucktoy. Fuck—you okay, little one?” your stepfather questions, and it takes you a few moments to respond to him. Slowly, you nod your head. Though the breach is unfamiliar and a lot to handle, you’re determined to be Andy’s good girl and fight through it.
There’s a pain that burns—and you bite onto his sweater to keep quiet. Andy examines your face as he continues to sheath his length inside you. “That’s my good girl. Feelin’ shy, baby?” he coos. “Aw, how cute.”
Eventually, your stepfather bottoms out with his heavy balls against your ass. He hums your name and the pet names he’s given you, waiting for you to pull your pretty face away from his chest. “Show me those doe-eyes, little one,” Andy requests. Slowly, you peek up at him.
Your eyes are big and they still hold that innocence that Andy knows he can’t rip away from you. “Good girl. How do you feel, baby?” he asks. 
“Uhm—weird? Feels different… Deep, too…” you process out loud, and the older man nods with your every word.
“Yeah, I’m so deep inside you, little girl. All the way in your belly.” The thought has him growling, and he begins to shallowly fuck you. You mewl with each of his half-hearted thrusts. The pain is soon replaced with pleasure, one that you immediately grow fond of. “There we go…”
“More tingles,” you note, punctuating your sentence with a gasp as Andy’s movements grow more vigorous. “So many, Daddy.” Your stepdad nods his head and smiles at you sweetly, “That’s right, little girl. That’s what happens when Daddy stuffs his fat cock inside your babycunt.”
When he calls you those two words—little girl—your body reacts. You shy away from him whilst your pussy clenches around his dick, and he bites back a loud groan. The veins at his throat bulge, while his jaw clenches.
“I’m gonna start fucking you now, little one. You just gotta sit there and take whatever I give you,” he forewarns, and you nod your head. “Okay, Daddy.” At your words, Andy begins to pummel in and out of your pussy. Obscene noises come from where you’re connected to him—wet sounds and skin slapping against skin.
Andy looks down and watches as his cock forcefully disappears and reappears, your tightness still not used to such a large intrusion. His heavy balls smack against your ass, where your slick stains. “Drippin’ everywhere, baby. You love this—I fucking knew it,” he grunts, his pounds the perfect speed and intensity.
His cock kisses your cervix each time, making you writhe in pain. But when he rubs against your sweet spot, that discomfort leaves almost immediately. “Look, little one, your cream is all over my cock. You’re leaking down to my balls—fuck,” Andy harshly pushes forward at the realisation.
You wail from the intensity. “Yeah, you like getting fucked by a dirty old man, slut? Hm? Like getting fucked by your stepdaddy?” Andy questions, and you hesitate before nodding your head. He swears once more, and then leans down. 
Though he’s repeatedly knocked the breath out of you, he now stops it from moving at all as he kisses you. At first, it’s soft and what teenage dreams are made of. But then, like the way he takes away your virginity, it grows rough and desperate. He takes the lead, shoving his tongue into your mouth and doing all kinds of things you can’t keep up with.
Andy eventually pulls away, noticing that his thrusts have dulled down. He picks his pace back up, his pelvis slamming into yours. Your cream coats his cock, leaving a stain that even reaches his patch of hair. Your lips are raw and glistening from the passionate, bruising kiss he had you locked in.
Your stepfather rams into your fuckhole without relent, forcing more of your wetness out with his shaft. His length strokes your sensitive walls with skill and aggression, abusing your cunt like he’s always wanted to. 
Your chest is pressed against Andy’s, and he uses one of the hands that holds him up to pull down the top of your shirt, exposing your hardened nipples. The cold air adds to the ache of them. “Stupid little girl making the biggest fucking mess on her Daddy’s cock. Y’gonna clean it up after, baby? You better—with that cute mouth of yours.”
Nodding your head, you make the older man inhale a sharp, controlled breath. In contrast, you pant like a bitch in heat as your chest rises and falls. There’s a feeling that grows at a fast pace. It’s like when you have to go to the bathroom so badly—except this time, it’s more intoxicating than intolerable. 
“D– Daddy! Feels funny—like before, but way m– more?” You’re so unsure of yourself—of your body—that it’s utterly adorable to Andy. 
“That’s called an orgasm, little girl. You just sit there and beg Daddy to let you come, okay?” he requests, and you nod your head.
It feels like something that needs to desperately continue and be alleviated—but you know only Andy can do that for you, so you do whatever your stepdad says.
“P– Please let me come, Daddy! Need to come so bad… Please, please please—!” you gasp loudly, Andy’s cock driving deeper and he grinds with each pump of his cock, rubbing against your clit. “Good girl—such a good little slut for Daddy,” Andy hums, sensing you’re even closer to coming. 
“Soak Daddy’s fat cock, little girl. C’mon, wanna see you make a stupid mess on this dick,” he commands, landing some slaps on your ass and the side of your left thigh. Your cunt suddenly convulses around him, clit thrumming and back arching as you come around his cock for the very first time. “Atta girl.”
He growls as your eyes roll back into your head, lids squeezing shut as your face pinches. Your mouth drops open in shock from the heat that envelops you. The grip your pussy has on Andy’s dick grows tighter, squeezing him and begging for more.
Your stepfather fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down just a bit when you begin to twitch from the pleasure. Your walls spasm until he manages to get you through the high, and then he resumes fucking you harshly. Your tits bounce with each slam of Andy’s hips, your body pushed upwards before he pulls you back onto his dick. “Ah—ah—ah,” you moan, going dumb on the older man’s cock. A mildly blank look is on your face, and you babble like a baby. 
“Dumb little girl—talking about dirty things and behaving like a whore when you haven’t even had big girl sex yet,” Andy sneers, grabbing your jaw and puckering his lips up. He spits in your mouth, before telling you to swallow the wad of saliva. Like a good girl, you do exactly as he says. You even smile at him afterwards, before your face pinches again from the sensations his cock brings. “Greedy girl—that hungry pussy is just swallowin’ up Daddy’s fat cock,” he grunts, forcing his thickness in and out of you.
Your toes curl and feet point as your stepfather pushes your legs against your torso. His strong, well-built arms flex, and so does his muscled-chest. Your hands clench his sweater and subconsciously grope his pecs, and you marvel at his figure. 
Because Daddy has to do everything for his helpless baby, he takes your arm and uses it to hold up your left leg, while his left hand pushes on your right. At this new angle, your stepfather’s shaft is far deeper than it was at first.
It’s almost dizzying—the way he’s practically in your tummy. And his thrusts are now stronger, too. Andy’s got you pinned to the bed as he pounds into you, determined to bring you to another orgasm before he blows his load. And even after that, he won’t stop.
“‘S so deep, Daddy! C– Can feel it in my g– guts,” you whine, and your words make Andy’s cock throb within your tight, wet walls. Your cream drips all over his cock, leaving a thick sheen and ring coating his base. Even his balls are soaked. “Uh-huh—you’re just so tiny, baby. Daddy had to force it in—but now you’re takin’ it like a champ.”
You preen under his gaze and his praise, but your tears still leak. “Aw, poor little crybaby. Daddy’s just fuckin’ you too good, huh? S’okay, I got you,” Andy whispers, wet noises filling the air along with the smell of sex. Your sweet tang is amongst the scent, and Andy knows that later on, he’ll rub your cunt raw with his beard.
“My little fuckdoll… This is Daddy’s pussy now—all mine, just like the rest of you,” he grunts, and your second release hits you all of a sudden. 
You writhe away from Andy as best as you can, but it doesn’t get you anywhere. Instead, your aching nipples end up rubbing against the stitched threads on your stepfather’s sweater, adding to your pleasure.
Andy’s thick length nearly splits you open, having a bit of a harder time to move with your increased tightness. “Good girl—that’s it, go dumb on Daddy’s cock. My good little slut,” he moans, peppering kisses at your jaw and nipping at the skin every now and then. 
Heat spreads inside your body as the mattress gets wetter with each drop of your arousal. “You’re makin’ a mess everywhere, baby. But it’s okay. Daddy knows that little girls like you can’t help it—you need Daddy’s help with everything.”
Mindlessly, you nod your head. You gush around Andy, coating his cock while you have him in a vice-like grip. Your swollen folds get nudged by his dick, and the sight is pornographic—something he can never forget.
“Looks like this cunt is perfect for Daddy to fuck, baby,” your stepdad tells you. “Made for me to use however I want. Gonna turn you into my little whore.”
Andy’s words make your pussy constrict even more around his dick. You practically choke him, begging for his cum without even realising it. “Daddy…” you sob, limbs trembling from the amount of euphoria his actions bring. Your stepfather’s jaw clenches at your use of the title.
“That’s right, little girl. I’m your Daddy,” he grunts, now using your fuckhole like it’s his fist. He fucks into your with vigour, determined to fill you up with his cum before he switches positions. He loves the struggle of getting his dick to fit inside your pussy. “You’re making Daddy feel so good, baby. ‘M gonna give you a nice reward for being so sweet.”
At his statement, you perk up as best as you can. Though it’s difficult to think or say anything. “R– Really, Daddy?” you question, elated at the thought of a reward. “Really, little one. You’re such a good girl for Daddy—all the time, too. Never made me have to spank that ass ‘till you’re crying.”
He mumbles the last part, but you catch a bit of his sentence. You don’t understand him though—crying? No, Daddy would never hurt you. Andy’s said so numerous times—times where you’ve cried in his arms and clung to him like a kitten.
Now, your cunt does the same. It weeps and doesn’t let go of Andy’s dick, and the mounting pleasure inside him is as desperate and needy, too. “Gonna give you a belly full of my cum, baby. I’ll fill you up until you’re leaking with my seed for days,” the older man grunts, before cursing wildly.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck.”
Suddenly, the snapping of his hips stops, and he shoves his cock forward until he can’t move any further. The harshness makes you frown, wincing at the mild pain. Then, warmth fills you up, undoubtedly claiming your walls and coating them with white stickiness. 
Andy pants above you, heart clamouring in his chest as he hit his release. He grinds into your pussy to prolong it, only stopping when his hard length grows sensitive. Already, his cum leaks from the sides of his cock. 
“There we go—now you’re all mine, little girl. And I know you like being Daddy’s,” he smiles at you, coming down from his high. His face has a blush to it. 
Andy takes one of his hands and puts it on your tummy, rubbing your skin slightly to get you to relax. It works—but not in the way he predicted.
“A– Again, Daddy? Please?” you start to beg, taking your stepdad by surprise. “W– What do you mean, baby?” he questions, moving his hand to grip your hip. “Do it again, please. F– Feels so good, made some of the tingles go away…” you explain, tightening your channel at the thought.
“You want Daddy to stretch this pretty pussy out again?” Andy asks. It takes you a few seconds and his index finger pointing to where he is penetrating you for you to answer. “Uh-huh!” you moan out, gyrating your hips to alleviate the newer, fluttery feeling at your core.
“Alright… Wanna play a fun game, little one?”
You nod your head, eager to spend more time with your stepfather.
“Good. It’s called horsey,” Andy says, slowly pulling out of your pussy. You whine loudly at the loss, cum leaking out of you and spilling onto the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it for your little baby brain to understand.”
Your stepdad grabs your and manhandles your body, sitting against the headboard and placing you in his lap.
Your dripping pussy is against his hard cock. “All you have to do is bounce on Daddy’s cock—feel it? Yeah—and make it go really deep inside of you. Think you can do that, little girl`?” he says, rubbing his dick against your swollen, wet petals. 
Above him, you shudder. The pleasure is almost too much for your little-self to handle, but you push through its intensity. “O– Of course, Daddy! ‘M your good girl—gonna do anythin’ for you,” you mumble, and Andy’s hands pull at the cloth covering your torso. 
It then rips, and he removes the shreds from your body. “That’s right, baby. You’re my good girl,” he coos, reaching down to grab the thick, wet base of his hard cock. He gives himself a few languid strokes, before lifting you up a bit.
The fat, sensitive tip of your stepfather’s cock prods at your hole that’s still mildly stretched-out from his brutal fucking. Andy pushes in, pulling you down a bit so you meet him halfway. He knows it’s going to be deeper than ever—and he can’t wait to see that dumb, empty look on your face when he bottoms out.
But then he looks at your mug, and he finds himself feeling something rotten. Something terrible, sinking in his chest until his lust takes over and turns him selfish once more. No—not selfish… Just complicated.
“Daddy, feels scary,” you admit, trying to fall forward and lay against his chest. Andy tuts, holding you up and giving you one of his charming, sweet smiles. “It’s okay, I got you. Daddy’s here, little one,” he assures you, tone saccharine in a stark contrast to his dirty actions.
As you slide down his length, it becomes more difficult to take him. You try to move away from the older man—run away from his intimidating cock. “Nuh-uh. I thought you wanted to play with Daddy, baby,” Andy pouts, and your heart breaks from his sadness.
“C– Can’t take it, Daddy,” you explain to him, half of his dick inside of you. “Yes, you can, sweetheart. Let Daddy help you, it’s okay.” 
Andy’s hands hold your waist, and he looks down to where he’s connected to you, and suddenly thrust upwards. You fall forward with a cry, unprepared for the new angle. He lets you seek comfort in him and his sweater once more, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your back. 
“Shhh… you’re okay, it’s okay. You’re lucky Daddy pumped your pussy full of cum, baby. It would’ve hurt way more,” your stepfather tells you, waiting for your whimpers to die down. “Daddy’s dick is so deep inside you, hm?”
You nod your head slowly, gripping his sweater and pushing your face into his chest. “I know, little one. But when you start to play, it’ll be fine. Try bouncing, baby. Just move up and down.”
Once again, you nod and try to sit up. Andy’s hands move down to your waist, and you splay yours on his clothed pecs. “Up and down—c’mon, you can do it. Daddy knows you can,” he urges, and you begin to lift your body up. 
You stop when you feel it’s right—when half of Andy’s thickness is left inside you. Then, you slide back down. A growl rumbles in the older man’s chest, his cock throbbing as your walls stroke him. “W– Was that good, Daddy?” you question.
“So good, baby—have you played this game before?” he playfully asks, but then that humour turns to jealousy. The thought of you riding another man’s dick has Andy fuming—possessiveness boiling hot inside him and reaching the temperature of the sun. “Nuh-uh. Only you, Daddy. Nobody else.”
Like salve on a wound, you heal that vulnerability of his with your words. “Atta girl,” he praises. “How about we add a fun little rule, sweetie?” he offers as you continue to glide up and down on his cock. You whimper with each movement, muscles burning from the strain.
“O– Okay, Daddy. W– What’s the rule?” you innocently question, looking at him with your doe eyes. “Everytime Daddy slaps your ass, you have to move quicker, okay?” your stepfather tells you, moving his palms down to the globes of your ass. He caresses the skin gently.
Before you can worry about the pain, Andy lands a sharp smack to your butt, making you yelp. You pick up the pace of your movements, still careful, however. “Such a perfect pussy, little one. So tight and warm and wet… And made for my cock,” he whispers, punctuating his sentences with spanks.
Unfortunately, Andy’s cock doesn’t kiss those spots with expert aim. And you’re too scared to take his entire length. So, your poor legs give up, and you fall forward again. You cry out from the wasted euphoria—gone is the dull fire inside you. But not entirely.
“Aw, you can't do what Daddy does, hm? Poor baby. You need me so bad,” your stepdad coos, but it’s more like he rubs your failure in. “Dumb little girl—acting like a whore even though you can’t ride Daddy’s cock. How silly of you—don’t you feel stupid?”
You let out a whine that turns into a sob, and Andy quickly shushes you. Stupid Andrew, he chides himself, hurting this sweet thing… Don’t you love her? “Baby?” he calls out, trying to coax you out of the shell you’ve crawled back into.
His cock isn’t buried to the hilt like it was before, and the ache between your legs still needs to be taken care of—Andy’ll fix that after. He wedges his hand between your face and his body, pushing you off him roughing and holding your hand in his palm. You frown and cry out from the pain, face twisted in discomfort. 
“‘M sorry, little one. Daddy's sorry. Fuck—can’t help it,” he slurs, hating himself for getting so rough with you. But it’s not his fault he’s this way. You just awaken something ferocious in him—something that needs to be held down with chains and locked away in a cage for eternities. 
Something so terrible yet so addictive. 
“I love playing with you so much—that’s why Daddy hurts you, little one. I love you, I just get excited sometimes,” he explains, cupping your cheek and smiling at you. Eventually, you come around. “S’okay, Daddy,” you whisper, looking downwards. 
“It’s my turn to play horsey now, little girl. All you have to do is sit up straight, okay? Try not to lay on Daddy.”
Andy’s heels dig into the mattress and he bends his knees just a bit, still holding onto your hips. He looks down to where he breaches your tightness, and notices the tinge of pink that mixes with his spunk—the same cum that leaves out of your fuckhole.
At that moment, he ignores it. He stores that thought for later—for when he’s lonely and desperate to feel guilt. Andy bottoms out inside you slowly, enjoying the lewd squelching sounds that come with his action. “Oh, gosh,” you murmur, eyes rolling back into your head.
The hairy base of his cock touches your core, and his balls rest against your ass. Andy’s hands move to your butt, and he spreads your cheeks apart. One of his fingers prods at your other hole. The older man has half a mind to defile your little rosebud that’s sticky with wetness and his cum.
You can feel Andy’s cock so deep inside you; it’s dizzying. The breath is nearly knocked out of you, and you feel as though you’ve bared something to your stepfather that has left you utterly vulnerable. The feeling has you distraught, but Andy told you he’d take away all your thoughts, so it’ll be okay. Right? 
“You're such a good girl for me. So good. My good girl,” Andy grunts, and he’s lifting you off his cock until just the tip remains inside you. His hips then return to the depths of your wet channel. He starts to fuck up into you, and the familiar sound of skin-on-skin reverberates throughout the room. This time, it’s louder.
Andy stares at your pretty face while he fucks you into oblivion, making sure to study each aspect. From the way your eyes roll into your skull when he shoves his thickness into you to how your jaw falls slack so quickly. It’s all for him.
“Daddy—Daddy—Daddy!” you squeal, toes curling and limbs stiff yet twitching. Is it possible to be hooked on the way someone says something? You’re not a ‘someone’ though—you’re so special and so different. The answer must be yes. It must be normal, too.
Your tits bounce with each of his upward-thrusts. This new angle is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—more profound and accurate. Your stepdad fucks into you with such roughness that it’s hard to keep upright. Especially with the building sensitivity in your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, yeah. Take Daddy’s fat cock in this tiny cunt, little one. Fucking take it, slut,” Andy grunts, getting meaner by the second. It’s a helpless habit, and thank heavens that you don’t understand half of the words he’s saying. 
A blank smile spreads itself on your face, but your eyes are full of hope. Hope that you’re doing good for your Daddy. 
“You’re my good girl. My good girl—my dumb little girl. No thoughts in that head, hm? You just wanna please your Daddy and get fucked until you can’t think anymore,” he spits, and the word that diminishes your intelligence has your bottom lip wobbling. 
You want to please your Daddy, but you must be doing something wrong, no?
“Aw, don’t cry, little one. Daddy’s being nice to you, okay? It’s good like this!” Andy quickly tells you, slowing down his thrusts. He grinds into you in the meantime, and he doesn’t miss the way your cunt is gripping him even tighter. “O– Okay, Daddy. T– Thank you?” you apprehensively say, unsure of so many things. 
“Daddy’ll teach you all about it after. Okay? You’re so cute and polite, little one. You’re doing so good for me,” Andy coos, rubbing a thumb on your face. You grin at him before squeezing your eyes shut, feeling that funny sensation inside of you. 
It worsens as your stepfather continues to fuck your guts, stroking your walls with his thick member. In the midst of his actions, Andy craves a cigarette. He wonders if you’d let him blow smoke in your face since you said he can do whatever he wants to you. Of course, you would—you’re such a good girl. 
“Wanna make Daddy even happier, sweetie?” he wonders, stretching one of his arms to reach the bedside table. He pulls the top drawer open and blindly sifts through it. “O– Of course, daddy. Please? Wanna make you happy,” you plead, absentmindedly gyrating your hips on your stepdad’s cock.
Andy finds the lighter grouped with the pack of Parliament cigarettes. He doesn’t bother closing the drawer, but he does bring you closer and forces you to catch yourself on your hands.
Your stepfather—who had promised your mom that he kicked the habit—plucks a smoke from the box and places it between his pink lips. “Daddy? What are you doing?” you question, halting your movements. Andy smiles at you, the cigarette wobbling a bit.
“Don’t worry your little baby brain about it, sweet girl,” he simply tells you, before lighting the cigarette. He takes a drag from it and puffs the smoke back out, satiating the craving he had a few moments ago. He then places it on the ashtray as you watch the grey smog swirl in the blue of his room.
Andy pulls you towards his chest and holds you, fucking up into your cunt. His cock drives in and out of you, balls slapping against your ass and his thick thighs jiggle each time. 
“Uhm… Oh–! Uh, Daddy?” you murmur, finding it harder to breathe. “Shh… Don’t worry, little one. Just soak Daddy’s fat cock,” Andy shushes, and you mewl at his filthy words. 
Your cunt aches immensely, but it’s the kind that is more resounding and pleasurable than anything. Andy abuses your cream-filled fuckhole like it’s all he can do—all he knows how to do. Make you feel good—that’s it. 
He’s spewing grunts and curses, and each time he utters a filthy word, you take note of how gravelly his voice is, how it rumbles in his chest and you can quite literally feel it. It’s a harsh contrast to your high-pitched wails and choked-out moans. 
“Come, little one. C’mon, fuckin’ make a mess for your Daddy,” he demands once more, punctuating his words with hard thrusts. 
Your body comprehends his words, and it starts to have that reaction.
The one where your back arches yet your limbs flail and your head tries to pull away from the crook of his neck. It’s almost as if you’re trying to run away from your stepdad. He won’t let you go, though—he never will. Yet it makes him so hard when you try to escape. 
Your mind soars high above the cotton candy clouds of your skies. You start convulsing around Andy’s member, creaming and soaking him. Your body freezes and you let out a wail that is music to his ears. He cheers you on with small ‘yeah’s that have you giggling slightly. “Good girl.”
Your tits jiggle, and your body jerks upwards as Andy roughly fucks you through your orgasm. “D– Daddy,” you mewl, and Andy simply begins to fuck you quicker. Eventually, those sparks he brought became too much. You’re not sure what to do, though, so you simply writhe on his lap. 
“‘M gonna fill you up again. Gonna pump this cunt full of cum until you’re leaking for days. Turn you into my messy little girl,” your stepfather says through grunts and growls as he sloppily uses your pussy. You nod your head and grin, wincing every now and then.
The older man’s sloppy, selfish pumps grow erratic. Andy then stills deep inside your cunt, burying himself to the hilt. A guttural moan leaves him, one that is louder than intended. He holds your body tightly, not wanting to let go of you.
His white ropes paint your inner walls until the sides of his cock are dripping, and there’s a ring at the base. Spilling inside you, Andy turns you into his cumdump once more. “Fuck,” he groans, your tight pussy tempting him to go again and again. 
Maybe he will. His cock remains locked inside you, and both of your chests rise and fall with exhaustion. “Daddy…” you whimper, cunt sensitive and stretched out from his engorged dick. 
“Shh… Daddy’ll take care of this greedy pussy again, little girl. Don’t you worry,” Andy tells you.
Your hands are on his body, and you brace yourself up using his waist. It’s hard to stay upright with the weakness of your body and the wobble of your arms. 
Andy reaches for the ashtray and plucks the cigarette back up. He dusts the ash off, and puts it back between his lips. He inhales the smog, and then pulls the smoke away to puff out the grey fumes. 
“That’s dirty, Daddy. Don’t do it, please,” you bemoan, curling in on yourself at the sight of your stepfather harming his health. “Well, I guess that makes Daddy a dirty old man, no?” he half-quips. 
Your stepfather takes another drag, and then he pulls you close to his face. Andy exhales, smoke directed in your face and he catches you at the right time. You take a breath in, unexpectedly drawing in the fumes of his cigarette.
You giggle apprehensively—still worried and it’s written all over your face, even if you don’t mean it to. You’ve got that look you always have when you’re trying to fight back your sweet tears, trying not to burst into sobs. Eventually, the smoke goes away. But the revolting smell of it remains, lingering in his room. 
In Andy’s mind, it only makes sense a dirty old man like him would have an equally as nasty habit. 
And to balance it out, an innocent little girl like you on his cock. 
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Text
Three for One 1
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.
Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale
Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
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It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.
You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.
You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.
While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.
You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.
"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.
He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."
"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"
"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.
"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."
"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"
"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.
You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.
"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."
"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.
"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"
He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.
You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.
You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.
You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.
"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.
"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.
He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.
"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."
You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.
What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.
Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.
You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.
You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.
“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”
“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”
You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.
“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”
“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”
He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”
His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.
“How old is she?” You ask.
“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”
“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”
You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.
“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”
You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.
“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”
“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”
“Is it faster?” 
“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”
You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.
“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.
“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”
“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”
You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”
“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”
“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.
“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”
He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”
“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”
You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.
“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”
“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”
“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”
Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.
“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.
“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”
Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”
“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”
“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.
“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.
“Next week,” the first man growls.
“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”
Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.
“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.
“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.
“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”
“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”
“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”
“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”
“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”
“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.
“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”
“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”
“Two weeks?” He puffs.
“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”
“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.
“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”
“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.
“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”
“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”
“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!
“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”
He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.
“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”
“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”
You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.
“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.
“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”
He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.
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krirebr · 2 months
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Caught Up in Your Trap
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Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader
Word Count: 5.4k
Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.
Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist
A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.
Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
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Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore. 
He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.
“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”
“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”
“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”
Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”
The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”
They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.
The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.” 
Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.
Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.” 
Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”
Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”
Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”
“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.
Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.
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This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.
The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.
Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked. 
The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.
He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.
Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.
You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.” 
You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”
He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”
This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”
He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.” 
Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”
He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”
That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.
“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”
Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.
He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”
You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.
He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.
“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”
You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing. 
He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”
You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.
The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.
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You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.
You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on. 
Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.
“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you? 
You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut. 
Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.
Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.
He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”
“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.
“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”
You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact. 
“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”
What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.
Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.
“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”
You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.  
“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.
“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”
He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”
He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”
You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”
He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t. 
You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on. 
When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on. 
When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it. 
As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.
After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”
God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.” 
He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”
You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.
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Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?
You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered. 
And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.
You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”
Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”
His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”
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boxofbonesfic · 25 days
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Title: Return to Sender [5 of 7]
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Dark! Andy Barber x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader
Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he's going to keep that promise.
Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Smut, MORE TAGS TO BE ADDED
A/N: 👀 is… is anyone still there? i promised i’d update this this weekend, and i delivered. an hour before midnight, but i delivered. 😅 i know it’s been a while for this fic, but it hasn’t been forgotten about. i really hope you all enjoy this latest installment, and please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! as always, comments are great, reblogs are golden. thank you for reading, and mind the warnings. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics
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 Where am I?
You stare blearily at the distant ceiling, dull and rusting metal beams criss-crossing over exposed brick. You reach out for Dove, and when your fingers meet empty air, your throat tightens as you remember. 
Pronge walking away with your baby, and Ari—
You sit up, your fingers knotted in the thin blanket. The repurposed garage office is still and silent, the springs creaking quietly underneath you. The air smells like old motor oil, singed rubber and citrus-scented antiseptic, and it burns your nostrils. You’re almost afraid to shatter the fragile silence with the sound of your movement, but it can’t be helped as you shove your feet back into your sneakers. The office is long abandoned, the desks all pushed up against the sides of the room to make space for the bed.
The hallway is slightly better, boxes of papers and car parts lining both sides, lit by old yellow florescent bulbs that give off less light than they should. There’s a dusty, unlit neon sign that reads Gary’s Auto-body, leaning against the wall. Down the hall, you can see that the light is on in the garage proper, this one bright and brilliant white. You squint as you pass through the doorway, spots dancing in front of your eyes as they slowly adjust to the light. 
In its previous life, this place had been a car mechanic’s garage, but now it serves as something like a speak-easy operating room. The car lifts have been mostly dismantled, and sitting on the concrete in the rusted outline of where they used to be are two operating tables. Ari is on one of them, speaking quietly to the man winding a length of beige bandaging around his right shoulder. 
Zemo. Ari called him Zemo.
“Mouse, you’re up.” You cover your mouth with both hands to stop the surprised squeak from reaching him. Guiltily, you peer around the door frame, waiting for a reprimand that doesn’t come. The “doctor” regards you with cold, calculating eyes. 
“So this is the young woman Mr. Barber is tearing the city apart to find,” he says. “How nice to finally meet you.” Andy’s name sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you clutch yourself. Zemo’s welcome feels less like kindness and more like tolerance. It makes you wonder how long you’ll be staying here. 
“You know Andy?” You ask, careful to keep your face as neutral as you can manage. 
Zemo scowls. “Well enough to know we do not get along.” He shakes his head, before regarding you with a cold smile. “Your husband has just as many enemies as he does friends.” Beside him, Ari sits up on the table with a pained grunt, swinging his legs over the side. 
“We can trust him, Mouse.” Ari offers you a watery smile. Nervously, you step closer, skirting around the now defunct counter as you attempt to give Zemo as wide a berth as you can manage. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, cleaning his tools with a cloth before dropping them with a loud, metallic pap into the metal tray next to the table. 
“Are you okay?” You ask him in a quiet voice as you approach, fingers dancing nervously around the gauze. You shake your head, closing your eyes as you blow out an exasperated breath. “I mean, I know you’re not okay, but—” Ari places a warm hand over your own, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. 
“I’m okay.” 
“Lucky for you Pronge is a terrible shot.” Zemo quips. “He missed bone.”
“See?” Ari says, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “I’m just fine.” 
“You’re not fine. You have a six millimeter hole in you.”  
“Semantics.” 
“Keep activity to a minimum. I shouldn’t have to tell you this,” Zemo replies dryly. “And keep it clean, I’m not going to do it for you. This isn’t a hospital.” You watch him pack up his tools, ferrying them over to the deep sink on the other side of the room. Ari slides off of the table with a grunt, and you watch him press his lips together as he stands upright, gritting his teeth against the pain. 
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Ari mutters, cutting his eyes at Zemo over his shoulder. “Six millimeters.” The doctor tosses him a worn looking cloth sling. Ari tries to fit it over his shoulder, and you rush to help him. “Thanks, Mouse.” Your cheeks warm with an uncomfortable heat. “I could have done it myself.” 
“This is all my fault,” you mumble angrily, shaking your head. “I have to do something.” You step back from him, tucking your chin. He rests a warm, comforting hand on your shoulder. 
“No it’s not.” 
“If I—If I hadn’t—” Guilt is an achingly heavy cowl about your sagging shoulders. 
“Mouse, what good is this going to do you?” The gentleness in his touch makes you flinch.
“As much as I am enjoying this conversation,” Zemo clears his throat. “I have my own wife and son to be getting back to.” You watch as he places his cleaned tools back into his bag. “Do remember what I said about your… hole.” He gestures to Ari’s injured arm with a grimace. “I’m rather keen on not amputating.” 
“You and me both.” Ari says. The two of you watch as he makes his way over to the front of the shop, pulling the metal garage door up enough to slip underneath it. “What time tomorrow?”
“Noon.” 
The garage door slams down hard onto the concrete, and then there is silence. You stand there awkwardly, twisting your t-shirt in your restless hands. They’re so used to holding the baby, without her sure weight in them they feel… useless. 
You feel useless. Adrift. 
And it isn’t just Dove—it’s everything. Despite what Ari says, you know this is your fault. He’d never have been hurt if you hadn’t been so fucking helpless. And it’s your own fault, you’d let your guard down, let Andy back inside, let him make a home inside your head, and it was your fault. 
“What are you thinkin’ there, Mouse?” Ari’s voice interrupts the self-depreciating internal monologue running rampant in your head. “I hope it’s about getting some sleep, you need it.” Again, his earnestness puts you on edge. You don’t know what to do with it—it feels alien to you now, almost like you’d prefer Andy’s smug cruelty—at least then you know what to expect. 
You don’t want to admit that you’re blaming yourself, thinking about all the ways you could have prevented this exact course of events just by being better. 
“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m exhausted.” If anything, you’re too awake, recalling last night’s events with perfect clarity. You can’t even look at Ari as the two of you silently make your way back to the repurposed offices, shuffling along beside him as your insides squirm. You feel too much to go to sleep, so many warring desires it feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.
You suppose that’s one thing you sort of miss about Andy—you didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. He did it all for you. You arrive back at your “room”, fidgeting nervously before you cross the threshold. You don’t think you can sleep in here now, now that the adrenaline has worn off. Now that the terror has been waylaid by your other earthly concerns. 
 Ari notes your hesitation. 
“I can stay with you util you fall asleep, if you don’t think you can.” 
You duck your head, shaking it emphatically. “I should be looking after you,” you reply, shooting him a look over your shoulder. “You should, um, rest.” Ari looks around, raising an eyebrow. Oh. There’s only one other bed—and it’s current occupant is currently snoring so loud you can hear it in here. 
“You sleep here, and I’ll—” You look around. “I’ll sleep in one of the rolly-chairs or something.” He laughs softly at your sudden determination. 
“You know I’m not letting you sleep on chairs, Mouse.” Ari rests a hand on your shoulder. “You take the bed.” 
“You got shot, Ari!” You hiss. “I-I-I can’t—”
He holds up his hands placatingly, like he can see you working yourself up. Hell, he probably can. 
“Okay.” He threads the fingers of his good hand through his blond hair. “I’ll sleep on one side, you on the other. Fair?” 
“Y-yes. Fair.” Your words shock the both of you, and you feel your face heat as he regards you with a look of pleasant surprise before you look down at your feet. 
“You don’t have to agree if you aren’t comfortable, Mouse. You know that. I wouldn’t—”
“I know.” You grip your own forearms tightly as you speak, like you’re afraid saying the words out loud will make them untrue—like speaking the name of your demon will bring him down upon you. “You’re not Andy.” 
Ari takes the left side of the bed, and the springs creak under his weight. You crawl in beside him, holding yourself as stiff as you possibly can to avoid even brushing him by accident. The truth is, you are scared—but not of Ari. 
And that frightens you, too. 
He’s a man, a stranger, wearing a face too similar to the one you’re running from. Now, though, when you’re brave enough to peek at him, you see Ari—not Andy. And the longer you’re here, the clearer you see him.
You lie there in the dark, your arms held painfully stiff over your chest as you search the dark with wide, glassy eyes. The ceiling is far enough above you that your brain begins to construct patterns and shapes on it’s popcorn-textured surface. Grinning faces, tall, shadowy figures—
“Mouse, are you sleeping?” 
You hesitate. “…No.” 
“Go to sleep.” You swallow against the thick lump in your throat, blinking back hot tears. 
“It’s… It’s hard without Dove.” It’s so silent without the baby, the darkness uncomfortably quiet without the sound of her sleepy burble. She’s probably awake right now, wailing for you. You press the heels of your palms against your eyes like you’re trying to hold the tears in. 
“I know.” The mattress creaks, and you feel Ari’s weight shift. The weight of your loss settles in on you, then, the crushing vacuum of your daughter’s absence sucking the air out of your lungs as you gasp for it. You can’t keep quiet anymore, your hiccoughing breaths rising in pitch until you’re sobbing, hot tears streaming down your cheeks to soak your hair and the thin pillow beneath. 
“Hey, hey, come here.” Ari’s touch is hesitant. He lets his fingers linger on your shoulders before he hugs you, like he’s waiting for you to rebuke him. You don’t. Instead, you curl into his chest, your wails muffled by his body as you tangle your fingers in his over-shirt. You cry so hard it hurts, your throat raw and aching. 
Ari’s hands don’t stray. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t murmur false platitudes or make promises he knows he won’t be able to keep. He just…holds you, his breath steady and heartbeat slow and even under your ear. 
And then, finally, you fall asleep.
In the light of day, Irene looks terrible. Her left eye is swollen black and purple, a patchwork of burst blood-vessels and yellow bruises spread out over  cheek. The other side of her face is not much better, the other eye open but blood red, and her nose swollen. It’s obvious she took a beating, a bad one. Still, she seems to be in higher spirits than last night as she shovels the last of her cereal into her mouth. You’re doing the same thing, hungrily crunching down the contents of your own bowl. 
“We need to talk about next steps.” Irene draws the back of her hand across her mouth, her one good eye focused on you. “We need to move.” 
“I’m not going anywhere without Dove.” 
“That isn’t an option anymore.” 
You clench your hands into fists on the table. “I’m. Not. Leaving.” 
“We will figure out a way to get her back, but right now? You cannot go back to Boston, he is never going to let you go, do you understand that?” It’s like you’re speaking two different languages, talking around one another in dizzying circles. You shove yourself away from the foldout table, knocking over your plastic chair. 
“I’m not fucking leaving without my daughter!” You haven’t felt like this in months, and something about it feels freeing as the hot rage pools in your chest.  No, it isn’t that you haven’t felt it, you haven’t let yourself feel it. Anger was hopeless with Andy, firm and stone faced in the hurricane of your rage until you exhausted yourself, your freedom, your life still frustratingly far out of your reach. 
You storm away from the table, kicking aside one of Zemo’s silver trays, and his tools skitter across the concrete. Behind you is the sound of Ari’s voice. 
“I’ll talk to her.” 
You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you need to be away from them. Alone. The bathroom is on the far side of the garage bay, and you slam the door behind you, your chest heaving. You can’t leave without Dove, you won’t. 
You won’t abandon her. 
You grip the porcelain edges of the sink hard as you blink back fresh tears. You turn on the water with a fierce jerk of the knob, and begin to rinse last night’s tears from your face. This is the cleanest room in the building, fresh towels stacked on on the shelves, and medical supplies arranged neatly in the glass cases across from the standing shower. 
It’s probably the only room Zemo actually uses. 
As you’re drying your face, a knock sounds at the door, and you glare at it as you huff. 
“What?”
“It’s me. Can I come in?” You chew your lip. 
“Fine.” 
You unlatch the lock, and fold your arms across your chest as it opens. Ari peers around the door. 
“Hey.” 
“Hey.” You repeat, and he chuckles, stepping fully inside as the door swings shut behind him. “I’m not leaving without Dove.” You say it firmly, watching his shoulders sag with his deep sigh. “It’s not happening.” 
“Mouse. Look at me.” Reluctantly, you drag your gaze from the air over his shoulder. “Your husband—”
“We’re not married.” You spit, and Ari rolls his eyes at the technicality. 
“He’s dangerous, Mouse. You know that.” Ari places gentle hands on your shoulders. “You know that as soon as you step foot back in that house that he will never, ever let you go again.” Your stomach twists at his words.
“I can get out again.” 
“Will you want to?” His bluntness feels like a slap across the face, and though Ari hadn’t struck you—would never—your cheeks smart anyway. You know what he’s implying—Andy scrambled your head all up inside, and half the time now you don’t know up from fucking down.
But it still hurts to know he knows. Knows how changed you are, even though he never got to see the before, just the after.  
“Fuck you!” You snarl. “I am not leaving her! And if you won’t help me get her back, then I’ll—I’ll go back my fucking self!” For the first time since you’d met him, Ari actually looks angry at this, his eyes darkening beneath his furrowed brows. “If you don’t care about her—”
“I let Leah go back.” It takes you a moment to realize who he’s talking about, what he means. “I let Leah go back, and then I had to bury them both.” Ari’s hand is a pale, trembling fist on the bathroom sink. His next words are hoarse. “I didn’t know they made coffins so small.” 
“Ari…”
“I care about Dove.” The words are heavy, and you hate that you know he means them. “We are going to get her back.” His eyes are shiny, but he doesn’t cry. “I fucking swear we will get her back, but you are not going to do that. Okay? You’re not.” 
“You promise?” Your mouth trembles. 
“I promise.” Ari wraps his pinky around yours, holding your entwined fingers up at eye level. “And you aren’t going back.”  
“I-I won’t.”
“Promise.” His dark eyes burn so fiercely you want to look away. “Promise.” He repeats it firmly. 
“I promise.” 
And then he’s kissing you, cupping your chin with his good hand as he presses his lips desperately against your own. Your heart pounds in your ears as you go stiff in his arms. Ari breaks away, releasing you with a soft curse. 
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Mouse, I—I didn’t mean to do that, I just—” For once, he’s flustered, his cheeks ruddy beneath the shadow of his beard. Ari cards his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.” 
The moment hangs between you in the air, held like a breath. 
Your body stays tensed, like you’re ready to fight, or run, like it remembers Andy’s strict instructions. Except… Andy isn’t here to deliver them himself. 
“It’s…” You don’t know what to say, hell, you don’t even know what you’re feeling. Everything is all mixed up, the emotions all biting the tails of the ones they’re chasing—you’re terrified, you’re exhilarated, you’re nauseous and scared and happy and—
“I’ll go. I should go.” Ari mutters the words more to himself than to you. You’re moving before you really mean to, leaning up on the tips of your toes to press a clumsy kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“I—I don’t want you to go.”  With a sigh, Ari melts against you, resting his forehead against yours.  You know you have done this before—many times, even just with Andy—but somehow there is a marked uncertainty as you lift your own hand to Ari’s face, stroking your thumb along his stubbled jawline. He hums, turning his face into your palm, and you feel the press of his lips. 
 Ari wraps his good arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into the meat of your hip through your pajama pants. His right arm flexes, his fist clenching and unclenches in the sling like he wants to move it, but he knows better. Instead, he buries his nose in your hair, the tips of his fingers creeping up beneath your t-shirt to stroke at your belly. You tense at his touch and then relax again, shivering. 
“You tell me to go, I go.” Ari repeats softly, nosing down the side of your jaw. “I won’t be angry.” You look for the pool of cold dread that usually sits in your belly whenever Andy touches you, the reluctant fear that you stamp down to please him but find it entirely absent. 
“You don’t have to make me happy, you don’t have to do what I want because I want it.” You have to stand on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around Ari’s broad shoulders. There is undeniable excitement uncurling in your belly, warmth skipping under your skin at his touch. You want Ari to touch you.
“What if… it would make me happy?”
Ari huffs out a breathy laugh, his lips curving against your own. “That’s all I seem to want to do.” He takes your mouth again with a fervor that leaves you pleasantly breathless. Ari tangles his fingers in the curls at the nape of your neck, holding you still. His teeth tug at the weight of your lower lip and you gasp, opening for him. Ari tastes faintly of cinnamon sugar and something distinctly him that makes you shiver. 
“Been wanting to do that for a goddamn week.” He sighs the words against your mouth. He smooths his hand down the back of your neck, tracing a gentle finger along the length of your spine. You don’t know you’re holding your breath until you release is as his palm skirts over the curve of your ass. He chuckles. “Is this okay?”
“Y-yes.” Ari palms your ass in response and you gasp, tangling your fingers in his over-shirt. It feels strange to be asked what you want, to even consider your own feelings as worth listening to. Andy tells you what to want, what to think, how to feel—Ari simply…allows you to be. Just as you are. 
“I wanna touch you, Mouse,” he breathes. The admission sends a sharp bolt of electricity straight down your spine. “Can I?” You can’t avoid his eyes anymore, reluctantly meeting his gaze with your own. The words stick in your throat.
“You have to tell me, Mouse.” He strokes your trembling chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not him.”Andy always played at giving you choice, but you know Ari isn’t. That if you tell him to, he’ll walk away, and he won’t punish you for it. 
You close your eyes hard, pressing the lids shut till they hurt. You don’t want to think about Andy right now, don’t want to think about Dove without you—you just want this. It feels like you have to reach down your own throat to find it, pulling your own voice up and out through your mouth with force.
“Please?” 
Ari groans, plunging his hand into your loose sleep-pants to wrap around your thighs. He’s strong enough to lift you one-armed as you adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist as a reflex and he hums approvingly, his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips. 
The hard planes of his body press against yours, and your face heats as you think of the new weight that has settled around your hips and belly, but Ari does not seem to notice its presence, his fingers skimming appreciatively along your skin. You can feel the bulge of his cock pressing against your core, and the breathy, surprised noise you make in the back of your throat at the feel of it prompts a chuckle. 
Ari grips your hip hard as he takes a few long strides backwards until you feel cool tile beneath your back. He holds you there, pinned comfortably between his body and the wall as he grinds into you. He ruts against you with a groan. The thin, stretchy fabric between you offers little protection, considering, you can practically feel him throbbing through his zipper. 
“See, Mouse?” He says lowly. “All for you.” Ari releases you, and your feet have barely touched down on the tile before he’s pulling at the hem of your t-shirt. 
“Let’s take this off.” You nod, tugging it up over your head breathlessly, unaware of where it lands after Ari tugs it from your fingers. He drops to his knees, hooking a finger under the elastic band holding up your pajamas. You tense, remembering the last person who had been between your legs, but Ari grounds you, his lips brushing over the curve of your hip. 
“Don’t.” His mouth moves softly against your skin. “Stay here. With me, right now. Don’t go anywhere else.” Ari peels the layers of clothing back from your skin, his hands roaming hungrily over each newly revealed inch. You step out of them and then quickly scoot off your socks. Ari looks up at you from between your thighs, making hard, heavy eye contact as he places a hand beneath your knee. 
“Can I do this for you, Sweetheart? Can I make you feel good?” God, you want to let him. Everything’s out of you control—Andy, Dove, your whole life, but this? This is yours. This, you get to choose.
“Yes.” Even the act of consent feels unfamiliar. “I—I want to.” You don’t know how to describe the way you see the relief leave his body, his broad shoulders relaxing as he widens your stance, pushing your thighs apart till he can kneel between them properly. He squeezes the back of your thigh reassuringly before slowly lifting it to rest on his good shoulder. Ari holds your gaze as he leans forward to place a kiss on the chubby curve of your vulva through your cotton panties. 
His mouth is warm and soft—reverent as he mouths at your swelling lips through the fabric. Ari strokes your hip as he catches the fabric with his teeth, before pulling it aside to marvel at your bare pussy. You want to look away but you don’t, your mouth dropping open as he delivers a sloppy kiss against your slick folds. 
“O-oh,” the sound falls from your lips unbidden, and you feel his mouth curve against you. He pauses briefly to shrug out of his flannel, and dimly you are aware of the sound of his zipper before he’s back, his face thrust hard into the soaking place between your thighs. You mumble his name. 
“Ari, Ari, Ari—” 
He rolls the pearl of your clit against the roof of his mouth, circling your entrance with one finger. You press your head back against the tile, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. You do not remember threading your fingers through his hair, but as you tighten them, tugging, he moans, throaty and low. When you chance a look down, Ari is staring at you with lidded eyes. He flicks your clit sharply with the tip of his tongue, humming appreciatively as you jackknife. 
“Go ahead and cum, Mouse,” he murmurs the words against your slick, twitching skin. “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know you need it.” One hand remains buried in Ari’s hair, tugging on it helplessly as the other scrabbles for purchase against the tile, looking for something—anything—to hold onto. You push against the hot water knob, and the pipes rattle as water rockets through them. You are tangentially aware of the spray of warm water from the shower head—but only barely. You whine helplessly, hips rolling against Ari’s face as you cum. 
He presses the tip of his finger into your cunt, groaning at the feel of you, wet and swollen and sucking at him. He gently lowers your leg, and your trembling knees nearly buckle. You watch as Ari wraps his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly as he stares at the sticky, messy spot at the apex of your thighs. It’s thick, veiny like his forearms. He sweeps his thumb across the tip,  spreading the dewy drop of precum gathered there. 
Ari stands, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. From inside, he produces a wrinkled—but sealed—condom. He tears into the packet with his teeth before discarding it. He fumbles with one hand, nearly dropping it, but you help, gingerly pulling the condom from his fingers. Ari stands stock still as you roll it slowly down to the base before he grasps your chin, his mouth crashing against yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. 
This time when he lifts you, he uses the wall to leverage your weight, sinking you down slow as you lock your ankles behind his waist. Ari’s head lolls, his lips parting in a silent “o” as he draws his hips back, and then fully sheathes himself inside. The air in your lungs escapes in a sharp, needy whine. 
“F-full.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until Ari hums in agreement. 
“Feels good, doesn’t it Mouse?” He breathes. “Shit, you’re squeezing me so nice,” he breathes, drawing back until your cunt is sicking at the tip of him before driving all the way back inside. You manage a nod, your hips rolling greedily into his.
“I-I—fuck—again—” The words don’t want to leave your tongue in any sort of sensible manner, but Ari understands them, grinning hungrily as he picks up the pace. He skims your clit with his thumb, and you can feel the sparks skittering up your spine and you gasp as he does it again and again—
“Come on, Sweetheart, you’ve got one more in there for me, don’t you?” He mutters, angling his hips up into yours as you writhe against him. “Wanna feel it on my cock—mmm, fuck—” You do, leaning forward to bury your face against his chest as you wail, your cunt clamping down around him like a fist. Ari curls his massive body over yours as he empties into you, his hips pressing softly against yours. He holds you there, his cock jerking and throbbing inside of you as he mumbles soft ‘mm’’s and ‘yeah, fuck yeah’’s into your hair until he’s done. 
You stay like that, your body buzzing as the warm water streaming down over you. Eventually, when you can no longer feel the hammer of his heart against your cheek, he pulls out, and you press your lips together in embarrassed amusement at the crinkle of latex. He knots it off before tossing it into the trash bin. Your cheeks burn as Ari cleans between your legs, cupping your swollen cunt with an appreciative hum. He slides his fingers through the folds of your sticky sex, and your breath hitches. 
“I’m just cleaning you up, Mouse, I promise.” He’s true to his word, there’s   hungry, lustful intensity in his touches, only care. You str heady yourself against his shoulder, and your heart drops at the  sight of his bandages. The center is tinged with a pink circle, and as you stare at it, it darkens a little. 
“You’re bleeding.” Ari looks down at his shoulder and grimaces.
“Occupational hazard, Mouse. I’ll be fine.” He attempts to reassure you with a smile, but it doesn’t completely do away with the cold feeling in your belly.
“We’re going to need to change these, at least,” you say, fingering the edge of his wet bandage. “I think Zemo will be mad if we don’t.”
“He’s always mad.” Ari replies, and you laugh. “But yes. We’ll change them” 
It somehow feels more intimate to stand there in the shower with Ari, slowly washing off the events of the last day and a half. He shampoos your hair, rubbing it in gently at the roots with the tips of his fingers. When you’re finally done, he helps you towel off, before producing a generic grey sweatshirt and pants from one of the cupboards after a bit of rummaging. 
When the two of you return to the garage, dewy cheeked and differently clothed, Irene snorts. 
“Had a good time, did you?” 
Dove won’t stop crying. 
Andy isn’t a bad father, he knows he’s not, but for some reason, he can’t get her calmed down. Her little fists are clenched tight, beating the air above her head with a frustration Andy as her father, cannot seem to quell. He bounces his daughter tiredly as he paces around the nursery, mumbling soothing baby speak as he rubs circles on her back. 
She’s been wailing practically nonstop since Pronge had delivered her, his expression grim as he’d handed her over. 
I couldn’t get your wife.
Andy had wanted to rage, then, and he almost had, itching to slam the whiskey glass in his hand into Robert’s face for the trouble—but Dove’s fussing had provided a sufficient reminder that it might not be appropriate to do so. She cries herself to sleep, hiccoughing in his arms until her breathing evens. Andy carefully lays her down in the crib, stroking his hand over the curve of her cheek. He closes the door to the nursery, and to his disgust, Robert Pronge stands in the hallway, the decanter of whiskey from his office held in his hand. He takes a swig from it. 
“Who else was with her?” 
Pronge grimaces. “Irene. And her new assistant. Fucker’s as big as a goddamn house. Name’s Ari Levinson, he owns some shithole bar.” Andy’s eyes narrow.
“Get out.” He shoulders past the killer in his hallway, not bothering to take back the bottle.
“And do what, exactly?” He sneers. 
“Finish your goddamn job, and find my wife.” Andy waits to hear the sound of the front door before returning to his office. He’d had you—and you’d slipped right through his fingers again. You wouldn’t want to be apart from Dove, at least, that much he could be sure of. You’re a good mother, regardless of the doubts he knows he’ll have to plant in your beautiful head to get you to stay. 
Ari Levinson. 
The name is unfamiliar, and a search through both Massachusetts and New York state databases return no results. He does, however, get pings on basic search engines.
Ari Levinson. Dishonorable discharge, tried for murder, dismissed as self defense.
Now that is interesting.
It’s after midnight when he finally decides to turn in for the night, and as he closes his office door, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He reaches for it, frowning at the unfamiliar number—but then his eyes widen at the caller I.D. 
Albany.
“Hello?” At first, there’s only grainy silence on the other end, until finally, you speak. 
“I’m ready to talk, Andy.” 
He smiles. “Oh, Honey. I knew you would be.” 
to be continued…
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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️
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Don’t Speak Masterlist
Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (Andy Barber)
Status: In Progress
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 32
Part 33
Part 34
Part 35
Part 36
Part 37
Part 38
Part 39
Part 40
Part 41
Part 42
Part 43
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shadeysprings · 4 months
Text
Eyes of the Devil
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—Boss!Andy Barber x Assistant!F!Reader
Summary — Happiness blinds you from the horror that looms around the corner.
Warnings — noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, forced oral (m receiving), betrayal, blackmailing, cumshot to the face and implied kidnapping if you squint. Mean!Andy is present.
Word Count — 2.7K
A/N — My first entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. This is also the first time I'm writing for Andy. And honestly it was hard yet fun ^^ Should you expect more Andy from me in the future? Fuck yeah.
Shoutout to my betas by @vellicore and @lunarbuck. But all mistakes are mine alone.
Gif by @barneswilsonrogers
As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️
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Once again, you’re burning the midnight oil.
With the holidays fast approaching, Dolores in accounting has you working double time on filing the pending paperwork that needs to be audited before the year ends. Even so, it’s work you don’t mind—you have nowhere to be and no one to see, your cubicle serving as a fortress, your home away from home. 
“Aren’t you heading out yet?” You look up from your computer to see Mr. Barber smiling down at you, his coat hanging from his arm where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up his elbows. He already looks run down from the day’s work, yet he still manages to be chipper. 
“Just finishing up on some tasks, Mr. Barber.” You respond with a smile. “I’ll get going as soon as I’m done.”
“Is that the year end report?”
You nod and hold back the sigh that wants to escape. “Dolores doesn’t want to wait until the last minute to finish it so she’s asking for the report 3 weeks in advance.”
“Seems a bit early, don’t you think?” You think he’s talking to you, but his eyes are cast down, his lips twisted in thought. He must have forgotten that he approved her early leave, yet you don’t find it in you to correct him. “Well, you take it easy then. I wouldn’t want you getting too worked up over it.” Your boss says, concern laced in his voice. “Just finish what you can. And if there is anything I can help you with, you just say the word.”
“Don’t worry, Sir. I have everything I need—just have to double check then compile them before sending them off to her.” The assurance you give seems to placate him, and you feel a sense of joy that you see him about to take off. 
Not that you don’t enjoy talking to your boss; he’s the only one, aside from the other department heads, you interact with on a daily basis. But he’s still the CEO, and you can’t help but think about his rank and see him as a superior, even in an informal setting. 
“Very well. I’ll leave you to it.” He says, the smile once more present on his lips. But before he leaves, he adds, “Oh, before I forget,” Mr. Barber places a festive paper bag on top of your desk, one you failed to notice him holding when he passed by your desk. “Merry Christmas.”
A gift. Something you never expected to receive from your boss.
“Oh, you didn’t have to bother, Sir.” You tell him as you stare at the bag in awe. A plain white box is nestled between the sheets of pink and purple paper when you peek inside.
“It’s really no trouble. Just a little something I picked up from my overseas trip last week.” He explains, the smile on his face seemingly growing wider, more playful, something you’ve never seen on him before. “I hope you like it.”
You return his smile. “I’m sure I would, Sir. Thank you.” 
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A snow globe. That’s what Mr. Barber gave you. 
But it isn’t just any snow globe, no. It is a limited edition collectible of your favorite cartoon character. You don’t even know how he got his hands on one, with it being sold out within minutes of being released, or how he even knew it was your favorite—probably from the small figurines you keep on your desk—but you feel elated just by looking at it. 
You examine it with excited hands, curious at the button that sits underneath the base. They never advertised it as something electronic. You press the button, and to your surprise, a soft melody plays as the faux snow within blows on its own, making it even more magical than you thought it to be. A tiny blue light at the chest of the character begins  blinking along with the tune, a squeal of glee leaving your lips. 
It has you thinking of buying him a really good present, one of equal value to the one he’s given.
With a smile, you stow away the packaging and set the snow globe on the shelf where you keep the rest of your collection. This one, though, has a special place at the center of all the others, the star of the show as it should be.
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You stare at your computer in shock. 
The image of you naked in bed, one hand on your tit, and the other grasping a toy with the other end buried in your cunt with your face twisted in pleasure. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you immediately close the image, looking around to see if anyone witnessed it as well. But no one resides on this side of the floor aside from you and Mr. Barber.
Panic rises in your throat as you try to think who sent it to you. But most importantly, how they got such a picture of you in the privacy of your own home. 
Your computer pings once more, and your stomach turns when you see the same unknown email address pop up from the corner of your screen. You don’t dare open it, too afraid of its contents. Instead, you delete it, even empty out the trash all the same to completely purge it from existence. 
Beads of sweat form at your nape, the beating of your heart growing heavier by the second as the fear continues to bloom in your chest. What do they want? Why are they doing this to me? The thoughts swirl in your head, and all you can think about after is going home to hide. But you can’t; they’ve made it known to you that the place that should be the safest no longer is. They only have footage of you in your room, but it isn’t certain that they don’t have eyes in other parts of your apartment.
“Do you have a moment?”
Mr. Barber’s voice startles you, making you sit up straight  in your seat and look up at him with wide eyes. The smile on his face dwindles and turns into a curious frown, most likely recognizing the trepidation painted on yours.
“Is something wrong?” He asks, worry laced in his voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Uhh—yes, Sir. I just—I think my breakfast isn’t sitting well in my stomach.” You lie, but you’d rather let your boss know that you’re about to shit your pants than telling him the truth.
“Maybe some soda would help? Or I think Angie in HR has some medicine you can take.”
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll figure it out.” You tell him, forcing a smile to hopefully stop him from prying any further. “Did you need help with something?”
As if remembering what he came to you for, he says, “Ah, yes. I actually do.” Pulling away from your cubicle, he adds, “I made some changes to my itinerary for my business trip—I was hoping to run them by you.” But there’s still apprehension visible around him as he makes his request known. “Do you have time to come to my office? Or do you want to grab some fresh air first?” 
You want to say yes, to deal with your anonymous harasser head-on, but deep down, you know you can’t. The fear would only grip you tighter and render you useless for the entire day, and the last thing you want is to show your boss an ounce of incompetence and a chance for him to ask what’s running in your head. 
“No.” You respond, already standing from your seat. “I can step out after our discussion.” Grabbing the folder you compiled for his trip and snatching your notepad from your desk, you follow him back to his office.
Work will help you take your mind off of things.
“Lock the door, please.” Mr. Barber instructs, and you do as you’re told. “If you can just take note of the new arrangements I made.” You step over to the side of his desk, taking the sheet of paper he holds out to you.
Yet shock grips you once more when you look down at it, your hands shaking as the sheet he gave you has the image that was sent to you earlier printed on it.
“You—”
“You scream and I’ll send it to the entire office.” Mr. Barber says, his concern from earlier is now gone and replaced with something vile as he looks up at you from where he’s seated. “So be a good girl and kneel.”
You don’t understand what’s happening. How did he get a hold of this picture? Was he sent the same email? Has your harasser already done the unthinkable, and your boss is using it to his advantage? Unless—
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Sweetheart.” From the way he says it, you know it’s a threat, and the one he said earlier circles in your head that you quickly obey, placing the folders in your hands atop his desk and getting down on your knees. You watch him with fear as he rolls his chair closer, trapping you between his thick thighs.
“Sir, what’s g—”
“Did I say you could speak?” Mr. Barber scolds, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him, his sapphire eyes looking darker than you recall. “You do what I say when I say and that includes talking, am I clear?” His words weigh heavy in the air, and you can do nothing but nod your head in agreement. “Good girl. We don’t want the entire company receiving such a scandalous Christmas present, do we?”
You shake your head, too afraid to speak, knowing he hasn’t permitted you to do so. 
A sinister smirk forms on his lips, and you keep your eyes on the button of his white shirt when he releases your face. You swallow thickly in fear, already knowing what comes next, what he would have you do as his hands fumble with the buckle of his belt and the zip of his pants. 
He groans low, the sound, although soft, echoing loudly in your ear when he pulls his cock free of its confines. It’s already stiff from what you can see, with precum beading at the tip. You shiver when he places a hand on your shoulder, fingers tapping, caressing the fabric of your chiffon blouse before he wraps them around the back of your neck.
“If you can fuck yourself with that toy, I’m sure you know how to suck a cock.” He utters, his other hand taking his length and tapping the tip gently against your lips. “Think of this as a performance review. You please me well enough, I might just give you a raise.” It’s a challenge, one you know you have no way of winning.
With shaky hands, you take his cock from him and stroke it a few times. Fear envelops you, the small space he’s trapped you in rendering you claustrophobic that you feel the pounding of your chest right at your ears. Slowly, you part your lips and wrap them around the tip, disgust rolling in your stomach as the pad of your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. 
But all of a sudden, he pushes your head down, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock. Tears pool in your eyes when he hits the barrier of your throat, choking around him. You try to pull away, doing your best to breathe through your nose while you push a hand against his stomach and the other slapping onto his thigh. 
You want to pull away, to spit him out and endure the humiliation of having your colleagues see the vulgar image, but Mr. Barber—no! He deserves no respect! But Andy is being forceful, keeping his hand around your nape and holding you down longer. Until finally, he lets go, and you gasp for air as you pull him away from your mouth, spit dripping while you cough profusely from the roughness he’s bestowed.
“Come on, Sweetheart,” He says between chuckles, taking you by the back of your head this time and pushing you back between his thighs. “We’re just getting started.”
He doesn’t even give you enough time to recover from his assault when he drives his cock back into your mouth, the saliva gathered at your tongue serving as lubricant, one he uses to his advantage as he pilots your head up and down against him. 
His groans of pleasure fill the expanse of his office, mixed with your muffled grunts of revulsion and torment. Though you do nothing to fight back, afraid of the consequences you’ll suffer if you do and choose to endure his depravity, to allow him to use you as he so desires.
“Did you like my gift?” He says between shaky breaths. “I knew it was perfect.” 
The snow globe! But why?! Why is he doing this to you?!
Shutting your eyes tight, you do your best to shut him out, to think of someone else, someone from your past who’s receiving the lustful deed of your mouth. But the way he says your name, the ways his voice continues to permeate your senses, makes it all too difficult. That it’s only Andy you feel, Andy who controls. 
Tears stream down your face when he takes hold of your face with both his hands. Instead of guiding your head the way he wishes, he fucks your mouth with reckless thrusts. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I saw you playing with yourself.” He says between grunts. “Couldn’t stop thinking of what else you could do.” Once, twice, several more times, the tip of his cock hits your throat. You stop yourself from gagging, staying strong to please him and deciding to pleasure him, hollowing your cheeks and caressing the veins of his cock with your tongue. 
If he finishes soon, your torment will be done as well. 
Placing your hands over his, you move to your own volition—much to his surprise when you hear the grunt from his chest and the way he frees you from his hold. You take more of him, all of him, one hand reaching to caress his balls while the other strokes what you no longer fit in your mouth. You even moan for added effect to make him believe that you enjoy what he’s thrust you into and that you share in his pleasure—one you can confirm when you feel him throb between your lips.
But once again, he surprises you, gasping when he pushes you off of him, yet his hand returns to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. 
“Open your mouth. Eyes on me.” He commands, and you do as you are told. Sapphires look down on you, even darker than before, and you hang your tongue like a dog while he takes his cock tight in his hand and strokes himself fast. Within seconds, he lets out a garbled grunt, and you close your eyes in horror when hot strings of white shoot out of him and paint your lips as well as your cheeks.
You’re crying once again, confusion swirling in your head. He played you for a fool—infiltrated the safety of your home without even so much as trying, because you let him in. But you fail to understand why. Why he’s treating you this way, why he even thought about treating you like this. 
You think he’s done when he leans back in his seat and loosens his hold on himself. But that’s far from it. Andy chuckles, deep and dark, pressing the tip against his come and smears it over your lips, pushing it once more into your mouth. 
“Swallow.” Another command. “Suck me clean.”
And you do. The warmth of his seed scalding your throat, and you fight the bile that rises in return.
“I already booked your holiday leave,” Andy says breathily with a sinister grin, his thumb rubbing at the back of your neck.
You look at him with wide, fearful and curious eyes. What? Holiday leave? But you never booked one. 
His laughter then fills your ears, seemingly sensing your distress. “It’s the changes to my business trip—you’ll be accompanying me.” He answers, slipping his cock out and taking your chin, rubbing his thumb against your lower lip that’s still sticky with his come. “I need all the time I could get to see if your cunt feels as great as your mouth.”
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bunnyscraft · 2 years
Note
What about Andy Barber with a cheating / getting back at kink
Like he knows Laurie is cheating on him so he turns to you
Dark!Andy Barber x Younger!Reader | Guilty
Bunny’s Note : oooo spicy !! Always love some dark!Andy Barber !! Hope you enjoy this one <3
Warnings : slight! dub-con, darkish!Andy, cheating, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), inexperienced!Reader, mean!Andy, slight misogyny, BIG AGE GAP !!
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Andy’s pov:
I’d made it two steps into the pristine seemingly empty home before I heard it—the obnoxiously loud ringing of my wife’s phone. The shrill sound of the speaker shouldn’t have irritated me more than the reason for the call.
I knew who it was. Who he was.
Laurie’s feet thumped down the hallway—always quick to pick up the unknown caller or send it straight to voicemail before mumbling on about annoying telemarketers and asking how my day was.
I knew what she was doing.
I watched as her chipped red nails flipped the device over—screen now flat against the cold expensive marble that stood in the middle of our kitchen. “Oh! Ands—baby,” she faked surprise, moving around the counter to conduct our mandatory kiss. What once used to be the most exciting part of my day—I was about to get laid—now blended in with my other daily duties.
It’s Thursday—take out the trash.
Don’t forget to schedule with the groomer.
Take a handful of vitamins because apparently—I am now old.
Kiss cheating wife.
Go to work.
She leaned in, kissed the corner of my mouth as quickly as one could. I didn’t bother to return it and she didn’t bother to care—no she only continued to clamber around the kitchen searching for her bag and shoes and whatever else she’d need for her night out of pretending she wasn’t a mother and wasn’t in her mid forties and definitely wasn’t a married woman sleeping with drunk men in their twenties.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, babe. Sorry it’s such short notice—you know Susan can’t bake it all without me. She’ll definitely need my help with the bake sale and—” Laurie rambled on, picking up her phone and anxiously tapping through it.
She seemed to have forgotten that Susan didn’t know shit about baking and that our son, who was now a senior in high school, was possibly a little too old to have a mother host a bake sale for him.
All of these things—the bullshit lies and the shifty behavior—should have hurt me. Maybe they should have triggered a sort of dominance in me to protect my family or confront my wife. But no, in moments like these, I felt nothing.
“Oh and y/n is here—upstairs with Jacob.” She revealed—voice laced with annoyance. “You make sure she doesn’t try anything on him—she dresses like some kind of slutty-church girl. It’s weird and I don’t want that kind of influence around him. Especially right now.”
I had to bite back a smirk. It was almost comical—her calling you a slut, not that I’d disagree.
Y/n was a cute little thing—always smiling and offering to help when she’d find me covered in grass and dirt—dripping with sweat from working meticulously on our perfect suburban yard. She’d always stand there in some little sundress that would barely reach her knees and pristine white socks—obviously not dressed for the job but always ready to help old Mr. Barber out.
I’d never let her—dirtying a little thing like that wasn’t what I had in mind. Instead, like the old pervert I’ve grown into, I’d have her run inside the house for me for water—just to watch the little sway of her ass as she turned to do what I said, then ogle at the bounce of her tits when she’d skip back.
I’ll admit—I was a creep, I am a creep, but she had a slutty side to her.
Every now and then i’d jolt awake to the flash of y/n’s headlights shining through my window in the peak hours of the night—my bed uncomfortably empty. Were you like Laurie, y/n?Spending long nights out—lying and hiding about where and what you had been doing, either to your absent parents or doting boyfriend?
I had decided that that’s what she was: a little desperate slut—eager for the attention of an older man. It made me feel better to think of y/n this way. It kept me from focusing on those times when her soft laugh stuck a little too long in my head or when her comforting squeezes to my shoulder caused more than just a slight hard-on.
They caused emotions to spill.
I had written it all out in my head—a story on what this oblivious girl was really like.
You were easy—an easy little girl who was desperate for any form of male attention. Sure I didn’t really have enough evidence to back this claim, but I would stand by it.
Thats probably why you, once again, were helping Jacob prepare for his final exams—my son seemed to be under your spell too.
“Yeah sure.” I grunted, though Laurie was already more than halfway to the door, fidgeting anxiously with her keys.
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Hours later—Laurie was gone. Empty goodbyes exchanged and forgotten. Andy was now on the couch—he’d not even bothered to rid himself of his button up and slacks for pajamas. His suit jacket hung over the couch and his white button up laid untucked and wrinkled against his torso as he apathetically listened to the news.
He’d stay like this—still and unfeeling until he had the energy to do it all again. At least Laurie didn’t require him to be fake—no she simply accepted that he accepted her infidelity and that if she were to comment on his behavior it would only backfire on her forcing them both into that ever looming, uncomfortable, conversation.
Andy had just began to zone out fully, the commercial for LED sprinkler lights turning into white noise—when the soft taps of feet sounded from the stairs. Your soft hums surrounding him in a sirens call—a warning of his inevitable fate.
His breathing became rigged—his eyes sealed shut as if he were an animal playing dead, hoping you’d walk right past him and out the front door—because if you didn’t, he knew he’d become just like Laurie. He knew he would no longer have the right to be bitter.
He would be just as guilty—thus no longer having the upper hand.
The smell of your floral-y perfume began to surround him. Sweet and warm—just what a girl like you should be—and it caused him to tightly grip the expensive leather couch.
“Mr. Barber? I know you’re awake~” You’d giggled. Andy had sensed your presence had gotten closer—he assumed you had now been standing directly in front of him—probably twirling your hair like some sick-man’s favorite porn star, giving him those big alien-fuckdoll ‘fuck me’ eyes.
“Mr. Barber? a-are you okay? you’ve been down here for a few hours and—” you’d carried on worriedly. Andy’s eyes finally cracked open—you were worried about him. And it had caused Andy to swoon.
Taking you in, he began to realize you’d looked nothing like he expected you to, well besides the checkered skirt and teddy bear soft sweater, no instead of alien-fuckdoll-pornstar, you looked worried. Your smaller soft hands fidgeted with each other and your eyebrows pulled together from nerves. Andy felt the strong urge to grab you—pull you into him and hold you until your concern suffocated him. Not that Andy had felt love, real love, in such a long time—but a small voice was gnawing at him to give it to you.
When you had gotten no response you moved closer—now standing between his spread legs, watching as his emotionless eyes darted across your face. So you tried again. “Mr. Barber I really think you should go to bed—or eat something. Andy—”
“You think I need to go to bed?” Andy asked, his eyes not giving way to his intentions. His voice was gruff—and tired. It made you nervous.
“I-I do, Sir.”
Andy hummed at your response, as if thinking it over. A darkness emitting from his actions.
“No. No, I don’t need that. Figure something else out. What do I really need y/n?” Andy urged, not bothering to hide his smirk and not really caring that he let you see. You looked so scared—worried for him but so so scared.
“I know you’re a smart girl, honey. Go on—show me what I need.” He urged, thick thighs spreading Knowing—hoping you’d get the hint.
You swallowed harshly. You weren’t oblivious to sex, you weren’t a virgin. But you’d never slept with someone so much older than you, someone married, and you had never even been able to cum or even sucked a cock before. Yet, you were curious—would he be gentle with you?
Slowly you sank down, the dark rug scraping against your knees surely leaving burns. Being eye-level with his bulge but refusing to look towards it.
Andy’s heart swelled with pride at how well you obeyed. “That’s all it takes, Honey? Just need a’ man to be a’ little bit bossy and you’re happy to be on your knees.” He belittled, watching as your puffy cheeks flushed red. “Go on then, baby, take daddy’s cock out. We both know that’s what you’re here for.”
A pathetic whine crawled it’s way up your throat and passed through your lips before you could catch it—adding onto your embarrassment. Shakily you moved to unbutton his slacks, fingers lightly brushing against the outline of his cock. Andy groaned at the sight of you—Your pretty eyes well up with salty tears, pouty bottom lip caught by your teeth, trying to free his cock without actually touching it.
For a moment Andy thought—No you couldn’t possibly—
“Honey,” Andy drawled, taking your dainty hands in his. His touch and tone suddenly much softer. “Has a man ever gotten you on your knees like this, Honey?”
Suddenly heat flooded your being—either from embarrassment or excitement or both. You quickly hid away from his questioning eyes, afraid to tell him that: No, you hadn’t ever been on your knees for a man before.
Andy’s thumb began to rub small shapes around your hands. Soothing you as he waited for an answer before realizing that the younger girl in front of him hadn’t. He felt as if he’d struck gold—the universe was giving him what he rightfully deserved.
“Look at me, Baby.” He commanded, grasping you chin, tilting your head up. “Answer me this time—has a man ever gotten on his knees for you, Honey?” He didn’t miss the way your thighs began to shake, just slightly.
“I-I…I don’t know what you…No. No sir—”
A savage growl ripped through the room and before you knew it—you were sprawled out on the couch, pillow under your head, and Andy between your thighs.
“Fuck baby,” He groaned, taking in your wetness that had by now ruined the delicate fabric of your panties, “Daddy’s gonna eat this little pussy, m’kay, baby? Then when daddy’s done,” he paused, leaving starved kisses and bites along the insides of your thighs. “You’re gonna gonna take me—lemme claim you, honey”
His words had your head spinning. Here you were, about to let a man twice your age, a married man, eat you out on his couch. Andy’s hands moved up your thighs, leaving little excited tingles, before settling on your hips. “Fuck. These little panties are so fucking cute, Honey.” He admired, tugging at the little black bow that sat above the white lace. “Andy don’t-" you tried to stop him from ripping the lace, because you too thought they were cute, only to receive a harsh strike to the outside of your thigh. “Don’t go dumb on me already, little girl. I told you to call me something, not any of this ‘Andy’ bullshit.” Before you could even muster an ‘I’m sorry Daddy’ he was ripping them down your thighs, before diving into your pussy.
The sounds spilling from his mouth mixed with your own wetness was so obscene it had you shuffling away from the embarrassment, only for his left hand to land on your tummy, firmly holding you in place. “God—fuck I should have done this a long fucking time ago,” he said between breaths, “could have been in this pretty pussy instead of waiting on my goddamn whore of a wife.”
His wife. Oh god his fucking wife. “a-andy we c-cant! what if l-laurie walks in?” you tremble, terrified of being caught with your friend’s—father’s face between your thighs by said friend’s mother. Your protest only seem to egg him on. A pleasantly painful burn making its appearance on your skin—due to the friction of his beard.
“Laurie,” Andy spits, “doesn’t fucking matter.” His words are harsh. And a part of you hurts for Laurie, but that hurt quickly vanishes as your visions begins to fuzz and tummy begins to tighten—suddenly all you can focus on is the impending approach—not your guilt. Your thighs clamp around Andy’s head, and he welcomes the pressure—happy to be making his girl feel her first real orgasm. He even chuckles when they begin to shake.
“You gonna cum, little girl? Cum on daddy’s tongue?” He patronizes, fingers harshly flicking your bud before he begins to fuck you with his tongue.
“a-andy! I think—It feels funny—im gonna,”
“Say it, baby. Tell daddy you’re gonna cum.”
“Im cumming, Daddy!”
Your hands tightly grasp his brown locks as stars begin to cloud your eyes. Crying out a series of whines and ‘thank you Daddy’’s. The sensitivity of it all becoming too much as his tongue laps up your slick.
You had never experienced something so intensely before—your body was giving out, ready to fall into a warm sleep.
That is—until his dark chuckles began to surround your hazzy mind.
“I tire you out, honey?” He laughed, leaning over your smaller frame. “Can’t believe you’ve been starving me of this cute little body.”
His fingers were gentle—lightly tracing the teeth marks he’d left along the inside of your thigh. They hurt and were still very fresh but you found his touch comforting—almost sweet.
“a-andy? can I ask you something?” Your soft voice broke through the silence.
Andy hummed, blue eyes intense but encouraging you to continue.
“Andy…can you kiss me?”
In that moment he knew. He knew you couldn’t just be a simple fuck. Or some simple slut he used to take his marital frustrations out on.
You had a future so different from his present—and he was willing to use everything at his disposal to solidify that it was with him.
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bunny’s note : Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are what keeps me writing so feel free to do so!!
Taglist : @themotherofhorses @mgkbabygirl @yessirsargeantbarnes @thedarthpancakes @openup-yourmind @booksandbenbarnes @siriusjohnpotter @clearwatersfalling @juulle987 @leesbadussy @rach2602 @slashersluttt @kitty1960 @phildunphyisadilf @charmed-asylum @dopeqff @pono-pura-vida @peacinourtime82 @buckgasms
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year
Text
Bad Neighbour
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Pairing: Dark Andy Barber x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: Your neighbor is set on having you, no matter what you say. 
WARNINGS: Harassing.
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
--
“Andy, just leave me alone!” you almost yell but a small whine from your baby girl reminds you to keep it low.
You bounce your daughter on your chest, a hand protectively holding her tiny head, as if it would keep Andy’s attention away from her. You definitely don’t want her to grab his attention. 
“I just want to talk to you, c’mon. Talk things out for our future together.” Andy takes a step closer to you, forcing you to quickly bounce backwards to put the couch in between you.
Trapped, that’s exactly how you feel. Andy is placed on the door’s way, your phone is upstairs and your husband is gone on a business trip. Andy couldn't have had a worse timing. 
Your hands are starting to get clammy and it makes you hold your daughter with more vigor. 
“Listen, Andy.” you carefully start, transferring weight from one leg to the other. Andy gives you an encouraging smile and you try to avoid looking into his eyes.
The baby on your chest mumbles something in her sleep and you rush your words out, anxious to get him out of the house. 
“I’m really sorry for what happened to Laurie and Jacob, I really am. You know that me and Scott supported you guys and it was really sad what happened. But you need to move on with your life, Andy, and leave us alone.”
Andy’s smile dies down and he stares at you with a frustrated expression, but you continue.
“I’m happily married and I’m not going anywhere with you. You have to stop calling me all the time, stop following me around and just leave me alone. I’m not going to run away with you and abandon my daughter, my family.” your voice is shaky, but you manage to speak.
The smile disappears from Andy’s face and it’s replaced by an irritated frown, his jaw clenched tight.  
“I’m not asking you to abandon your daughter. She can come with us and I’ll treat her like my own kid.” he declares, taking a predatory step towards you. Your heart pounces on your chest and your legs start to lightly shake. 
“We’ll be happy together. It’s a fresh start for both of us, it’ll be good.” Andy’s voice gets lower as he approaches you, his usually composed appearance now disheveled, dark circles around his eyes as if he hasn’t slept for days.
After Laurie and Jacob’s death, you’re sure he hasn’t slept as he’s too busy harassing you. 
“Trust me, we belong together and we’ll be so happy together, I know it. So you can either pack your bags and leave with me quietly or we can do this the hard way.”
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babyjakes · 1 year
Text
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weaponized incompetence. [blurb.]
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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event | jan '23 blurb night
summary | when faced with orgasm troubles, who could be better to trust than an expert in the field? surely he has nothing but sound intentions...
pairing | doctor!andy barber x reader
warnings | andy presents as soft and kind enough but what he is doing is so evil and cruel, all the gaslighting in the world, alllll the yummy medfet elements (or at least most of them): exam table, gloves, restraints, etc., clit cream hehe <3, reader isn't unwilling but she is extremely distressed, crying, humiliation, clinical babble, encouragement, REAL PUFF PUFF BEHAVIOR, edging, no happy ending >:^(
word count | 628
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requested by anon | Reader visits Dr. Mean (Ari/Steve/Bucky) because she can’t orgasm. Dr.(whoever you chose) decides to help her as only his fingers, mouth, cock, med equipment can, but realizes if he makes her cum- she won’t need to come back. So he stops right at the edge. Every time. Several times in one session. He tells her how worried he is she can’t cum, and if she tries on her own or with a non medical professional, she may get worse/sick/hurt.
an | ohh bestie this is so sexy of you, i love all of this hehe <3 i hope it's alright that i went with andy, i just thought he could fit this idea really well (and we have plenty of stevie and ari coming later lol!) thanks so much for sharing, you slutty mastermind :^)
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"C'mon, sweetheart. You're doing so good for me."
With the tops of your calves straining against the strong nylon restraints holding you in place, you did your best to keep your sobs at bay as your chest rose and fell heavily with each agonizing breath. You weren't sure how long you had been there, strapped to that dreaded exam table with your legs spread wide and high, the calm, steady presence of Dr. Barber placed directly at the entrance to your most private places as he tried to assist you in your seemingly hopeless conquest of achieving an orgasm. You had gotten close, painfully close, so many times at the doctor's skillful hands. But for some reason, you just couldn't manage to cross the finish line.
As the dark-haired man pulled away momentarily to change his gloves, the old pair dripping from your heightened state of arousal, you blinked back further tears. What if it's hopeless, you wondered. The sound of Dr. Barber snapping on a new pair of gloves made you wince; gazing up at you sympathetically, he spoke with a softened tone. "Here, I have one more thing I wanna try. It's a sensitizing cream," he explained as he grabbed the packet from the tray beside him, "nothing scary or painful. But it should help increase your sensitivity to my touch."
He squeezed out a fair amount of the clear gel onto his gloved pointer finger, warming the product between its pad and his thumb before trailing his gaze back up to your abused sex. Focusing in on your little bundle of nerves, he gathered it between his finger and thumb like a little bead of clay, rolling it tenderly to cover the entire nub in the punishing paste. Its effects could be felt almost instantly; with more tears welling in your eyes, a loud whimper sounded in your throat. "Shhh, you're alright," the doctor crooned, his other hand coming up to tease a few fingers at the entrance to your soaked heat. "Here we go, honey. One more time for me," he mumbled as he began fucking two of his large digits back into you, continuing to roll your puffy clit between fingers as it only swelled further in size.
"Your clitoris is responding well to the cream, I can feel it throbbing against me," he noted as your heart began to race at the building sensations. "Your Grafenberg spot seems to be in perfect working order too," he added as he thrust his fingers up against the soft, squishy ceiling of your inner walls. "Can you feel it building up inside of you, y/n? Are you starting to get the urge to let go, to release?"
"Yes, yes-" you panted, squeezing your eyes shut as you strained once more against the heavy restraints the doctor had put in place. "Please doctor, I-I can feel it coming, I-..."
"That's it, sweetheart. Almost there. Just gotta..." But just as you felt yourself reaching the precipice of your pent-up frustrations, Dr. Barber's voice cut in like a hot knife as things began to sputter out, the feelings dying down to your absolute horror. "Oh dear, again...?" he sighed as he spread back the hood of your clit with his thumb and forefinger, watching the poor little nub twitch and spasm in hopeless need. At your realization of yet another failure, you couldn't help it; heaving, you began to sob loudly in despair. "Shhh, shhh," the doctor tried to console you, snapping off his gloves before wheeling his stool up to sit at your side, reaching out a consoling hand to stroke your arm. "It's alright, sweetheart. We'll keep trying. I won't give up on you, y/n. You just have to keep working with me, okay?"
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paperweight91 · 3 months
Text
It Went a Little Like This
Summary: All Andy really wants is his happily ever after, is that too much to ask?
Pairing: Andy Barber x reader
W/C: 2850
Warnings: Dark!Andy Barber, allusions to non-con/dub-con, stalking, Andy’s lost it guys.
A/N: Okay, since I sent @krirebr the FMK and she killed the dark!one, I thought it only fair to share the story about why that one was soooo dark. Moodboard by @krirebr , dividers by @firefly-graphics. Please send all the feedback on this one, it’s much darker than I think I’ve ever written, and I’d love to know what everyone thinks! Comments and reblogs feed my soul ❤️
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The convenience store around the corner from your house always had these little handmade knick knacks that you loved. You were surprised the first time you found a little handmade porcelain dog to add to your collection. After talking to the cashier you found out they bought locally made art once a week to give the artists exposure. You had fallen so irrevocably in love with that cute little pup you made it your mission to return once a week to find more.
As you perused the latest inventory, you saw a figure down the aisle. Looking up you recognized the man instantly, Andy Barber. His family had been spread across all the local news feeds for a year. You had always felt bad for him, going through the trial for his son, his ex-wife’s mental break. It was all so much for one person. You gave him a small shy smile and bowed your head as you tried to decide between the spotted Dalmatian or the cuddly looking pug.
Weighing both cute little creatures in your hands, you almost dropped them as Andy approached. “Cute.” He said reaching over you to pick up a Saint Bernard with its tongue lolling out. “You collect these?” His tone was inquisitive if a little confused.
You brightened at his interest, feeling your face heat slightly in embarrassment. “The store buys them from local artists to help get them exposure. And look how cute they are!” You held the Dalmatian in your hand up higher for him to inspect.
He chuckled at your eager response stroking a single long finger across the back of the dog. The action was innocent, but it sent something thrumming straight to your core. “You have many of these?” He quirked a brow at you.
“A few, I’ve never really collected anything before but I come back every week for these.” You smiled brightly up at him. A broad grin spread across his face, your enthusiasm clearly rubbing off on him.
He placed the Saint Bernard back on the rack, his eyes tracing each cute little face until finally he landed on a golden retriever playing in grass. “Thanks for the tip.” He reached out and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning to head to the cash. “The dalmation’s the winner.” He tossed casually over his shoulder.
You let out a snort, going back to the two pups held lovingly in your hands. Finding more and more he was right, with a sigh you gently placed the pug back with its companions and made your way to the cash yourself.
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The following week found you back in the artist aisle of the convenience store. This time Andy found you almost immediately. You were frowning at this weeks selection. Frogs. Who collects frogs?
“Nothing to take home today?” He smiled as he approached.
You grimaced as you looked at the faces. Sure they were kind of cute, but you just didn’t get it. “Frogs. They’ve never had them before.” You tried to pick your words carefully. They weren’t terrible, just not for you.
Andy laughed as your face twisted into a frown. “Come look over here, they’re not porcelain but you might like these better.” He clasped your hand in his and pulled you down the aisle. There were glass pups of several different varieties. You tried to suppress your excitement at his find, finding yourself bobbing up and down on your toes, your fingers itching to grab at them. He chuckled and released your hand and you eagerly grabbed two. Needing to inspect them up close.
After a few moments of silence you finally came back to yourself. You felt your body heat from your toes to your face at your childish reaction, in front of a stranger no less! You cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, juggling the glass pups carefully so you could extend your hand to Andy.
A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes twinkled in the low light of the store. The wrinkles that lined his eyes seemed to smooth at your own warmth. “Andy.” He said taking your offered hand in his own and pumping it up and down a few times. You found yourself drowning in the blue depths of his eyes. The beard that lined his face twitching up as he noticed your clear distraction at his looks.
It took you a moment to realize you were still holding his hand, and staring at him dreamily. You shook your head to clear your thoughts, it was inappropriate more than anything. “Sorry,” You mumbled, diverting your gaze to the glass puppies in your hand.
Andy stroked the back of your hand still clasped in his with the back of his thumb once before letting go. He gave you a wry smile, “Nothing to be sorry for, I’m glad I could help.” He placed his hands in his jeans pockets and scanned the shelves. “I’m not much for these, but seeing how happy they make you, I may become a convert.” He winked and ducked his head down, like he was embarrassed at the statement. You were sure you saw a bit of pink tinge his cheeks before he did.
“Thank you Andy, really! Although,” You hummed as you surveyed the precious puppies, “I really should cut back on these. I think I’m running out of space.”
He huffed out a laugh, “Maybe you should come back next week and see if they’ve got the porcelain ones back.”
You nodded, but seemingly like he could sense your reluctance, he plucked a beautiful small Labrador from the shelf. “Maybe just a small one?”
When you looked up you saw what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. You laughed and placed the others back on the shelf. “I think a small one couldn’t hurt.” You reached to pull the lab from his hand, “Let me.” He said.
You gave him a befuddled look. “Andy, I can’t let you buy this for me. You just learned my name!” A look flashed through his eyes so fast, you almost missed it. Ire at your casual rebuff. Taking a step back you shook your head, all mirth leaving your face.
Seeing your unease he immediately sprung into action, “I’m sorry.” He handed you the small glass pup and placed his hands on his hips. “I didn’t mean to. Ugh, I’m screwing this all up.” He brought both hands up and scrubbed them down his face. When his fingertips were at his chin and you could see his eyes again you saw regret and something else swimming in the blue pools. “What are you screwing up?” You reached out and placed a hand on his bicep, feeling the tightly coiled muscle loosen at your touch.
“I saw you here, a few weeks ago. I’ve been, after everything, I just.” He hung his head and gave a mirthless laugh, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to flirt or any of this and I’m suddenly realizing I’m quite terrible at it.”
“Oh…OH!” You suddenly realized that Andy, was not at all as interested in the small figurines you had been excitedly showing him the other day, he had been interested in you. “Oh I’m sorry Andy. I didn’t mean to, I uh, I actually have a boyfriend.”
You felt the air between the two of you change, like someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Andy’s arm flexed underneath your fingers. He searched your face and let out a sigh, “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?” His free hand came up and removed yours from his arm. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, I’m…I’m gonna go.” His shoulders slumped as he curled in on himself, turning and exiting the aisle, and the store, before you could even respond.
Your heart beat wildly in your chest at the exchange. How had your day gone so weird? You shakily released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, trying to expel the tension from your muscles. Something about the whole exchange with Andy had set you on edge. It’s what made you lie about a boyfriend that didn’t exist. Shaking your head for what felt like the millionth time today, you placed the cute little glass Labrador back on the shelf and made you way to the exit of the store. You vowed not to return for a while, let you both cool off a bit before another accidental run in.
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Two weeks. It had been two weeks since your awkward exchange with Andy and you were itching to go back to the convenience store. You weren’t sure what it was about those cute little figures that had completely taken over your heart, but you knew you had to go see if they had gotten any dogs back in stock. You tried to distract yourself with chores, and movies, but you were so restless you could barely focus on one task for more than a couple minutes at a time.
You snarled at your reflection as you passed the mirror in your entranceway for the umpteenth time. Pulling on your jacket and boots before you even realized what you were doing. It was ridiculous really. It’s a store, lots of people go to stores. And so what if Andy was there, he was probably too embarrassed by your rejection to come back anyways.
Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your purse and made your way down to the road. It was surprisingly warm for the time of year so you decided to walk to the convenience store. Silently berating yourself as you walked for letting a man, you didn’t know, throw you completely out of whack over nothing. He hadn’t even been that bad! He just seemed awkward, and you immediately rejected him without a second thought.
So completely in your own head, you didn’t even notice the silent figure approaching you from behind. Your pace was slow enough that they easily caught up, and pulled you into an alley off the road before you could even squeak. They placed a gloved hand over your mouth, but it didn’t matter, you were in too much shock to scream. You felt a prick in your neck before everything slowly went dark, and your limbs went slack.
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Your eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. You couldn’t remember anything, and your head felt like it was full of cotton wool. Something was wrong, but you weren’t quite sure what. You brought your hand up to rub at your eyes, and heard a low murmur from your right. “There she is, how are you feeling, sweet girl?” You froze at the voice, you knew that voice. You struggled to place it, but you felt strong arms pull you back into a warm broad chest. It felt nice.
Soft hands stroked along your sides, before lacing through your own. You felt the scrape of a beard on the back of your neck as he nuzzled into you. “I was worried honey, you slept for so long. Are you back with me now?”
You felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on you, your brain finally caught up to what was going on. The alley, the prick in your neck, Andy had taken you. Before you could stop yourself you began to shake. Terrified of what the man whose grip on you had gone from soft to iron could actually do to you.
“Don’t be scared honey, you’re okay.” His voice held an edge, but there was a roughness to it as well, one you were all too familiar with. “Just be good for me. Be my good girl okay?”
It was posed a question but you could see it for the threat it was. Be my good girl, or else. You knew you had to tread carefully if you were going to get out of this. “Andy, what’s going on?”
He sighed and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Honey, good girls don’t ask questions. I know this is new for both of us. It’ll take us some time to get used to it. Just let me take care of everything.” He let go of one of your hands to turn your face to him by your chin. Bringing his own face close enough so his breath whispered out against your lips. “I haven’t figured out all the rules yet, but we can do it together, okay? Now are you gonna be my good girl?”
His eyes held a darkness, the one you had seen flash through them at the store a few short weeks ago. Your voice seemed lodged in your throat, and only breathy little whimpers seemed to escape. You could feel the tears building in your eyes and fluttered them closed as you nodded your acquiescence. You just needed to buy yourself some time.
You felt his lips twitch into a grin against yours. “Good girl.” He whispered before kissing you. At his praise you were surprised to find yourself getting aroused. You rubbed your thighs together as surreptitiously as you could. Andy licked into your mouth as his hand traveled down to the hem of the dress you were wearing. He bunched it up above your hips and gently traced his index finger up and down your thighs. You shivered, and bit your bottom lip, trying to contain your reaction to his soft touches.
“You need to relax, honey. Why don’t you let me help you?” You could hear the smirk in his words and he got up from behind you. He gently laid you on the bed and hovered above you. He stretched himself like a cat before leaning in to kiss you again. This time you gave in immediately, searching out access to his mouth. His kisses were intoxicating.
He gently cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb soothingly stroking. You brought both your hands up to his shoulders, before settling by being gently clasped around his neck. His beard scratched your cheeks as he kissed you, a feeling you found somewhat unpleasant as you weren’t used to it at all. You whined into his mouth, and he slowly pulled away.
“That’s it honey,” he had mistaken your whine as one of pleasure and not pain. “Just let me take care of you, you’re being so good for me.” He trailed kisses down your neck and buried his face there. Your eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything that could help you.
Andy pulled on the buttons at the front of your dress, opening enough to expose your chest. You inwardly cursed at your choice of a front clasping bra. Looking up at him with big tear filled eyes you brought one hand to his cheek and drew his gaze from your chest. “Andy, I don’t know. I’m scared.”
He shushed you and pulled you to his chest. “No honey, no. Don’t be scared, there’s nothing to worry about okay? I’ve known from the moment I saw you how perfect you are. So sweet, so beautiful. I knew, honey. Don’t you trust me?”
He pulled away so he could rest his forehead against yours. You saw nothing but truth in his eyes. Still you felt the tears leak from your eyes and a sob lodge in your throat, scared your tears would bring his anger back.
“Shhh honey, it’s okay. Why don’t we wait, huh? It’s been a big day for both of us. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.” With that he extricated himself from your grasp and went over to the dresser. He pulled a silk nightie from the drawer and sleep pants for himself. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”
You nodded stiffly, and with Andy’s help took to your feet. You stripped out of your dress, feeling Andy’s eyes on you the entire time. Chancing a glance up at him you saw the steel return to his eyes as your hand twitched towards the nightie. Sighing you unclasped your bra and tossed it in the hamper, you pulled your panties down and stepped out of them, tossing them as well.
From your peripheral you saw Andy nod, and took that as permission to put on the nightie. It was short, but felt like heaven on. You climbed back into the bed as Andy swapped his jeans, t-shirt and boxer briefs for his sleep pants. You turned on your side facing the wall. Hoping he would fall asleep quickly.
He cuddled up behind you, pulling you tight against his chest again. One hand settled across your stomach, the other he wedged underneath your head. He slotted his leg between yours and sighed, truly content. “You’ll see honey, we’re going to be amazing together. I promise.”
You nodded and quietly let your tears flow freely, staring at the porcelain Saint Bernard sitting on the bedside table. Accepting that for now at least, you were the property of Andy Barber.
145 notes · View notes
jamneuromain · 1 year
Text
No Use Running
Andy Barber x You / Reader
Warning: NON-CON/DUB-CON, Dark Content, Smut, Angst and Smut, Alternate Universe - College / University, Teacher-Student Relationship, Professor!Andy Barber, Student!Reader, Student!You, Clit Stimulation, Pet Names (Angel), Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Overstimulation, Angst, Angst With A Happy Ending, Dark!Andy Barber, sex toys, vibrator, bondage element
Word count: ~4k
Summary: What are you going to do when Andy is mad at you?
A/N: Big shout out to vera @rogerswifesblog and her amazing moodboard, both help me tremendously with the conversation in bold, also help me spiral a thought into a 4k smut. Fair warning, lots of angst, which surprises me, really, because I was mostly thinking of the smut when talking to vera (sorry not sorry XD).
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Dancing in the Daydream M. List
A year into your relationship, Andy has only one rule for you.
One rule, and one rule only.
Don’t get drunk when you are partying with your friends. If you are partying, tell him beforehand in case he gets worried about you not coming home.
Just this one rule. Don’t get drunk, call him first.
Simple as that.
In your defense… face it, you have no defense. You screwed up. Big time.
You were so excited about the little getaway your friends planned (and told you about it the minute your last class of the semester ended “we’re partying tonight guuuuuuurl”) that you completely forgot about the rule of “calling Andy”, and happily got yourself more than tipsy.
“More than tipsy”. That’s an understatement. Your very last memory about the night was you doing shots with your friends. You find yourself in the shared home of you and Andy in the next morning, lying comfortably in bed with a minor migraine and fresh PJs, trying to remember what had happened.
Tipsy? You were wasted.
Knowing Andy? If he was home last night, he’d be so mad.
You search for your phone around your pillow, finally locating it on the other side of the bed, linked to the charger.
Your gut sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You’d charge your phone on your side. Your phone is now on Andy’s side.
Oh no.
Oh nonononono.
This is bad.
This is very bad.
This is Godzilla versus King Kong bad.
You can honestly hear every ounce of your luck shatters when you turn on your phone and a dozen missed calls from Andy pop up, dating back to last night and this early morning.
Holy fucking shit.
You are doomed.
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Andy has already left because he has a full schedule today.
You frown as your phone gone cold. There was no message asking whether you have woken up. No sticky notes on your forehead as usual if you are sleeping late, telling you that he left a sandwich for you in the fridge. No nothing.
He’s really mad.
You frown more when you find excessive food in the fridge. Some leftover beef stew, chicken kabab, and a whole lemon cheesecake. That’s strange. Andy’s not the type to cook excessively.
And no sandwich.
You make yourself some food to eat and clean the house for a bit.
Your memory pieces some fragments together. You remember stumbling into Andy on the porch. You remember dancing in the club, raising your shot glass, and giggling with your friends.
Your memory is still incoherent and you don’t know what happened exactly.
You vacuum the living room, read for your upcoming assignment, and finally, you decide to cook dinner to show that you are sorry.
Leaping up when you hear his car pull up in the front, rushing to the door to welcome him home: “Hey Andy. How’s your day?”
Andy has a large box under his arm, which you pipe up to help him carry it and put it anywhere he wants.
“Just an average day.” He pecks you on your lips, insisting he carries this on his own. You are nervous as hell when he doesn’t smile, not even after kissing you.
You peek at the box, can’t help but ask as you see the black tape circling the cardboard box: “Amazon? What did you buy?”
“Nothing important.” He shrugs, heading up the stairs with the big box.
Maybe he’s not that mad?
You cross your fingers, hoping that everything works out with luck on your side.
Dinner is as uneventful. However, you can feel that he is distracted and uncharacteristically quiet. Andy used to say what he doesn’t want or what he doesn’t like. He’s vocal about your relationship, but this new Andy is so lukewarm that it is scary to you.
You choose to cuddle on the couch after dinner, playing a Netflix show as background noise on TV.
“I’m sorry about last night, Andy. I should’ve called you. I’m sorry.” You loop his arm around your shoulders, looking up at him apologetically, “and I shouldn’t get caught up partying either. I wouldn’t do that ever after.”
Something flickers in his eyes that you cannot catch. In the end, he says nothing, only tightening his grip on your arm, leaning for a kiss.
You rather wish he spanked you or edge you, just like what he did with your previous few wrong-doings. It wasn’t fun but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. You’d rather have him cuddling you after rough sex than to have him ... distant?
You deserve it, to be honest, you know he’d be angry with you.
You only are aware of how angry he is the second you step into the bedroom.
He is fixing the four cuffs tied to the bed, black leather with shiny metal chains. The now-empty Amazon delivery box lies wide open on the floor, giving you the slightest clue of what could have been inside.
Spoiler alert, you didn’t have cuffs in this house. He used to tie you up with his ties.
“Oh good, you’re here.” Andy smiles, for the first time today. He unbuttoned his cuff link and his collar to adjust the length of the metal chains. This normally looks extra hot to you, but knowing what could be waiting for you, you just want to run.
You carefully take a sneaky step back, “umm, Andy, I know you are mad. And I’m so very sorry.” Another step back. “But we can talk this out.” Another step. “Pl-Please don’t be mad?”
Andy rests his hands on his hips, his blue eyes icy cold.
“Sit on the bed, Angel.”
“Andy-” You visibly gulp, tensing all the muscles in your body so that you can dash to the stairs the second he drops down his guard.
“Don’t make me fuckin’ repeat that.” He shoots back at you.
You are going to die on the bed for all you know. You are going to be edged to the brink of your life. A chill runs down your spine, every sense in your body warning you of the menacing danger you are faced with.
“Please, Andy, we can talk this out, I’m begging you.” You plead to him, slowly dragging your feet to the door instead of the bed, “please, Andy.”
Your fight or flight response kicks in the second he prances on you. Of course, you choose to run from him.
You barely make it to the stairs when he grabs your wrist and halts you by your waist, clutching your body so tight like you are a prey struggling for its life. Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat. Your body, although unwillingly, clings to him for dear life, fearing that he slips and drops you on the floor.
“Andy, please! I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again!” You yelp when he throws you onto the bed. You try to sit up when he clasps your ankle with one cuff, you are forced to lie down when he clasps your wrist with another cuff.
“Can’t believe you even tried to run - save it, Angel. You’re in for a long night.” He huffs disapprovingly.
Clasp. Clasp. All your limbs are secured and tied up. He didn’t even bother to take off your nightdress, only pulls your panties to your ankles.
You think it couldn’t be worse.
Oh but it did.
He takes the vibrating wand from the bedside drawer and loosens his belt.
You watch in horror as he fastens his black leather belt around your thighs, squeezing the wand between your legs, where it nestles on your clit.
“Andy-”
“See, Angel, I was planning to hold that wand myself,” he kisses your forehead. The darkness seeps back into his eyes. With a flick of the remote on his phone, the wand buzzes to life. A warm grin on his face, he retreats to the corner of the room, where he sits on a chair and opens his laptop, “too bad I need to work first.”
The vibration is low yet brutal. It triggers your body into moving your hips to avoid it, not that there is much space to move. Without his kisses and skilled fingers working your body, your pleasure builds up high and dry, your skin heats up reluctantly, seeking the attention it deserves.
“Andy-” You choke when your squirming accidentally has the wand brush your clit again, “please, I’m sorry.”
He glances at your frame briefly; his eyes soon return to his laptop. Crispy strokes from the keypad seem to be mocking your fruitless begging.
Your core twists in agony. It doesn’t take much to force an orgasm out of you.
“Pleaaase, Andy, please don’t edge me.” You whisper, moaning when the stimulation to your clit brings a fresh wave of arousal pooling down your pussy. Your channel expects his shaft, but you get nothing. Tide riding higher in your veins, rushing to your core, you are on the verge of cumming any second.
He raises his head from the laptop, a smirk curls his lips when he dials the vibration up a notch.
“Andy-!”
The buzzing grows louder, no longer a soft vibration, but a stronger torture to your clit.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t cum.” He buries himself back into his “work”, his calm voice ghosts your ear, “you can cum as many times as you want. You’ve got all night, Angel.”
Your hips buck into the air, pressing your clit tightly on the wand, drawing the first orgasm out of you. Your body bounces on the bed as the orgasm hits you, doing all it can to run from the incessant stimulation on your clit. You wish you could run, but you are chained to the bed,
“Andy, please.” You cry out, tears rolling down from the corner of your eyes, “I-fuck-I said I’m sorry!”
The loud snap when he shuts his laptop makes you shiver.
“The thing is,” Andy sits perfectly still, he watches you writhing on the bed as the second orgasm builds up, "I don’t think you are." His tone barely contains his anger, “bet you totally forget about what yesterday was, huh?”
“Wha-”
“It was supposed to be our one-year relationship anniversary.”
Your brain stops working altogether.
Oh no. It was.
You started dating around this time last year.
You didn’t think you were doing an anniversary this early. If you are counting from the day you became boyfriend and girlfriend, you are two months away from your anniverisary.
“I cooked for candle-lit dinner and bought roses and shit, and what did you repay me with?” He crosses his arm and scoffs, “no texts. No calls. Get fuckin’ drunk with boys.”
Your mind clears its fog, letting you remember you stumbling into Andy while waving goodbye to Mike (or Michael?), who volunteered to uber you home when you were all getting “tipsy”.
“It’s nothing-He just-oh fuck, he just came along to make sure I got home. I’m sorry.” You whimper, your sentence cut off as you feel arousal leak from your pussy, “I’m really sorry about-ah-what you planned. Please, please stop the wand and we can talk.”
His words drip with sarcasm, “and I’m just a poor old fool who thought I could capture a young girl’s heart.” Andy snorts, “that work out well.”
Even as pleasure gradually clouds your brain, you understood what he said and a pang of pain rips your heart to shreds. If you knew about his plan, no, if you remembered, or thought about your anniversary, it wouldn’t end up with both of you in agony.
This is all your fault.
“No, Andy,” you croak, trying to ignore the buzz between your legs, “don’t say that.” It’s not true. I love you.
Andy doesn’t reply to your pleading, his cold expression molded on his face again, “you asked me to be ‘thoroughly fucked’.”
You did, trying to peel him out of his black T-shirt, trying to have him kiss you, saying tons of things that you utterly regret now.
“You wanted it last night, no? Wish granted.” Andy growls, “now take it.”
He turns up the vibration again.
If the previous vibration was barely endurable, this time it is way beyond what you can handle.
You cum with a scream, tugging the chains with your tied-up legs. The rattling of the chains doesn’t stop when you finish cumming. You jolt and kick, as the buzz is incessant on your clit, and you are on your way to your third orgasm.
“Andy, I’m sorry.” You whimper, “it hurts.”
“I don’t give a shit.” Andy picks up a book on the table, glancing at you one last time before he shuts his mouth and starts reading.
Another orgasm hits. And another. You can’t tell what hurts more, your swollen clit or his indifference. You scream and plead, stammering between moans and words, some of them mumble into one. Your skin is coated by a sheen of sweat. Your body reacts to the wand with overruling pleasure above your mind, having you think of nothing but the sensation from your bundle of nerves. And then it starts to hurt. With every second of the wand between your thighs, your mind cannot decide if it wants more or to get away from the stimulation. Another orgasm punches all the air from your lungs. Your cry is silent, mouth agape, tears roll into streams, your body refuses for you to breathe in, running low in oxygen that your vision has spots.
The stimulation between your legs dials down to a full stop.
You draw in a lung full of air. Coughing as you feel your chest is about to explode.
Your body buzzes. Or your clit still feels the buzz ghosting your legs. Your pussy twitches, quivering as it feels cold, soaked with your arousal. Your chest rises and falls, your heart pounding by your ear, your vision blurry with tears.
You want to curl up to your side. Your body is stressing as if it has just run a marathon.
The tugging from your wrists and ankles reminds you, you can’t.
A pillow is stuffed under your head, helping you to breathe a little.
You blink a few times before you make out it’s Andy sitting by the edge of the bed.
He held your head, bringing a cup to your lips.
You swallow on instinct, nearly choking yourself when you are taking big gulps of water.     
“…?”
His lips open and close, saying something that doesn’t make sense to you.
Or your ears are ringing so that you can’t hear.
“Wha-?”
“Still talking, I see.” He nods nonchalantly, “do you need more water?”
You shake your head.
He takes the cup, standing up to leave.
“Wa-ait!” You tug the chains desperately, trying to get a hold of him, “Sorr-sorry.” You sniff, “can’t. Can’t cum.” You realize how hoarse your voice is when you open your mouth to speak, like someone rubbed it on sandpaper. You feel sorry. You are sorry. You do. You just can’t do this anymore. Even if you are not screaming, your body is screaming bloody murder.
“Shhh, just a little bit more.” Andy coos, turning up the vibration again.
“No. No-!”
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Andy watches as you make a mess on your shared bed over and over again. Your mumbling pleas and begs melt into crying and screaming. Arching your hips as your body reflexes, even though it adds to your misery. Your orgasm hits stronger and slower every time, lasting longer, depriving you of your breathing. You lean your head to the side, panting, struggling. Not out of your will, but when your body instructs you to.
Your thighs flex instinctively when he sits down and caress your buzzing thighs, which are still bound together.
“Don’t think about anything.” He bends down to kiss your belly, coated in sweat. His beard scratching your sensitive skin, having your core tensing once again. “Talk to me, Angel.”
Your brain is clouded. Hearing his voice, you mumble something that you don’t recognize yourself.
“Do you want this to stop?” His voice sounds muffled. Blocked. Like speaking, but with cotton in your ears.
But you understand.
“No-No-hmph.”
Your brain mushed. It hurts. You want more. Keep it going. Till the end of time.
Andy chuckles.
He dials the vibration down to a full stop. You, however, cry out again, one word slurring into another, “More. Want-more.”
He turns a deaf ear to your begging, unclasping his belt to reveal your thighs, having the belt digging into them so hard that leaves a red mark on both of them.
You burst into tears when he pulls the wand out between your legs. Your hips bucking for more pain and pleasure.
The wand is wet. From your arousal and your sweat.
Andy drops the wand to the side, unclasping the restraints on your ankles.
“More…” you whimper like a wounded animal, “more, Andy.”
Andy pries your legs open. Red marks from the wand between your thighs. A puddle of creamy arousal underneath you. Your legs shaking, trembling. Your pussy is red, swollen, covered in slick. Your clit puffy, peeking out from your pussy lips.
“More.” You mewl, as if that’s your whole vocabulary, “more.”
Andy kisses the red marks on your thighs gently, “you like that, huh?”
“Yes. More, Andy.”
Tears stain your cheek but you are about to cry again. Anything to have the wand back. To have something stimulate you to orgasm. Anything to stimulate you, burn your body with pleasure.
This is what he’s been waiting for. To overstimulate you until you are truly overwhelmed with pleasure. You will want more pleasure you can take until you pass out. You will agree to anything for it. Most importantly, you will want him again.
He unclasps your wrists too, prying your legs open more to touch your clit.
“Yesyesyes.” You grind your abused pussy to his hand eagerly, whimpering when he draws his hand back.
“My Angel…” He sighs, stripping himself out of his suit and trousers. His thick shaft straining in his boxers when you moaned and cried. He kneels on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs, hovering above you to kiss you, “my beautiful Angel. You’re mine.”
He sheathes himself in entirely at the last word, having you cry out. Having you moan his name. Having you digging your nails into his arm.
Your walls grip him. Sucking him in. Welcoming him with warm wet heat. Your walls crave his cock, craving to be filled to the brim again, craving the stretch and burn as you try to accommodate him.
The pain blends into your pleasure. You can’t tell them apart. His cock brushing your clit on his way out. Your walls convulse. Him slamming back in to rearrange your guts. Your walls clench down. He takes your long-ignored nipples into his mouth, sucking and tugging with his lips. You could only sob because of how good it feels.
You want more. You want him. You want his tip kissing your cervix.
“Say it.” He grits his teeth and spits out, “say it. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours. I’m yours.” You chant as he knocks the breath out of your lungs, his shaft thrusting deeper, harder.
“That’s right, Angel.” He snaps his hips into you, “you’re fuckin’ mine. I’m the only person who can make you feel this good.”
He interlaced his fingers with yours, pinning your arm next to your head.
You stutter his name when you cum, your vision blacks out, everything is slowed down to a halt. You feel a few more thrusts, and his hot spent flood your pussy.
Then you drift to a dreamless sleep.
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Your arms hurt. Your legs hurt. Your stomach hurts.
There’s not a fine muscle left on your body.
You curl yourself into a ball, facing the opposite direction of Andy, wincing as you hug your knee.
Your pussy hurts too. Sore and tired from the orgasms ripped out of your body.
Your eyes are dry as if the Sandman blinded you, but you still shed a couple tears onto the pillow. Some of them traveled across your nose bridge and blended into the tears from your other eye.
You can’t believe he overstimulated you. You can’t believe he punished you so hard for disobeying one rule. Most importantly, you can’t believe he had no faith in your relationship. After the class, after the drama with Laurie, after his participation and encouragement in your writing, he means everything to you.
The heartbreak from last night catches up to you, piercing your chest, so painful that you couldn’t breathe.
You open your mouth to ease the pressure of your puffy nose, but the pain just follows your breath like a knife, slashing everywhere it could reach.
You try to cry as subtly and quietly as you can, but your shaking body betrays you, having Andy push himself on his elbow to rub your arm.
“Hey. It’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.” He whispers softly.
He notices you are not responding, leaning closer to check on you: “Shit.”
He grabs the Kleenex box, places it in front of you, and moves to spoon your naked body, kissing your bare shoulder: “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m such an asshole.” Kiss. “I’m sorry. I pushed too far.” Kiss. “Please don’t cry, Angel.”
“I got too angry over the night before and…” he sighs, “I’m sorry I lashed out at you.”
“How can you say that?” You turn abruptly, staring at him with watery eyes, tears falling from your cheeks. You can almost hear your spine crack for turning so fast, “how can you say that like you mean nothing to me? Like I’m some gold-digging bitch exploiting you?”
“Angel, I-”
“You mean the world to me, Andy.” I love you. “You are everything I write, you are every reason I come home to, you are every piece of my heart.” I love you. “And I…”
Maybe it’s your insecurities. Maybe it’s the unsuccessful marriage of Andy and Laurie. Maybe it’s your stories that you are certain every hero and heroine would be the perfect match for each other, but you can’t be certain in real life.
You would return Andy’s excessive interpretation in class right back to his face. You would challenge him academically in his office. But you suddenly feel your tongue way too heavy to say the simple word, “love”.
Andy hears your silence.
Andy cups your chin, having you look him in the eye.
Andy, as a writer, knows there are a million ways of interpreting this silence, but choose not to.
He chooses to look at your bed hair, your puffy nose, your teary eyes, carving every detail into his memory.
He wipes the tears from your cheek.
“I love you, Andy.”
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hansensgirl · 3 months
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summary. | Mr. Barber’s feelings for his cleaner are more than professional.
prompts. | Andy Barber + Yandere + “Think an old man like me can keep up?” + conditioning/grooming, requested by @baalsgurl1913!
pairing. | Dark/Yandere!Andy Barber x female!reader.
warnings. | NON/DUBCON (mostly dubious consent), abuse of power, stalking, yandere, obsession, spying, orgasm (f), large age gap (reader is legal), grooming/conditioning, gaslighting/manipulation, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics
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You’ve always had a soft spot for Mr. Barber—and it seemed he had one for you, too. 
You would clean the Barbers’ house every now and then when Andy and Laurie’s jobs made them too busy, and their son couldn’t bother to learn how to help out. You didn’t mind it. They paid a good amount and were always so kind to you.
But that was before it happened. And now Mr. Barber hires you because he’s grief-stricken, and you’ve known him for so long.
It’s not hard to tidy up behind him. He has manners, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. Andy’s entire life fell apart, and everyone watched in amusement.
Everyone except for you. No, you would never. You’re a good girl; he knows it. So sweet with your patterned dresses and adorable sweaters. You tell him ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ for every little thing, giving him those eyes that make him want to wreck you on the spot.
It really isn’t his fault that he watches you outside your work hours. He has to keep you safe anyway—don’t you know there are dirty criminals on every corner? And, plus, you made him do this. You’re too pure, too wholesome—and all his. Even though you don’t know it yet.
“That’s it for today, sir. Is there anything else you need?” you hum, light jacket on your shoulders with your purse on the chair since you just polished the countertops. “Actually, there is something else you could do for me,” Andy says, grunting as he stands up from his spot on the couch. 
He stayed there the entire time, making sure you did your job well. You didn’t mind.
“Oh, what is it?” you ask, already shrugging your windbreaker off. “Have a drink with me?” he offers, walking to the fridge. He grabs a beer for himself and a coke for you, knowing that you wouldn’t want to drive home with alcohol in your system. But you don’t have to worry. Not anymore, at least.
“Er, thank you. You’re always so kind to me, sir,” you tell him, sitting down on the couch. He joins you, his thigh touching yours. You involuntarily try to make yourself smaller, nervously giggling at the contact. When you look up at the much older man, he looks different. Pained, almost, with dark eyes and a clenched jaw. Is he upset? Did you do something wrong? Worry gnaws at you.
Andy looks down at you and remembers when you first started working for him. It was a warmer day than usual, and he had come home early at Laurie’s request. She was worried a young thing like you—who had turned eighteen a few months prior—would steal something valuable from the house.
She didn’t know that the only priceless thing had become you, and the worth of their home would decrease drastically when you weren’t there.
You take a sip of your chilled drink, resisting the urge to chug it after all your hard work.  
Andy places a hand on your thigh, but you don’t think much of it. He’s done this before, especially when he feels you’ve been exceptionally good that day.
“Y’know, honey… I really appreciate you coming here so often,” he starts, patting your leg. You smile, slightly embarrassed by the attention. “Really. I mean, you’ve put up with me for so long—through everything…”
You nod sympathetically, knowing what he’s referring to. 
“I just feel like I owe you. More than a raise or a gift,” Andy admits, and you start shaking your head. “No sir, really. I’m fine—thank you for everything. I already have so much,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow.
“Do you?” he asks, puzzling you. You take a larger gulp of the Coke. “Yeah…” 
“Don’t lie, sweetie. I know you don’t. Going back to that little matchbox of yours? With your slob of a roommate waiting for you to clean her messes?” he scoffs, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean, sir?” you question.
“You know what I mean. I’ve seen it all, honey. I can give you so much more—haven’t I already?” he reasons, and it’s only when you feel a chill of air that you realize that your dress has been lifted up, and he can see your underwear. Oddly, you don’t fight him. It’s Mr. Barber—kind, sweet Mr. Barber, who cracks dad jokes and isn’t afraid to order pizza nearly daily. He’s been touchy before, but you’ve never paid any mind to it. Maybe that’s how he shows love.
“And please, call me Andy. You’ll have to, eventually,” he says, inching his fingers closer to your core. Your breathing gets heavy from nerves and desire. “I– I just don’t get it, sir—I mean, Andy. I’m a little scared?…” you confess, and he coos at you.
“That’s alright, sweetie. I’m here for you. Don’t you know how much I love you? I would never hurt you.”
His words make you dizzy. You feel his large, warm hand dip into your panties, and you let out an exhale. You’ve got a vice-like grip on the glass bottle he gave you, but it nearly slips when Andy finds your clit with ease. 
“Now, I know you’re young and all…” he starts, rubbing slow circles on your nub. He can feel your wetness, and it takes all of him to not pounce on you right then. You gasp from the pressure, and your free hand reaches down to grab his wrist, but you don’t push him away. Instead, you keep him there as if he has threatened to pull his hand away and leave you a writhing mess on his couch. “Think an old man like me can keep up?” he asks, and your eyes flash to his face. He’s got mild wrinkles and a slew of greys peppered into his hair and beard. You’ve always admired the look, even though he was married. “It’s been a while, but I can go a few rounds. You get me so hard, honey.”
You quickly come undone on your boss’ fingers, and he drinks in the sight, even though it certainly isn’t the first time he’s seen you have an orgasm. And it will never be the last. 
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Three for One 2
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.
Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale
Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
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You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.
In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.
Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.
A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!
You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.
"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"
His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"
You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."
"I came in last week," he says.
You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."
"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.
"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."
"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."
"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"
He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."
He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"
"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."
"Is that what you wear?" He asks.
"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.
"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."
He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.
"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."
"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."
"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.
"How do you know?" You say.
"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."
"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"
"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."
"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."
"Charlie Brown," he repeats.
"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."
"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."
"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."
"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."
You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.
"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."
"Well, he was nice," you say.
"Kinda cute, too," she intones.
"He was shopping for his wife."
"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."
"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."
"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.
"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”
🎀
Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.
You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.
“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”
No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.
You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns. 
“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.
You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.
“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”
“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”
“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”
“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”
“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”
“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”
“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”
“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.
“What do you mean?”
“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”
“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”
“You don’t think I have money?”
Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.
He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”
You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”
“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.
You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”
“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”
“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”
He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”
“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”
“It won’t turn on,” he growls.
“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”
“Double As?” He repeats.
“It needs batteries, sir.”
He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.
“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”
“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”
“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.
“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”
“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.
“It says on the receipt, sir.”
“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.
“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”
“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.
“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”
Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.
“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.
“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”
“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”
She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.
“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”
You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.
Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.
🎀
It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.
You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.
“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”
“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.
“Right, can I get a name?”
“Why?” He challenges.
“For… for the package,” you sputter.
“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.
“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.
“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”
“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”
“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”
You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.
“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”
“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.
“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”
“Why would you do that?” He asks.
“Er, because… it’s policy?”
“You think I can’t afford it?”
“N-no, I didn’t say–”
“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.
“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.
He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”
You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”
“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”
“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”
He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.
You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”
“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”
“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”
“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”
“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.
“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”
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diordrysdale · 2 years
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after dark ⋆ andy barber (part 3)
dark!neighbor!andy barber x camgirl!reader, ft. devin peters x camgirl!reader
word count ⋆ 2.1k
warnings ⋆ smut! minors dni, cheating (laurie is cheating on andy, andy is implied to be cheating/will cheat) reader sends a video where she’s giving devin head, fingering, degradation, squirting, daddy kink, implied murder oop— ft. devin peters: oral sex (m receiving), slight degradation.
authors note ⋆ I HAD TO SWITCH ANDY FROM SOFT!DARK TO JUST DARK!ANDY YALL IN FOR A RIDE I WAS JUST WRITING THIS AND I WENT DOWN A DARK PATH SO HERE IT IS FINALLY PART 3
+ reminder of who devin peters is, he’s chris evans’ character in the movie don’t look up!
don’t forget to give me some love, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.
previous part
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shit, shit, shit!
as soon as andy scurried back into his home, he peeled through the curtain of the window near laurie’s favorite sofa— the one she was currently on.
“I need a ride to my yoga class, andy.” she spoke as she typed away on her phone, laughing at the texts she was receiving from a friend.
yoga class, sure.
he watched as you stood in place, dumbfounded before the movie star tugged you back towards the house, practically pawing at your breasts for attention.
you giggled as he kissed and sucked at your neck, shoving him away to play hard to get, took one last glance at mr. barber’s house, and sighed, convincing yourself it was most definitely a coincidence.
andy, on the other hand, was losing his mind.
-
so, you were living next door, what could he do about it? go up to the door and give a polite hello, make small talk and confess how he’s been touching himself to you for the past 4 months?
maybe how he’s dreamt constantly of pounding you into his mattress as you drool on his sheets, neither of you knowing whether you’re begging him to stop or keep ruining your hole.
“…andy! here’s fine!” andy hit the breaks, the wheel’s screech pulling him from his thoughts as laurie opens the door without a simple thank you or goodbye, running up to her friends.
he began to drive off, reaching for his phone, unlocking it and grinning for what he was challenging himself to do.
“hey, SIRI, uh, sex shops near me.”
-
NEXT DAY
tears had dried on your cheeks as you caught your breath, letting your boyfriend tease your lips with the tip of his cock.
“look at you, all hungry for this dick.” he hummed, his free hand holding up your phone, filming your every move.
you said you’d airdrop it to him later, but you had other plans for this home video.
“fuckin’ slut..” you shut your eyes to avoid rolling them, the degradation just didn’t come naturally with him, oh, but with mr. barber.
if your neighbor was indeed your favorite subscriber, he was in for a treat.
“why’s a mr. barber texting you on your site?I thought you didn’t entertain those freaks on your live chat?” devin pulled you from your thoughts when a notification pinged on the top of your screen.
wrapping your lips around his veiny cock, you sucked harshly, distracting him from the text message as he gasped out, hand forcing your head down as he began to fuck your throat in a sloppy manner.
the wet gagging noises sent him over the edge, overflowing your mouth with his sticky load— wasn’t the best taste. although, it still made your mind stray to how mr. barber—
“let me see it.” he groaned, cupping your cheek with a softness you hated.
you couldn’t make up your mind about this guy, no matter how many millions of dollars laid on his dollars
sure, he was an admired actor, celebrity crush to many, and you had him at your beck and call.
but you were insatiable.
you had daydreamed of becoming his girl, riding him in his luxurious cars, and being the pretty little thing on his arm at movie premieres, red carpets, you name it.
but hollywood was ruthless to girl with a job like yours.
maybe starring on the big screen and having paparazzi shadow you wasn’t your thing, but being loved after dark was, and you were okay with that.
opening your mouth, you revealed his load before you swallowed it, glancing up at him for some sort of praise but he just exhaled, sinking into the sofa as he put his softening penis away.
you snatched your forgotten phone from the couch and saved the video before reading the text message, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.
barber543
hello neighbor.
-
andy hid the newly purchased box of sex toy items under the bed, his chest swelled with pride when he imagined how ruined he’d leave you by the end of the night, have you begging for him to stay, to touch your sweet pussy again, and again, til you couldn’t bare another orgasm.
official-kitten
there’s no way it’s you
he chuckled, he could just picture your cute expression of brows furrowed together, biting at your inner cheek.
barber543
come over and find out.
andy was always the type to take charge of a situation, but he was positive you’d be his tonight. and every night after that.
-
swallowing hard at mr. barber’s recent message, you slid your back down against the bathroom wall, thumbs dancing across the screen.
official-kitten
I’m busy daddy
🎥 0:45
your heart pounded in your ears as you linked the video devin filmed of you, and sent it— it was a russian roulette, you had absolutely no clue what he’d say—
barber543
not even a minute?
did he return the favor? or are you just a cocksleeve.
bet he didn’t even touch you
his punctuation made you giggle, but your hand began to slither down beneath your panties, ghosting over your clit.
official-kitten
he didn’t even make me wet :(
barber543
I’m not surprised.
I’m guessing you’re all needy. and pathetic.
official-kitten
don’t be mean :(
your middle finger and ring finger began to rapid circle on your clit, the sight of your hand moving beneath your underwear made your heart race.
barber543
you don’t know half of it, princess.
come over, or I’ll fuck you stupid in front of your friend.
removing your fingers before you came, you breathed heavily, smiling at the texts as you stood up with a rush, exiting the bathroom as you called out for devin who had made himself busy in the kitchen.
“what’s up, babe?” he chewed on a simple ham sandwich, scrolling through his twitter feed, mostly raising his ego with all the complements and praise thrown his way.
“you need to leave, now.” you shoved his beanie into his chest as he frowned, scoffing.
“i need to do my skin-care routine, do my mani-pedi, you know,” you rambled nervously, but he came to be truly understanding, kissing your forehead.
“fine, fine! send me the video, dollface.” he walked out the door, inhaling the fresh boston air, looking around the calm neighborhood til he made eye contact with the man they’d encountered earlier.
andy waved at the celebrity with full intent of fucking you into his mattress, the bedroom floor, the kitchen counter, and laurie’s pitiful garden in the front yard.
“hey, y/n,” devin called over his shoulder, still narrowing his eyes at the floofy haired man, as you waltzed over to him, glancing up at him, “don’t go on stream tonight. got a feeling there’s gonna be some creeps on the live.”
“sure thing, devy,” you stepped on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “I’ve got other plans.”
-
you applied your gloss, extremely giddy to finally meet the man who had been paying for quite literally everything you could dream of.
you wondered what he did for a living, how he stumbled upon your live stream and if he thought about you daily.
what if he was a psychopath? you had lost count of how many people you had blocked due to their obsession with you, driving you to the point to being constantly paranoid, always glancing over your shoulder and double checking your door at night.
fuck it.
shutting your door on your way out, you fiddled with your fingers, cracking your knuckles which had been a nervous habit of yours.
til someone pulled up to the driveway.
it was a woman, brunette, with a disconsolate look on her face.
of course, he had a wife. why weren’t you surprised? most of the good ones were taken.
“oh! hello..” the woman wiped her drippy nose on her wrist, hugging herself as she stood in front of you, waiting for you to present yourself.
“i’m [y/n], lila’s friend. I’m house-sitting and i just- I can’t seem to, uh…“
“get the washing machine to start? cindy always has that problem, but luckily, my husband andy helps her out. it happens at least every week.” your jaw clenched at the information, feeling yourself turn green with envy, but your heart stopped when the man of the hour stepped out to the driveway, locking eyes with you.
“honey, lila’s friend here needs help with the washer, go.” she sniffled, causing andy to cup her cheek and angle her face up, allowing him to see her bloodshot eyes.
“what happened? where’s jacob, is he okay?” laurie nodded her head, clearing his anxiety a bit til he caught her left hand— ring finger, completely bare.
“we need to talk.” laurie muttered as andy wrinkled his nose at the scent of another man’s cologne on her.
“I’ll just-“
“no!” you and laurie whipped your heads at him, making him breath out a laugh as he reached for your hand— time froze, not just for you.
“I’ll help you first, I just need to get some tools. give her something to drink, laurie.” before you knew it, you began following him and his wife into his home, wondering what scheme he had planned.
he gently closed the door behind you, not missing the chance to place his hand on your lower back, leading you into the kitchen, pouring you a glass of deep red wine, ignoring how his wife had excused herself to the upstairs bathroom.
alas, the two of you were alone.
slowly with a hint of intimidating, he began to corner you against the counter as you look down at your feet with natural submission, making him chuckle and hold your chin between his pointer and thumb.
“wait for me upstairs, second room on the right.” you glanced up at him with a parted jaw, “I want you playing with your pussy, legs spread, only wearing this shirt. go.” his command made you raise an eyebrow.
“you can’t tell me what to do.” your bratty response made him scoff as his hand slipped beneath your pajama shorts, cupping your mound as his middle finger dragged against your clothed slit, making you shiver.
“no? you sure about that?” he smirks at the wet spot on your panties, watching you squirm, in person? fuck, you couldn’t let you go. ever.
“tell daddy what you’re gonna do for him,” he whispers, his pulse accelerating when your trembling hand rose to caress his beard.
“I’m gonna play with my pussy and wait for him. and then, I’m gonna let him do whatever he wants to me,” you whimpered when he pinched at your clit, “let daddy use me and my holes.”
you were a damn menace with your words.
“you’ll be daddy’s cumrag?” he suggested as his hard-on grew against his slacks, compelling him to grind desperately against your stomach.
“yes, please,” you dragged out as looked up at him with lust filled eyes, leaning against him, feeling a bit lightheaded.
“and let me shove my cock in this little pussy when I feel like it?“ pushing aside your panties, his fingers began pistoning past your velvet walls, adoring the immediate debauched look on your face before he kissed your soft lips for the first time.
“anything you want— fuck!”
“beg for your daddy, kitten, beg for daddy to taste your pussy,” the squelching noises, his alluring voice, it was too much.
“fuck! daddy- m’ gonna squirt, ah! pleaseplease-“ he was quick to keep you from falling to your knees, grunting when your legs violently shook, your cunt spurting your juices on his cupped hand.
“my kitten, all mine,” he growled, his pink lips attacking your bare neck, sucking and nipping at your skin as you attempted to even your breath, but you still felt unsatisfied.
you needed to be fucked.
“want your dick, please, please,” you babbled out, your hands moved with a mind of their own, desperately wanting to touch him but he laughed, continuing to rub your slit.
“you’re a little slut, my wife’s in the house! what if she heard you?” he asked with a grin, removing his wet hand and beginning to lead to you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“hurts! I need to feel you inside me,” you pawed at his belt, making him sigh in content before he clutches your cheeks in his hand, it smelled of your scent.
“then fucking wait for me upstairs. second room on the left.” he demanded through gritted teeth, watching you scamper what was left of the staircase.
he rushes to the kitchen, grabbing the first knife he could get his hands on and heads back upstairs with an emotionless façade.
he couldn’t have anymore distractions tonight.
his job was to fuck you as many times you begged him to, and claim you as him.
“laurie, I’m ready to talk!” he calls out to his wife for the last time, gripping at what was to become a murder weapon.
well, only if the police found out.
┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛
a/n; oh y/n, now he’ll never let you go.
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boxofbonesfic · 1 year
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Title: Wax and Wane
Pairing: Werewolf!Andy Barber x Reader
Summary: You were drawn to Andrew Barber like a moth to flame, and now that everything you were is burned away, you cling to him in the ashes.
Word Count: 1,269
Warnings: Darkfic, Dubcon, Horror Au, Werewolves, Smut, Borderline Monsterfucking (lol), Implied Stockholm Syndrome, Breeding, Dead Dove: Do not eat, MINORS DNI!
A/N: my second entry for my Friday the 13th challenge! so as some of you all may recall, the “A.B” initials on the charm bracelet in Talking to the Moon implied the existence of other women, and maybe other pack members…😈 mind the warnings my loves! enjoy! divider by @firefly-graphics
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The sound of the bell rouses you, forcing you to sit up groggily as you blink at the dark room. The heavily draped window is dark too, and when you look blearily for the digital clock on the bedside table, it confirms your suspicion. 
 The bright numbers read 3:17, and for a moment you consider turning back over and going back to sleep, but the little bell next to your bed sounds again insistently. 
 I hate that fucking bell. It’s an antiquated remnant of the house’s past, from a time when your lavish bedroom was once part of the servant’s quarters, the bell a means to summon you. Now, however, it serves a somewhat different purpose. 
 Is it really different? He calls, I come.
 Andy’s side of the bed is cold, you note as you roll out from underneath the covers. You peek through the curtains out at the moon, a dark sliver eaten out of the bright circle. It won’t last, though—it’s due to be full tomorrow, maybe the day after, so Andy’s side of the bed will remain cold until then. 
 You hate that you miss him, a little. He is a good conversationalist after all, your man—your monster. 
 Andy is supposed to be with the pack—you know this from past experience. It’s strange he’s waited so long to leave, and you know that now he must have certainly missed his chance. You make your way down the long hall, the only sound the whisper of your long robe against the cool tile. He isn’t downstairs, not when you exit the grand staircase and into the dark living room. The house is intimidating in the dark, but you’ve done this enough times now that you could probably do it with your eyes shut if you wanted to. You go through the kitchen, pausing briefly before the cellar door. 
 When you open it, Andy is waiting for you on the other side. It’s easy to see the change is almost upon him. His bare chest is heaving, shiny with sweat. His eyes are fever bright, nostrils flaring from the scent of you. When he licks his lips, your pulse quickens, and you wonder if he can hear it, if he knows. 
 I should have seen it coming.
 You should have—but Andy had blinded you. Love blinded you. You had not noticed your friends dropping from your life like irate flies as you found yourself too busy with Andy Barber to see them, your family held at arms length by their disapproval of your wealthy, mysterious new beau. People falling like dominoes until you were alone—
 And alone, you were weak.
 When the man had become a monster, you had clung on instead of running. And now, you think as you lightly finger the raised scar on your chest, it’s too late. The long scratch marks that if you measured, would be exactly Andy’s finger-widths apart. 
 There’s something under my skin, too.
  You allow him to pull you to his chest as he inhales deeply, pressing his face into your hair. The smell of him does something to you, too, igniting a warm tingle deep in the apex of your thighs. The distinctly male musk, tinged with something animal, primal. His fingers tangle in your curls for a moment before he lets go, his hands wandering appreciatively down your sides and over the curve of your hips. 
 “I thought I was going to have to come get you,” he says, his voice low. There is amusement there, too. “You have good timing.” 
 Most people don’t pay close attention, so generally, even when Andy is out and about this close to the change, no one notices the tells. Not like you. His nails are longer, sharper and stronger. His canines longer, thicker—it makes him lisp, just a little. And his eyes…
 The darkest, stormiest blue. 
 Andy slides a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up. You sigh into his mouth as his lips meet yours, his teeth pulling at the plump flesh until it swells. Hungrily he swallows the resulting whimper, and when his tongue sweeps into your mouth he tastes like gin—he’s been drinking. Andy’s hands slide up your sides, displacing the robe as he pushes it from your shoulders. 
 “Smell like honeysuckle,” the words are murmured low against your throat. You squeak when his fingers sink appreciatively into the soft skin of your ass underneath the hem of your nightie. He inhales again, teeth tugging at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “And rain.” Thick fingers wiggle between your thighs, and you widen your stance without being asked, and Andy hums with pleasure at finding you damp already. 
 “Missed you.” 
 Your breath catches as he circles your clit, before sliding down to tease at your entrance. When he pulls back, you try to stifle the whine that grows in your throat, but you don’t kill it completely. 
 “Get on the desk.” 
 This room serves as Andy’s unofficial second office. Where, if you looked, you might find pieces of evidence that were conveniently “lost” during trial—things that might make their way into Andy’s pocket if he had a particularly stubborn problem. 
 Nothing that would be of use to you now. 
 His eyes rest on you with almost physical weight, you can feel them boring into you as you lean up onto your toes, bending across the dark wood. You peek over your shoulder, and you sink your teeth into your lip to keep from gasping. When the change is close, you know Andy is… bold. Aggressive, even—-and tonight is no different. He openly palms his cock through his open pants, staring lustfully at the glistening folds between your spread thighs. He grins at you, and your cheeks burn but you don’t look away. 
 “I told you, runt,” he says, the points of his sharp teeth hanging over his lip. “I missed you.” Andy is on you in two easy strides, resting a hand on your hip as he rubs the head of his cock against your pussy. This time, you can’t help the shuddering moan that leaks through your clenched teeth. He bends over you until he can rest his lips on the back of your neck, and they curve against your skin. “I see you missed me too, didn’t you?”
 “I did,” you admit, your cunt sucking desperately at the tip of his cock. 
 “Mmm, good girl, so honest.” The pleased hum that vibrates in his chest fills you with a shameful sense of pride. You are a pretty bird in a pretty cage for as long as he’ll have you—but you can’t bring yourself to hate him. You moan as he begins to push forward, his hand heavy on your hip.
 “I know I’m supposed to be with the pack,” Andy grits out as he begins to stretch you open. You stare with lidded, unseeing eyes at the bookshelves in front of you, his words echoing in your ears. There’s a sort of doubling when he speaks again, two voices in one mouth. There is Andy’s voice, the one you know, and then something dark. Animal. 
 “But you feel so good like this.” 
 You know the beast is crawling just underneath Andy’s skin, staring out at you through his eyes. Your only saving grace is the fact that they want the same thing—
 “I know you like it too, pup,” Andy’s teeth scrape hungrily against your neck as he splits you open inch by delicious inch. “You always did have a thing for monsters.” 
 end
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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library​ for updates. ❤️
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