#barber app

[pealeii]

attend the tale of His Tits

[keeps-ache]

yippee woohoo :3

[iskedo]

SMS Appointment Reminder

Ensure your clients never miss an appointment with ISKEDO's SMS Appointment Reminder service. Our seamless and automated reminders keep your schedule organized and clients informed, enhancing efficiency and satisfaction.

[phagodyke]

man I fucking love assembling flatpack furniture

[cevansbrat0007]

What's Eating You, Mr. Barber?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to check out Ari Levinson's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Bickering, Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Daddy Kink, Allusions to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s hard for you to put into words just how much you love playing pranks on your unsuspecting husband. And after downloading TikTok, you’d discovered that the app was home to an online treasure trove of practical jokes designed to make your loved one’s head spin. While it had taken a few days for you to settle on the right prank, you were pretty confident that the one you’d chosen would earn you a fun reaction from Andy without you having to risk your ass in the process. 

You find yourself grinning as you take your time prepping dinner, humming a little tune as you peel and press even more fresh garlic for your homemade tomato sauce. Tonight’s family dinner of spaghetti and meatballs promised to be very interesting. Which was why you’d also taken the liberty of setting up two hidden cameras – one in the dining room and one right here in your kitchen. 

As of now, you had no plans to post this on your channel. But you also didn’t want to miss a minute of your man’s reaction. Until then all you had to do was play it cool for a couple more hours.

Later that Evening…

“Baby Girl, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Your husband asks after watching you make what easily had to be your third trip from the kitchen into the dining room. 

Any other night you would’ve said yes, but not this one. Tonight you were flying solo. The cameras were already on and recording – you’d taken care of that before you’d started setting the table – and so far Andy hadn’t noticed a thing.

Hopefully you’d be able to keep it that way until it was time for the big reveal. 

“No thanks, Big Man. This Mama only has to make one more trip and then we’ll be ready to eat.”  You tell him before sitting two plates on the table in front of your two youngest children. You were down a kid tonight thanks to your oldest, Bianca, being away at a sleepover.  

Andy nods before leaning over to adjust the small hand towel you’d previously tucked into the front of your three-year-old son’s t-shirt. Not that it really mattered all that much since you were positive he’d be swimming in sauce before the meal was over. But what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Biting your lip in anticipation, you scamper back into the kitchen to grab dinner for you and your husband. Andy’s plate was piled high with a generous serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile, you give yourself hardly any. 

And therein was the so-called prank. Earlier this week, you’d spent the better part of several hours gleefully watching as dozens of girlfriends and wives proceeded to serve their man impressive looking portions before sitting next to them with virtually empty plates for themselves. Many of the reactions had ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, with only a few dickish exceptions. 

Glancing over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t being watched, you pick up various pans and quietly place them in your oven and out of sight. For this to actually work, Andy would have to believe that there wasn’t enough for seconds or leftovers. Once that’s done, you square your shoulders and confidently march back into the dining room with dishes in hand. 

“I’m back.” You announce, placing a piping hot plate in front of Andy before taking your own seat at the table. “I tried something different with my sauce this time, so everybody dig in and tell me what you think.” 

Andy absentmindedly rubs his palms together as he stares down at the fragrant heap of spaghetti before him. Silently, you will him to look over at what you’d served yourself, but you force yourself to remain quiet so as not to give yourself away. 

“This smells amazing, sweetheart.” Your husband tells you, reaching for a piece of garlic bread. “I’ve been excited for this meal since you told me you texted me at 10:00am.”

“Glad to hear it, Daddy” You pick up the little bowl of parmesan you’d set out and hand it to your middle daughter, Katrina. “What does everybody else think?”

You take a brief glance around the table while you wait for feedback. And although you make a point of not looking at your husband, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s now staring at your nearly empty plate.

“Ooh.” You inwardly squeal, stopping just short of clapping your hands. “It’s starting!” 

“What’s up with this?” His tone is rife with confusion, which only grows when you decide to ignore him in favor of dipping a small piece of bread into some sauce. “Hey – stop!”

“What?” When you finally deign to return his gaze. You have to choke back a laugh as you watch a bewildered Andy comically gesture between your two plates.

“What the fu–fudge,” he swiftly corrects, “is going on with your plate?”

“What do you mean?” You aim to keep your tone light and breezy.

Your husband lets out a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the rest of your food?” He jabs at your plate with his fork, holding up the half of a meatball you’d allowed yourself.

“This was all that was left.” You tell him with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His confusion continues to mount even as pauses long enough to grab a napkin to wipe at his son’s increasingly messy fingers. “There was plenty of spaghetti left on the stove.” While he’s occupied you quickly check on little Rory, who appears to be faring slightly better.

“Not really.” 

“Baby…” Andy pins you with a knowing look, one that you readily return.

“What? I…” You trail off, pretending to think. “After I realized BiBi wouldn’t be here tonight, I made some adjustments to the recipe. Turns out I didn’t make enough, so…” Another shrug. “This was all there was after I made everyone else’s plates.” 

Andy is uncharacteristically quiet as leans back in his chair. Meanwhile, your children are busy staring at you, each of them sporting tiny, furrowed brows. Pursing your lips, you set your fork down on your plate and reach for your drink. 

“You can have some of mine, Mama.” KitCat offers before sweetly pushing her plate towards you. The unexpected gesture touches your heart in more ways than one. Not to be outdone, your three-year-old twins also follow suit. 

“That’s okay, babies. I’m perfectly fine.” You reassure them, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Besides, this is all I need and –”

“Thanks kiddos.” Your husband kindly interrupts as he places his napkin on the table. “That was very sweet of you, wanting to take care of your Mama like that.” His brilliant blue eyes beam with pride as he speaks. “But Daddy’s got this one.” 

You’re momentarily taken aback when he stands, picking up his plate as he does. And you’re even more surprised when he motions for you to do the same.

“Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Andrew, sweetheart, it’s okay. I promise.”

“Now, please.” It’s an order, that much you know. But at least your handsome ogre has enough sense to take on the word “please” at the end of it.      

“Fine.” You huff before standing and following him out of the room, although not before encouraging your children to keep eating while you’re gone. Just because it was Friday doesn’t mean it was time to dispense their normal bedtime routines.

You were only playing a prank, not embracing total anarchy. 

Once in the kitchen, you each take up residence in opposing corners. But of course, you’re careful enough to avoid blocking the view of the camera. 

“Baby Girl.” Andy exhales, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you really mean to tell me that there’s no food left? You really made all that pasta and there’s nothing?”

“Yes, Andrew.” You lie without missing a beat. “I already told you. I trimmed down the recipe because –”

“Because Bianca is gone. Yes, I heard you.” He sets his dish down on the counter, openly scrutinizing it. 

“So then what’s the problem?” You rest your back against your pantry while you wait for him to respond. 

“The problem – my problem –” Andy is quick to amend, shaking his head. “– is that you expect me to sit back and watch you starve while everyone else eats. And I don’t like it.” He scrubs a weary hand over his beard. “Hand me your plate, beautiful.”

“Why?” It’s impossible to keep the suspicion out of your voice. 

“Because I don’t need all of this.” He grunts, taking the plate out of your hands when you don’t comply fast enough. “In fact, I don’t need any of it. You eat and I’ll order myself a pizza after we put the kids down.”

“Andy!” You scoff, which comes out on the heels of a laugh. 

“What?” The man is clearly confused by your dismissal of his offer. “I am capable of handling myself, okay? My hands work just fine.” He grates out, making a show of holding up a large, lightly calloused palm.

“But I…I made that plate for you.” You were seconds away from caving and you both knew it. 

“And I’m telling you, my wonderful wife, that I want you to have it.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –” You begin, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was time to fess up.

“Fine.” Andy breathes, taking a second to roll his broad shoulders. “Then we’ll split it.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you into his warm embrace so that he can whisper in your ear. “And then, after we put the kids down, we’ll order ourselves a pizza. Maybe open up a bottle of wine while we wait.”

“Yeah?” You murmur, relaxing as you bury your face in his chest. 

God, he always smelled so good.  

“Mhm.” He continues, nuzzling his nose against your curls. “And then, once we’re all giggly and buzzed, I’ll convince you to let me make love to you in front of the fireplace. We can even set up a booby trap so that we pretend like the children don’t exist.”

“Wow.” You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles its way past your lps. “Andy Bear, that sounds amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He rumbles as his brawny arms tighten around your smaller frame. You were pushing your District Attorney beyond his breaking point.

“Because.” Squirming out of his hold, you dance your way towards the oven in preparation for the big reveal. Hopefully your husband would be a good sport about all of this.

“Because?” 

“Because…” You draw out the word, even as you go to open the oven to show him what’s inside. “There’s actually plenty of dinner leftover. See?” You throw your arms wide, but force yourself to stop just short of adding spirit fingers because you suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Baby, I swear…” Andy sighs, his hands slowly sinking into the pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. Most likely to keep himself from strangling you, his lovely wife. “Why–what would possess you to lie about something like this?”

“First off, sweetheart, it’s called a prank.” You bridge the gap between your bodies so that you can wrap your arms around his trim waist. “And secondly, I saw it on TikTok. Ever heard of it?” 

He glares down at you, which has you instinctively clenching your thighs together. That’s part of the reason you loved riling up your Big Man.

Being a brat got your motor running. 

“I take it you have.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss away his frown. “Well, I fell down the rabbit hole the other day while the kids were napping. There’s this whole, like, subsection that’s just pranks. And the latest one involved these women pranking their guys by serving them a huge plate of food, and then pretending like there’s nothing left for them to eat. The reactions were super entertaining, so I figured I’d test it out, you know? Just for fun.”

You grace him with your most dazzling smile, but unfortunately, he’s still having none of it. His frown only deepens as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling in an effort to summon all of his remaining patience. 

“Are you mad?” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you wait for his answer.

“Yep.”

“C’mon, Andy Bear!” You pout before placing your hands on his biceps to give him a light shake.”Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Pretty sure I lost it the day you decided torturing me was your new favorite pastime.” He grumbles, although there doesn’t appear to be any heat in his words. “In fact, I have a feeling you just gave me several new grays.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame me for those.” You tell him, playfully rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know that you came home with those. I spotted ‘em the moment you walked through the door.” Your sassy response earns you a sharp crack to your ass, making you wince.

“Ow!” 

“Brat.” He grouses, even as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose. 

“Guilty as charged.” You hum, weaving your arms around his neck. “Besides, I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me starve.”

“Not sure it’s even possible to fail that challenge, Baby Girl. I mean, you’re my wife. My partner in crime. Did you really expect me to just let you go hungry?”

“You’d be surprised.” You mutter, making a mental note to show him a few videos featuring some of the men who’d actually failed the test. “But thankfully you didn’t. And neither did the kiddos. Which is why I will graciously allow you all to sleep inside tonight.”

You let out a tiny yelp when Andy suddenly grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he lifts you up. Unsure of what else to do, you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Right now you were just going along for the ride.  

“Now is that any way to talk to Daddy?” Andy lovingly captures your mouth, lightly stroking his along the seam of your lips. “Especially after you played such a mean trick?” His once clouded blue eyes are now filled with mischief. 

“Oh, I’m not sorry. But if it helps, I am willing to delete the video.” Your husband’s eyes go wide, letting you know that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of being recorded. So you keep talking, hoping to distract him. “And I still wanna get you drunk and take advantage of you after we put the children down for the night.” You run your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nail.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.” He eyes you warily, making clear that he still hasn’t quite recovered from your earlier betrayal. 

“What if…” You lean in close, lightly nipping at his earlobe. “I could find it in my heart to apologize between then and now? How does that sound, Big Man?”

“I mean I might be interested.” Andy shrugs, gently setting you on the counter before bracing his muscled arms on either side of you. “Out of curiosity, just what kind of apology are we talking about?” He gazes at you with lust-filled eyes, eagerly anticipating your response.

“The kind that’s best offered while on my knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of thigh highs and garters.” You know you’ve got him when you hear him groan low in his throat.  

“Fucky, baby.” Your husband hisses, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his imagination suddenly kicks into overdrive. “Can you be sorry enough to wear the heels too? You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Oh. You knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“I think so.” You murmur, stroking a tender hand along his back as he struggles to regain his composure.   

“Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He grips your hips before kindly helping you down. “Now let’s go get those kids fed and off to bed.” Andy grabs your hand, tugging you behind him as you head back to the dining room to see about your babies. 

“Slow down, Andrew.” You laugh as your legs scramble to keep up. 

“No can do, Baby Girl.” He grunts, picking up his pace. “Daddy’s really looking forward to that apology. So be sure to eat up because…” He trails off when he comes face-to-face with his sauce covered little ones. “...You’re gonna need all of your strength.”

“You can count on it.”

END

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Weekend Loving

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader

Word Count: 1500

Summary: The perfect way to combat a cold rainy weekend in autumn is by cuddling and keeping warm together.

Warnings: Fluff, Cuddles, Oral (Fem), Smut, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Cursing, Andy’s beard is a warning, Quote: “If you only knew the things I want to do to you" & Prompts - cuddling in front of a fire & cuddling on the couch during a cold rainy day.

A/N 1: thank you to @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @pigwidgeonxo for beta reading this. Also thank you to @firefly-graphics for the divider.

A/N 2: This is for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork & @yenzys-lucky-charm autumn writing challenge.

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It was a cold rainy day in autumn and you were thankful it was the weekend. Both you and Andy had today off which meant one thing cuddling on the couch with a fire going. The fireplace in the living room was currently warming the room thanks to Andy’s quick thinking of trying to get you warm fast. You watched the rain pour down against the colorful shades of leaves on the trees. Autumn has to be your favorite time of the year. 

You wore leggings, fluffy warm socks, and a long-sleeved shirt. Andy came down the stairs dressed in his gray sweatpants and henley. He was built with broad shoulders and a trim waist. His eyes were cerulean blue and his amazing beard made you clench your thighs together.

You were on the couch with a large blanket covering you. It was big enough to cover the both of you while cuddling. Of course, if you had it your way you would wrap yourself like a burrito in the blanket and not share with Andy. 

Andy loved weekends like this where you could spend quality time with one another and relax after a long week at work. Whether cuddling under the blankets or spending time between your legs Andy always considered himself a lucky man. 

After a few minutes, Andy came shuffling into the living room ready to get warmed up. He kissed your forehead and made his way under the blanket. As he gets settled, you whine as he stretches out behind you. Bringing your body against his chest.

“Mmmm… you're so warm, babe.” You try to cuddle closer, your butt rubbing against his crotch causing him to groan into your neck. 

“Keep doing that and you’ll be in trouble, Mrs. Barber.” He seductively whispers against your neck, stealing a light kiss while his beard scrapes against your skin.

“Trouble is my middle name, Mr. Barber.” You rub up against him again but this time you can feel his erection. He lets out another groan as he adjusts his sweatpants. You turn to face him as your hands roam down his chest to his sweatpants.

“If you only knew the things I want to do to you, sweetheart right here on the couch.” 

“Enlighten me.” You whisper against his lips before you give him a quick kiss. 

He grabs your hips and does a dirty grind against you. Pushing you onto your back he climbs on top of you keeling between your spread legs. He pushed the blanket briefly off the both of you and pulled your leggings and underwear off. You squealed by the roughness of his hands on you but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Andy then pulls you into a sitting position and peels your long-sleeved shirt off. You shiver from how cold you feel but instantly warm as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. Every nibble and soft bite has you gasping in pleasure. Andy pulls away with a pop and uses his fingers to roll your nipples. You start to let out little gasps and he stops abruptly making you whine.

Andy stands and pulls the henley off revealing his body you swore was sculpted by the gods themselves. Seconds later he pushed his sweatpants and boxer briefs down his legs revealing his hard, thick cock. He smiles down at you as you stare at him, taking in his nakedness. Grabbing the blanket he covers you both up as he kisses his way down toward your wet pussy. Reaching his destination he kisses your inner thighs and rubs his beard against your core. The roughness from his beard has you whimpering until you feel his tongue lick a stripe through your folds.

“Fuck, Andy!” You moan out as you feel another pass of his tongue. Your hands grip the blanket tightly as he makes another pass through your folds. 

Andy buries his face in your pussy, licking and gently suckling your clit. Your breathing hitches every time he plays with your clit. The more he takes you apart the louder your moans get. You feel Andy’s fingers run through your petals getting arousal all over them. He pulls back his face for a minute and slips his fingers inside of you. His mouth is now focused on your clit as he swirls his tongue around it and gently plays with it. You can feel yourself getting closer to your release the faster his fingers work you. Making a come hither motion sets you off as you cum screaming his name from the pleasure he just brought you. As your body twitches from the aftershocks of your orgasm, Andy climbs back up to your face and kisses you. You can taste your release on his lips and tongue. 

Your tongues dance together in a sensual kiss, both fighting for dominance but it is Andy that is taking over. His kiss is passionate and he groans against your lips while he grinds his hard cock against your wet pussy. You wrap your legs around his hips and roll your hips against him. God did he feel amazing against you. Before you can do anything else Andy sits back on his legs as he forcefully turns you over onto your stomach. Lifting your hips for him Andy runs his hand over your butt and smacks it causing you to mewl. Grabbing his cock he strokes himself a few times before he sinks into your cunt. The thickness of his cock stretches you in all the right ways as he slowly starts to thrust into you.

“Oh…my… feels so good baby.” Your hands are holding onto the cushion below you as Andy slowly takes you apart. 

Andy picks his pace up and starts to piston his hips into you over and over again. Skin slapping against skin fills the room while the fireplace continues to keep you both warm. He continues to thrust into you harder and faster as you moan his name to the heavens above. Now and then he slaps your ass causing you to push back into him hard. Andy can’t help but groan as he feels your walls flutter against his cock. He loves the way you feel around him and taking you like this sends a primal groan through him. 

“Fuck…baby…fuck…. Take my big cock.” He groans out as you squeal with every piston of his hips. 

Your hand moves to your clit and starts to rub it to the pace of Andy snapping his hips. His thick cock plunged into you so hard you swore you could see stars. You’re a mess, a moaning fucking mess for him. You feel like you’re going to cum any minute now. 

Harder and faster Andy snaps his hips against you. Just as he feels you start to flutter against him again he pulls out of you and then rolls you to your back again. Before you can say anything he grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders and sinking back into you.

“Andy. I’m so close…” You rake your nails down his chest causing him to groan out. His hips are starting to falter at the pace he is keeping up. Your walls start to flutter and tense around him again as you chase your high. 

With a swipe of his right thumb against your clit you are moaning his name again as you finally fall off the edge into eternal bliss. Andy feels your walls grip him tightly as he now chases his high. A few hard thrusts and he is cumming deep inside you. He groans your name a few times before he finally is spent.  He gently moves your legs back to the couch and all but collapses on you. His forearms are keeping him from crushing you under his weight. You smile up at him with a blissed-out grin and he leans down to kiss your lips. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too Andy. With all my heart.”

Andy gently pulls out of you and goes to the bathroom to clean himself off. Once done he brings back a wet washcloth and cleans you as well. He throws the washcloth into the washer and comes back over to the couch. Grabbing the blanket he lays beside you on the couch and holds you close to him again. With the fire still roaring to life you sigh as you are now warm from both the fireplace and Andy taking you apart.

“Let’s stay like this forever,” you whisper to him as you begin to yawn. 

“Forever my love, forever you and I,” he whispers back. 

Andy kisses your head and snuggles closer to you. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have these moments with you. Thanking the lucky stars above he cuddles you close as the rain continues to pitter-patter on the windows. It may be cold outside but it is warm inside their home. 

Taglist:

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@awkwardgiraffe726

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

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@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

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@mrsnikstan

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@yenzys-lucky-charm

[lexirosewrites]

I've been in a funk ADHD wise so I haven't had the same inspiration I usually do🥺 let's give this a try

Steve & Robin r platonic soulmates & they're both omegas & they're gross twins with little to zero boundaries

They share the same piece of gum till it runs out of flavor, they've helped eachother build up a storage of tasteful nudes on their respective phones, when Robin had constipation Steve not only got the laxatives he held her hand in the bathroom, when Steve got food poisoning Robin not only helped him out of bed she helped him aim for the toilet or trash can, their heats r synced up in a way tht allows them to take care of eachother in turns, yes Steve taught Robin how to kiss, yes Robin taught Steve to use a knotting dildo

When Steve eventually gets kicked out of his house bc his parents want to sell it he just goes to the Buckley's with a couple of suitcases & one box bc so much of his stuff was already at their place anyway, robins parents barely blink when stobin tells them tht Steve is moving in, they all cry when Steve says he'll b changing his last name to Buckley tho

Robin graduates high school & then they're setting off for the big city so she can study linguistics & Steve can study cosmetology

When they get their degrees they decide "why the hell not?" & go to live in California bc neither of them have seen the Pacific ocean before. They end up in LA even tho the plan was San Francisco, and they both find semi fulfilling jobs. Robin works as an interpreter with various state government offices, helping individuals whose first language isn't English, taking some of the pressure off of the children in the situation

Steve finds work at a small hole in the wall salon that's been in business longer than the many fancy salons all around LA. He's doted on by the regulars, surrounding shop owners, and his coworkers. There's a small hole in the wall barber shop a few shop fronts down the street tht the salon has a friendly relationship with. On the corner is a teeny tiny burger spot that's been around since the 1920s with no changes to the menu except for price & it has the best burgers Steve & Robin have EVER had.

It's a good life, the only thing they want tht they cant give eachother is a romantic connection, but they've tried every app & no one seems to actually want a relationship or they get weird abt how close they are

Well one day a chipper female alpha wanders into the salon looking for a last minute shampoo & trim to keep her strawberry blonde waves healthy. The only person available is Steve & he does so well tht the alpha introduces herself as Chrissy & books an appointment with him for a couple of months later when she knows she'll need another trim.

Except Steve & Robin don't rlly engage with social media, they rarely watch recent shows or movies, and their taste skews between horror or romance there's no in-between. So neither is aware tht the nice female alpha Chrissy is THE Chrissy Munson, an up & coming movie star, adopted sister to Eddie Munson the lead guitar of world famous metal/rock band Corroded Coffin, and someone very fussy abt her hair.

Chrissy comes back for her next appointment & at the end she point blank asks him if he'd like to be the only person doing her hair for the next 8 months, he asks her why & she realizes he genuinely has no idea who she is, so she explains & tht she has a production filming soon & she wants him to handle hair at the end of the day to wash out all of the gunk that gets into it for filming

Steve says yes only after the salon owner & regulars tell him to say yes & tht there will b a job waiting for him when he's done

Blah blah blah

Steddie meet & fall in love then buckingham meet & fall in love

scarily close stobin is my favorite flavor! and of course all steddie needs a side helping of buckingham🥰💕💕

[krirebr]

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

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

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

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[youthereader]

Andy bends you over his desk.

pairing: andy barber (defending jacob) x assistant fem!reader

summary: 1.9k words. andy reprimands you for wearing an inappropriate skirt at work.

rating: e; smut, barebacking, semi-public sex, some praise kink, boss-employee relationship, spanking

a/n: not the usual here but this idea got the best of me.

You consider your working relationship with Andy to be a friendly one. You talk about the weather, some sports, a restaurant opening in town. It’s light and fun and it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had, being his assistant.

Because of this, you care a lot about him on a deeper level, too, and it probably crosses into unprofessionalism, but it doesn’t hurt anyone since nobody knows you’re harboring a huge crush on him. And it makes sense! He’s so handsome, and so smart without being condescending, something you’re not used to. Your Hinge dates are downright depressing at times because you keep comparing everyone of them to your boss. You think to yourself, why can’t they be more like Andy?

It's only natural to daydream about him taking you out instead of those disappointing guys, and it’s harmless fun. There was the one time he caught you looking at him when you sat by his side in a meeting, your pen poised to take notes, and he winked at you. It made you feel all warm and giggly, your cheeks flushing as you pressed your lips together to smother your mirth.

You start buying new clothes, justifying them as work purchases, knowing you’re picking things you hope Andy will appreciate. The most daring is a short leather skirt with a slit that comes up mid-thigh, and you specifically choose to wear it on a day you know Andy plans to dedicate to being in the office, his paperwork having got away from him. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to grab his attention, and then you’ll open your app at the end of the day to find someone more realistic, more tangible, and then ride the high of confidence into the weekend. It’s a win-win situation.

You rise from your desk as he walks in, greeting him with coffee, and his eyes drop immediately to your legs when he picks up his Styrofoam cup. He blinks twice, his response delayed.

“Good morning.”

He glances at his watch, muttering a curse word before he departs. It’s not what you hoped for, but it’s not nothing, either. You get back to your computer and answer the phone. Andy doesn’t leave for a couple hours and when he reappears, he’s on his cell phone, distracted, barely looking at you.

Maybe he’s not a leg guy? Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re cute?

You try not to feel let down by this, plodding along, until he comes back a bit before noon, your eyes meeting as he passes through.

“Any messages?”

“Yes,” you reply, retrieving your notepad. “I told them you’d call them back. Also, your dentist keeps playing phone tag-”

He lets out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Uh, yeah. Please call Dr. Fisher back and apologize to her. I’m sure she’ll have a lot to say when I finally see her.”

“Plaque not top of your priorities?” you tease, sinking back into your chair, swivelling in it to face your monitor once more.

You catch his eyes following your movements, and you’re suddenly far more aware of your skin. You pick up the phone receiver.

“Just call her back, please,” he says, not matching your tone.

He sounds almost impatient with you, which has never happened before. You nod, going quiet. You do as you’re told, and the receptionist sighs on the other end of the line, rescheduling for you yet again.

“There’s a cancellation fee.”

“Yes, he is aware,” you reply. “And he sends his apologies.”

“Tell him it’s not good enough.”

You won’t do any such thing; he’d fire you for sticking your nose in his business like that. Frankly, it’s not up to anyone to pass judgement on Andy, knowing what he’d been through in the past few years. If his working life took over everything for him to cope with all the rest, that makes a lot of sense to you.

“Uh-huh.”

When you hang up, you sigh, glancing at the calendar. He doesn’t have many spaces for anything other than meetings. You hope he has some time for himself, even if it’s just a couple hours a day. You remind yourself it’s outside of your control, and more importantly, not relevant to you.

The phone rings and you glance at the digital display, seeing it’s Andy. You pick up.

“Yes?”

“I need to speak to you before you go to lunch.”

“Sure,” you reply, and you hang up, stomach suddenly full of knots.

With how he snapped at you earlier, you mind goes straight to the worst possible outcome – dismissal. It seems a little extreme, but he’s never been so… mean to you. But maybe you’re being paranoid, or maybe… maybe you’re being sensitive, and he didn’t snap at all. Still, he wasn’t warm as he usually was when he saw you. You thought he liked having you as his assistant.

You walk over to his door, wiping your sweaty hands on your skirt before opening it and slipping inside. Your head turned to shut it, you hear him say:

“Please lock that.”

You oblige, and then glance over to his desk, seeing him resting on the edge of it, arms crossed. His jaw tenses, his eyes falling to your skirt.

“What did you need, sir?” you ask, placing your hands behind your back.

“We’ve got an issue,” he says.

You swallow. “Oh? What’s happened?”

Sometimes a client is pricklier than others. Or something high profile comes through the firm and you have to be aware of press sniffing around. You don’t expect what comes out of Andy’s mouth next.

“It’s your skirt.”

“Oh, God,” you say, and you flush. “Yeah… it’s a little much. I’m sorry—”

He puts up a hand, but you keep going.

“I can go home and change, now, on my break. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No, that won’t do.”

Your heart sinks. He’s going to fire you over your outfit? That has to be discrimination. You gape.

“Andy…”

He pushes off his desk and you freeze. Andy strides right up to you and takes hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes boring into yours.

“You think you can wear something like that and there not be any consequences? I can practically see up your skirt.”

You can’t speak. Your heart hammers, her whole face and neck burning with shame.

He moves forward, hips on yours and you stumble backwards, his other hand grabbing your hip to steady you. Underneath the fear and humiliation, you know he’s getting you wet by touching you like this, as if he’s entitled to do so.

His thigh fits between your knees and he searches your face, eyes narrowing.

“Well? What have you got to say for yourself? You got my attention. Is that what you wanted?”

“I…” You gape some more, useless. “I-I did want that. I wanted you to look at me. But it’s not appropriate, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s really not.”

He kisses you, hard, open-mouthed and hungry. You gasp, his tongue pressing into your mouth to tangle with yours. Your hands grip his shirt sleeves and you close your eyes, kissing him back, riding the wave. He still holds your face, but by your jaw, his lips moving down to kiss your neck, his short beard grazing your skin.

“Andy…”

You moan his name and he chuckles, pressing his hard-on against your thigh. He’s huge. You’d bet your life on that. His hands rove your body, squeezing your tits, your hips, your ass… you whimper as he sucks at your skin, grinding against you.

“Come here.”

You obey, tugged along to the desk. He pushes you in front of him, bending you at the waist.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you look over your shoulder at him, watching as he stares at your ass in the leather skirt.

He pushes it up, hand coming down with a sharp slap to your right ass cheek. Of course, you couldn’t just wear any underwear with this skirt – your thong is all that covers you there, and he grabs it, tugging it tight.

“Fuck…”

“Andy,” you say, and he looks at you, chest giving a heave.

“Can’t wander around in that tiny black skirt and then act surprised when I want to fuck you-”

You bite your lip, canting your hips at his words, your ass lifting. He spanks you again, and you hope no-one hears that, the two slaps, or your bitten off moans.

He glances down. “Spread your legs. Fuck… you’re so wet.”

He undoes his belt, then his fly, taking out his cock. He tugs on himself as you anticipate the stretch of him. You nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy.”

He takes hold of you by the neck, angling you for a filthy kiss, his other hand petting your behind, before slipping down between your cheeks to glide through your wetness. You moan into his mouth, his fingers spreading your arousal around, teasing your clit for a steady minute, and you’re whimpering for him.

“Did you wear this just for me?” he whispers, and you nod. He rocks his cock up against you. “Does that mean this is all mine now?”

He means your cunt. He plays with your clit, dips his fingers into you, riling you up. These are the consequences he was talking about.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “It’s all yours.”

He fills you and you both gasp. He holds your shoulder, letting you fall forward onto his desk, rocking back and forth in shallow thrusts. The stretch makes you tremble, slick with want. Your nails scratch at the heavy wood when he picks up speed, hips hitting your ass, your thong stretched to the side.

You don’t know how much you can take, your feet lifting out of your shoes so you stand on tiptoes as he drives into you. All you can feel is how he stretches you to perfection, your mouth drooling from pleasure.

“Oh, fuck…”

Your thong snaps as his hands take hold of your hips, and he utterly wrecks you, skin slapping together as the world slips away. How are you meant to walk after this? Hang on – how are you meant to look Andy in the eye after this?

“Andy, Andy, Andy…”

You’re so close, you just need that little something, and you tense up, trying to muffle your moans in your arms… then you feel him find your clit again and rub, and you think you might burst into tears.

Your orgasm slams into you and your vision whitens, clenching around him as he fucks you through it.

“Good girl, that’s what I wanted,” he pants. “That’s what I wanted to feel.”

You feel something wet down your thighs and you realize you’ve squirted a little at the same time Andy does, and he huffs, close to the edge.

“Jesus, where have you been hiding?”

“Nowhere, I was at my desk,” you slur, and he laughs, breathless.

“You’re like a dream,” he praises, and then goes still, emptying into you. “So… fucking… cute.”

He sighs, hands coming up to pull you back, your next kisses more tender but still messy, the room reeking of sex now. You think of the carpets, the possible stains.

He keeps kissing you, stroking your cheek with his sweaty hand.

“After we clean up, do you wanna get some lunch together?” he whispers, and you nod, smiling lazily.

“I think we’re way past that, sir.”

His eyes sparkle with an unexpected fondness, before he kisses you again.

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you liked it. ❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 46

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, 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: 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. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: yeah.

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 

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You stay in the room for much of the day. You’re not sure what else to do. The house is empty. You feel small. Lonely. 

As you think about the way things were before, you feel woozy. Not Andy, but Amber. When she went to work, the house was quiet but you didn’t feel so desolate. You knew she would come home and when she did, everything would be okay. 

Even if you could go home, you shouldn’t. Steve says you’re not ready. You don’t feel ready. You don’t have anything. In fact, you have even less than when you left. You think you might even be even more broken than before. 

As the day wears on, so do your nerves. You take out the tablet, your stomach mulching nervously, and you turn it on. You try to draw but your hand is shaky. Then you just stare at the screen, anxious as a thought needles in your head. 

You tap the icon for the camera app. Andy moved the camera but it’s still on. It’s in his bedroom. You shudder. He’s not there but the bed is a mess and your things are strewn over the floor. At least, from what you can see. 

A notification pops up at the top of the application; you have unreviewed footage, tap to review. You hesitate before you press your finger down. A page full of frames pops up and you scroll down, squinting. You see Andy, sitting on the bed, laying down, and even looking into the camera. 

You hit play on a frame. He’s snarling into the lens, “come back, Dove! Please. Why are you doing this? You’re hurting me--” you drag your finger to skip through then let go. “If you don’t, I might just do something. I have to make sure you’re okay, Dove. I love you, honey. You know I can’t do nothing. I will do anything to make sure you’re safe.” 

You hit the back button several times and throw the tablet to the end of the bed. That was a mistake. The blaze in his blue eyes clings to you. You don’t know what he meant but his threats crawl over your skin like insects. You shudder and scratch your neck restlessly. 

After some time, you find the strength to get up and put the tablet away. It’s all you have now. It’s not just a window into what you ran away from, but to Amber. When you’re ready, you’ll message her. You’ll tell her you got free and that you’re better. Just not right now. Not yet. But you’ll get there. 

🕊️

When Ann gets home, she comes into your room without knocking. She treats you like a child as she tells you to make your bed. You do it as she struts out. When she returns, she throws something onto the foot of the mattress. 

“Put that on, sweetheart. You want to look nice for dinner.” 

She smiles, her lips a perfect shade of candy apple red. You reach for the dress but as you do, she nears. She cups your chin and makes you look at her. Her eyes skim your face and she pokes her lips out. 

“You are so delicate and young...” she says. Closer, you see how her foundation cakes in her wrinkles. She looks older as shadows pool around her eyes. “Aren’t you, dear? So gentle and soft and...” she shoves you back and you stumble, “easy.” 

“Ann?” You squeak. 

“What’s the matter, baby? Last night was delicious, wasn’t it,” he grabs you by the shoulders and angles you against the bed, “you taste so good.” She urges you back until you’re forced to sit. “A good girl,” she grins and pushes until you lay back. You quiver, helpless. “Yes, you stay like that.” 

She drags her hands down your body and squeezes your chest. She purrs and kneads through the shirt. She teethes her lips and steps back, running her hands up and down her torso as she shimmies. She trails down to the skirt of her dress and slowly tugs it upward. 

You push yourself up on your elbows, “I can help cook--” 

She hushes you and a rocky giggle rolls in her throat. He bunches her skirt above her hips, revealing a pair of black panties, and she rubs the fabric with a hum. She drones and lets out a gasp. 

“I’m so wet, baby,” she slithers, “you want to taste?” 

“Ann, I... please...” 

You sit up completely and she rips her hands from between her thighs. She shoves you and you bounce onto your back again. 

“This is my house, you are my little slut, so be quiet,” she hisses. 

“I... I’m not--” 

“What do you call a girl who seduces her therapist, hm? And a married man at that?” She snarls as she steps closer. “You’re lucky I’m not a vindictive woman.” 

You look at her in horror, “no, I didn’t--” 

She hushes you again and tuts as pushes her panties to the side. She touches herself again and drones as her eyes roll up. She pulls her fingers away and shows you the glisten. 

“You’re a cute little thing. I like it,” she steps up and bends over you as she grabs your chin and pokes her fingers against your lips. You open as her painted nails poke against you and she rams in until you gag. “Mmm, see how wet I am for you. You made a mess of me and now you have to clean it up.” 

She moves to straddle you, climbing over you as you lay paralysed in shock. What is she doing? You squeak and clasp onto the bedspread as you close her eyes. 

“Come on, baby,” she hovers over your face, “have a taste.” 

She lowers her cunt until it meets your lips. You whimper and tweaks your ear, “don’t be a bad girl. Open up.” 

You whine and obey. The sickly sweat taste of her flesh stains your lips and seeps into your mouth. She clutches a wad of your hair and pulls your head up into her. 

“Get your tongue out,” she demands as she tilts your head and her hips. You push your tongue through your lips as you cling to the blankets. Your eyes sting as she smothers you, grinding into your face. “That’s it, baby, oooh, so soft. Move your tongue—yeah, like that.” 

The noise of your mouth and the smear of her arousal sickens you. Worse than anything, is your helplessness. Yet, you can’t hate her for this. She’s right. Steve is her husband and you’re here, distracting him, doing those things with him. 

“Mmm, yes, oh, I see why he likes you so much. Oh, baby, I want to see you suck his cock just like this.” She bucks faster, until you’re suffocated in her. You shake as she uses you, rolling her hips harder until your head is spinning. “Mmm, here I--” 

She bites down on a grunt and spasms, rocking into your face until she stills. She stops, breathless, dripping onto you as you pant breathlessly. She curls her shoulders as she leans on her hands and snickers. 

“Wow, that was...” 

“Ann,” Steve’s voice rumbles through the open door. 

“Ah, there you are,” she wiggles, spreading the mess across your face before she climbs off of you, “wanna join?” 

“The kids are home,” he hisses and steps inside, closing the door. “They’re watching Bluey.” 

You can hear the TV blaring. You turn your face away from him as he stomps toward the bed. You’re mortified as Ann’s scent wafts in your nose. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Enjoying our little toy,” Ann snips. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.” 

“Get out,” he snarls. 

“Oh, don’t be like that--” 

“Out,” he repeats. 

She huffs and taps away on her heels, grumbling before she sweeps through the door with a creak and a snap. The bed dips and you flinch as Steve touches your arm. You squeak and try to roll away. He holds onto you. 

“Dove, hey, I’m sorry about that. Are you okay?” 

You sniff and wipe your face. You swallow and turn your head straight. It’s just new. That’s all. It’s like he said. You’re all together. And if you get to be with him, then it’s not so bad. 

You grab onto his forearm and pull yourself to sit up. You look at him through glittering tears. You hook your arm around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. He coos and rubs your back. 

“Oh, sweetie, it's okay, I'm here now,” he hugs you back. “It’s alright.”

His hand trails down your back as you cling to him. Slowly he follows the curve of your bottom and traces along your leg. A shiver flutters through you. You pull back and look him in the face. 

“Dinner...” 

“I’ll let the kids know you’re not feeling well,” he lowers himself down on his side, taking you with him. Your chest pumps wildly. “Let’s just stay like this, huh?” 

He tickles along the back of your thigh and you moan. His touch feels so nice. Not like Andy’s. No, you don’t feel afraid. You drags your hand back and touch his chest. He’s strong. You believe him when he says he wants to take care of you. 

“I wanna try it again,” you whisper. 

“Hmm?” He arches a brow. 

You look down at his pants then at his face. You giggle and pet his sweater. You move closer and bend your leg around him. 

“I want to have sex. With just you.” 

His forehead creases and his throat bobs. His eyes search you and he nods.  

“Alright, sweetie, but we gotta be quiet, right?” 

You nod and a smile blooms in your cheeks. He brushes his hand along your bent leg then lurches all at once. He pins you under him as he turns you onto your back. You gasp and he shakes his head. You seal your lips to keep your voice inside. 

He feels along your thigh and beneath the hem of your shirt. You never put on any panties. You’re in the same shirt he gave you that morning. 

As he delves along your folds, you’re already wet. It’s a surprise. Was it Ann or him? You don’t know and you don’t care. His touch feels so good. He plays with you gently, flicking you clit, twirling around it, pressing down until you’re squirming. 

He growls and dips his fingers into you. He rocks his hand as he pushes down on your clit, tension clustering in his palm. He moves his arm steadily as you groan and push your head back. 

“Sweetie, shhhh,” he warns as he pulls his hand free, “you’re being a bad girl.” 

He shifts his weight, holding his pelvis up, and pushes heavy on one knees. His zipper whispers down and his belt clinks open. You reach down to help shove down his pants. A swell of desperation surges inside you.  

He holds himself over you as he guides his tip along your cunt. You feel along his back and he sinks into you. You squeak and he catches your voice in his hand as he covers your mouth. You clench around him as he bottoms out. 

He nuzzles your neck and sighs as he wiggles his pelvis. Your moans are muffled in his hand, muted by his weight on your chest. He teethes at your throat as he starts to thrust. Slow, long, strokes that tickle your insides.  

Friction burns between you. Fire seethes in your veins as you arch into him. He snakes his hand up your shirt and fondles your chest as he ruts harder and harder. He keeps your mouth trapped, his knuckles blocking your breath as he shakes the bed. The clap of his flesh echoes louder and louder. 

Your lashes droop and your drift beneath them, carried away by a tide of dazed delight. He bites your neck as he grunts and groans, growling as he pinches your flesh. You twitch and cum around him, swathing him in your arms. 

He keeps going. Harder and faster. He sucks and nips at your flesh, until it hurts, until you’re eyes are wet with tears. The delight gives way to terror as your bones ache with each thrust and his teeth threaten to cut through your skin. You can’t breath as his large hand smothers you. 

“Oh, oh, sweetie, I'm going to cum,” he rasps against your shoulder, “yeah, I’m gonna... inside... oh, you’re so warm, so good.” He chuffs as his body tenses, the fabric of his sweater rough against your lower stomach, his pants chafing your thighs, the buckle snapping and clinking. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna fill you up. Mm, yes, sweetie.” 

You clasp onto his wrist as you peek out from under your heavy eyelids. You vision speckles with flashes of his snarling face. Your head pulses and your lungs burn. You try to move his hand so you can get air but he’s too strong. He’s too caught up to notice as he fucks through his climax and you feel him spill into you. 

The world ripples as drops onto you, puffing and panting, droning in his afterglow. You cough as finally he drags his hand away. He cups your cheek and kisses the other as his balmy breath dampens your skin. 

“Is that what you wanted?” He sneers, “you bad, bad girl.” 

You wince as your body tingles from hot to cold, “bad? I’m not bad.” 

“No, baby, you’re good,” he pushes deep into you. “You’re so good taking all of me.” 

[thsolarsystem]

first time posting art on this app, wow! and for my lackadaisy oc, no less ^_^"

anyway, this is vera! sorry these sketches are so messy, but i'm not about to clean them up, lmao. she's somewhat inspired by my cat pumpkin!

she works as a barber, and is a frequent customer at the lackadaisy. i imagine her as a good guy generally, helping out the lackadaisy crew however she can, but i also have a a more villainous version of her in my head, where she has some sinister agenda of her own. it's mostly an excuse for me to draw her with guns, lol. i don't have much art of her saved, but here's a vampy drawing i made of her for halloween!

that's all i really have for her, outside of a little fic where she meets mordecai as a child and they befriend each other in the following years. i think mordecai needs a good friend in his life, and by god am i going to give him one‼️

i love doing art trades and lackadaisy has been on my brain chronically, so if anyone's interested, please lmk! i would love to draw someone's oc :3

-🦇

[biteofcherry]

Happy Wetnessday 💦

You're sick and tired of dating and working so you sign up for a dating app that lets you either find a husband, a sugar daddy or both combined. Most of the people on there are old farts that you only consider for the second option if at all. But then you stumble upon him. So handsome, young and based on his profile very successful. You're wondering if he's a catfish but then he reaches out to you. He's charming on top of all his perks already. So charming that you agree on a date with him in a public location. The restaurant he invites you to is luxurious and expensive so you hope he doesn't stand you up (because let's be honest you couldn't even afford water in this place). But when you arrive he's already there, waiting for you with flowers and a smile that brightens even more when you approach. He swoops you off your feet all evening and you end up in his bed. He's not letting you leave for a few days, taking his meetings with the camera off and you warming his cock, spending his free time with fucking out your brain and taking you out for every meal to further woo you. By the end of day 3 you agree to marry him.

Which handsome man is going to be your husband?

xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦

Hi lovely Wetnessday Anon! ❤️❤️❤️ It's always so good to hear from you! Hope you're having a good day and an overall calm week.

This ask? It was an instant decision. One man with unparalleled vibe that came to mind as I read through the story.

Andy fucking Barber.

Soft, charming and charismatic. Has reached high levels of wealth, power and business position, but all he needs is a sweet wife to feel complete.

Yes, there is need for a wife for the PR side of business and social life, but most of all Andy wants someone who will bring a spark into his life. Someone genuine and caring; someone he can hold and laugh with. And argue with, because you won't fake compliance just for the sake of getting gifts and being spoiled.

Looking at your pictures on the dating app, Andy was instantly drawn to you. With the resources he has, he made sure that you are a real person and not a catfish, then boldly asked you for a date.

It wasn't only a good kind of date, but an exciting one that stirred Andy's heart from a dull slumber of routine.

He can't get enough of you: your smile and laughter, your passionate rants about topics that interest you, the way you slurp drinks, the sounds you make when he touches you, how your pussy feels around his cock.

While you're dozing off in his lap, with your face pressed into the crook of his neck; Andy's cock snug in your warm, wet cunt; he's already browsing jewelry websites. Looking for that perfect engagement ring.

[iskedo]

Shifting trends of the hair industry: Salon vs Barbershop 

Fashion trends and beauty industry trends are transient and change in the blink of an eye. It is pertinent for the beauty care industry to embrace the change and stay abreast of the changes. Let, it be clothing trends, make-up trends, or hair styling trends. The hair care market is constantly evolving, driven by shifting client tastes, cultural trends, and technology breakthroughs. As people prioritize self-expression and personal grooming, their expectations for hair care services have altered considerably over the years. In this blog post, we will look at the complicated mechanics of how client preferences have evolved in the hair care sector. From traditional barbershops to modern salons, we examine the factors driving these transformations and their impact on the services provided and the entire client experience. Join us on a journey through the ever-changing world of the haircare industry, where innovation meets tradition and client preferences define the future of grooming. 

The hair industry is a dynamic terrain that is constantly changed by new trends, consumer preferences, and cultural influences. Within this thriving ecology, salons and barbershops are iconic cornerstones, each with its own particular identity and clientele. Salons have traditionally been associated with luxury, providing a wide range of services geared particularly towards women's haircare. Barbershops, on the other hand, have long been linked with classic male grooming, offering specialized services in a more traditional setting. However, as cultural standards change and individual tastes vary, the distinction between these two institutions has begun to blur. In this investigation of the altering trends in the hair industry, we look into the evolving dynamics of salons and barbershops, analyzing how each is adjusting to meet the changing expectations of today's era. 

Services Offered: 

Salon: Clients are increasingly seeking services beyond basic haircuts, including coloring, styling, treatments, and extensions, suggesting a growing emphasis on adaptability and innovation. 

Barbershop: While traditional services such as haircuts and shaves remain popular, clients are increasingly interested in new options such as beard grooming, scalp treatments, and men's skincare services, indicating a demand for all-around grooming experiences. 

Salon clients seek personalized consultations and tailored advice from professional stylists, emphasizing uniqueness and self-expression in their haircare choices. 

Barbershops specialize in delivering personalized services based on each client's specific tastes and grooming demands, which fosters patron trust and loyalty. 

Salons have integrated technology to improve the customer experience, including online booking, virtual consultations, and digital style portfolios. This caters to tech-savvy clients who value ease and efficiency. 

Barbershops may use technology for scheduling and communication, but typically prioritize human connection and interpersonal encounters, resulting in a more conventional approach to client relationships. 

Modern salons prioritize a calm and welcoming atmosphere, with minimalist décor, comfortable seating, and a focus on health and self-care, appealing to clients wanting a holistic haircare experience. 

Barbershops preserve a classic, nostalgic setting with vintage décor, barber chairs, and a sense of camaraderie, appealing to clientele who value authenticity and tradition in their grooming regimen. 

Salons are demonstrating a dedication to social responsibility and diversity by participating in community activities, charitable efforts, and social issues. This aligns with the ideals of their clients.  

Barbershops function as cultural anchors in their communities, sponsoring events, live music, and meetings that build a sense of belonging and camaraderie among customers, appealing to individuals looking for more than simply hair care services. 

Though, salons can be considered more trending and a first preference of the youth these days, certain factors make the barbershop the first and foremost choice. Some of the advantages offered by the barbershop that make them a first and foremost choice are: 

•Barbershops provide men's grooming services such as haircuts, beard trims, shaves, and grooming products, tailored particularly to male clients. 

•Clients value the knowledge and precision of barbers who specialize in traditional barbering techniques, which ensures a high-quality and personalized grooming service. 

•Barbershops often have a nostalgic atmosphere with old décor, classic barber chairs, and traditional tools, creating a sense of authenticity and nostalgia. 

•A barbershop's atmosphere develops a sense of camaraderie and community among customers, resulting in a pleasant and inclusive setting. 

•Barbershops promote male bonding by providing a social environment for men to relax and interact while receiving grooming services. 

•Clients like the opportunity to participate in casual chat and bond with their barber. 

•and fellow customers, improving the whole barbershop experience. Timeless Traditions: 

•Barbershops retain traditional barbering practices such as hot towel shaves, beard grooming rituals, and classic haircuts like fades and pompadours. 

•Clients love barbershops' authenticity and heritage, and they appreciate the ability to receive traditional grooming services in a modern atmosphere. 

•Barbershops often prioritize essential services above superfluous frills and luxury. 

•Clients looking for a hassle-free grooming experience enjoy the simplicity and efficiency of a barbershop, where they can obtain a great haircut or shave without the distractions of other services. 

Finally, shifting trends in the hair market reflect today's clients' changing interests and lifestyles. While salons and barbershops continue to play important roles in grooming services, their methodologies differ greatly in fulfilling the various needs of their clients. Salons provide adaptability, trend-focused services, and a beautiful ambiance for those seeking personalized and fashion-forward experiences. Barbershops, on the other hand, offer specialized services, an authentic ambiance, and a sense of community, making them appealing to people who like traditional grooming procedures and male-centric environments. As the hair industry evolves, salon and barbershop owners must modify their services and tactics to remain relevant and satisfy the changing wants of their customers. Understanding the subtleties of salon and barbershop dynamics, hair. One major difference that is known for bringing a transforming change is the use of appropriate modes of technology or software. The use of customized software used by the beauty care and hair care sector has also proved to be a new dawn in the present era. So, if you are running a salon or a barber business you can also bring a new transformation by using ISKEDO appointment scheduling software. You can streamline your business using this appointment-scheduling software. 

[octuscle]

Hey Chronivac support, I met up with a friend the other day and I saw his brother for the first time when I picked him up. He’s a really sexy Arab guy. Is there a way I could use Chronivac to make me a really huge Arab stud that his brother would be into and date?

Just use the Chronivac chat function. I'm pretty sure that will end in a date. If you're not too stupid. I'll find out your crush's number somehow and send it to you.

"Sup, bro?" Your hands are getting sweaty. He has actually answered you.

"Everything k w/ u? am i interrupting the wudhu?"

Shit, what does he mean now? But the app answers on its own "Bruh, i pray am and @ noon. Tht must b enuff".

"Dude, thats mor then enuff. I just go 2 the mosque on fridays".

Praying just once a week wouldn't be enough for you. Yes, to be honest, you don't pray twice a day either. But the idea of having his hot ass in front of you on the prayer mat. To start wanking your cut cock.

"Bruh, were r u pumping iron?" Shit again, you know he's super athletic. Unfortunately, you're not really. But again, the app answers for you. And names his gym.

"Rly! bruh, den we must no each other. I pump der 2"

"I dont think so. Im always der b4 sunrise prayers. I wouldve seen u der"

"Machine, bruh. Nah, im der in da evening"

"Den let's make an appointment." Your muscles swell. The morning workout is clearly having an effect on you.

"Bro, I'd love to work out with you in da evening. I just have to make sure it works with barber"

"Im always @ barber in da evening 2. Were do u go?" The app answers again automatically. Again, it's your crush's barber.

"Dude, im der 2. Send pic!" You take a selfie. You try to show off your bold undercut, your massive beard and your plucked eyebrows. And that a little bit of your bare hairy chest is also showing.

"Yo, i no u bruh! ur always @ seifallah's fo' haircuts."

"Correct, bruh. Send pic" As if you needed it. You have lots of pictures of him on your cell phone. But not one like this. His picture goes from the base of his cock to his perfectly styled hair. A picture of a man. But you're hairier. And more muscular.

"Ur mounir! of course i no u. Bruh, lit pic" He switches on Facetime. Bingo!

"Do you like what you see?" you ask. You can see his arm clearly moving up and down. "Turn your phone down" he replies. You show your bulge in close-up. And start kneading it. A wet patch of precum forms. "Send me your address, I can show you da real thing". His contact details arrive in a fraction of a second. Hmmm. Jeans or caftan. Caftan is quicker. You'll be in the car in five minutes. And in half an hour, your friend's brother will be pulling your panties down with his teeth. Have fun, you two!

The picture of you facetiming with Mounir found @fitbearcatcher

[istarveforplatonicptnstuff]

Pookie, what do you think of ptn characters being self aware au?? I need another platonic for that😍😍😍

Pookie 😿 The way that I wanted to answer this right away, but I ended up thinking about it for half a day, since today I had to finish counting tears in a plastic bottle (life update, today was my GRD and they had me recite 50 STEPS 😀 Changing patient gown and iv infusion + insertion 😢 But I SLAYED because I got perfect and one mistake in the other 😎) - Idk about ya'll but... You probably found out about the game based on the ad that had MISS 🤭 MAAM 🥰 Zoya... You guys don't understand the GRIP 😩 it had on me when I saw the ad for the first time... So, after watching THE ad that saved LIVES 🤩 including mine ofc 😊 You downloaded the app, despite having ZERO experience playing a tower defense game... 😶 That was me, highkey projecting rn... 😔😔😔 - So after days of getting used to the game, you started watching the interrogation since you were quite curious about the sinners backstory... 🤔🤔🤔 After finishing part of Hella's interrogation, you started to notice weird things happening in the game.

- If you put Zoya as your display character, she starts getting too real about asking you how your day was. And telling you stuff like; You better level me first 😤😤😤 because I'm the only who can protect you bbgirl... 🐺 Girl... This wasn't here before 🤨 so you definitely looked it up, but to no avail... So you probably felt special... 😍😍😍 Like, for me??? 🥺 Oh my gah 😱 I'm never letting you go POOKIE 🤭 Though you got jumpscared by the way Zoya suddenly responded with, That's right... I'm your pookie now... 😈 Making you press the home button on your phone due to how much you are FOLDING rn... 😳😳😳 Zoya canonically RIZZING you up pookie... *Sighs in not being able to relate because I'm not You pookie... 😞* But lmao imagine saying words like, Pookie 😍, Rizz 😏, and Bbgirl 🐺 to THE Zoya, like this is sending me rn... The way that I giggled a lil bit too hard writing this, feeling a lil EMBARAZZED picturing how Zoya would probably react to this... She's probably amused at you fangirling about her character, gives me FANSERVICE queen vibes like??? 😳 She knows how to play her role TOO well... 🥵

If you decide to put Adela as your display chara... (Though, what you know about my POOKIE Adela??? 🤨 Maam, I probably need to see that I.D for verification that you are INDEED another Pookie of Adela's... 🧐🧐🧐 /j I SEE 👀 you that one Adela pookie in my comments rn... So, this one's for you 🥰 and a lil bit of a spoiler pooks, if you see this rn... I'm writing another installment to our fav hair stylist soon...) - Adela would DEFINITELY give you good advice about hair... Me thinks my girl Adela knows FASHION 💃 Because, you cannot convince ME that this girl doesn't know how to dress up, like??? Her default outfit? SLAYED THE BOOTS DOWN 👢💥 So, rest assured you guys chose the right girl to display because this girl DON'T play around with both SERVING looks and SLAYING in one setting like girl... Me thinks if you like asmr, and had it on playing in the background and she hears and sees how it relaxes you... She probably would replicate it, like girlie had a secret career brewing and thought that we didn't notice??? 😯 Pookie, at this point, if you want to sleep or just relax... Hop on the game rn... Adela's doing 💈✂ barber shop 💇‍♀️ asmr... 😴😴😴 Adela havers be having a good night sleep, being blessed every night with her calming atmosphere... (Average Adela fan spotted, I will YAP when I hear her name...) Her voice lines would make you feel that you guys were besties from the start, or it's either like she's your mom friend and you guys get to hanggg around when she's not too busy SERVING the customers 💅

Not the soul siren 😭 but if you guys put her as your display character and you eat in front of her during a break... Sis will ROAST you like she's a copy of Gordon Ramsay, but more CUNTIER 💋 Girl acts like you are one of her 5 star chef and DEMANDS that you eat something else... 🙄 Babes really think you're rich 💳✨ and have MONEYYY to eat ✨exquisite✨ food... Only the best food for her caretaker. Girl really said that like you was her maid or something like??? WHAT? 😭😭😭 Lowkey judges you like you're BROKE or smth, same thing applies if you're actually not broke or like... College student tingssss, which makes it even WORSE because sister manages to convince you to buy her skins every time or pull copies of her... Pookie, I think she's a secret marketing agent of AISNO... 🤨 Girl WILL be obsessed with you the moment you max her, forfeit all moral possessions for her, and HER exclusively... 🤐🤐🤐 Sis does not leave you alone even after all that... She's hard to please 😞, in short but she warms up to you when you show significant improvement in your life... It's giving... Strict asian parents vibes 😶 Though, for realsys she isn't mean but like she's hard to predict pookie... I think she's kinda more on the practical side of things... When I mean practical, like your cooking skills... Critiques you as if you're in culinary school... 😃 Tough love for you pookie 💔 But dw, she'll change... When you manage to impress her with your cooking skills, of course 😇 Extra An: Pooks, if ya'll want more... 🤭 Comment which characters you want to see in this series or request other stuff that you want to see... The more KRAZY 🤪 it is, the more likely I am able to EAT 🍴 it up (Though, your pooks wouldn't be active much/still brewing some ideas 🧍‍♀️) TOODLES!

[softhairedhotch]

Hi love!

I wanted to drop off some more headcanons,

starting off with hotch hates haircuts. Always has. The clippers snag at his scalp and the buzzing sound whirring around his head is disorienting, the lights sting his eyes. The scissors always come too close to his ears, the cold metal and threat of a sharp slice freak him out. The water spraying all over his face is just plain demeaning and trying to describe what he wants despite having had almost the same haircut for 16 years frustrated him because every barber alive wants different lingo from him. He doesn’t even want to consider the blue gunge they clean the tools in between clients. Not to mention the prickly hairs under his collar no matter how careful they are to prevent it. Hotch Hates Haircuts™️, it’s an all around stressful event that tests his patience.

Until, reader starts cutting his hair at home. In his own bathroom, patiently using scissors instead of clippers, no harsh lighting, no water overspray into his eyes and ears and nose. Just slow, gentle hands around his head and temples, the occasional kiss landing on his forehead. It becomes a serene sort of experience.

hotch hates haircuts amen !!!

i love the idea of the reader/you cutting his hair so much. like, it's such a soft intimate loving moment, ya'know?

the first time you cut his hair, it's because you realise it's getting a bit longer than usual. you think it's really cute the way his hair flops over his forehead. but after a few weeks, you notice it's irritating him. he brushes it away as if it's burning his skin, an annoyed huff leaving his lips. after gently suggesting he go to the barbers, you become aware of just how much he hates getting his hair cut.

when you suggest cutting his hair for him, he's immediately against it. he doesn't want to be a burden but most importantly he doesn't want any reason to be annoyed at you, and the thought of getting overstimulated when you're simply trying to help him makes him feel sick with guilt. however, after much persuasion on your end (mixed with lovey dovey puppy dog eyes and lots and lots of gentle smooches all over his face), he caves in after a few days and decides to let you cut his hair.

he prepares himself for the worst, expecting that once it's over he'll have to go on a run to calm down or even go to bed early so that he can have a few hours alone. the thought of possibly shutting you out after you help him makes him anxious and he gets the urge to call the whole thing off.

when aaron gets home later that day, you gently lead him to the bathroom and show him your set-up. one of the kitchen chairs is sat beside the sink and a pair of scissors, ones you bought specifically to cut his hair, rests on the edge of the bath. when he sits down, you lovingly smile at him and press a soft kiss to his lips, cheeks, and forehead. as a last surprise, you pull out your phone and open an app before the overhead light begins to dim. it's a smart bulb you found when you went shopping earlier and aaron almost bursts into tears at how thoughtful you are.

the hair cut itself takes a while due to only using scissors but aaron, to his own surprise, finds it relaxing. he almost nods off once or twice, the feeling of your soft hands combing through his hair and resting on his shoulders bringing him a great sense of comfort. occasionally, you press a kiss to his forehead or nose when you find yourself standing in front of him, and the adorable relaxed smile on his face, combined with his pretty eyelashes resting against his cheeks as he rests his eyes, makes it worth it each time.

once you've finished cutting his hair, you softly push it back the way he usually does and smile down at him lovingly, feeling a twist in your gut at just how much you love him. he looks up at you - completely calm and peaceful and not at all overstimulated like he always is after a haircut - and he feels the exact same way. he gives you the most loving kiss ever and thanks you profusely, promising to make it up to you somehow and telling you how much you mean to him and how he never imagined feeling as happy as he does when he's with you.

after that, he never lets his hair grow too long.