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georgiapeach30513 · 18 days ago

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Daddy's Pride and Joy

Summary: Andy wanted you. He wanted things right. But your dad refused. What other choice did he have?

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, narrow views of sex due to the time period, slut shaming, unprotected sex, breeding kink, PIV sex, first time, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.9K

Andy Barber Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Your mom fiddles around with a bouquet of roses and daisies, refusing to meet your eyes. You’ve heard her talk about how you made a mistake for weeks now. How you put yourself in this position. That you should consider yourself lucky that things are going the way they are. And still you feel her judgemental gaze as she peeks at you over the bouquet.

“Marge?” your grandmother questions your mother. Picking up your dress, she then turns to look at you. “What did you do, you stupid girl?” You hold your head high as your sister starts to zip the dress up. Grunting when she reaches a snag. Well…it is now too tight.

“How far along are you?” You play dumb. The dress wasn’t supposed to be a give away. Your grandmother walks behind you to help your sister. “You could have gone with a bigger dress.”

“It fit last week,” your sister is much too young, and does not understand the adult conversation happening between you and the women who are ashamed of you.

“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“No,” Andy told you everything would be okay. And it would be. Everything would be just fine.

“Marge?” Your dad peeks out the front window, watching as the little boy from down the street pushes you in the swing. “Marge!”

“Yes, dear,” your mother responds. She wipes her hands on her apron as she walks into the living room.

“Who is that boy?” He points to the little boy with the bright blue eyes that had captured your heart the moment he and his mother moved down the street. “Hmm?”

“The kid from the old house up the street,” it isn’t like your father didn’t know this already. He asked about him every time you played with him. The problem was your father didn’t like him. Didn’t think the son of a single mother was good enough for his precious angel.

“The one whose father is in jail?”

“That would be the one. She fancies him.”

“I think he just sees an access to money,” your mother rolls his eyes, as she starts to step back into the kitchen to prepare lunch. “You laugh at me, but kids younger and younger are being taught by their parents the best way to money is finding some stupid girl that has a rich family to marry. He sees an in. A respectable man that owns a magazine, like myself. The heir…”

“We’re not royalty. His mother says he wants to be a lawyer.”

“Bah. That kid is a loser.”

“Sir,” your father attempts to close the door in Andy’s face, but the younger man places a foot there first. “I would like to take your daughter out on a date.”

“No,” he deadpans. “Is that all?”

“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.

“What do you mean by proper?”

“Oh, umm…I didn’t mean anything by it,” he meant he didn’t want to wait below your window as you snuck out with him. In order to not be spotted, he’d just take you on long walks at night, where eventually the two of you would lay looking at the stars. It was kind of infuriating to have you all alone. But you are a respectable woman. And clothes always stayed on.

“You know, Dwayne down the street mentioned something about you and her. Now, I thought it was a bit crazy to suggest that my daughter was riding in a car with the likes of you after midnight,” Andy stands up straighter. Nothing had ever crossed a line. But he has every intention of marrying you, and would prefer it be done the right way. “I want you to stay away.”

“I want to marry your daughter.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.”

“I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

“You’re not marrying my daughter. Do you know why?” Andy shakes his head. He has done everything a man should do. He even has a job lined up. He has a home he is going to buy, just for the two of you, and eventually your children, and Bagel. He has a car. He will provide for you. “You’re a piece of shit, born from a piece of shit. Do you not think I know about your bastard father rotting in prison? Do you not think I don’t know about how your mom was making some extra money? You’ll never be good enough for my daughter. Never.”

—

You lean outside of your window, smiling when you see Andy on the lawn. Throwing your legs out of the window, you shimmy towards the tree branch, and make your way towards the most perfect man you have ever met. Getting down to his arms, where he gives you a bruising kiss. His hand is holding onto you a bit too high on your rib cage, and his thumb grazes over your breast before you jump away from him. He shouldn’t touch you there while at your parents’ home.

“Where are we going tonight?” your voice is so soft as he grips your hand, and leads you down the road and to his parked car. You are so proud of Andy and all that he has earned.

“Did you talk to my dad?” Andy opens the door of the car for you, and closes it before he crosses over to the other side. “Andy, did you talk to him?” He has to let you date Andy now. He is a lawyer. And you weren’t some shy little girl anymore. You wanted to become his wife, and have cute babies with him. And the sooner that this was public, the sooner you can have that, “Andy?”

“He said no,” your arms cross over your chest as you look out the window of the car. “It’s not stopping me.”

“Why is he like this?” it upsets you that your father can’t see the Andy that you see. He is perfect. And he will give you a perfect life.

“Because you’re his oldest daughter. His pride and joy, and he just doesn’t want you to be married off to some boy.”

“Except you’re not some boy,” you give him a smile, scooting over on the seat towards him. Your dainty hand rubs up and down his chest as you snuggle in, “You’re all man.”

“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.

They’d tell you how a woman has wifely duties. But sex with you isn’t a duty. Sex with you almost seems like a life force for him. It is proper to wait for marriage, but this marriage doesn’t seem like it’s going to be approved by your father. And he’d hate to see you leave Andy behind because you needed that.

But…if you were to accidentally fall pregnant how could he say no? You would need to have a man to marry you. What man would marry a sullied woman? Leaving him with no choice but to approve the marriage. Demand it.

It’s not evil. It’s just changing up the way he would like things to go. He doesn’t want you to be looked down upon in the community. He wants you. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants his future wife properly. He’d taken way too many cold showers after leaving you. Relieved himself way too much.

His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him. You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

Andy has always played the long game with you. He knew the moment he saw this sweet little girl rocking in her saddle shoes as you stood there holding out a coloring book and crayons for him, and told him that you have a swing that he was in love. He fell instantly and even told his mom that he was going to marry you. And he will. Even if you have to get pregnant out of wedlock for it to happen.

“Andy, where are we going? We’ve never been here before?” You ask after a while of silence. You are perfectly content rubbing on your boyfriend as he drives. He gets all fidgety and squirrelly when you do. It makes you feel better knowing his heart is racing just like yours always does around him.

“I bought us something.”

“Oh?” You look up at him with doe eyes, and kiss him on his neck. Giggling when he makes that sound. Kissing on his neck always makes him squirm. You love watching him adjust how he’s sitting and even how he pulls you closer to him. Letting his hands roam where they want to roam. You don't mind as long as you are alone.

“It might not be much. But this is just a starter,” he says, slowing down as he turns onto a road. You squeal as you look forward. Your hand lays on his upper thigh, and he clears his throat. Andy is such a funny man when you touch him in certain areas.

“Andy, it’s perfect!” It truly is. The cutest little white house with a white picket fence. A perfect starter home. “Can we go look?”

“That’s why we’re here,” you don’t even wait for him to open the door before you spring to the house. Having to wait a bit too long for him to come to your side and unlock the door before you're running through the empty house.

Home.

Yours and Andy’s home.

The kitchen is bigger than your mom’s, and a few modern appliances. The living room is huge, but maybe that’s because there was no furniture. Running down the hall you see the perfect room for a nursery. Can already envision the crib.

“Honey,” Andy pulls your hand down the hallway, leading you towards the biggest room in the house. It is mostly empty, sans a bed. “This will be ours.”

“Ours?” You sigh, turning towards him, and run both hands up his chest. “And we’ll get to sleep in the bed together,” your mother hadn’t quite taught you anything concerning marriage. And you’d heard your friends gossip a bit about their husbands, but it just made you queasy. You didn’t want to think about another man. You just want him. You want those conversations with Andy or nobody.

“We can do more than sleep,” he says with a sly quirk of his mouth.

“What else does one do in the bed with their husband?”

“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.

Your body heats up with ministrations, and you stare up at him with your eye lids at half mast. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try with you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to make love with you,” your tongue flicks out of your mouth, and you pull your bottom lip in. Biting on your perfect pout as you look up at him. “Do you know what that is?”

You shake your head no as Andy’s hands go to your back, and he grips tight to your zipper as he pulls it down. You gulp, allowing him to undo your dress. It feels right. And you love Andy, so making love sounds right. “When two people love each other, they give each other their bodies.”

“And then what,” you release a wanton mewl when he fully unzips your dress. Placing his hands back on your shoulders, he pulls the dress down, and you watch with bated breath as it pulls at your feet. Andy’s hungry eyes roam over your body before he reaches back behind you, undoing your bustier, and you’re the one pulling it off.

He stands there, taking your nearly nude body in. “Then what, Andy?”

“I taste you,” you gulp. “You taste me,” you shudder. “I enter inside of you,” you whimper. “I come inside of you.”

“Inside where?” Andy’s finger taps between your legs, and your knees start to buckle. Leaning more into him for support, and you shyly pull at his jacket, and fumble with the buttons on his shirt. “Have you ever came inside someone?”

“No,” it isn’t a lie. He’s had sex, and only because he wanted to be the best for you. But that part of him…it is only for you. “Can — I touch you?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and he leans forward. Both hands cupping your breasts before he sucks one into his mouth.

“Oh, god,” the other breast he squeezes and pulls until he reaches your swollen bud, and gives it a little pinch. You pant as you stare down at him. Sucking on your nipple before he pulls off with a pop, and moves to the other one. “Andy…I can’t breathe.”

“We’re just getting started,” he practically growls. He grabs your hand, and places it on his crotch, while you moan. Slick heat races to your core, and your mind goes all fuzzy. Andy always has this innate ability to make butterflies race to your belly.

Feeling Andy like this doesn’t even feel criminal. He’s showing you exactly why he adjusts his pants, “This is what you do to me.”

“And this,” you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. You can feel his pulse under your fingers. He’s so hot and heavy under your palms. Yours. This is all yours. “This goes inside me?”

“It does.”

“Show me,” Andy steps away from you before sinking to his knees. He starts to slowly peel away your panties and stockings down your body. Assisting you in kicking off your shoes, and stepping out of your confines while you stand completely bare in front of him.

“Andy,” you coo before he kisses you over your naked mound. “Andy,” you start to melt as he coaxes your legs apart, and he licks through your slit. “Oh dear,” Andy is getting a part of you that no man has. Open and so ready for him. Whatever it means. Is this what people are talking about when they mention the wedding bed?

Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.

Lifting you up, he lets your legs wrap around his body, while he moves you to grind over his enlarged bulge. Your eyes blow wide open with curious lust and the simpering sounds of your needy voice make his movements so much quicker. He could just about come looking at you like this alone. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs so wide to stare at your weeping cunt. Perfect. And all his.

“Andy,” you whine, wiggling around. You feel so exposed, and want him so bad. You want him all over you. You want him to feel a part of you that no one has.

“Shh,” he whispers as he starts removing his clothes. You gasp as his cock springs free. Scooting back in the bed, suddenly scared of where he says he’s going to have you. “You can take it. You’ll take it all, and if it doesn’t fit, we’ll make it fit.”

Andy clamors onto the bed, using his wide berth to keep your legs parted as he lines himself up with your center. Pushing just the tip of him in you and quickly pulling back out, and you yip. “Honey, you can take it, huh?”

“Y-y-yeah,” you take a deep swallow as he goes deep, but doesn’t pull out. “Oh, golly,” he slowly sinks his girth deeper. Letting your body adjust to the intrusion inch by inch. “Oh…oh!” Panting when he fully sheaths his steel rod all the way inside of you, and into the depths of your soul.

Both of your bodies hum with the throbbing intensity that is the two of you becoming one. It’s overwhelming and lovely all at the same time. All these years have led you here. Spread wide open for him. Taking him. Loving him.

“There’s a good girl. There is my sweet good girl,” it is overwhelming having Andy inside of you. Stretching you out deliciously. You want him always there. It just feels right. How dare your father try and take this from you. You belong with Andy with him inside of you.

“Andy, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt. “Oh, Lordy be!”

“You like me fucking you?”

“Uh huh,” such terrible language, but right here, right now, it feels wrong not to be saying that. “Fuck me harder. I like that,” he snaps his hips, barreling back into you. Again. Again. And again. And tears spring to your eyes, but he kisses them away. Pistoning into your body with such force you cry out.

The fullness of him. It makes it hard to breathe. Even the sting of the stretch doesn’t hurt all that much.

“Good girl. You sound so pretty crying for me,” you just cling on for dear life as Andy’s movements make the bed slap against the wall. “You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.”

You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

And he would be. He’ll keep fucking you, and planting his seed until it takes. What is your dad going to say when you’re swelling with Andy’s pride and joy? He wouldn’t want to ruin your good name, therefore the family’s. He’ll be forced to allow you to marry. And he’ll have you exactly how he wants you.

On your back, taking him every night, while every day he gets to worship you. The dream.

“Sugar,” Andy pants, his movements stiffening up. “I’m gonna give us a baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he crows, keeping himself lodged deep in your body. “Fuck!” Warmth blooms in your belly, and your mouth goes slack as you stare up at him. “This will be our little secret, okay?”

Until your belly is so round that everyone knows that he’s fucked you good and hard enough to get a baby. Men will stare jealously knowing that Andy has had you with no inhibitions. There will come a day that he will get to tell people that the two of you are trying for a baby. Meaning they’ll know he’s fucking his come inside of you every night.

It will come. But for now, he’s going to keep coming inside of you. Creating a life in secrecy. In hopes that your father will approve this union. He won’t have another choice.

“Beige,” your grandmother huffs as your sister pulls the veil over your head. “You seriously think people won’t notice you’re wearing beige? You spread your legs for the first man that whispered how much he loves you in your ear. You will ruin this family!” your sister looks back and forth between you and your grandmother, but you keep your head held high. Today you become his wife.

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.”

“Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

“He trapped you,” your mother gasps, holding her hand over her mouth, while the other fans her face. “Sweetheart.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”

Let your mom continue to pray that nobody sees the weight you’ve put on. Four months, and six weeks, it is becoming harder to hide. There wouldn’t be a honeymoon. There would only be you going home to your husband. Sleeping in the bed right beside him where you belong. No more sneaking around, and leaving before sunlight. Everyone may know that you didn’t wait, and you don’t even care. Because he still kept his promise.

There would be no more lies. Only the truth, and that’s what has always been known. You love Andy Barber.

Andy Barber loves you.

And Andy is yours.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @musingsfromthemitten

@theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @distractingbeth

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fics #andy barber fic #chris evans #chris evans character #andy barber smut #defending jacob

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You get sidetracked on your way home.

Character: Andy Barber

Day Four of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the car broke down and the snow is getting deep

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"It's getting bad," Andy shifts in the passenger seat, as usual, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, just gotta be careful," you grip the wheel, leaning into it as you try to see through the falling powder. "I've driven through worse."

"Maybe, but it's not letting up," he sits up, concerned after his cat nap. "Might be a good idea to look for a hotel or something. Even just somewhere we can pull off until it dies down."

"It's really not that much," you argue. You just want to get home. Just a few more hours and you get to enjoy your holidays.

"Look, I know you wanna get back for Christmas but--"

"Shit!" You exclaim as headlights flash through the white flakes and veer away from you with a honk as you twist the wheel to avoid the other car.

You slam on the breaks as you steer into a heaping bank, sending up puffs of snow all around you. Andy grunts as he reaches over to flip on the hazards. You catch your breath as he sighs. You hate that sound.

"What were you saying?" He mutters.

"That guy was in the wrong lane," you argue. "I can't help that."

"Yeah, but if you can't see them, they can't see you."

You keep from countering. He always has to be right. Besides, he's your boss, he's supposed to be right. It just irks you how he talks to you like a child. You're almost the same damn age as him.

"Let me drive," he insists.

"Andy," you shift into reverse and check the back window, "can you check your phone? See if there's anything close by."

Your defeat is in your voice. He is right. The snows getting worse by the second. You'll be lucky to get as far as a hotel.

"Shit," he mutters as he sits back and looks at his phone, "no signal."

He raises it, angling it around with a tut. You chew your cheeks in agitation. That means you can't even call James to let him know you'll be late.

"I think I saw a sign back a ways..." you drone uncertainly, once more clamping down on the wheel. "Let me know if you see anything."

You right the nose of the car, the tires rolling without traction before finally catching. That's not good either. Of course, the snow had to wait. It had to dump in that moment, when you're finally at the end of this stupid work trip.

You head back down the highway, tense as you feel the tenuous grip of the tires. You’re not sure you’re going to get very far. You don’t. After a sluggish advance, the car swerves as snow builds up in the tire wells and clog the axle. Once more, you barely keep control as you steer back towards the snow-buried apron.

You roll into the window high drifts and push both feet onto the brake. You hang your head forward and groan. Andy’s hand grips the corner of your seat, his other on the dashboard. You lean back and shake your heads.

“Well, Happy Holidays,” you huff. “Should we get out and walk.”

“You think we’ll get far?” He asks, though you can’t tell if it’s rhetorical or not.

“What else can we do?” You wonder with exasperation.

“Got an emerge kit in the trunk. Seats fold down.”

You blink at him. He can’t mean that.

“Just until it stops. It’s only building and even if we don’t want to, there’s not much choice.”

“We can call for help,” you suggest.

“Even if someone could get to us, I don’t have any bars. What about you?”

You shift into park and take out your phone. A circle with a bar. Nothing.

“Can’t keep this on forever either. The battery will die. There’s a thermal blanket, a couple of hand warmers, food...”

“Jesus, how long are we going to be stuck here?” You look at him.

For the first time in all the years you’ve worked with him, Andy looks uncertain. That adds to your anxiety. He frowns and slides his hand off the seat onto your shoulder.

“Look, it’s fine. It should be more than tonight. Snow’s supposed to let up after dusk, then we just need to wait for the plows. They usually start up at 3. Before traffic gets heavy.” He assures.

You nod. For once, you’re happy to have a know-it-all with you.

“Alright, so, turn off the engine.”

You do what he says and he reaches for his door. He pushes it open and the wind blows back his hair and dusts snow into the SUV. He goes to the back of the car, disappearing into the white void. You watch nervously, trying to see through the thick flakes.

The hatch opens and you undo your seat belt so you can crane around. “What are you doing?”

“Gotta make sure we’re visible. I’ll hang one of the emergency vests on the back.”

“Oh, right, can I help?” You wonder.

“If you can get the seats down, we’re going to have to keep as much warmth as we can. Lever’s underneath,” he hollers through the wind. His cheeks are already touched pink by the snowy blast. He pulls out a neon yellow vest and closes the back up.

You get out of the seat and pull the switch on the side to fold it forward. You climb over it and feel around the front of the backseat. You get those down as the side door opens. And climbs up, crunching himself down to fit in the tight space.

You operate silently in unison. He gets the blankets out. Two. He suggests one for underneath and the second over you. He has bottles of water, some cold rations, and little packets that heat up for about 15 minutes when you rub them.

As you sit on the thermal blanket he feels the front of his jacket, “damn it,” you can see the moisture around his shoulders.

He strips it off and shivers in his dress shirt. His hair is damp too, curling at the ends. He looks at you, his blue eyes bolder as the world is white outside the windows.

“Uh, we gotta...”

“Yeah, sure,” you grab the blanket and pull it close. He moves next to you. There isn’t quite enough space to stretch out. You’re scrunched up as your arms touch and you lean on the slight incline of the folded seat.

“Gonna be a long night,” he mutters.

“Not exactly the white Christmas I hoped for,” you agree.

You don’t complain much more. You have someone to get home to eventually. Since the divorce, Andy is rarely eager to leave work. It’s exactly the reason you’re trapped on the side of the highway. The work trip was his reason not to be alone. You feel bad for him, even if he is an ass of a boss.

❄️

Your teeth chatter as you hug yourself under the blanket. Andy’s heat burns at your back but can’t warm you as the wind whistles outside the car. He turns on the car for about ten minutes at a time but hasn’t in at least two hours as the coldness sets in. It’s better to conserve the heat under the blanket.

His arm is around you, his chin in your shoulder, resting against yours. It’s an innately intimate position, intertwined, snug, but you’re not thinking about that. You’re just thinking about the miracle of modern heating. You just need to make it through tonight.

He shifts and shivers against you. You put your hand on his to try to warm him. You don’t feel you’re offering much as he radiates with heat.

He sighs. God, his damn sighs. The sound that make your office days longer.

You close your eyes but can’t sleep. You’re too anxious to settle down. Your eyes burn with fatigue but your adrenaline keeps you unsettled.

The silence is as frigid as the weather. Both of you stopped talking a while ago. There’s nothing left to say but the obvious. You can’t wait to be out of there. You try to relax, the tension aching in your neck.

He shifts and his hand slips from under yours. You move too, searching for comfort. His fingers rustle down your shirt and touch the front of your pants. The awkward brush makes you squirm. He drags his hand back up and presses against the bottom of your shirt.

You go rigid again. His fingertips trace the waistband of your wool trousers. Your eyes snap open.

He dips beneath the fabric and you suck in a stunned breath. You flinch as he tickles along your panties. You cough.

“Andy, what--”

He hushes you, “it’s cold...”

Does he know what he’s doing? Maybe he’s just trying to go up your shirt but that’s not better, is it? His cheek presses against your skull as he pulls you flush to him. He delves beneath your underwear and you gasp again.

“Andy--”

“No one will know,” he grits.

“No, Andy,” you grab his forearm. “You can’t-- I know you’ve been going through a lot but no--”

His other arm snakes up from under your waist and his hand stretches across your throat. You gulp and let out another surprised squeak. He squeezes as you reach to snatch at his grip.

“And...”

He chokes the protest from you as he grazes along your pelvis. You wince and as he rocks his hips against you. He purrs. “Mmm, nice and tidy... like you were expecting this.”

Your skin blazes in humiliation. You spent a little extra time trimming. You missed James terribly and his texts betrayed that the feeling was mutual.

You croak but can’t speak. He fingertips press behind your jaw until the pain waters in your eyes. He jams his hand between your thighs. He curls against your cunt and glides between your folds. Another spark of humiliation scalds you. It’s been weeks since you had the time of energy to spend with James. You and your husband are just too busy. You’re all too responsive to the rare touch.

The fear constricts across your ribs as your heart pound, echoing in your temples. You squeeze his wrist which only inspires him to tighten his hold on your throat. Your eyes gloss over with helplessness. You can't stop him. Not in that moment and even if you could speak, there’s no one to hear you scream for help.

He bends his fingers until they sink past your entrance. He has no patience. He buries himself to his lowest knuckle, gripping tight so the heel of his hand is against your clit. The pressure pulses into your core.

He tilts his hand, forming a slow rhythm that feeds a different kind of heat. The kind that burns your soul. You flick your lashes as your walls clench him and you twitch. No, no.

Your breath picks up. You think of your husband, waiting, worried, and you’re there... he can’t ever know. Even if it’s wrong. Even if you don’t want it.

“I’ve been so lonely,” he rasps against the brim of your ear. “I just... need to touch someone.” His desperation trembles in his voice. “You’re so warm and soft.... and wet.”

You hear your cunt clinging to him as he rocks his hand faster and faster. The swirl of nerves flurries to a spiral. The coil twists tighter and tighter. You arch your back, pushing your ass back unthinkingly against his crotch.

He moves in response. Rubbing his hard bulge against you. His own breath hitches as he writhes in tandem with his hand. His palm claps against you as he fucks you harder and harder, pumping himself against your ass.

You let go of him to bite your finger. You cum in a spasm, your tears overflowing in more than shame. It’s a sense of relief, the release of the tension built of neglect and stress. He puffs furiously as he ruts against you, shaking as his voice gurgles and his rhythm turns spasmodic.

He growls and grunts until he falls out of motion. He stills and goes slack, his hand trapped beneath your thighs as he heaves. He purrs and nuzzles your ear.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” he grits.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob #december daze #advent #navy and roo's sleepover

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bengals-barnesbabe · 5 months ago

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Picture Day

Tee Higgins x Chase!Reader

Desc: You start getting antsy 5 weeks postpartum and find something to do with your hands.

TW: nothing too bad, mostly fluff.

Princess Ti | Main Masterlist

WC: about 1k

＊✿❀ *. ꕥ * · ❀✿＊

The buzz from your clippers fed your creative soul. You had only come in the salon to reminisce and take some time to yourself while your baby girl naps. You couldn't help but miss the chatter of clientele and the smell of coconut oil usually in the air. The pristine white counters in front of each station were completely bare, only each counter’s handheld hair dryer sticking out of the black cubbies.

Sitting in front of the first station, you think back to when your husband asked you what you really wanted in your home. It was a ballsy ask, in your opinion; you weren’t even sure what he meant by it. But he said you could turn the basement into whatever you wanted. It baffled you because you thought he’d want a man cave to escape the realities of marriage. That’s what your dad did, so you thought it was normal to think so.

So you tossed around the idea of taking on more personal and private clients in a home suite. A month later, he pleasantly surprised you with a fully furnished and functional home salon. It resembled a mini version of your main salon in the city. There is nothing that man wouldn't do for you.

After giving birth, Tee kicked into full dad mode. When he said your only job once Tiana was born was to just take care of her, he did not go back on his word. He's been an absolutely phenomenal father and partner, always taking her when you need a break, making sure you eat and stay hydrated, and even getting up during the night to calm her down. Him and your brother are literally upstairs putting together a new nursery glider so your morning feedings can be cozier.

Maybe that's why you're so antsy. You were so used to always caring for others; now that someone is holding you down the same way, you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't even cook anymore. Your mom has been handling all the meals so you can take time and heal. Everything they were doing was amazing, and you deeply appreciated it, but damn, you were bored.

The sound of your phone buzzing made your train of thought drown.

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

we're done with yo fancy ass chair, come see it while Titi still sleep

sent at 2:23 pm

You thought about going back upstairs for a minute, but a different idea caught your attention.

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

I have a better idea, you bring your wack ass fade to the basement and come sit in my chair😌

read at 2:27 pm

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

arent you supposed to be resting, imma tell momma👎🏾

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

Im offering you a free haircut and you wanna go rat me out😑 don't you have team pictures in a few days👀

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

fine im coming, but when momma finds out I'm blaming you

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea right, just come down here. AND DONT TELL TEE!

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea... a little late for that one😬

read at 2:33 pm

Great, just when you thought you'd be able to do your own thing, your little brother goes and fucks it up before it happens.

Oh well, you shrugged and walked over to the back of the salon for your supplies to set up for Ja'Marr's haircut. You grabbed an apron for you and a barber cape for him (even though you should let him be itchy for threatening to snitch), your black pro clippers, a razor, a number 1 and 2 comb, some holding spray, and a brush. Then, set up your chair.

Minutes later, you were all ready, and your client walked in with your husband.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He asked with an amused smirk on his face.

"I'm giving my brother the haircut he so desperately needs." You smile back, patting the back of the chair for J to sit down.

"You're supposed to be resting." He crosses his arms as you drape the cape over your brother.

Smirking, you untie your apron and walk up to your husband with your hands on your hips. "Look at me, babe." You slowly spin around to give him an eyeful of your postpartum baby body.

"I see you, mamas. Trust me, I see you." The very nice thing about everyone making sure you take care of yourself these last few weeks has been your ability to prioritize your "snap back." You weren't working out to get to a certain shape. You were just prioritizing strengthening your core, which meant some belly binding, light ab exercises, and self-care. You were nowhere near your pre-baby weight, but you liked the extra curves, and someone else did too.

"You can't just expect me to just sit down and wait for Tiana to wake up. I gotta keep my body active, practice my trade."

He knew you were saying words, but ever since that apron came off, his mind was somewhere else. "Oh, I know how you can get active."

"Alright, y'all just nasty. Am I getting my hair done or what?" Ja'Marr groans from behind you.

"Yea Tee, you gon' let me work or what?" You say, biting your lip.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Fine," he says, pulling a waiting chair over to the corner of your area. The 6-week rule playing over and over in his mind.

"Good, now let's get to work. Don't worry babe, you're next." You chirp, picking up the brush to begin the haircut.

But Ja'Marr jerks his head away. "Ay, Y/n don't go too rough now."

You can't help but snort. "Yes, yes, I know. You too tenderheaded for my skills."

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

~ a/n: yall see what I did there ;) last addition to the au for a while. time to go work on some other fics ♡

#black reader #cincinnati bengals #nfl imagine #tee higgins x chase!sister reader #tee higgins x black!reader #tee higgins x reader #tee higgins #jamarr chase #chase!sister reader #married life #hairstylist!reader #bengals barnesbabe #husband!tee higgins #brother!jamarr chase #postpartum

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aismoker · 5 months ago

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Garett was happy that his barber had opened again. The neighbourhood where the barbershop was, was undergoing some gentrification or something like that. There had been some commotion about it, because a tobacco company or something like that had been one of the investors, but he hadn't really paid attention to it. He only came to that neighbourhood, when he went to the barber ans now, after months of being closed, they were open again. The barbershop was owned by a couple of guys, Jason and David. They were the most effeminate guys he knew, but they always did wonders with his hair. Garrett was happy that they had opened up again and that he was one of the first to get an appointment.

When he arrived at the place, he was taken aback. In front of the door stood two guys smoking a cigarette. They wore black shiny tracksuits and barber aprons. They looked quite thuggish. When they saw him, they greeted bim. "Hey Gaz, long time no see! Come in!"

Garret felt a pang of annoyance. "It's Garret," he snapped, almost automatically. He hated the name Gaz, so much. But when the words left his lips, he noticed that it had been David, who had greeted him. He looked better at the thugs. "David? Jason? Is that you?" he asked? Bot thugs smiled. "Yes, buddy, but I go by Jayce now," one of them said. The other added: "Yeah, and call me Dave." Garrett was astounded. They both used to have such nice long shiny hair...

He was so shocked, that he asked almost without thinking:"What happened to you?" They grinned, still smoking their cigarettes and blowing their smoke towards Garrett: "Yeah, the neighbourhood got a new look, so we thought we should go for a change too." Garrett, breathing in the smoke, was still a bit shocked, but it somehow made sense to him. In a strange way, it suited them. In fact, he could no longer remember how they had looked before.

Jayce and Dave entered the barbershoo and gestured Garrett, to follow him. Walking in the trail of their cigarette smoke, he coughed a bit. "Since when did you start smoking?" "Oh, you didn't know we smoked, Gaz?" "It's Garrett," Garrett murmured. He then remembered that Jayce and Dave had been smoking as long as je knew them. "Oh, yeah... Must have slipped my mind..."

Garrett sat down in the chair. Dave draped a cape over him. The material was cold and it felt a bit... slimy, but Garrett didn't want to say anything. He sat back and Jayce started to wash his hair. Garrett relaxed instantaneously. This was the reason he loved to go here. Jayce's hand were just magical. This time, it felt even better than normal. Was it the smoke? Nah, Jayce was always smoking when he was working... right?

Garett relaxed more and more. He closed his eyes. Jayce seeing this, grinned around his cigarette: "Yeah, Gaz, just close your eyes and relax." "It's... Garrett..." Garrett murmured, as he was quickly falling asleep. He felt so warm and nice, like he was floating in a cloud of smoke. The cape draped over him seem to start hugging his body. It all felt so good. He didn't even realize that Dave and Jayce were softly whispering to him.

------------

"Hey, Garrett, get your lazy ass out of that chair and start sweeping the floor! We don't pay you to just sit and smoke!" Dave shouted from the back of the barbershop. "Mate, you know how much I hate that name! It's Gaz!" Gaz shouted back almost automatically, waking up out of his daydream. He looked at himself in the mirror, while taking a deep drag of his cigarette. He couldn't help being pleased with the way he looked. One of the perks of working at a barbershop was that he was always looking sharp af. That and the "special" attention he got from his bosses after hours.

#smoking men #ai smoke #cigarette #marlboro

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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Easy as Pie

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You bake pies for Andy, but you're still his favorite treat. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, cockwarming, slight body worship, sensory deprivation (blindfolding), established relationship, light D/s vibes, mention of insecurities, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #2 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Special thanks for suggesting soft Andy, @whisperlullaby (body worship and sensory deprivation) and @drabblewithfrannybarnes (cockwarming). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Baking was a hobby you enjoyed and what better time to make pies than in the fall? When you asked Andy that morning if he'd prefer to have a pumpkin or apple pie for dessert that evening, he told you to choose for him. It was tough for you to decide. For pumpkin, the earthy pleasant flavor and creamy filling was a wonderful contrast to the flaky trust. For apple, the sweet and tart combination was both delicious and complex.

After a quick mental debate, you decided to bake Andy one of each so he could have the best of both worlds.

“I guess I'll just have to surprise you,” you told him before he left for work.

“Either way, I'll still want you for dessert.”

You were looking forward to that.

It would've been easy for you to buy crust or filling from the store, but you preferred to bake from scratch. As tedious as it was to get the consistency right, it was fulfilling to see your progress from beginning to end. You also told Andy that baking engaged your senses, from touch to taste to smell. It relaxed you as well as energized you. It was almost like the aroma pushed you to the finish line.

By the time you finished baking and cleaning up, it was late afternoon. You were proud of how the pies turned out. Plus the smile on Andy's face when he walked into the kitchen was worth double the work.

“Right on time,” you smiled, removing your apron as he glanced over where the pies sat on display. “How was your day?”

“Better now that I’m home,” he said, loosening his tie before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. He brought his hands to your waist to hold you close, your body molding easily against his. “Did you have a good day?”

“I did, but it’s better now that you’re home,” you said in return.

“You had a good day baking a pumpkin and an apple pie for me?” He questioned as you nodded. “You spoil me, honey. Thank you.”

It was almost laughable that he considered you baking pies as spoiling him. He worked hard as a lawyer and was still a loving partner even with his often busy schedule. The least you could do was take care of him in some form, though you were certain you got the better end of the stick by being with Andy.

“Don’t thank me until you taste them. They may not be so great,” you teased.

The hands on your waist gripped you a little tighter. “Don’t do that.”

Self-deprecating was something Andy didn’t care for, especially when he knew how hard you worked. He understood that there would be days when you wouldn’t think the world of yourself, but he never wanted you to put yourself or your skills down. Even if you were joking and nothing more, he preferred that you saw the best in yourself. If you didn’t, he found ways to tell or show you how special you were.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” you said, shrinking slightly under his fierce gaze before you brushed your fingers along his thick beard. “I’m sure they taste great.”

“I’m sure they do, too,” he said, the blue of his eyes darkening as you moved your fingers to his hair. “Now say something nice about yourself.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you sifted through your thoughts, doing your best to find something positive to say that didn’t sound like you were bragging. “I put love into everything I do and that’s what counts.”

Andy’s piercing gaze softened as he gently held your chin, bringing a smile to both of your faces. “That’s how I know your pies will taste delicious. Because you made them with love.”

Praise was something you typically shied away from, but it was different with Andy. You welcomed the way warmth blossomed from your core and embraced how it spread from your head to your toes. “Double the love since you wouldn’t decide which one you wanted,” you said, his chest rising a bit as he chuckled. “Now you have to pick which one you want to try first. Unless you want to wait until after dinner.”

His brows pinched together slightly as he considered your question. He couldn’t go wrong with either. “I think I’d rather skip dinner and go right to dessert,” he answered, venturing over to the counter.

You watched as he carefully cut and plated a slice from both pies, your breath hitching when he licked some of the apple filling off his finger. He wasn't trying to seduce you at the moment, but it was working. “I don’t mind that at all,” you said as he went back to you, your fingers wrapping around his tie to have him close again. “And where would you like to have dessert?”

“In the living room,” he replied, running his free hand up and down your arm. “And there’s something else I want to try.”

“And what’s that?” You asked curiously.

“I want you to sit on my cock,” he began, bringing his hand back to your waist as you inhaled. It was always a good time for you when he wanted to play. “And I want to blindfold you.”

You whimpered, eager to give him what he wanted. Him robbing you of your sight as he stayed deep inside you would enhance everything else around you. Would his cock feel harder than usual? Would his hands and lips make you tremble more than normal?

“And you’re going to sit perfectly still while I have a slice of each pie,” he continued, his voice gruff as your breathing picked up.

“You want me to sit still while I keep you warm?” You questioned as he kissed your forehead with a smile.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he whispered, dragging his lips down to the tip of your nose. “You naked and blindfolded while my hands and mouth wander, letting me worship you as I eat those delicious pies you put so much care into.”

You made some sort of embarrassing sound at his words, wondering if was going to keep his suit on while you kept his cock warm. It was such a power move and one you loved exploring with him. While he was physically dominant over you, he was also verbally appreciative and tender. He loved you exactly the way you needed him to.

“Maybe I want to worship you, Andy,” you said. He deserved for you to love him the way he needed you to as well.

“Not tonight,” he said, a hint of dominance starting to seep in. There would be no arguing with him. “Not when I’m going to eat you out after I pump you full.”

Fuck.

“And what’ll happen if I don’t stay still?” You asked breathlessly, shivering when his mouth touched the corner of yours, his beard tickling your skin.

“You won’t come,” he replied, smirking when you took a step back and narrowed your eyes. “At least, not right away.”

“That's just mean, Mr. Barber,” you said with the smallest of pouts. He only edged you if there was a reason to do so. Though it wouldn't surprise you if he dragged it out for your self-deprecating comment earlier.

“I won't be mean tonight, but I will need you to be patient,” he said, nudging you toward the doorway. “Go to the living room and strip. I'll be there in a moment.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smirked as you said, “Yes, Sir.”

The smirk fell as you began to undress in front of the couch with shaky hands. Though the curtains were drawn, the light in the room was bright enough that you wouldn't have a chance to hide from Andy's stare. The thought had your heart racing faster because he cherished every part of you. Any imperfection to you was a thing of beauty to him.

“Fuck, you really do spoil me.”

The rich timbre of Andy's voice made your hands fall to your sides, the ache between your thighs stronger as he walked toward you. Your nipples hardened as his eyes swept over you, like he actually touched you. It was embarrassing how wet you were when he hadn't laid a finger on you yet. You didn’t even close your eyes until he moved close enough that his nose brushed against yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips almost touching yours before he set the pie down. “You ready to take a seat or should I check?”

“I think you should check,” you said, opening your eyes as you widened your stance.

His gaze moved lower as he cupped your pussy, his fingers brushing along your slit. You were patient, letting him tease you when what you wanted was for him to stab his fingers deep. Watching him bring his glistening fingers to his lips to taste you seconds later, it was a feat your knees didn’t buckle.

He didn’t beckon you any closer as he lowered his pants and underwear, his cock springing free. His gaze devoured you still as he took a seat, lightly stroking himself with a moan as you stood there waiting. Your mouth watered at the thought of dropping to your knees and swallowing him down. It was another way to keep him warm. But he was in charge and what he wanted was your pussy.

You wouldn’t deny him.

“Come here,” he urged, taking your hand to help you into his lap. He stroked your thigh with his other hand as you straddled him. “Take me in.”

Gripping the base of his cock, you stared into his eyes as you lined him up with your entrance. Prolonged eye contact was another thing Andy taught you to appreciate. Watching the swirl of emotions in his eyes as you began to sink down made your heart almost beat out of your chest. Both of you sighed as you continued to move down, not wanting to go too fast. It would hurt him if you got hurt.

“Good girl,” he praised as you took a moment to appreciate how good he felt. He removed the tie from around his neck when you tightened slightly around him. You almost forgot he planned to blindfold you. “You let me know if this is too much, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. You never had to use your safeword with Andy, but knew he’d stop right away if anything made you uncomfortable. Communication was everything to him. “I trust you.”

He paused, a raw expression on his face as he didn’t reply. You framed his cheeks, wordlessly telling him that he didn’t have to speak. Trust wasn’t something either of you gave easily. Something about him made it easy. Maybe it was how deep your love for him ran.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick as he covered your eyes with the tie. He didn’t make it too tight, but you couldn’t see a thing. “Now be good for me.”

You gasped when one of his hands closed over your breast, your back arching to get more of his touch. You had to bite your lip to hold in your moans when his mouth enclosed around your nipple, his tongue suckling the hardened bud. Your cunt throbbed as he switched, giving equal care to each side with his hand and mouth.

“So lucky to have you,” he rasped as he released your nipple, your breathing heavy as you heard the fork scrape along the plate. Your cunt throbbed when he moaned, the sound filthy and deep. “Have a taste.”

You breathed in deeply through your nose, but Andy didn’t bring the fork to your mouth. He kissed you instead, making you cling to him as you tasted the spices on his tongue. It was stronger than normal, the flavor exploding in your mouth. You practically saw colors dancing behind your eyelids, giving various shades to the sweet taste he shared with you.

“Sweet just like your cunt,” he growled, arousal pooling in your gut as he moved his lips down your neck. Your hands were free, but you felt completely at his mercy. Your pleasure was in his hands. “Doing so well. Just keep me warm while I eat.”

You were desperate for more, but you stayed as still as you could. He kept a hand on you as he took bites, between gently grabbing your ass or rubbing your thigh. His lips and tongue touched wherever they could reach, bringing little whimpers out of you. The one thing he didn’t touch was your clit, which was begging for attention.

How long would he tease you?

“Andy, please,” you whispered, almost shifting in his lap in the hopes to get some relief.

“Almost done, honey,” he assured you, drawing a soft cry from you when he suddenly thrust his hips up. “You need me to fuck you, is that it? Can’t wait until I’m finished eating the dessert you made just for me?”

His finger brushed your clit only once and it was almost enough to hurdle you over the edge. Each touch, every lavishness of his attention, was pure ecstasy. “I-I want to make you feel good.”

“Honey, this is making me feel good,” he said, rocking his hips again as your chest heaved. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his gaze was hungry. “Watching you like this, letting me touch you, praise you. Don’t you feel how fucking hard I am?”

“I do,” you exhaled. You felt every inch of him along your sensitive walls. “Feels good.”

He kissed your cheek, the scent of cinnamon filling your nostrils. “You feel good. So wet and tight and it’s all for me. So fucking lucky to come home to you. Love you so much, honey.”

The fabric of his tie felt damp and you realized it was your sudden tears causing that. Between his words and how sensitive your body felt, it was a lot in a good way. “I love you, too,” you whispered once you took a breath.

He dragged his mouth to your ear as he brought his finger back to your clit, rubbing gently as you both groaned. “You want me to feel even better? Show me how good I make you feel. Drench me and I’ll fuck you with my cock and tongue.”

“Please, please, please,” you begged, gripping his arms in an almost bruising hold, determined to give him what he demanded.

“Come.”

That was your undoing, the tide washing you away as you drenched him the way he demanded. He quieted your cries with his mouth, swallowing them down for himself. You whined as he stopped rubbing your clit, the spasms from your walls still strong as he whispered how much he loved you.

You loved him, too.

“Beautiful,” he commented as you came down, allowing you to collapse against him as you caught your breath. His heart raced against your chest, almost as fast as yours beat. Pleasuring you pleased him and you wondered how you hit the jackpot with him.

“The pumpkin was good,” he began, running a hand up and down your back. “But I think I prefer the apple pie. It’s sweet, like you.”

You laughed breathlessly, making your walls spasm a bit around him. “Noted,” you said, reaching for the blindfold.

He stopped you before you could remove it. “Leave it on. I’m not done worshiping you yet,” he said, shocking you by tracing a bit of whipped cream on your lips. “And if you want my cream, you'll behave.”

He deserves the world! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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oofthwoods · 1 year ago

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MIDNIGHT BAKER! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: wednesday nights should be reserved for sleeping and recharging energies for the weekend, especially when said weekend marks her first ever formula one grand prix. but when the nerves get the best of echo!reader, it's time to come out of the bed and do what she always does: stress bake. but when the stakes multiply, so does the dough.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: somehow based on that tiktok audio about the midnight barber, but instead of cutting your hair in the middle of the night, fem!driver is baking you cookies in the middle of the night. also english is not my first language so i apologize if there's any grammar mistakes :(

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 2.1k

NOTE FOR SELF: DON’T SNEAK INTO MICK’S ROOM. HE MIGHT THINK YOU’RE A GHOST.

if you were to ask her, she would tell you that the boy's reaction was far too exaggerated. after all, they had snuck into each other's hotel rooms countless times before, especially during their days as competitors in separate leagues. and could it really be called sneaking around when she had used the magnetic card he had personally given to her in case of an emergency?

mick let out a long, exhausted sigh and ran his fingers through his messy blonde hair as he slumped onto the bed. he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her in his hotel room kitchen, completely absorbed in the task of arranging an assortment of cookies into neat rows on several baking sheets.

"i'm just saying, a heads up would have been nice," he finally spoke up, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled between them.

she was completely focused on arranging an assortment of cookies in the hotel room's oven, each piece fitting perfectly like a game of tetris. her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her delicate hands expertly maneuvered the trays into place. "i didn't think you'd wake up," she murmured, not bothering to turn around.

"how could i not with all this commotion going on?" mick chuckled, gesturing to the mess of ingredients and dishes scattered around the small kitchenette. the sweet aroma of warm cookies filled the air, making it feel like a cozy haven from the cold outside.

with a satisfied smile, she closed the oven door and turned back to him. "you never woke up before when i did this," she pointed out with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

a genuine laugh, deep and rich, escaped her lips as she watched his reaction. it was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds that had been weighing on her since their arrival in bahrain. she felt a sense of relief wash over her - the first real moment of peace she had felt in days.

"what? did you think chocolate chip cookies magically appeared in your room every morning?" she teased playfully, enjoying the surprised look on his face.

his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he sheepishly replied, "no, i knew that you made them. i just didn't realize you did it in my room."

"well, now you know my secret," she said with a hint of mischief in her voice. she let out a sigh and removed her apron, stained with flour and splattered with milk. she glanced at the timer on her phone and said, "don't worry, it's not always the case, but some hotels have ovens that are too small for my liking. i hate waiting around for things to bake, so i use mine and yours kitchen"

mick observed the way that, despite wearing a bright smile, his best friend tapped her foot and furrowed her brow, her agitation practically radiating off of her. she always turned to baking when faced with stress or anxiety, so it was clear to him the internal turmoil she was facing. despite the dark circles under her eyes and the tired lines etched on her face, he knew she wouldn't stop until their task was completed to perfection.

y/n's eyelids drooped, heavy with fatigue as she sat on the smooth, cool marble counter. she rubbed them gently with the palm of her hand, trying to alleviate the tiredness that weighed down her body. through the oven window, she watched as the pastries slowly turned golden brown. the sweet aroma of butter and sugar filled the kitchen, a familiar comfort that helped ease her nerves for tomorrow.

"sorry for waking you up" she said, shifting her weight so that she could face the boy standing next to her. his hair was tousled from sleep, but he wore a gentle smile on his lips. "you usually sleep like a rock, i didn't expect you to hear me at all."

"well, let’s say i couldn't resist the smell of your baking skills," he replied with a wink.

"oh please, you were shitting your pants thinking that i was either a ghost or a murderer," she teased, nudging him playfully.

his confident facade faltered as he tried to deny it. "i-i wasn't afraid! i just...wasn't sure who it was."

raising an eyebrow at him, she challenged his claim. "uh-huh, sure. it was pretty obvious you were scared out of your mind."

mick huffed and crossed his arms defiantly. "we’re in a hotel in a foreign country and suddenly i hear sounds coming from my private kitchen. i think it's completely plausible to be a little… worried," he argued, trying to maintain his tough exterior.

she rolled her eyes affectionately and gave him a knowing smile. "you know I'm the only one else who has access to your keycard, mick."

mick's shoulders sagged, defeated by y/n's logic. he let out a sigh, his tough facade crumbling. "okay, maybe I was a little scared," he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

y/n chuckled softly, her eyes filled with warmth as she reached out to gently squeeze mick's hand. "well, you don't have to worry anymore. It's just me, your talented, pastry-making, and anxiety filled best friend," she reassured him, her voice filled with affection.

"anxiety filled? is this why you're baking so much? worried about tomorrow?"

as soon as the next day was mentioned, y/n's stomach dropped.

the pre-tests for the upcoming racing season had gone smoothly for her as she had put on a confident facade, flashing a bright smile and cracking jokes with her fellow drivers. her ease on the track was palpable as she navigated the circuit with grace and skill, getting familiar with her car and the track.

underneath it all, she felt a pressure unlike anything she had ever experienced before. she knew she couldn't show any signs of weakness - not in front of her competitors, not in front of the media, not in front of anyone. after all, what would they say when the only woman on the grid was seen trembling and putting on a fake smile?

this was more than just a race for her - it was the culmination of a lifelong dream finally coming true. her addition to the male-dominated world of professional racing was a historic moment after years without a single female driver. and representing porsche, a team that was also a newcomer to the sport and had their destiny sat half in her hands, only added to the weight on her shoulders.

with a sudden, firm tug on her shoulder, mick's hand shattered her daydream and she snapped back to reality. his piercing blue gaze seemed to bore into her, examining her with an intensity that made her feel naked and exposed. as if he could see the chaotic thoughts racing through her mind, mick's eyes darted back and forth, taking in every expression that crossed her face. years of friendship meant couldn't hide from him, not even for a moment.

"come on," he teased, giving her shoulder a playful shake like they were kids again. "where's the girl who dominated four straight championships? the one who smashed the record for most points in a formula 2 season?"

she couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "gone," she replied with a shrug. "replaced by a washed up has-been that mops around and bake chocolate chip cookies."

mick's grin faded, replaced by a sad expression. "don't say that," he said firmly. "you're still one of the best driver i know. don't let anyone convince you otherwise"

she let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping as she leaned against the cool surface of the counter. her gaze wandered around the lavish hotel room, identical to her own in every way except for the view outside the window.

"you can't say that, it'll go straight to my head" she looked him in the eyes, with a tired smile.

"great. maybe then you'll start to believe me"

"it's just... different." she sighed, and brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen into her determined eyes. "if i fail, they'll use it as ammunition to say that hiring a woman for the team was a mistake. they'll chalk it up to nepotism - hiring my famous father's daughter without considering my skills. they'll compare me to him and say i don't have what it takes, and if i make even the slightest mistake, they'll use it as ammunition to say 'see? this is why women shouldn't race in formula 1.' it feels like everyone is waiting for me to slip up so they can declare me a hazard on the track and call for my super license to be revoked." her shoulders tensed at the thought.

mick spoke gently, "you spend too much time worrying about things that may never happen."

"i know. it's called anxiety. 0/10, would not recommend," she replied with a hint of sarcasm.

he then called her by her nickname, "i'm serious. you set one of the best times in training. your race engineer is already talking about getting a tattoo if you win your first race later this year. no one believes you'll disappoint."

she chuckled at his words. mick was telling the truth - after one of her practice periods during pre-training, jasper, the man who would work alonside her as her race engineer, had greeted her with euphoria and promised to get a tattoo with the date of her first victory along with a drawing of the circuit layout.

she gave him a small smile, appreciating his attempts to lift her spirits. but the doubts and worries still lingered in her mind like ghosts.

"i know you're trying to help, and i love your for it," she said. "but it's not that simple. i've dreamed about this my whole life, you know? being here, on the verge of achieving what I've worked so hard for." her voice grew soft. "but now that I'm so close, it's like i can see all the ways i could fail even more clearly."

she turned and gazed out the window at the circuit lights glowing in the distance. "if i succeed, it will open doors for other women. but if i fail..." her voice trailed off, unable to give voice to the dark thoughts swirling in her mind.

mick moved next to her, also taking in the view. "the greats are never without doubt," he said after a moment. "my father used to say self-belief is a muscle - you have to exercise it constantly for it to grow strong."

y/n laughed in response. "well, you have me there. how could i argue with a seven-time world champion?"

mick chuckled along with her. "exactly! you can't."

"you're gonna be great out there tomorrow," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "just remember your training and trust your instincts. the rest will take care of itself."

she gave him a small but grateful smile. having his steadfast faith in her abilities was like a rock she could cling to in the swirling sea of uncertainties that plagued her. she could only hope she was the same to him.

"one lap at a time," she said, steeling her resolve. "no thinking about the future or the naysayers. just me, the car and the track. and the occasional animal that comes to visit"

mick grinned. "that's my girl"

the piercing beep of the timer on y/n's phone jolted her back to reality, reminding her that there were still cookies baking in her room. "shit, i completely lost track of time. i'll go turn off the oven in my room first, then come back here to handle these."

mick flashed a warm smile at her. "don't worry about it. you look like you could use some rest."

"are you implying that I have dark circles under my eyes, schumacher?"

he chuckled. "i'm simply suggesting that i can take care of these ones. it'll only take me another five minutes." he stooped down to inspect the almost finished cookies through the glass door of the oven. "all under control."

she wanted to argue and offer her help, but exhaustion was slowly creeping up on her and a glance at the clock by mick's bedside showed that it was well past bedtime. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

"probably have fewer cookies," he quipped with a playful grin.

she smiled, the worries that had been weighing on her mind starting to lift. somehow, he always knew how to make her feel better.

"alright, you win this time. i'll let you be the cookie master while i go get some rest."

as she turned to leave, mick called out "hey, don't forget we're going over race strategy first thing tomorrow morning. i'll bring the coffee if you bring the cookies."

"it's a deal," she said. "goodnight, mick. and…thank you."

"always." he smiled and gave a little wave as she slipped out the door into the quiet hallway.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader , @fanficweasley , @stinkyjax , @namgification , @judespoision , @cha-hot , @disneyprincemuke

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holylulusworld · 8 months ago

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The assistant (11) - Heating pads and cupcakes

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: flirty CEvans characters, language, plus-sized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, arguments, brothers being brothers, fluff, caring brother

A/N: I was on my period while writing this. So, I would like you to please bear with me.

The assistant masterlist

The assistant (10) - Apologies

“Tell me, sugar. How did you meet my brothers?” Ransom sits on one of the chairs at the kitchen counter to watch you, Jake and Mike make breakfast for the hungry pack.

“Do not talk to Y/N,” Jake warns. “I don’t know why Andy even called you. We can handle Captain Asshole on our own.”

“Captain Turd,” Lloyd corrects while walking inside the kitchen. “I think I established the name yesterday.” He grins at Steve who sits at the kitchen table. Steve sips the coffee from the café around the corner and tries to stomach the dry bagel he bought.

“Boys, play nice,” you tut and point the spatula at Lloyd. “We do not fight within these walls. Lloyd, that goes for you too. Have a seat. Coffee is ready and we are almost done preparing breakfast.”

“Uh-huh,” Lloyd plops down on the seat closest to you. “You’re wearing my apron.” He grins.

“Yeah, I figured that this must be yours,” you roll your eyes as he grins like a madman.

“Kiss the cook, he wears a mustache?” Ransom huffs and shakes his head. “That mustache looks stupid on you, Lloyd. Almost as if a caterpillar died on your upper lip.”

“Kiss my ass,” Lloyd snarls in Ransom’s direction.

“Eat shit!” Ransom retorts.

“Guys,” you clap your hands. “We have a busy day ahead. Thanks to the drama you caused yesterday, I agreed to let Captain Rogers stay another day. He didn’t get the chance to see anything but a bunch of idiots fighting each other.”

“Idiots?” Lloyd pouts. “I'm not an idiot. Andy started this. It’s not my fault my brother is an idiot.”

“Lloyd, we do not punch people, and we don’t call them idiots,” you tut. “I told you, no more fighting or I’ll hide your expensive mustache wax for a week. Your mustache will be all fuzzy without it.”

“Cupcake, did you steal my wax?” Lloyd gapes at you. “I didn’t take you for a thief, missy. You better not make it a habit.” He looks at you wearing his apron. “Or make it a habit. I like me a bad girl.”

“She’s got a very good lawyer on her side,” Andy casually walks inside the kitchen. He’s hiding the bruises his brother caused with a brand-new shirt and tie. “I will leave for a few hours. I trust you to not kill each other.”

Lloyd glares at his brother Ransom before he says, “I can’t promise anything. You brought this piece of shit into our house.”

“Lloyd!” He made it. You hand the spatula to Mike, asking him to watch the last pancake to round the kitchen island and slap Lloyd’s ass. He yelps but purrs your name. “No swear words at our home, Lloyd!”

“Our…home!” Jake, Mike, Lloyd, Ari, Andy, and Curtis who just walked inside the kitchen, stare at you in awe. They smile, and then, you end up wrapped in too many pairs of arms.

“GUYS! I can’t breathe!” You protest but it's no use. You get hugged again and again until you feel dizzy.

“Hey, what’s your role in this drama?” Ransom turns around to look at Steve while his brothers are all over you. “Damn, aren’t you Captain America?” He slides off his chair to get a better look at Steve sulk in a corner. “Wait…what is Captain America doing here?”

“They kidnapped my assistant,” Steve grumbles while watching you hug the brothers, one after another. They laugh and joke while exclaiming that you accepted their home as your own.

“Ah, I see,” Ransom nods thoughtfully. “So, you’re unwanted here too, huh?” He grins. “Hmmm…you know. My grandmother always bragged about being related to Captain America. She was a crazy old hag, but I cannot deny you are a spitting image of my grandfather.”

“What are you mumbling about over there?” Curtis didn’t forget about Ransom’s intrusion. He’s still up to give his brother a good beating. “I see, two assholes found each other during desperate times.”

You huff. “Curtis! No swear words! We talked about swear words and impulse control last night.”

“Sorry, Sunshine,” Curtis drops his gaze and sighs. If only he’d got a few minutes alone with Ransom. He’d give his treacherous brother a few more punches.

“I get that having your brother back is scary and opened old wounds. But, you should be happy to have him in your life,” you sniffle. “You don’t get a person you love back so easily.”

“Great, now you made her cry,” Andy wraps you in his arms and runs his hand up and down your back. “They’re stubborn but will behave from now on. I promise.”

“I’m only a little emotional,” you choke out a sob. “I’m on…” You shake your head. The brothers don’t need to know that you’re on your period and almost everything makes you cry. “I saw that cat video…and the cat was so cute and…then you argued... and Mike looked like the lost kitten…It made me so happy…”

“Crap,” Lloyd snaps his fingers to get his brothers' attention. “Alright! Red alert. I repeat. Red alert.”

“What now?” Curtis rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. “What’s wrong with you?”

Lloyd turns his head toward Curtis. “You, stop sulking and get my wallet.” Lloyd snaps at Curtis before pointing at Mike and Jake. “You two, search for any movie on any platform Y/N will like.”

He crosses his arms behind his back and marches around the kitchen. “Barber don’t get too cozy with her but keep on rubbing her back. Ari, you and Curtis will go to the bakery. We will close for the rest of the week. Get all the cupcakes and shit Jake baked. We’ll need it.”

“What’s going on?” Ransom watches his brothers hastily follow Lloyd’s order. “Where’s the fire?”

“In Y/N’s uterus. Now shut up, pretty boy, and be useful for once,” Lloyd mutters at his brother. “If you want to stay, you’ll go to the guestroom in the west wing and get me all the fluffy pillows and a warm blanket. No, make it two.”

Ransom purses his lips. He weighs his options. If he wants to be part of this family again, he must play along for now. “Fine.”

“Y/N. Cupcake,” Lloyd gently pats your hair. “What’s your favorite brand? Do you need a heating pad? What painkiller do you prefer? Lloyd will get you all you’ll need.”

Steve watches the brothers make of fuzz about your period. He rubs his chin, wondering if what he feels is more than worry.

“Good job everyone!”

Lloyd grins as you snuggle into one of the fluffy pillows. You’re wearing one of Andy’s warm sweaters and the fuzzy socks Jake got for you. Ari wrapped a warm blanket around you after Lloyd carefully put a heating pillow on your lower abdomen.

Mike chose the movies you and the brothers will watch while Andy and Jake prepared food, beverages, and sweets. Curtis is currently massaging your feet while Ransom sits on the other end of the huge U-shaped sofa.

“How do you feel, Sweetie? Do you feel better?” Jake sits next to your head to gently pat your hair. Do you need anything else?”

“Did I buy the right stuff?” Lloyd asks. He sits on the sofa and stretches his legs out. “Damn, I didn’t know there are so many lady products out there.”

“I’m good,” you murmur and snuggle further into the pillow. The brothers took very good care of you. No one ever put so much into making you feel good. “See, if you work together, you can do anything.”

“So…this is what you do? Getting lady products and feeding a sexy girl with cupcakes,” Ransom grins. “I think I could get used to this…”

“No one asked you,” Curtis huffs. He’s still angry at Ransom for leaving them. Especially, because he used to look up Ransom when he was a kid. Curtis and Ransom shared a special bond, and now, it's broken.

“No more fighting tonight,” Andy stops the brothers from arguing again. “We have a plan, don’t we.” He subtly points at Steve watching you and the brothers from his seat. He chose to sit on an armchair, still not convinced that the brothers did not mean harm to you.

Ransom stares at Steve. He rubs his chin and wonders aloud. “Back to Captain America. Isn’t it odd that he looks so much like Grandfather Steven?”

Part 12

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #lloyd hansen #curtis everett #ari levinson #andy barber #jake jensen #ransom drysdale #mike weiss #The assistant (11) - Heating pads and cupcakes #chubby reader #plussized reader

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greenmansupplies · 2 years ago

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Mastering the Craft in Style: Explore Premium Leather Aprons for Skilled Artisans

Elevate your artisanal journey with our exquisite collection of premium leather aprons. Designed for skilled artisans, our stylish and functional aprons are the perfect companion for mastering your craft in comfort and sophistication. Discover the epitome of craftsmanship today.

#leather aprons #barber aprons #aprons for men #leather aprons for men

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owlmann · 4 months ago

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(Canto 7 Spoilers) Project Moon fans assemble... Since October spirit is still with us, can we get a Sancho in a cute apron (would be funnier if it was also with her full Bloodfiend garb) since it was mentioned she baked (cinammon cookies) back in the day?

The barber made another apron for Sancho, full of frills and decorations but Sancho didn't want it because this one was a gift from Don Quixote.

#fanart #limbus company #project moon #library of ruina #lobotomy corp #lobotomy corporation #sancho limbus company #limbus sancho #lcb sancho #sancho lcb #limbus company sancho #lcb #canto 7 spoilers

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krissi-klown · 6 months ago

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[ID below caption.]

> a quick sketch of mista todd and missus lovett. the only british people i care about rn.

[ID: A traditional pencil sketch of Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Mrs. Lovette is on the left smiling, looking at Sweeney Todd with a rolling pin help up in one hand. She is wearing a black dress and apron. Sweeney Todd is on the right, looking away from Mrs. Lovette to the knife in his hand, grinning. He is wearing a large white button-down, tucked into black dress pants with suspenders. Next to him is the text "Serving anyone- & to anyone!" in all capitals. End ID.]

#sweeney todd #sweeney todd the demon barber of fleet street #sweeney todd fanart #mrs lovett #mrs lovett fanart #musical fanart #broadway #doods art #id included #id in caption

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barbermallsblog · 1 year ago

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Beyond Basics: Exploring Trendy Barber Chair Clothes for Salons

In the realm of salon aesthetics, every detail matters. From the sleekness of the scissors to the ambiance of the space, it's all about creating an unforgettable experience for your clients. One often overlooked yet crucial element is the barber chair cover – a simple accessory that can elevate the entire look and feel of your salon. At Barber Mall, we understand the significance of these details, which is why we offer a curated selection of trendy barber chair covers to suit every style and preference.

Our collection goes beyond the basics, featuring an array of designs, materials, and colors to complement any salon decor. Whether you prefer classic leather for a sophisticated touch or quirky patterns for a pop of personality, we have something for everyone. But why stop there? Let's delve deeper into the world of trendy barber chair covers and explore how they can enhance your salon experience.

Firstly, comfort is key. Our barber chair clothes are not just about aesthetics – they also provide additional padding and support, ensuring that your clients are relaxed throughout their appointment. From long grooming sessions to quick touch-ups, investing in quality chair covers can make all the difference in customer satisfaction.

Moreover, style plays a significant role in setting the tone for your salon. With our trendy designs, you can create a cohesive look that reflects your brand identity and leaves a lasting impression on clients. Whether you're aiming for a modern, minimalist vibe or a retro-inspired feel, the right chair covers can tie the whole aesthetic together seamlessly.

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From enhancing comfort to elevating style, these versatile accessories offer a multitude of benefits for both you and your clients. Explore our collection at Barber Mall and take your salon to the next level today.

#barber apron for customers #barber aprons for sale

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whynotshaveme · 3 days ago

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First Wife Shave Free

By whynotshaveme

The train ride from London to the quiet coastal town of Blackshore had been peaceful. Olivia leaned against James as they watched the countryside roll by, the tension in her shoulders easing the farther they got from the noise of the city.

“Just imagine it,” James murmured, his fingers idly stroking her long golden hair. “Nothing but the sea, quiet streets, good food. No distractions.”

She smiled, tilting her head into his touch. “And no work emails,” she teased.

James chuckled, continuing to stroke her hair. He had always loved her hair. It was her pride—long, thick, the kind of blonde that women paid hundreds of dollars for. He’d even called it her best feature once.

When they arrived in Blackshore, it was everything their travel agent had promised—winding cobbled streets, stone cottages weathered by the sea air, a quiet, almost old-fashioned charm, and no other tourists from London. But something felt… off.

It took Olivia an hour to realize what it was. Every woman in the town wore something on her head. Wide-brimmed straw hats, scarves wrapped tight, even hoods despite the warm summer breeze. Not one had so much as a strand of hair visible.

“Bit odd, isn’t it?” she murmured as they walked down to the harbour.

James glanced around, frowning. “Yeah… maybe it’s a local religious thing?”

Olivia wasn’t convinced. The women didn’t just cover their heads. They carried themselves differently. They kept their heads slightly bowed and their eyes flickering toward the men as if waiting for permission to speak.

That evening, they found a small pub near the pier, its sign so battered by the sea air that the name was barely legible. Inside, the wooden beams were low, the air thick with the smell of ale and fried fish. It was the kind of place that hadn’t changed in a hundred years.

They took a seat near the bar, and almost immediately, Olivia felt the eyes on her. All male eyes, of course. There were no other women present. Rough, weathered, their gazes drifting to her long hair like she was something rare, something out of place.

James noticed too. She could tell by the way he shifted in his chair, his hand resting on the table in a tight fist.

The landlord, a thickset man with a belly pressing against his stained apron, ambled over with a smirk. “Not from ‘round here, are ya?”

“London,” James said.

The landlord snorted. “Figured. Your missus is a dead giveaway.” His beady eyes lingered on Olivia’s hair, his smirk widening. “Not used to seein’ ‘em like that. Ain’t natural.”

Olivia blinked. “Like what?”

“With hair,” he said, like it was obvious. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Round here, women don’t need it. Shaved clean, every last one.” He gave James a knowing look. “Keeps ‘em humble, see?”

James made a strangled sound. Olivia turned to him, startled, but his face was flushed, his knuckles white where they gripped the table.

The landlord chuckled. “Reckon your man likes the sound of that.”

Olivia’s stomach did a strange little flip. “All the women?” she asked.

“Aye.” The landlord wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Married ones, anyway. First thing a husband does when he takes a wife—brings her to the barber to shave her down like she ought to be.” His grin widened. “Most of ‘em do it themselves after a while. Habit, like.”

Olivia swallowed, suddenly very aware of the weight of her hair down her back. She looked at James again, at the way his jaw was tight, his breathing just a little too controlled. He clearly liked this. A slow, hot blush crept up her neck.

“Enjoy your meal,” the landlord said with a wink before lumbering off.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Olivia traced the rim of her glass, feeling James’ gaze on her, heavier than before.

Finally, she took a slow sip of wine and murmured, “You can’t stop thinking about it, can you?”

James exhaled sharply, like she’d caught him in something sinful.

And maybe she had.

The next morning, Olivia and James strolled through Blackshore’s narrow streets, the salty wind whipping in from the sea. She had left her hair loose, letting it flow down her back like always, but she was starting to feel self-conscious. The townspeople kept stealing glances at her, especially the men. They seemed oddly anticipatory. Especially when James came to a sudden stop.

Then she realized why - they were standing by the local barbershop.

It was a dingy little place, tucked between a butcher and a shop selling fishing gear. A faded red-and-white pole turned lazily outside, and in the dusty window was a bold, freshly printed sign:

"FIRST WIFE SHAVE FREE."

Olivia frowned. “James—”

His fingers found her wrist. His grip was firm.

“Come on,” he murmured, already pulling her toward the door.

She resisted for only a second. “Wait, you can’t be serious.”

He turned to her, and she saw it, the flush in his cheeks, the hunger in his eyes. “Liv,” he said, voice low. “Just come inside.”

The door swung open with a jingle of the bell.

She hesitated, but he was already stepping in, and she couldn’t just stand there like an idiot. So she followed.

Inside, the air smelled of talcum powder and shaving cream. It was an old-school place, with a checkered tile floor, two cracked leather chairs, and a single sink. A fat man with a shaved head stood behind the counter, his oddly smooth arms folded over his chest.

His gaze landed on Olivia, and his lips curled into a sneer.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look at that fucking mop.”

Olivia bristled. “We’re —”

James finished her sentence for her. "-visiting from London and would like to participate in your interesting local custom of shaving the heads of married women.”

Her stomach dropped.

The barber grinned. “That so?” He eyed him up and down. “Didn’t think London fellows had the balls for it.”

“I—” Olivia swallowed, glancing at James. He was standing rigid, his knuckles white at his sides. She could see it in his face—he wanted this.

The barber let out a short laugh when he noticed the panic in Olivia's face. “Bit snobby, aren’t you? Not used to your man taking charge like this?” His gaze flicked to her hair. “Bet you spend a fortune keeping that looking nice. Time to save him some money.”

Olivia clenched her jaw.

He stepped toward the chair and patted the worn leather. “Sit down, princess. Let’s see if you’re as high and mighty without all that hair.”

James was watching her. Waiting.

Her throat was dry. “James—”

His fingers brushed her back. Not a forceful push, but a nudge.

She exhaled, pulse hammering, and stepped forward.

The chair was cold against her back. The leather creaked as she settled in.

The barber wasted no time, jerking a cape around her shoulders and fastening it tight. “Better get used to this,” he said. “Husbands round here don’t let their wives grow it back.”

He then chuckled as he reached for the clippers. “Bet you think you’re too good for this, don’t you? You're not, girlie,” He flicked the switch, and the clippers roared to life. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll learn your place soon enough.”

Olivia’s fingers dug into the armrests. She looked at James one last time He was staring, transfixed. Then the barber pressed the clippers to her forehead. The first golden lock tumbled into her lap. The vibration of the clippers sent a shudder through Olivia’s scalp as the barber dragged them straight back from her forehead, carving a stark path through her golden hair. A heavy lock tumbled forward, sliding down the cape before landing in her lap.

James let out a quiet but primal breath of release behind her.

Olivia swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the armrests as the barber worked with brutal efficiency. He wasn’t careful or gentle—he was stripping her, reducing her. The clippers buzzed relentlessly, sweeping across her crown, sending wave after wave of her treasured hair falling to the floor.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” the barber sneered, gripping her head roughly to tilt it forward. The blades pressed against her nape, sending a fresh cascade of hair tumbling past her shoulders. “Just another plucked hen, same as the rest of ‘em.”

The cape was covered in golden strands, but the barber wasn’t done. He ran the clippers over her head again and again, making sure there was nothing left but the finest stubble. Olivia stared at her lap, at the remains of her once-beautiful hair.

The barber chuckled. “Not much of a talker now, are you, sweetheart?” He grabbed a can of shaving cream from the counter, shook it, and then smeared a thick layer across her scalp. The coldness of it sent a fresh shiver down her spine.

Then came the straight razor.

It scraped over her scalp with slow, deliberate strokes, peeling away the last traces of her hair. Olivia remained silent, her body frozen in place as he worked. The scent of shaving cream mixed with the salty sea air drifting in from outside.

The barber wiped her head clean with a damp towel, running his hand over the smooth skin with a satisfied grunt. “There we go, another wife shaved.” He turned to James, smirking. “Now, what do you reckon, mate? Want me to take the eyebrows off, too?”

James hesitated for only a moment before he answered yes.

The barber let out a low chuckle. “That’s the spirit.”

He took the clippers again, adjusting them before pressing them to Olivia’s brow. The vibration buzzed through her skull as the first dark arch was erased. James sucked in a breath as the second brow disappeared just as easily.

Olivia’s face looked alien now, strange and blank in the mirror.

The barber set the clippers down, then picked up a small pair of scissors. He held them up for James to see. “How about the lashes? Might as well go all the way.”

James nodded. “Yes.”

The scissors came closer. Olivia blinked rapidly, but she didn’t resist.

The barber pinched her eyelash between his fingers and snipped. The delicate hairs fluttered down, leaving her eye looking stark and bare. He did the same to the other, leaving her utterly transformed.

When he finally stepped back, he let out a satisfied grunt. “Now that’s more like it. A proper wife for a proper man.”

James stepped forward, running a tentative hand over her scalp. His fingers trailed over the smoothness, down to where her brows had once been. His breathing was shallow.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured.

Olivia sat still, staring at herself in the mirror. The girl who had walked into the shop was gone. As the barber dusted off the last remnants of hair from Olivia’s neck and shoulders, she swallowed hard and finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I… have a scarf or something?” She wasn’t sure what she expected, but even as she asked, she knew it wasn’t up to her.

The barber snorted. He didn’t even look at her—his gaze went straight to James. “Oh no, mate. That wouldn’t be right.” His grin widened. “It’s tradition to parade a newly shaved wife around town bareheaded. The other men like to rub it for good luck.”

Olivia’s stomach twisted, but James… James smiled.

The barber chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Women have to earn their privileges.” He reached for a bottle of sunscreen, squirted a generous amount into his palm, and slathered it over Olivia’s exposed scalp. His rough hands worked the lotion in, rubbing every inch with an almost mocking thoroughness. “Don’t want your pretty little head getting burned now, do we?” he said with a smirk.

Olivia kept her eyes down.

James watched, fascinated. He reached out, running his hand over her scalp again, as if savoring the sensation.

“She’s ready,” the barber declared, stepping back and dusting off his hands. “Go on, then. Show her off.”

James offered his hand. Olivia hesitated for only a second before taking it.

The bell jingled as they stepped outside, the bright coastal sun glaring down on Olivia’s newly bare head. The breeze felt strange against her scalp. Then the eyes started turning toward them.

Men nudged each other, smirks forming as they took in the sight. Their anticipation had paid off. One of them, a burly fisherman, grinned and stepped forward. “Ah, fresh one, is she?” He reached out, rubbing Olivia’s scalp with a firm, calloused hand. “Smooth as can be. Good luck, mate.”

James beamed.

More men followed, each taking their turn, rubbing their rough hands over Olivia’s gleaming scalp, murmuring their approval to James, never to her. She stood there, letting them, feeling smaller with each touch. James, however, never looked prouder.

That night, Olivia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day played over and over in her mind—the cruel laughter of the barber, the way the men in town had rubbed her bare scalp like she was nothing more than a trophy. The cold air against her skin where her hair should have been.

She felt stripped, reduced, humiliated.

And yet… their lovemaking once they got back to their rental had been incredible. James had taken her with an intensity she’d never felt before. Even now, her body still tingled from it.

She turned her head slightly, catching James watching her in the dim light. His fingers traced along her smooth scalp, but there was something different in his expression. He wasn’t looking at her with the same admiration he once had.

“You look… different,” he said after a moment.

Her stomach twisted. She knew what he meant. She wasn’t beautiful anymore. Not in the way she had been.

James exhaled, his grip tightening slightly on her bare head. “It’s definitely a downgrade,” he admitted, his voice casual, as if he were commenting on a normal bad haircut rather than the brutal makeunder that she just endured for him.

Olivia swallowed hard.

“But,” he continued, his fingers gliding over her smooth skin, “it’s worth it. Because now, when I look at you, I see exactly what you are.”

She shivered.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her scalp. “And there’s no hiding it anymore.”

A lump formed in Olivia’s throat. She wanted to protest, to pull away, but she didn’t. She had already let this happen. There was no going back.

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