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krirebr · 3 months ago

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Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown.

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with.

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard.

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.”

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?”

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey.

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.”

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is.

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks.

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills.

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly.

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.”

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice.

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new.

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you.

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts.

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says.

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?”

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine.

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking.

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood.

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything.

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything.

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous.

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.”

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?”

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.”

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this.

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work.

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in.

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.”

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.”

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly.

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath.

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.”

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table.

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't.

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either.

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous.

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again.

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis.

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist.

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why.

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored.

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money.

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.”

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore.

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little.

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.”

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt.

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout.

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him.

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you.

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him.

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps.

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year ago

Note

Sweet, sweet Aspen. You have been a very bad girl. This soft!dark guy, your boss, caught you doing something wrong—something that could easily get you fired—but he decided maybe, jussst maybe, he should keep your indiscretion, and your resulting punishment, between the two of you. After all, he’s been dreaming about filling you with his cock for ages 😏

(I picked this GIF because it looks like he’s saying, “On your knees.” lolll)

well, dearly beloved sister ho, you know we were thirsting over a particularly ... inspiring gif.

I don't think you anticipated your ask to spawn THIS, but... here we are! THANKS FOR POPPING MY ANDY CHERRY!

Title: I'm Your Man Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 3k Summary: You've spent weeks working to pull off the perfect night for Andy Barber's big charity event. A rush job, but you worked meticulously and diligently over six weeks to coordinate the biggest event of your career to date. You weren't the only one with a plan for the night.

Content Warnings: extortion, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT, spitting, oral - male receiving, spanking, vaginal intercourse, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Logistical Notes: A NAUGHTY submission @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge. Prompts incorporated are in bold.

Additional Notes: I didn't want to write a summary. There's only enough plot here to smut you up. Dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @firefly-graphics.

You sit up straight when you hear the door to Andy’s home office open behind you.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says as he strides across the room and takes a seat in the leather executive desk chair.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barber,” you reply. Every part of your body is tired – tired in a good way from the long day of work – so you were eager to get home, soak in your tiny tub, and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend, but it hadn’t been an incredible inconvenience when he’d asked if he could speak with you before you left.

“Tonight was exquisite, you did well,” he doles out the praise, and you try to quell the blooming in your chest. In the six weeks working with Andy Barber to plan the charity event you’d just executed for his foundation you had seen that he wasn’t one to casually compliment, hard to impress. You had taken more and more satisfaction out of each meeting, email, or text exchange as you consulted and then presented him with options for the event when he had fewer and fewer notes, knowing you had cracked his taste and gained his approval. He’d been your toughest client to date, but by far one of the most rewarding as he had excellent taste.

“Nearly perfect,” he adds.

Your smile falters ever so slightly, and suddenly your chest floods with a chill. “Nearly perfect? I’m sorry, sir, what didn’t live up to your expectations?”

This was far from your first event, you had built an incredible portfolio over the years, and you knew you were finally ascending to be one of the best event coordinators on the eastern seaboard – you had received an email request from a goddamn Vanderbilt to plan a wedding for them in a year and a half that you were going to respond to and accept in the morning. You weren’t arrogant, but you’d worked damn hard and knew you were good.

“You.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I – what?”

“Only one misstep tonight.”

Your brain flies back through the evening, reviewing every moment, raking through trying to determine what you could have possibly missed.

“I’m very particular about what belongs to me, and I cannot abide theft.”

Your jaw drops.

“Empty your bag.”

Now your whole body is buzzing with incredulity. You shake your head.

“I know what’s in there.”

You almost didn’t take this job when it landed in your lap. He was the reason you knew you should have said no. There were whispers about his reputation, his real businesses. But you took the initial consultation because the pitch was more money than you’d made over the last three years. Then when you’d met him, he’d been so normal, so nice, maybe a little charming, and up until this moment you had convinced yourself there was no way any of those rumors had been right.

But before you even put your hand in your bag, you knew you were wrong to have thought he wasn't all those awful things.

Not one, not two, but three Rolex watches nestled in the bottom of the main pocket. Watches you'd never seen - wouldn't even have known where to find them.

You scoop them out and drop them on his desk, eyes burning with tears. “Why?”

“Yes, why? I was already giving you a fat paycheck. What a shame when I had just given your name to the Vanderbilts’ social secretary for their son’s wedding a few days ago, I’ll have to reach out and let them know.”

“No,” you breathe.

“I’ll have to discreetly let everyone in my network know it’s better not to invite someone in their home with such light fingers.”

Your breath hitches and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle an almost sob, trying to hold back the onset of tears. “Andy, no, please.”

His smile softens. “There we are,” he coos, “you finally called me Andy like I’ve told you to so many times.”

He leans forward resting his arms on his desk.

“Now, if you go upstairs, be a good girl, put on what I left for you in my room, and wait for me, maybe I can make all of this little misunderstanding go away.”

His steel blue eyes are hard, they demand an answer.

You cock your chin up wishing you could say no, wishing you could even scowl at him, but aside from the heat and hurt in your eyes, you know you can’t do anything more without risking further ruin, so ultimately you let your chin drop and nod, resigned to the impossible power this man wields.

“Now we’re back on track for a perfect night, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.”

You don’t know how long he makes you wait, using the promise of soon as another show of his power, but long enough that your knees hurt from sitting back on your heels in a submissive, kneeling position with your head lowered, hands folded in your lap, and back to the door as the card in the white box left for you had instructed.

Also in the box had been a set of exquisite black lace and silk balconette bra and cheeky underwear. That they fit you like a glove had been both humiliating and alluring.

Even though Andy was the reason you almost said no to the job, even though he was the humiliating reason you were in this position – extorted into a nearly naked state, no question of what was to come – he was also the reason you took the job.

Dread pooled in your stomach, but along with the dread and humiliation, there were rivulets of shameful desire.

You had taken the job for the money and for how quietly charming he had been. He had never outright flirted with you, but he always left you with the question of whether he was. You worked hard for him because it felt good to win his approval. He praised you and you had preened under his intense blue eyes every time. You had forced yourself to keep everything professional.

All for nothing since you were in the farthest position of professional now.

When you finally hear him enter the room, your sit up straight again.

He tsks and says, “Head down, sweetheart.”

Andy comes around to stand in front of you. You see his perfectly polished shoes, the perfectly tailored trousers. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. He runs his thumb over your lips, circling them.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

You do.

He leans closer, then spits in your mouth, and you blink in surprise, a surge of humiliation running through you, but his grip on your jaw is powerful, so you don’t move away.

“Close your mouth but don’t swallow.”

He moves back from you then, and he begins to silently undress. He had already taken off his jacket, but he doesn’t hurry as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, the buttons down his chest, and then shrugs it off his shoulders. He places it nicely on a plush armchair on the side of the room. Next he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes and socks.

The way he doesn’t watch you but does all of this in your line of vision, knowing you have to watch, is another move meant to communicate who is in control of this situation. Still holding his saliva on your tongue is starting to become uncomfortable. Your instinct is to swallow, but you don’t know what disobedience may mean with Andy, so you fight the urge, not wanting to tempt any more of his darkness.

He stands and takes the shoes and socks to a large closet off to the side of the room, and when he returns, he stands directly in front of you again, takes your jaw in his hands again.

“Show me,” he says.

Your eyes watch his face you open your mouth, showing him the pool of saliva.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs. You hate the small bloom in your chest those words immediately invoke again. He spits into your mouth for a second time, then with a caress that is too tender he urges you to close your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do.

Andy unbuckles his belt, unbuttons the top of his fly, then unzips and pushes down the waist of his trousers with his briefs, and reveals his hard cock for you.

He’s big.

You had gotten yourself off to the thought of him a few of times late at night alone in your bed, most recently a few days ago, and you hated that you had since you were now here like this, forced on your knees in front of him.

Your core is pulsing with heat at the sight of him though – bigger than you had fantasized, and bigger than any man you’ve been with previously. You know he’ll fill you in a way that will ruin you for other men. You want and dread it.

“Take me in your mouth, sweetheart,” he commands.

Instead of forcing his cock into your mouth, this is more possessive, having you submit yourself to pleasing him of your own accord. You know every way he’s manipulating you.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” he trails off, leaving the end open for your imagination.

You plant one hand softly on his hip and wrap your other hand around his shaft, leaning forward to take him in your mouth. As you push forward, he groans. He won’t hold back when he’s pleased with you – he never has, he knows it affects you. His hands go to either side of your head. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sucking him, bobbing up and down his length, and for a while he lets you control the speed and the depth, but his hands let you know he can and will control this when he wants to. After the first couple of minutes, he makes this clear when you push back to take a breath and wipe the mix of your spit and his pre-cum dripping out of your mouth and his hands firmly prevent you from moving off him. Instead, he pushes you down slowly – more slowly than you had been pumping – and doesn’t stop until your nose hits his lower abdomen. You try to push against his hips, and he pushes his hips forward with you still anchored on his dick. Your eyes well up.

“So pretty,” he says, “imagined you like this, but you’re more gorgeous than I thought you would be.”

Something in your chest melts. You wish he wouldn’t say things like that. It makes you weaker – weaker for him. He pulls back just an inch or two, then pushes his length into your throat again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, my perfect fucking girl.”

You whimper, and the tears spill over.

His right hand moves away from your face and around behind him. He’s quick, and when you can see his hand again, it’s to discover he’s taken his phone out of his back pocket. He takes photos of you, angling the phone a few different ways. Then he tosses the phone onto the chair where he’d laid his shirt.

Then he resumes his small, concentrated rutting, only easing out just enough to make the thrust back in worth it for him. As he does, he groans, swears, wipes tears from your cheeks, and the moment before it’s too much, he finally pulls you off him.

You fall forward, gasping for deep lungfuls of air, but he’s already putting a hand under your arm and hauling you up.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, man handling you with surprising ease, doing most of the work your weak and aching legs can’t do to hoist you up onto his Alaskan king bed.

He’s immediately up as well and behind you, the last of his clothing stripped off. His fingers quickly undo the clasp of your bra and pull it off your shoulders and toss it away. He pushes you forward, toppling you down to the mattress. He slaps your ass, and you gasp and jerk. He brings his hand down on your round flesh again, with another sting, but the second one has you moan, and he lets out a satisfied, “Yes,” before giving you a third slap, the hardest, and you moan again, but this one more guttural, and you’d be mortified if you weren’t shocked over the way it translated to pleasure so quickly to your brain.

Then he yanks the lacy underwear roughly down and off your legs, tossing it away as well. He pushes between your legs behind you, splitting your legs open, and his fingers seek your cunt.

He hums in approval, “So wet for me. Ready for me.”

You huff and pant.

He leans over your back, pressing you down into the mattress. “Are you eager for me?”

“Andy,” you whine.

“Say it and I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to. You bury your face in the covers.

He slaps your ass again, and you yelp.

“Admit you want me to fuck you.”

Another slap.

Another.

“Yes,” you finally concede.

“To breed you.”

You gasp, but he’s already hauling you further up the bed, and he drapes himself over your back, arms caging you in on either side of your body. His legs push yours apart as he leans down to press kisses over your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck, along your spine. He uses one hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your leaking entrance. He doesn’t care to stretch you. “Take me in your cunt, sweetheart, it’s mine.”

The only mercy is that he slots himself in slowly.

You press your hands up against the headboard and concentrate on taking deep breaths, on trying to relax your walls completely, because he’s entering you, in you, filling you, unrelenting invasion and it’s pleasure and pain and too much and not enough because every moment of more fullness is exquisite and you can’t even think about holding back the sound he’s pushing out from your diaphragm, up your throat, and out of your mouth, because that’s how it feels as he's filling you.

Once’s he’s fully inside of you, he presses his mouth right next to your ear. “I’m going to fill this pussy with my seed.” He anchors one hand on your hips, then begins pull out, only so he can start thrusting back in. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

You’ve never had an orgasm only from vaginal penetration, but the way he fills you as he fucks you, and at this angle, making you almost forget to keep breathing, you wonder if this is how you’ll go, strung out as his cock punishes you with the pleasure, but then his hand works around beneath you and his fingers quickly find your swollen and aching clit. You cry out, and one of your hands reaches back to cling to him, fingers clutching into his hair. He nips at your neck, chuckling darkly.

“My pretty girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well, you close?”

An immediate, “Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“Then let go,” he commands, pinching your clit harshly.

You see stars, and you cry out for him.

Hearing you scream his name and feeling you clench around him is all he needs, and he pumps his cum into you, saying more dirty, filthy, possessive things, but you don’t know what the words are, because you’re completely lost to coherency.

He sinks his full weight on top of you when he’s completely spent.

Both of you are silent while you come down, heartrates returning to normal.

You wait for him to say whatever he’s going to torment you with next, but he doesn’t speak.

After more long moments, he finally pushes up enough to turn you from your front to your back. He cups your jaw again and strokes his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches at the intimate gesture in the aftermath.

“Aw, why are you crying now, sweetheart?”

No, you didn’t want more tears, and not these - the soft tears. You try to look away, but he forces your face back to look at him.

“I would have slept with you if you’d asked, Andy, why did you have to do it like this?”

“Because this is so much more than that, sweetheart. I didn’t want to just sleep with you, and I needed you to know from here on out that you’re mine. I own you. I’m very particular about what belongs to me. I didn’t want you to have any illusion that there’s a choice here.”

He brushes the tears off your cheek.

“I’ll have my men move your things here in the morning, and we’ll elope in a few weeks. I’m closing the deal on a resort in Lake Como, doesn’t that sound perfect? We’ll tie the knot and then spend our honeymoon there – we can stay all summer if you want.”

You hesitate.

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do. Now I asked you, ‘doesn’t that sound perfect?’”

“Yes, Andy,” you whisper.

“Of course, it does.” He finally kisses you – and it’s dangerously soft. Warm lips engulfing yours, insistent, sucking your bottom lip between his. You whimper, and he licks his tongue into your mouth, lapping you up. He rolls over with you, putting him back on the mattress with you on his chest. He holds you pressed to him with one hand, the other hand securing your head so you can’t escape his kiss until he’s done kissing you.

It isn’t until you think you might pass out from how breathless you are that he finally breaks off the kiss. He shifts his pelvis up against you, his cock hardening again. “And I was serious about you carrying my child. But first you’ll ride my face until I’ve made you cry for a good reason, and then I’ll fill you up with more of my seed. You’re not leaving this bed the rest of the weekend.”

ARE YOU OKAY? AM I? DO WE EVEN CARE IF WE'RE OKAY?

read: -> THE MORNING AFTER

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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#andy barber x female reader #andy barber smut #soft dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #tw: dubcon #aspen wrote something #navy and roo's sleepover #i'm your man collection

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chaos-to-my-thoughts · 7 months ago

Text

Andrew Creeper Barber, Attorney at Law

End Game 2

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

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?”

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?”

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!”

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.”

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?”

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...”

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.”

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.”

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles.

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles.

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter.

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!”

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Little.”

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.”

“Oh, what’d you do--”

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.”

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.”

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.”

“You too.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t, work. Day after?”

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything.

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver.

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad.

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too.

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks.

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.”

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases.

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.”

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.”

“Again?” You squint.

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles.

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest.

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there.

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes.

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?”

“Hey,” you frown.

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.”

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms.

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.”

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.”

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?”

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...”

“That’s mean,” you pout.

“What, so are you,” she laughs.

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read.

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁'

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking?

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead.

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply.

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty.

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.”

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.”

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.”

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again.

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then.

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.”

“Kar,” you warn her.

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.”

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else.

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive.

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.”

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer.

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says.

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious.

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages.

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around.

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel.

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din.

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee.

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line.

“Uh, hello?” You utter.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice.

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online.

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.”

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures.

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you?

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.”

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?”

He cringes and takes another breath, “he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.”

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid.

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--”

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.”

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--”

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--”

“I was scared--”

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.”

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet.

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe.

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads.

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.”

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing.

#darkficsyouneveraskedfor #dark andy barber!

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sosa2imagines · 7 months ago

Text

Broken Hearts.

Each part will have different warnings. There's only one love interest and it is not Steve. He is dark and mean in the series along with one more character. As for the rest, they are good friends.

New part every second day. (Hopefully)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 (Epilogue)

Complete. ✅

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eccentricallygothic · 3 months ago

Text

Psycho Husband!Steve Rogers who is a crazed coercive bastard.

Warning(s): Noncon, misogyny/sexism, depraved housewife kink, head shaving/hair cutting, he's a mental mf who thinks he is only doing what's best for you; cruel punishments are care and better sense according to him, age gap, fear kink, infantilization, humiliation, size kink. MDNI.

. . .

You meekly sit atop your husband, Steve Rogers' lap as he feeds himself and you the dinner you meticulously prepared for him as he cares greatly for detail and perfection.

The older man hums with each bite, one large paw caressing your back from over the thin -nearly sheer- material of one of the many dresses that make up the entirety of your wardrobe.

“Absolutely delicious, baby, good job” he has been praising you with each bite and so you cannot help but smile at the compliments, your smaller body resting against his as you gently comb his hair with your fingers.

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

“Thank you, my heart” you kiss his cheek that he had shaved just this morning when you were on your knees getting rid of his morning wood. He usually does that at night but you chose to wear a certain dress yesterday that caused for you to remain trapped in bed from the moment he got home till the both of you woke up tangled and sticky.

“See?” Now his fingers silkily glide up the length of your spine, past its dents that appear on your nape and towards your scalp that holds no barriers between your skins. “Wasn't I right?” Steve's fingertips flex all over your shiny head that he keeps empty from any hurdle between yourself and him. “Didn't it make things all better for us, hm?” Your tongue grows heavy and you feel it beginning to swell.

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

“Yes, hubby, you were” you feel him stroke the bald crown of your head and the feeling of his coarse skin rubbing your soft and moisturized one sends shivers down your spine.

His dark but relaxed blue eyes watch you, outwardly friendly but secretly inspecting you closely for the tiniest slip up. “Just too stupid to see it back then, weren't you?”

You nod nervously, offering him a smile as you avert your gaze from his, choosing to awkwardly play with his dress shirt instead. “Yes, hubby, I was.” Before you look up momentarily. He hates it when you don't look at him while speaking. “Thank you for teaching me better.”

“And what did I teach you?” You bite your tongue, his words scalding your ears.

Of course, he wants you to say it.

It is a routine that he likes to do every night.

“That you are always right because you know better.” You resist the urge to cringe from how he suddenly gives you a burst of praise head rubs.

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

He knows you don't like his hand rubbing your bald head like you're some kind of an animal and he still does it.

You've made the mistake of fighting back one too many times in the past.

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

“Yeah?” His eyes begin to dance all over your form in that lewd fashion of theirs. “And how did I teach you that?” This is nothing new, and yet your heart drops.

“You taught me by…” Your face becomes hot from the embarrassment and humiliation. “B- By…” Fuck.

Even after all this time, it's no easier to do it.

“By?” You can feel his sick arousal poke into the back of your thigh. He shifts to readjust himself. “Know what, honey?” He actually has the gall to sound friendly like he's doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart. “I'll help your little mind out by giving you a hint.” You cannot hold his gaze anymore. So you drop your eyes and train them on his collars as you whimper into his cheek from how he hugs you closer with the arm he has draped around you. He loves proximity. “It had something to do with a machine and a cute head” his long fingers caress your scalp in circular motions.

Your heart is erratic against his chest. “H–” the whimper you let out is shaky and pathetic. Your expression falters into one of pain but you recover just as fast. At least on the outside. “T- Taught me by shaving my head.”

Steve's smirk is one of pride. “Oh? And what setting did I shave it on? Did I leave anything behind or did you become a complete cueball?”

Tears sting your eyes from the sensitivity and helplessness as you feel your throat tighten even more. “N- No, hubby. Nothing was left. You shaved it all off…” Closing your eyes momentarily is the only way you can let out your next words. “Until I was a cueball.”

“And why was that, huh, baby?” Now he speaks to you like you're a child.

He does that when he is horny.

The realization makes your stomach twist.

“B- Because you warned me many times but—” your voice breaks and you softly sob into his cheek all of a sudden because the memories overwhelm you. “I didn't l- listen and my hair kept getting in the food I would prepare for you.” He somberly cooes and lowers your head forwards in a submissive position to caress the links of your spine.

“Oh, honey. Is that what happened?” Though Steve rests his cheek atop your bald head that he keeps shiny with scented oils and feigns sadness his bulge is too stiff against your tender skin for his little act to hold any weight.

“Yes, hubby.” Your tears fall on your lap.

“And how did it happen, huh, darling?” He loves the helplessness of your situation. That has got to be it. “Can you tell me?”

You nod and swallow the bile in your throat. Denial is not an option. “The scary razor went all over my head, hubby” you make yourself sound like a baby because that's what he likes. “Like buzz buzz buzz~” you try to mimic the sound and gesture as you run a pretend trimmer over your naked scalp.

“Aw, it was scary for your little baby self, was it?” You timidly nod, pouting a little. “That's because you're so small and easily scared, aren't you?” He presses kisses all over your head and pinches your cheek.

“Yes, hubby.”

“Aw, my poor girl” he cups your face and lets his thumb trace the shape of your mouth. “I get it, you’re just a baby” he cannot but kiss you deeply before speaking again.

“But it was necessary, wasn't it? And it worked” it is typical of him to seek validation for his unhinged actions from you, probably helps him sleep easier and pumps his pompousness further. “No more hair in the food.” He smiles and forces you to look at him by tipping your head back.

“No more hair in the food.” You echo him like the hollow doll he has made of you.

“Awww” he chuckles at the dejection in your voice. “Cheer up, silly. You look just as perfect as the first moment I laid my eyes on you” his lips repeatedly peck yours for a few moments. Then he continues. “I am the only one whose opinion matters for you and I think you're the most gorgeous thing alive” he scoops you up in his arms before standing up and you give him a smile like you're supposed to. He leans in to capture it in his own. “The cueball only makes you sexier and more nude for me. So it's a win all around” you whimper into the words he utters against your mouth. “C'mon, hubby will make you feel all better.” He whispers before carrying you to the bedroom. It is impossible not to be aware of your devastation and that is why he offers compensation the way he does. “Yeah?”

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

If you made it down here, hi you're cool.

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thezombieprostitute · 3 months ago

Text

Trick for a Treat

A/N: Written for @yenzys-lucky-charm and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork's Horny Hoes Hootenanny using the prompts:

🍁 "I'm gonna make you mine"

🍁 "Will you quit acting like I have the plague?"

🍁 fantasy/supernatural AU

🍁 praise

🍁 meeting a demon/ghost/witch on All Hallows Eve

Word Count: ~2.9k

Warnings: DARK FIC!! Coercion, Forced submission, Mind control, Noncon. Please let me know if I missed any!

The company Halloween party was in full swing and you were determined to enjoy yourself. You weren't really one for dressing up, but you wore some accessories and wanted to take part in some of the games. Really you were happy to get time out of your department, away from your boss and his attempts to win you over with his "so pathetic you have to love me" ploy. You'd tried to bring it up with HR, present your case, but it didn't get anywhere. Andy stayed just on the legal side of things so your only options were either find a different job or just endure.

You're enjoying some of the hot apple cider when you see him. Your smile drops and you move to another area of the building. He follows you, keeping you moving until he finally catches up, giving you nowhere to leave.

"Will you quit acting like I have the plague?" he gripes. "You don't have to keep running from me."

"Will you accept that I'm not interested in dating you?"

His face hardens, "why not? What have I ever done to turn you away?"

"You don't take 'no' for an answer. That should be reason enough!"

"Not when you can't tell me why you said 'no' in the first place," he growls.

"I don't owe you an explanation!"

His jaw tightens as he leans in far closer than you like, "I'm gonna make you mine. And you will love me for it."

You start to retort and push him away but then his eyes darkened. Literally, they turn black, causing you to freeze, oddly mesmerized by them. He smiles and you find yourself unable to turn away.

"I got a present for you," he whispers, his voice sounding almost otherworldly. He opens up a jewelry case and you see a cutesy, pink butterfly collar necklace. It's the sort of thing you would normally scoff at, especially after Andy's continuous comments about how you'd look so cute if you wore more pink. Instead you're frozen, unable to even blink, still mesmerized by his eyes.

He tells you to put the collar on and you can't help but comply. Internally you feel like you're trapped in a dream, limbs sluggish, voice not working. You clasp the necklace on and it's like you're frozen in place. You can't even struggle for control anymore, cut off from your own body.

Andy's eyes return to normal and he takes a minute to catch his breath. "You took up a lot of power, Butterfly, but I should've figured as much from you." He place a hand on your cheek, you're unable to stop him, to pull away, to do anything. He smiles smugly, "I knew I couldn't use that spell on you forever, so I worked out a little deal to get this necklace for you. It's already working better than expected." He gives you a small kiss on your lips. You want to vomit, smack him, protest in any way, but you can't.

He pulls away, "you're going to be a good girl for me from now on, right, Butterfly?"

"Yes, Master," you automatically respond.

"Good girl," he whispers in your ear and you let out a whine as you feel a jolt of pleasure in your core. He smiles cruelly, "did that make you wet?"

"Yes, Master," you reply, your voice strained.

"Perfect," he purrs. "Now go back to your desk, clock out for the day, and wait for me out front."

"Yes, Master." You're moving before you finished speaking. Seemingly every fiber of your being is determined to be obedient and make Andy happy. Your body is going through the motions while your brain keeps kicking and screaming, trying desperately to make it stop. You must be having some kind of effect given that tears are currently blurring your vision.

Stepping outside, you wait. Andy's car pulls up and he looks at you, expectantly, but you don't move. I was only ordered to wait, you realize. This whatever-the-hell-it-is has limits!

He's clearly realized this as well given that he opens the passenger door from his seat and motions for you to come into the car. Again, your body doesn't respond. You allow yourself a moment of smugness as you see his jaw tense in irritation. He calls for you to join him and your body finally moves as he wishes. At his command you buckle yourself up and he begins driving.

When you get onto the main road you hear the sound of Andy's zipper coming undone. You want to cringe, get away, but you remain motionless. He takes your hand and places it around his half hard member. "Be a good girl and stroke me until I come," he orders, causing your hand to start moving. You're glad you only have to look straight ahead, you don't want to witness yourself doing this.

He starts moaning, "feels so good. I knew you'd know how to treat a man." Your hatred for him is interrupted by his utterance of, "such a good girl." Just like last time, you feel a shock of pleasure, causing you to whimper, your body wanting more. "Squeeze tighter, Butterfly," he whispers. Your hand automatically goes a little tighter but you jump at an idea. He never said how much tighter to squeeze. You're able to get your body to listen and it keeps squeezing until Andy cries out.

"BAD GIRL!" he shouts.

Your body collapses on itself, mouth open in a silent scream. The pain is intense, the worst you've ever felt. It feels like you're being torn apart from the inside. It feels like an eternity passes before Andy puts a hand on the back of your neck, ceasing the pain.

"Have you learned your lesson?" His voice is dripping with anger.

"Yes, Master," you sob.

"Good. Now get back to stroking my cock like a good slut."

"Yes, Master." Your hand gets back to work, and he calms down as he enjoys your touch. You're certain his power over you is making him hard as opposed to your actual touch. His cock twitches and you feel the precum leaking.

"Be a good girl and suck me off," Andy growls. You don't even have time to get the "yes, master" out before taking his cock down your throat. "Holy shit," he breathes. "Should've known you'd be such a good slut for me. Fuck, you feel so good. Gonna have to pull over so I can enjoy this."

You barely notice the car pulling to a stop, distracted by your attempts to fight whatever spell your under. You thought you hated this man before, but now you feel an even deeper rage, accentuated by the taste of him in your mouth. Your anger intensifies as he strokes your hair and repeats, "good girl", making you whine with need and pleasure. He calls himself "daddy" in the midst of his praising and you wish you could vomit. You almost do when he pushes your head down as he comes. You can't breathe but your body wasn't ordered to do anything so you can't fight it and you end up passing out.

You wake up as the car pulls into a garage. Andy looks at you, smile on his face, "we're home Butterfly! Welcome to the rest of your life." He caresses your cheek, turning your face to him, "you're going to make me so happy, aren't you?"

"Yes, Master." Inside you are raging. You've been kidnapped, controlled, humiliated and you can still taste him in your mouth. You decide to lay low and keep an ear out for opportunities to break his spell, or whatever the hell is in this collar.

"Get inside and take off your clothes, leaving the jewelry on," he orders you. Clearly he's being careful with his words.

"Yes, Master." At the very least, once inside you can gather more intel on your options. You remove your clothes, leaving the collar in place, though some of the dangles almost get caught on your shirt.

"And make sure you fold up your clothes, nice and neat," you hear him say from behind you, still in the garage.

"Yes, Master."

Once your clothes are off and neatly folded, your body goes into standby mode again, waiting for the next command. Andy circles you several times. If you'd had any control you'd at leas try to cover yourself. Instead, he's getting to see everything. You itch to smack that smug smile off of his face.

"I can't believe you resisted me for so long," he coos. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, I genuinely tried to go about this the traditional way, but you fought me for so long, I had to go another route." He cups your face in his hands and moves you to look at him. "But we're together now and I promise to make you so happy you'll never want to leave me."

If you had the ability you'd scoff at him.

"Now, let's get you properly dressed up," he sighs as he gropes your breasts. "I have some more appropriate attire for you in the bedroom. Follow me."

"Yes, Master." Looking to test the limits of this magic, you think, I wasn't told I couldn't look around. Frustratingly, your eyes remained locked in place, staring at Andy's back. He didn't say how quickly to follow him, you try. You're rewarded by taking slower steps than you were before. I'm limited by what he says, but I clearly don't have to be told to do things like blink or breathe.

Inside the bedroom Andy moves you to the stand in front of the closet and tells you to stay. "I think you're going to like what I have for you," he grins. "It's nothing like what you normally wear, it's so much better." He opens the closet and you feel a fresh wave of hatred. It's full of dresses and skirts. All so much shorter than anything you'd ever wear voluntarily. "I know I've told you how beautiful you'd look in these kinds of clothes. Maybe once you see yourself, you'll believe me. Maybe even thank me for opening your eyes."

He grabs a pink cami dress with butterflies on it. "I think this will be a good match for you collar. Be a good girl and put it on."

"Yes, Master." The fabric feels soft in your hands. You already suspect it won't fit you properly, clearly designed for someone with a skinnier waist. Sure enough, you can feel some of the seams start ripping as you put it on. Again you let yourself take some joy in the frustration written all over Andy's face.

"Well, we'll definitely have to adjust your diet," he gripes. You feel another wave of rage at his words. You worked hard to be comfortable with your body. You're not about to let this asshole undo all of that because he thinks you should look differently. If you get the chance you'll happily leave scars on face. See how he likes being judged. He does a double take and you wonder if he can see the fire in your eyes. His face hardens again and he growls, "be a good girl and tell me what you'd like to wear."

"Whatever you'd like me to wear, Master." Of course that's why he'd ask. It's a reminder to you that he's in charge.

"Remember that," he glares at you. You're sure it's meant to intimidate, make you feel helpless, but you will never stop hating this man, this creature. He must see the defiance in your eyes because he straightens himself up and says, "bad girl."

This time, you're ready. It still hurts enough that your body collapses on the floor and your mouth opens in a silent scream again. Your body writhes in pain and flails about. He wants to say I'm a bad girl, so I'm going to be bad! Your hand reaches up to the collar and, before Andy realizes what's happening, you rip off one of the dangling gems. The pain is lessened and Andy starts shouting at you to stop, but you've got leverage now.

It takes everything you have to resist him. You don't ignore the pain, you use it to fuel the hatred that gives you strength. He grabs your hand to stop you from removing another gem and you bite his hand, causing him to let go. I'll show you how much of a bad girl I can be. You break off another gem and the pain eases even more. Using the energy from the sudden relief, you push yourself to fully remove the collar. Andy grabs your hands to stop you, hold you in place, but you're so close to freedom!

"You can still be a good girl," he comments. "I could be so good for you." You gather your strength and headbutt him, forcing him to let go, giving you the break you need to remove the damned collar. You lay there for a moment, relieved to no longer be hurting, reveling in Andy's complaints about you breaking his nose.

Your attempts to move are interrupted by someone clapping. Looking up you see what looks like a man with dark brown hair, blue eyes, a pronounced mustache with a good amount of stubble. He's wearing slacks with a button up shirt and tie. Andy looks at him and immediately starts trying to crawl away. You blink and the "man" is next to Andy, holding him up by his neck.

"Well, Andrew, it looks like you didn't keep your end of the deal."

"Please, Walker, I...she...it's..." Andy stops as the other man's knuckles go whiter. You can only imagine the force Andy's being choked with and you're enjoying it.

"Shhh," Walker shakes his head at Andy. "The deal was, I give you the tools you ask for, and break the spirit of the one who fed your hatred. The hatred that feeds me and my power. It would have been a glorious testament to your devotion to master your rage in such a manner. Yet, here we are." Without looking away from Andy, he points to you. "She's nowhere near broken. You didn't even have her controlled for a full day," he laughs. "If anything, she broke you."

Andy's face is a dark shade of red, you think his lips are turning blue, but you can't find yourself able to care. Suddenly he's dropped on his ass, gasping for breath. Walker snaps his fingers and Andy is bound in chains.

Walker turns to you and helps you stand up. He hums in delight as he looks you over. "So much rage. I'm genuinely impressed."

You sneer and back away from him. "You helped him," you snap. "You helped him hurt me!"

"I am a demon, my dear," he grins. "It's what I do. But clearly I chose the wrong mortal." He goes to grab your chin and you pull away, making him chuckle. "Such delicious energy," he comments as his eyes turn fiery. "Let me offer you a deal."

The room shifts and distorts until it looks like you're in an office. Walker takes a seat at his desk and motions for you to sit across from him. Warily you take a seat. You look at Andy who's still chained up and looking very scared and your nostrils flare.

"Mmmmm, such delicious energy," Walker comments. "Now, as for the deal, I'd like to offer you a couple of options. I'm normally not so generous, but you are certainly something special."

"You don't have anything I want," you spit.

He grins, "I have Andy. And I can give you control over his punishment for breaking my deal with him."

"I'm listening."

"Normally I would just offer you the option of being my acolyte. Letting your rage loose on the world in my name and feeding me power through that. But there's something about you that makes me want to give you another offer: Be my bride."

You scoff, "this is a lose-lose for me. Either way all I get is to hurt him while taking on a new 'master'. I'll pass."

"As my bride, you get to hurt him for eternity," Walker counters. "And not just him. All others who have done as he sought to do to you."

That gives you pause. "And if I only choose to be your acolyte?"

"Then you only get to hurt them for as long as they're alive," he explains. "But you will be given the means to hunt them down, trap them, and break them."

"But in both cases, I am bound to you. I appreciate the offer, the compliments, but I'll pass." You look over to Andrew, "I'm not interested in being bound to anyone."

The office disappears and you're back at Andy's house. Walker looks a little chagrined at the declined offer. He hands you a business card, "if you ever change your mind, let me know. In the meantime," he snaps his fingers and Andy is magically moved into a standing position. "I have some business to take care of."

You smile at Andy as tears form in his eyes. "Not quite the metamorphosis you were hoping for, is it?"

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

#hornyhoeshootenanny #warlock!andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark!andy barber x reader #warlock!andy barber x reader #demon!august walker

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buckyshusband0 · 4 months ago

Text

coming soon

#chris evans #andy barber x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans one shot #x male reader #x reader #dark fanfiction #dark!andy barber #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers angst

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sunshinebuckybarnes · 1 year ago

Note

time to go home

Pairing: Mob!Andy Barber x female!reader

Summary: You thought you'd slipped out of his grasp but you should have known better than to underestimate Andy Barber.

Warnings: petnames (honey), dark!Andy, threats of violence, controlling behaviour. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: It's rare I go a bit dark but this was very fun to write and I am not above writing more (word count: 659)

"You look beautiful, honey."

Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice. The deep baritone causes goosebumps to rise across your skin and a shiver to run down your spine.

You had been so careful. You changed your name. You moved state. You waited. You waited years before letting yourself live again. Before letting yourself believe you were safe, that he would never find you.

You'd been wrong.

His name is nothing but a whisper on your lips as you urge yourself not to cry.

You hear the door shut softly the lock clicking into place as your heart sinks.

"I told you I'd find you."

His voice is closer now and you know better than to turn around. You can feel your muscles tensing with every painful second that passes as you wait for him to come closer to you.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. In thirty minutes you were supposed to be walking down the aisle to start the rest of your life with the man you loved.

"You don't love him, honey. Not like you love me."

You spin around on instinct, forgetting exactly who you are dealing with as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind.

"How dare-"

He cuts you off with a laugh and a tight grip on your jaw.

"How dare I?" he laughs, but there's no humour there. Pulling you closer until you're against his chest, wincing as his fingers dig into your cheeks. "How dare you, honey. I've got to say you didn't make it easy. How long has it been exactly?"

You don't answer. Putting all your energy into keeping your tears at bay as you look into the cold eyes of the man you once loved, the man you now feared.

If you had known what Andy was, you would have never let yourself fall into his trap. But, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Andy was charming, doting, protective and handsome. He was everything a girl dreamed of. He treated you like a queen, you wanted for nothing.

But there were two sides to every coin.

For as charming as Andy was he was just as manipulative. For as doting, he could be just as cold and indifferent. For as protective, he was even more possessive.

You knew Andy was a powerful man from the moment you met him but you had no idea just how much power and influence he possessed.

He made you dependent on him, had you let go from your job, and cut off from your family and friends. You became isolated. He was your only source of comfort and he never let you forget it.

"That's not what love is, Andy," you whisper, no longer able to keep your tears at bay.

The dark look in his eye should scare you but you've seen it enough times. Accustomed to what it means and you know you're not getting out of this this time.

"Just please don't hurt him," you whimper. Thinking about your fiance waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Andy shushes you gently, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, "Oh honey, you're really not in a position to be making demands."

Your eyes widen as a sob tears out of your throat.

Sighing, Andy rolls his eyes at your tears, clearly bored by your attachment to a man who isn't him.

"Fine, I'll let him live," Andy concedes, one hand slipping down to wrap around your throat.

You choke on a sob as his hand tightens enough to convey his next warning.

"But if you ever try and leave me again, I will put a bullet between the eyes of everyone you care about. Do you understand?"

You nod weakly, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Good girl," he purrs, placing a soft kiss against your lips and sealing your fate, "let's go home."

This was fun!! I wouldn't mind writing more if any one has any thoughts... thank you for reading, as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ✨💜

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fic #dark andy barber #chris evans fic

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cottagecheese1 · 8 months ago

Text

unhinged worlds 3

summary: A few years after your father died, your mother marries a new man, to you having a new family meant new beginnings, but what happens when your new beginning comes spiraling apart just because of the people that made them.

paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea. warnings- (DDLG undertones) stepcest, Johnny is NOT Andy's biological father, he is the adopted son. smut, do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the following, spanking, blackmail, p in v, edging, thigh riding, oral, fingering.

Series master list right here

This all seemed so wrong–actually it was wrong. The way Andy was eating you out like a madman between your thighs seemed too good to be true, and the fact that some deep part of you liked this made you shiver. Maybe it was because of the foreign praise Johnny and Colin gave you while you squirmed in their grasp while desperately trying to give yourself an ounce of freedom.

“Aww, honey I just know you’re so close already”, Colin said with a mocking grin.

Apparently, Andy didn’t seem to be fooled by your desperate attempt to conceal the moans that were forced out of the back of your throat, because you felt his mouth attach to your clit and aggressively start sucking. You suddenly jumped back, trying to create some sort of distance between the both of you. Andy then just wrapped his arms around your thighs–pulling you closer, which caused a sudden spasm to exit your body.

“Mmm, look at you sweetheart, all sensitive and shit,” Johnny cooed while pinching your exposed nipples, which caused you to let out a weak squeal.

Colin chuckled and squeezed your other nipple roughly, “She’s just a Baby Johnny, she obviously can’t help it,” he said as he leaned down and pecked your forehead. “can’t you Honey? You’ve never felt this good, have you?”

You really haven’t ever felt this good before. Not that you would ever let any of the three men know that, but the desperate whine you let out as Andy shoved his tongue deeper inside of you just made the two men taunt you more, and the unwanted pleasure that Andy was giving you and with the crude words that spilled out of Johnny and Colin–you could feel that tension building up in your lower stomach want to unravel.

Johnny brushed your hair off your sweat covered forehead with his hand, then leaned down to give you a slight peck on your temple, “C'mon sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me–I know you want to.”, Johnny said with a teasing coo.

Andy then reached up to rub your clit, and that was your breaking point. You no longer could hold in that burning sensation, so you just let it go–feeling your body unravel all at once felt like heaven–you must have not noticed the pornographic moan you let out because the chatter of how ‘pretty she sounds’ came to topic.

As soon as your senses finally came back, you didn’t feel loved or cared about at all. You felt dirty, used even. As you lay on the couch with teary eyes, trying to keep up with the sound of your heartbeat, just so you could try to focus on anything other than the situation you're currently in.

Andy snapped you out of your train of thought when you felt your body being set up to lean against Johnny. Suddenly feeling exposed you bring your knees up to your chest while trying to somewhat cover your exposed chest, but considering the only two bare naked people in the room are You and Johnny–it didn’t seem to surprise you.

Andy then grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, so your gaze was meeting his, then he said, “You did really good honey, I know that was scary, but you sat there and took it like a big girl. Daddy’s so so proud of you.”, he then leaned in to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

Even though his praises did make you feel a little better–you couldn’t stop shaking–the heater broke at the end of spring, so it was always extra chilly in your house. That's why you always wore comfy sweaters around.

Johnny seemed to notice how much you were shivering when he wrapped his arms around you because he said, “You cold baby? Don’t you know I’m a human furnace?”, he asked with a teasing tone. You responded with a small, “yes..I’m cold”, and Johnny seemed to take that as a pass to go ahead and pull you on top of his lap while he adjusted his arms to wrap around you more tightly.

You didn’t even notice Andy left because he came back with what looks like one of his cable knit sweaters and a fresh pair of panties, then he made his way over to you with long strides before kneeling in front of you.

“Daddy got you a nice cozy sweater and fresh pair of panties for his special girl.” Andy said softly as he pulled the overly large sweater over your head and pulled the cotton panties up your legs.

Colin cooed teasingly at your flushed face before saying, “aww, that was nice sweetheart, what do you say?”, you looked down at your lap and fidgeted with your fingers–trying to hide your flushed face.

Andy chuckled before responding for you, “Don’t tease her, she’s just a little shy right now. Isn’t that right honey?”, you look at Andy's smug expression before nodding.

He kisses your forehead before standing back up and sitting by you and Johnny, “That reminds me, your uncle Lloyd is coming tomorrow to stay for a while–you don’t know him honey, but-”, Andy gets cut off by Johnny when he quickly responds with, “That fucker is NOT my uncle. Why is that asshole coming anyway?” Andy rolls his eyes at his banter before he continues.

“Well, I’ve been telling him about our little angel, and he wants to come and see her.”, Andy says sternly. This conversation between them both seemed to make you perk up because, who is Lloyd? Why has he been telling this man about you?

Andy seemed to sense your concern, so he pulled you onto his lap, “Oh honey, there's no reason to be worried...”, he said before he adjusted you on his lap, so you were straddling his legs, then he rested his hands on your hips.

Andy then continued, “Lloyd really likes you sweet girl, so there would be no reason for him to be mean to you unless you’re not very nice, but I won’t have to worry about that because you're a good girl, right?” You paused, trying to process his words, but the expression on his face said, ‘give me an answer now.’ so you just nodded.

“Words angel, I wanna hear that pretty voice.” Andy said sternly, so you responded “Yeah”, you could tell that wasn’t what he was looking for, but he seemed to settle thankfully.

Colin then pitched in, “don’t believe him baby, that guy is a total asshole–he’s probably into some fucked up shit-” Andy cut him off quickly before scolding, “Stop that, you’re scaring her..remember you’re in my house Colin.”

This new information makes you nervous. Scared actually. What if Colin was right–just like he was right about Andy. All you felt right now was overwhelmed and afraid, you never asked for any of this, so now you could only assume this random man was gonna come here and do worse things to you.

You could feel a sob bubbling up in your throat, chest tight, heart racing, you don’t know why you felt embarrassed about the tears that were running down your face. They are the ones doing this to you, it's not your fault, but you couldn’t seem to think when you were hyperventilating and a fresh rack of sobs coming out all at once.

Andy tried to calm you down, rubbing your back and squeezing you in a tight hug did little to cease how upset you felt, “sweetheart, look at me.”, you couldn’t think all you could do was trying to get away from him–you hated how he touched you–how safe he made you feel, how gentle he was. You hated this but you couldn’t help but look at him when he told you too.

“Such a good girl..I know you’re overwhelmed honey, but nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you when you’re here. Lloyd is not gonna hurt you because he knows he needs to be gentle with you.” Andy said as he pressed your head into the crook of his neck.

Johnny leaned over to rub your back and pressed a kiss on the top of your head before saying, “Colin was just exaggerating baby, he’s not that much of an asshole.” Johnny then got up and stretched his arms above his head before continuing, “In fact, he’ll probably treat you just like his little princess, I bet you’ll end up loving it as much as he does.” he ends as he walks away with a yawn.

You could hear a distant “goodnight”, being called, but you just laid against Andy’s chest–listening to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke once more, “He’s right honey, everything is gonna be okay..I’d explain more but you look sleepy, you wanna sleep with daddy tonight? I give great bedtime cuddles.”

You yawned tiredly before snuggling into his chest more and closing your eyes, letting sleep take you over. Andy chuckled before peppering a bunch of kisses on your face, “Alright cutie, let’s get you to bed. Goodnight Colin don’t say anymore shit like that again.” he said while giving a glare to Colin.

“Night’ Mr. B, tell my baby I said goodnight.” Colin responded with a smug grin.

Andy gave him a groan and carried you bridal style to his bedroom–setting your sleeping figure under the duvet. He walked over to his side of the bed, sliding his shirt off while watching your sleepy figure. Andy slid under the blanket beside you and reached over your head to turn the lap off. He pulled you closer to his chest and kissed the crown of your head.

Andy yawned quietly, “goodnight honey, I love you.”

Tag list.

@xycnsstuff

@wolfsmom1

@abbyyourlocalmilf

@jeelsinha

A/n: its currently 12am, sorry I took such a long time for part 3, enjoy! (let me know if you would like to be tagged.)

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chaos-to-my-thoughts · 1 year ago

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I'm glad the reader won't go down without a fight.

Andy remains a socio sicko.

I know Lloyd is a sicko, but he owns it.

(Again, I need to address this pull this crass, mustachioed, pillow princess SOB has on me with my therapist) 🤭🤭🤭

Three for One 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: How are these getting longer lol

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You wriggle helplessly as the man straddles you. You kick your feet into the carpeted floor and grunt into his palm. He’s strong and heavy but you can’t give up. And if you can’t win, you won’t make this easy.

He plants his hand between your shoulders, pinning your chest as he leans his weight on you. He grunts as you shift under him, pushing your knees into the ground as you try to bounce him off. You only manage to awkwardly press your ass into his crotch.

“Hey, stay fucking still,” he squeezes your jaw, glove still flush to your mouth, “and shut the fuck up.” You open and close your teeth, trying to find a catch. He snarls and squeezes you between his legs, “are you trying to bite me again? What the fuck?”

“She’s fucking feral,” the driver tosses over his shoulder.

“Shut up,” the man on you barks back, readjusting to one knee as he brings his other over your back, replacing his hand with his leg.

He fumbles around as you try to see anything in the dim of the van’s compartment. His hand slips as his other comes around, a piece of rough fabric rubbing on your cheek. He pokes it into your mouth with two fingers and you nearly gag on the dry wool.

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “balls, she’s hard to put down.”

“Wasn’t my first choice, trust me.”

“Who let that jackass have final say?” The man over you grumbles.

He drags you with him and reaches above you. You see the edge of the roll of tape as he keeps you trapped under his knee. He swiftly sticks the tape over your mouth so you can’t spit out your gag. Next he grabs your wrists and pulls his knee away.

You tug on your arms, resisting as you keep up your fruitless flailing. No, no, no. You’re not going to just roll over and give in. Get off!

He forces your arms together, winding the end of the tape around your wrists, again and again, until they’re bound taut behind you. He’s panting almost as hard as you are as he plants his feet, standing half bent over you beneath the low ceiling of the fan.

“Damn, well, I didn’t expect her to be so fucking stubborn,” he snickers.

You flip over and shoot your foot up, straight into his crotch. He chokes on his laughter and drops the tape. He cradles between his legs and falls to his knees. He croaks as he catches himself on one hand.

“Goddamn it, you bitch, I was half-cocked,” he contracts as if he’s about to vomit.

You puff through your nose and bend your legs, curling back on your shoulders and using your weight to throw yourself forward. You roll onto your feet, the momentum lifting your ass up but not getting you all the way up. You try again and get one foot and one knee under you.

“What the fuck’s going on back there?” The driver asks as the van rocks with your movement.

“Nothing,” the other man groans and sits up, “nothing at fucking all.”

He swipes his leg across yours and has you slamming back to the floor, this time landing on your shoulder. You grunt and twitch at the jarring pain on your joint. He grabs your arm and hauls you closer. You’re both breathless as he retrieves the tape and fights to bring your ankles together.

He secures your ankles and lets you go. You lean on your hands and watch him as he sits back and swipes his hair away from his forehead. In the small cloud of light from the front of the vane, you see the angle of his jaw and the shaved side of his head.

“God,” he puts his hand over his pants, “I feel that in my throat.” He shakes his head, “don’t worry, pussy cat, you will too. I’m gonna be so fucking deep–”

“Ugh, dude,” the driver mutters.

“Don’t be a fucking prude,” the man stretches his leg out and nudges you with the toe of his boot, “we all know what the hell this is.”

You close your eyes, holding back the hot glaze of tears. You inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves as they cluster in your chest. A million questions race through your mind but you can’t bring yourself to even imagine the answers.

🎀

The van idles in one spot. You temper your breaths as you listen. The driver gets out as the man in the back with you picks his nails with a knife. He started brandishing a while back. Does he really think you aren’t already scared out of your mind?

There’s some sort of grinding nose and footsteps in the gravel coming back to the van. You move, trying to see the front as the driver gets back in, slamming the door and jolting the entire vehicle. The other man pokes you with his toe, his way of warning you.

“Fucking gate,” the driver mutters as he shifts back into gear and leans on the gas.

You garble around the fabric in your mouth, not making much noise as you wiggle and turn to look at the other man. He yawns and examines the long blade, only a shadow as the darkness invades the van. There’s not much light around to colour the world.

“Almost there, pussy cat,” the man teases, "Merry fucking Christmas… well, I think we still got a few hours before the clock tolls.”

You let your head loll. He’s so annoying. Maybe it’s just the situation or that he’s obviously a very bad person, but he irks you so much. Years of working with the general public and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much detest for one person. Usually you could just shrug it off and go onto the next. Right now, you’re quite literally trapped.

The van follows what feels to be a curving road, bumpy as it jostles you against the rough carpet. Your adrenaline ebbs and flows as your eyes flutter one moment only to flick open wide the next. The tire treads mulch the snow, slowing, and stops again. It’s almost pitch black as the van shuts off.

The man in the back stands, you feel it in how the axle bounces. He comes close, boots edging along your side as you sense him close. The door slides open behind him and lets in the moonlight. He bends and grabs your feet, turning your body and dragging you towards the door.

You kick but can’t free yourself from his grasp. He shoves your legs down harshly and pulls you up by the front of your coat. In a second, he has you slung over his shoulder as he turns to the other man.

“Where is he?” The man holding you asks as you squirm. He has his arm hooked around you as his other hand comes up to pinch you, “pussy cat, you don’t start wagging that ass unless you want me to punish it.”

You still, stunned by the suggestion. He’s so gross. You whimper as his shoulder presses uncomfortably into your stomach.

“He’ll be here soon. We should get her inside.”

“We should throw her in the snow and see how long she lasts,” the man sneers, “she’s not as nice as he said.”

“We can deal with that,” the other assures.

A flashlight clicks on. You can’t see anything past the man’s jacket. You bounce on his shoulder as he carries you across the uneven ground. He trails the second man as you hear several electronic beeps and the whir of gears.

A door opens on cold hinges. You’re taken through a doorway as the night air follows you inside. The flashlight’s glare flicks around, illuminating the edges of your vision but offering little more. You hear a click and an overhead light suddenly casts brightly all around you. Still, you can’t see around the man who has you in his grasp.

“Put her in the room,” the other man orders.

“I got it. Don’t act like you’re the boss.”

“Take your own advice. My fucking house.”

“Yeah, and I got the van. Oh, I also came up with the plan, so I’ll say we’re even.”

“You talk a lot.”

The man holding you scoffs, “rich, coming from you.”

“Just like everything else about me. Go on. We gotta wait for him. Figure this shit out.”

“I got it figured out. Strip her down and show her what’s what.”

“We agreed to wait,” the other man insists.

“Oh, so he’s in charge?”

“No, you know he isn’t. I just think… what he said made sense. Go fucking put her in the room so we can talk real shit. I can’t focus with her ass in my face.”

“Tell me about it,” the man slaps your ass and kneads, “it’s like two inches from my mouth–”

You writhe and let out a hollow whine through your nose. He chuckles and falls into step. You lift your head up stiffly as he passes the other man and you meet his eye. You’re not sure if you know him but your gaze falls to the autumnal hued scarf around his neck. You know that scarf.

It can’t be. First Alan and now this guy. This is a conspiracy. It has to be.

You watch the floor change from slated hardwood to patterned carpet and again to dark teak. Down a hall and into another room. Only the light from outside limns your vision as you’re flung from over the man’s shoulder onto an unseen bed. You gasp at the soft mattress, expecting much worse.

“Pussy cat, you stop your hissing and pissing,” he warns as he backs up to the doorway, the light giving a better look at his features, “I’m gonna get to you. Count on it.”

You groan at how the tap chafes your wrists and the smell of the adhesive below your nose. You blink and focus on the man’s silhouette. You think you know him too but you’re not sure. That tuft of hair on his lip seems familiar. Before you can find the memory, his image is blocked out by the door and you’re plunged into sheer darkness.

This can’t be happening. You can’t be here. You have to get home. Who’s going to feed Ernie?

🎀

Your eyes slowly adjust to the dark but you can’t see much. There is not hint of a window to let in any light or even a slat to leak in under the door. More eerie than the deep blackness is the dearth of sound. You can only hear your own breath and the soft squeaks that slip out at your most fraught.

The walls block out anything beyond. That alone is oppressive. If you weren’t tied up, if you weren’t gagged, could anyone even hear your screams?

You wiggle, roll and writhing across the breadth of the mattress. You reach the edge and rock yourself until you can sit up. You inch over the side of the bed until your feet meet the floor. You lean your weight on them and brace yourself.

You’re already out of breath with the effort. You stand, swaying as you struggle to balance on your bound feet. Your knees buckle as you lean this away and that until you can straighten yourself. You hop forward, once, twice, and again. You turn yourself towards where the door shut.

You stagger as you land a bit too hard and you twist, hitting your shoulder on the wall. You huff and puff as the tap grows slick around your lips, the cloth make you gaggle. You sidle, arm again the wall and the handle hits just above your wrist. The metal leaves a thrumming pang in your flesh.

You pivot and lean your back on the door frame, grasp the handle between your hands, sweaty palms struggling to get a grip. You turn this way and that, each time meeting resistance. You squeeze tight and sake yourself and the handle as a croak escape your nose. You didn’t expect it to open but it’s still a defeat.

You slide down to your ass, bending your knees before you as your hands rest behind you on the floor. You hang your head and measure your breaths. You’re not just scared for you, you think of your poor puppy waiting for you. Of you never going home to Ernie. That sparks the fuse to full panic.

You ball your hands to fist and slide down onto your arm. You wriggle down to your back, lifting your legs to the door, setting your boots on it. You pull back and kick, the bang jarring you. You do it again. Harder. You won’t stop. They can’t just leave you here. They can’t ignore you.

A thump comes from the other side. A warning. You kick back, even louder. No response.

You’re exhausted, but you keep going. You kick until your damp with sweat and your legs ache. You bring your feet down over over and until you can’t any more. Then you lay in the blind silence, a sob trapped behind the gag.

Ernie…

You’re almost delirious. Disbelief, fatigue, adrenaline, you’re not sure which. There’s a beeping and a metallic grind. The door shifts, hitting your bent legs as it tries to open. A grunt comes from the other side as the push until you’re forced a few inches up. A light radiates over your suddenly.

You stare up at the white glass shade on the ceiling. The door shoves you further and further. A figure enters and looks down at you. A heavy sigh that tickles your brain. You know it. You look up at that man, Alan or Anthony, as he shuts the door.

He bends to pick you up. He takes you to the bed and puts you on your side. You let him. You can’t do anything else. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks you over. He sits cautiously on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry, honey, I hope they didn’t hurt you,” he caresses your cheek and you wince, “I told them to be nice. Wish I could’ve come with you but… I had to sort some things out.”

You bat your lashes, eyes widening. He cooes as pets your hair. “It’s okay, don’t be scared.”

His fingertips brush along the edge of the tape and he slowly peels it away. You groan as he tugs at the corner of the cloth and frees it from your mouth. You cough, your throat raw and dry.

“I can untie you but you have to promise to be good. You don’t want to hurt yourself, do you?”

You close your eyes and nod. He crumple the tape and you hear him place it down. You suck in a deep lungful of air and let out a scream, “HELP!!!!!!!!”

“Hey,” he hisses and quickly smothers your mouth with his large hand, “honey, don’t do that.” He squeezes until you’re quiet, until your jaw aches, “no one can hear you.” He leans over you as your eyes flick open and meet his, “not even the others. Right outside that door and they can’t hear you.”

You search his face. Stern and somber. He looks honest but you would’ve said the same back at the store when he lied to your face. You nod and go limp. Despite his deceit, you believe that.

He reluctantly drags his hand away, “I want to untie you, okay? I don’t want you to be stuck like this all night but if you’re bad, the others… they won’t let me.”

You don’t say anything. You stare past him, to the crux of wall and ceiling. You don’t care about the others or about this man. You only care about one thing.

“I know you’re confused and probably angry. This isn’t a bad thing, okay? We’re not doing this to hurt you, honey,” he rubs your shoulder, “we want to help you. To give you everything you want. Do you really want to spend Christmas alone?”

You rasp as you breath deeply. You wet the roof of your mouth with your tongue then your lips. You keep your eyes averted as you muster your voice.

“You’re married,” you accuse, "you have a family."

He clicks his tongue, “and? You have no one.”

That stings. A deep cut you feel deep in your gut. Your eyes meet his sharply and you pull your shoulder away from his hand. You push your chin out defiantly as a heat rises behind your eyes. You might be alone but it doesn’t mean you’re unhappy. Still, the way he said it…

“That’s not true, I have someone.”

“Honey, don’t lie. I know you don’t. I know you live on Fort Street in that square yellow building. Apartment 325. Just you. It’s a bachelor at the corner–”

“Stop, stop,” you beg him. “How do you know that?”

“Does it matter how?” He says lowly, “Honey, i’ve been nice, haven’t I? If you’re nice, I’ll stay that way and I’ll make sure the others don’t hurt you.”

You crinkle your nose and give a fearsome snarl you know must look ridiculous. You don’t care about these men or what they want. You don’t even care about yourself.

“I do have someone,” you insist, “Ernie.”

“Ernie?” He echoes.

“My puppy,” you hiss, “and I’m not going to be nice–” You grit the last word through clenched teeth, “unless you take me to him right now.”

“The dog?” He wonders.

“He needs to be fed and walked. I’m his mama and I need to see him,” you demand, your emotion finally bubbling up to the surface, “and until you take me home, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” You dig your nails into your palms and let out a shrill shriek. The blood curdling type you hear in horror movies.

The man covers his ears and stands. You do it again as you bounce on the bed. You must look crazy but you don’t care. Maybe if you’re crazy enough, they’ll let you go. You suck in a third breath and scream even louder.

He grimace but doesn’t stop you. He backs up and stomps to the door. You keep going until it locks behind him.

They think you’re weak because you’re alone. You’ve worked retail, you can handle a couple of psychos.

#three for one by darkficsyouneveraskedfor #dark lloyd hansen #dark andy barber!#darkficsyouneveraskedfor #dark ransom drysdale

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krirebr · 27 days ago

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Thanksgiving with the Barbers

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You and Andy celebrate Thanksgiving. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, references to punishment, isolation, solitary confinement, hunger, negative self-talk, manipulation, angst, mental breakdown - This is a rough one, guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: So... remember this part from I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas?

"Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner.

Yeah. This is that Thanksgiving.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who read so much of this and always encourages me to go as dark as my twisted little heart desires.

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

Andy’s soft murmurs traveled down the hallway to you from the entryway as he said goodbye to his guests. You couldn’t tell how things had gone. He’d seemed happy enough but as he’d started introducing you to his life outside these walls, you’d learned quickly how easily he could have one face for the world and a different one for you. He’d stressed many times all week how important it was that your first holiday together be perfect. Was it? Had you done enough?

You busied yourself with cleaning up the dining room, trying to ignore the churning dread in your stomach. The leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables had already been moved to the kitchen, waiting to be put away in the fridge. Then you’d start on the endless dishes. Hopefully, that would buy you some time alone, while Andy went back to the football on TV.

You kept your head down and continued gathering the discarded plates as Andy’s heavy footsteps came down the hall. He entered the dining room and leaned against the old-fashioned buffet that took over one wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You felt his eyes on you, but you kept your own eyes down and didn’t say anything. You knew better now.

You had a tall stack of plates now that you wanted to take into the kitchen, but you were afraid of turning your back on him and leaving the room. So, you stood where you were, and you waited.

Finally, he cleared his throat. You looked up. “You were awfully quiet at dinner,” he said, softly, but there was an edge of steel in his tone.

“No, I–” you started and immediately regretted it. That was a bad word. “I just didn’t have much to add to the conversation.” The guests were all Andy’s colleagues and their spouses. It’d been too much shop talk to keep track of. On top of being so many more people than you were used to.

Andy made a thoughtful little hum before he continued. “Barbara commented on it, as she said goodbye. Wanted to be sure you were ok, hadn’t felt left out.”

You forced a smile, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “Yes, I’m fine. I had a nice time. It was a good dinner.”

He pushed himself off of the buffet, straightening to his full height. “Really, you thought it was a good dinner? With a dry turkey and an unfriendly hostess?”

You couldn’t help the way you blanched. You’d never cooked a whole turkey before or anything like it. And you didn’t have access to the internet right now, so you were limited to the highbrow cookbooks Andy had bought for you. While those recipes were detailed, they didn’t exactly have tips and tricks for beginners. You’d tried your best. And no one at dinner had complained. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. You’d thought it was ok. But he didn’t want to hear you defend yourself, so you said nothing.

He looked at the dirty dishes spread across the table and scowled. “Finish cleaning this up,” he said. “We’ll continue this conversation when you’re done.”

You nodded quickly with a quiet, “Yes, Andy,” trying to keep your sigh of relief inside. He hadn’t said you’d continue the conversation downstairs, hadn’t said anything about a timeout or a punishment. You might be ok. You might get off with just a lecture. You could handle an upstairs lecture—kneeling at Andy’s feet while he listed all the ways you’d disappointed him and everything you needed to do to be better. Sometimes you even got to stay fully clothed. Lectures were fine. Lectures were easy. As long as you got to stay upstairs, you’d be ok.

Without another word, he moved into the kitchen. You heard him opening and closing the fridge as you continued organizing the dishes into neat stacks to hopefully make cleaning up a little easier. He came back with a beer in his hand, moving through to the living room to watch the evening game. As he started to walk by the table, the movement drew your eye to something, his reflection caught in the shiny steel. The carving knife. Just lying there next to the turkey.

The knife block had sensors in it, just like all the doors downstairs or the front door of the house. You had to scan your wristband every time you needed to use a knife while cooking and it would send an alert to Andy’s phone, letting him know whenever you used one, for how long, and when you put it back. But the carving knife, he’d taken that out himself today. As the man of the house, he had to be the one to carve the turkey. And then he’d just left it there, forgotten about it. The carving knife.

As you stood there, staring at it, it was like all of the parts of yourself he’d worked so hard to turn off, suddenly came roaring back on. How much you hated the dress you currently wore. How exhausted you were after working in the kitchen all day without a single thank you. The lecture that you knew awaited you, being forced to kneel at his feet. All of your own holiday traditions that had been stolen from you so that you could accommodate his. Everything he’d taken from you. The rage bubbling up inside of you was cleansing. You felt it giving you new breath, new life. You felt yourself coming back.

You looked up at Andy as he continued to move, his back to you now. That perfect, broad expanse. You could see it so clearly. The way you’d bury that knife between his shoulder blades. You lunged across the table.

Andy spun around as soon as he heard you move, his bottle of beer slipping from his hand, it’s contents spilling everywhere. Somehow, in that instant, he saw what you were grasping for and lunged for it too. Oh god, he was so much closer to it. You'd timed it all wrong. You were stupid in your desperation and anger. Oh well. You'd already made the choice. There was no turning back now.

You threw yourself onto the table, arm outstretched, dirty plates beneath you, just as his hand wrapped around the handle of the knife. You let out a guttural scream as he threw it away from you and it clattered against the baseboards.

A beat too late, you tried to crawl backward, your knees struggling for purchase on the tablecloth, plates crashing to the floor, but Andy had already grabbed your still outstretched arm, dragging you towards him as you flailed, trying and failing to grab onto anything that might help you.

He pulled you over the edge of the table and you fell to the floor, landing harshly in a jumble, more plates falling around you. He loomed over you, face completely overtaken by rage. But it couldn’t compare to yours. You kicked out wildly, indiscriminately and you’d never felt more satisfied than when you landed a few hits to his shins and he grunted in pain. Your satisfaction was short-lived, however, as he recovered and reached down to wrap his hands around both your wrists, even as you struggled as hard as you could to get away from him.

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you across the floor. That was fine. You had no problem filling the silence. “You fucking motherfucker!” you screamed, the frustration and terror and anger of the last several months finally finding an outlet. “I hate you! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna burn this house to the fucking ground!”

Your struggles kicked up a notch as he opened the door to the basement with one hand, the other now holding on to both of your wrists. “No!” you yelled. “You can’t fucking do this! I’m done pretending to be your perfect little wife! You can’t–”

He wasn’t gentle at all as he yanked you down the stairs. You had to pause your fighting and screaming as you fell, the breath knocked out of you. You tried to protect your head, tried to protect any part of your body you could as you hit every step. Your dress did nothing to help as it gathered above your waist. You were exposed and vulnerable. But what else was new? You were immune to it now, after being debased every single day for months.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs to adjust his hold on you, using both hands to drag you again. Still, he said nothing. But you caught your breath and resumed your litany of hate. “You’re so fucking weak. You’re pathetic. Of course, you had to buy a wife. Who would love you willingly?” The carpet burned your skin as he dragged you across it, but you continued to struggle, continued to scream. Nothing would stop you now. “You’re disgusting. Embarrassing.”

He stopped in front of the door to the quiet room and you almost laughed. Did he really think this was just some little tantrum a time-out would fix? Did he really not understand the rage and power that flowed through you now? Did he really think a few hours in the dark would quell this? No way. After everything you’d been through, everything you felt now, you could handle the quiet room.

He threw you in and closed the door behind you. You sank down into the darkness. This was fine. This was great. The darkness couldn’t hurt you.

You’d forgotten what it was like to have no understanding of the passage of time. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. Right?

He would come get you soon. What would you do then? Attack him as best you could. The rage still coursed through you. You were done laying down for him.

It must be getting late. It’d already been evening when the guests left. You were so tired now. Exhausted. But you had to be ready when Andy opened the door.

You startled awake as the furnace whirred to life. You were slumped over against the wall, your face pushed into the cinder block. It felt grimy.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Where was Andy? Whatever tenuous grasp you’d had on what time it was was completely gone now. That was ok. Andy would come soon and you’d beat the shit out of him, and then you would know what time it was.

It was the hunger that hit you first, but the thirst hit you harder. You knew now that this was the longest he’d ever left you here. You’d never gone hungry like this before. Well. He would let you out soon. He had to.

Your stomach hurt with how hungry you were. Your throat ached. Would he just let you die down here? Was he that angry? So angry that he’d decided to cut his losses. Start over with someone new. Was starving to death better than your life upstairs? Or the basement? You honestly didn’t know.

You were sprawled across the floor, as much as you could in the small space. What was the point of being upright? You could barely even tell which way was up anymore. It was all just darkness.

Suddenly, you were hit by a sliver of blinding light. What was happening? It took you embarrassingly long to realize it must have been a slot in the door you’d never seen before. Then something slid through it. You blinked at it, trying to get your eyes to focus, trying to make sense of what you saw. Oh my god, it was food! You lunged for it and tried to pull the tray to you, but it wouldn’t budge. That was better anyway. You needed the light to eat.

On the tray was a small plate of leftover turkey and green beans and a bottle of water, along with a small plastic fork. You went for the water first, downing it, and then scarfed up the food, not even tasting it. After a few minutes, on the other side of the slot, you heard an alarm go off, and the tray was pulled back, a few bites still on the plate. “Andy, wait!” you called out, but the slot slammed closed and you were in the dark again.

You didn’t have anything to do. You couldn’t remember the last time you had nothing to do. Before Andy brought you here. Evenings in your little apartment, watching TV and eating takeout, fucking around on your phone. You hadn’t done that, hadn’t even thought about doing it in months.

When you first got here, when your list of chores felt insurmountable and ridiculous, you would’ve given anything for the chance to lay around and do nothing. But now, it didn’t feel right. You should find a way to be productive. Andy was going to be so disappointed in you.

You hated yourself for thinking it.

You tried to do some yoga. You were so stiff from laying on the floor, but it was too hard when you couldn’t see how much space you had and were too scared of hurting yourself on the furnace or hitting the wall. So you went back to doing nothing.

The worst thing about waking up in this room was that you had no memory of falling asleep. It was all just darkness. Maybe there was no real difference between sleeping and being awake. How could you even tell anymore?

Andy brought another meal. Well, you assumed it was him. There was no one else. But you didn’t see him. He didn’t say anything. The tray was pushed through the slot, you ate and drank as fast as you could, the tray was pulled away. You didn’t say anything to him either.

You were so fucking bored. You’d tried singing to yourself. Running through old movies you remembered watching on TV as a kid. Reciting passages from old books. You felt like you were running out of thoughts.

There’d been three meals. If you could count the meals, that was sort of like keeping track of time, right? Even though you had no idea how often he brought them. Still, it had to be something.

The furnace was going to drive you insane. That whirring, whirring, whirring. White noise that wouldn’t stop. So loud you were afraid that the noise was just inside your head now. Maybe the furnace wasn’t even on.

“Andy,” you called out when the slot opened. “Andy, please.” He didn’t say anything. He never said anything.

The timer must have gone off sooner this time. The tray was pulled back when you were only halfway done. You started crying as the slot started to slide closed. Your stomach felt too empty.

You realized your mistake after he was gone. You had to call him sir when you were in the basement.

You started talking to yourself. Just to hear your voice. Any voice. You didn’t have anything to say, but you just couldn’t deal with the silence.

It wasn’t worth it. You saw that so clearly now. What did you really think you’d gain? You were never going to kill him. You couldn’t even hurt him. You were never going to win and you’d lost even more by trying.

You couldn’t remember whether there’d been six or seven meals. You’d lost count. And they were all the same. Nothing differentiated them. There was nothing to hold on to. This was the one thing tethering you to anything real and you’d lost it. There was no getting it back. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying.

He was tired of you. He was done. He was the only thing you had in the whole world and you’d lost him. You’d fucked it up. You were going to rot away in the Quiet Room until you were nothing. There was no getting out.

You crawled over to the slot when it opened and put your head right in front of it, keeping your eyes closed to avoid the burn of the light. “Sir,” you pleaded, your voice raspy, “sir, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sir. Please.” You were crying. You couldn't stop. You couldn't hide it.

He paused before he pushed the tray through, but he didn't say anything.

You were lying on the floor, trying to figure out whether you were awake or dreaming when everything was suddenly bathed in light. You must be dreaming. Oh, but would a dream hurt so much? You rolled onto your stomach and curled up in a ball to try to shield your eyes from the light. Wake up wake up wake up, you chanted to yourself.

And then– Then, as you were curling up, tighter and tighter, on the floor, someone touched you, lightly, gently on your back. When was the last time you’d been touched? You didn’t know. You started crying, even as you pressed up into the soft caress.

“Oh sweetheart,” someone said. An angel. But wait. You knew that voice. “Look at you,” Andy said, “we’ve both had a rough few days, huh?”

You slowly rolled back over, wincing harshly at the light. There he was, crouching over you. You squinted at him, trying to make out his features. You started to sit up, but it ached to use your muscles that way.

He reached out a hand to help you. “Go slow, honey,” he said, and his voice was so gentle. “Give yourself a minute to adjust.”

“Sir?” you rasped. Was he really here?

“Hi sweetheart,” he cooed, as he carefully pulled you into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“How–” you blinked up at him, feeling so disoriented. “How long?”

“Too long,” he answered sadly. “But we both needed time to calm down, didn’t we?”

He stroked your back, and you whimpered. It felt so good. You’d been alone for so long. You nuzzled into his chest, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t– I shouldn’t have– I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. Please forgive me.”

“Oh honey,” he sighed. You wished that you could drink up his gentle voice after so much silence. “I know. I know. It was a hard day. I understand. I’ll forgive you. After your punishment, it’ll be like it didn’t even happen.”

“Punishment?” you looked at him in horror. “But– This– I–” You’d already been through so much. How could there be more?

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice picking up a firm edge. “This was just a little timeout. For both of us. So that we could both calm down and think about what happened. You know I never want to punish you when I’m angry.”

“But I’m sorry,” you cried, grasping at his shirt. You didn’t think you could handle a punishment. You were afraid you’d break into a million pieces in that room.

“You tried to hurt me.” All of the gentleness was gone now. “You have to be punished so you learn.”

You barely nodded as you curled up in his arms, crying quietly. You’d been so stupid. So, so stupid. It was such a mistake.

“I’ll tell you what, honey.” His hand resumed its stroking, up and down, up and down your back. So gently. “If you’re very good for me, if you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can go right back upstairs when it’s done. We won’t have to spend any more time down here.”

“Really?” You’d been so afraid that you’d doomed yourself to months down in the basement again, even worse than before.

“Really. Neither of us wants to be down here, do we? We both want to be happy upstairs, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir. Please, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl.”

“I know you will be, sweetheart. Let’s go get it over with, huh? Then we can take a nice long bath to get all this grime off of you. Can you move? Can you get up?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled into his chest, but you didn’t make any effort to move. Not yet. You wanted to savor this for a few more moments. You knew that as soon as you got into the punishment room, all of the gentleness would be gone. He’d be the figure from your nightmares again. And you knew you deserved it. You were so stupid. But you needed a couple more minutes of his soft touches before you’d be ready.

Tag List

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#dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber #trapped au #trapped #defending jacob #basement wife au #dark fic #dark!fic #fanfic #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #kris wrote something #reader insert #andy barber fanfiction

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buckets-and-trees · 8 months ago

Text

Prepare For Takeoff

Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: vaginal fingering, dubious existing engagement

Logistical Notes: Another piece early in the days of the I'm Your Man AU.

Author Note: I started this AU when I was at an airport, and my recent trip had me thinking of these two again, and it had me wishing I were Andy's to spoil.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

While you aren’t used to being chauffeured to every aspect of your life (nor did you want to get used to it, the driver and vehicle yet another element that Andy insisted on in the new life he inserted you into), you know a security checkpoint where your driver had to stop and speak to someone else is not part of the typical route back to the palatial Barber Estate. You sit up straighter in your seat, looking first to the men in the front, but neither of them give anything away, your bodyguard Shep’s face is the same stoic expression as ever, and your driver Mark only glances into the rear view mirror to meet your eyes briefly.

Your brows furrow and you look out the window. You can only see large white buildings on either side of the SUV, and the overwhelmingly industrial feel has you at a loss for guessing the where and why of your location.

That is until you reach the end of the building and the car pulls around the corner. Now you see these large white industrial walls make up the sides of a row of aircraft hangars. While your jaw doesn’t drop, your mouth opens slightly. The jaw dropping moments as a character in the life of Andy Barber are so frequent, but you are starting to control your reactions a bit more.

The SUV pulls up smoothly to the side of a private jet, sleek and black, the late afternoon sun shining off its metal sides. Mark stops the vehicle, and as Shep opens your door, you are not surprised to see you are stepping out exactly onto a long, blue carpet that leads from the SUV to the bottom of a set of white stairs. At the top of them, Andy emerges from the plane, nodding to you. You smooth down the front of your clothing and glare up at him.

“What is this?” You call up loudly.

“You know what it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away for the weekend. Now, don’t be difficult, sweetheart, you’re going to love this.”

You feel a sting in your eyes but quickly blink it away.

You hate this because you know he is right.

Yet again he will undoubtedly give you exactly what you want and go beyond what you could even imagine for it, but because he wants to, not because you want any of it.

That is the constant curse in this relationship.

Everything you want, but all your choices stolen from you before you can make them.

You concentrate on taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase, mustering the strength that you will need for this. You have to armor yourself against his charm and his cunning. Every moment with him is dangerous.

“I thought it was time to take you away, make you forget the everyday. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

You blink, open your mouth, then shut it again. He is the source of the stress, but you don’t trust what would happen if you said that.

He smirks, then sweeps you into a kiss that immediately sends tingles all through your body, from where his lips press insistently against yours, tongue teasing into your mouth, to the hand he plants possessively onto you hip and the other on your back, pressing you flush against him, down to your toes, legs feeling unstable as he takes your breath away. You are helpless but to cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, because your traitorous body willingly surrenders to him, damn near craves him.

He finally lets you breathe again when you tap against his chest and turn your head, gasping for air.

He kisses your cheek, then your neck just beneath your ear.

Getting your breath back, you give a small huff. “So, what? I don’t even get to pack? You just have whatever I need for the flight and when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll just arrive to a closet full of new clothes and accessories?”

“Naturally.” You can feel his smirk against your skin for a moment before he bites at your delicate flesh.

“This is insane.” You push away from him and step through the open door of the jet.

“It’s not insane,” he says, stalking close behind you.

The interior of the plane is sleek, minimal, but the flavor of the furniture and decor evoke the same feeling as the common spaces of his estate with lush leather and dark wood.

The fact that there’s furniture…

“It’s not normal.”

Hand to your back, Andy ushers you further into the plane. “You’re never going to be subjected to normal again in your life.”

“But what if I liked normal?”

He sits on a leather loveseat and pulls you down immediately next to him, nearly in his lap. He counters, “You liked needing to get to the airport early, check your bags or haul them through security with your three-ounces-or-less limit on liquids, take off your shoes, and trek through the terminals to your gate?”

You sigh and look straight ahead.

He chuckles and beckons over a gentleman who offers a tray of drinks.

“Bourbon or champagne?”

“Thank you,” Andy says, and takes a glass of the dark bourbon.

“No, thank you,” you decline.

“The captain says we are clear for take off on your word, Mr. Barber.”

Andy nods. “Wheels up then. We’ll take dinner in ninety minutes. You can leave us until that point.”

“Call if you need anything, sir.”

You hear the click of a door as the man disappears. Andy takes a slow drink, then presses the glass to your lips, forcing you to take a sip before he sets the glass aside.

You feel the jet begin to move and then turn toward the runway.

“You deserve more than normal,” Andy says, eyes on you, returning to your conversation from moments before.

“Andy…” you hedge.

“I will whisk you away anywhere in the world. I’ll give you everything you want. You’re mine to spoil. You’re going to live a beautiful life with me.”

“Andy,” you start again, but unsure how to counter.

He growls your name and yanks you abruptly into his lap. He cuts any argument you were about to launch into by biting at your lower lip and grinding you down onto his hard bulge.

You whimper and throw your head back.

Andy assaults your bared neck with heated kisses. He knows he’ll have you a pliant mess for him to slake his lust in a matter of moments.

You know it, too.

And you know he’ll overwhelm you with pleasure of your own, never a selfish lover even though every other bit of him is selfish.

His fingers slip under the fabric covering your core without hesitation, and he strokes your labia, gathering more and more of your arousal as the plane picks up speed. Slow strokes back and forth, back and forth. The pad of his forefinger circles your clit and you bite back a whimper.

“Mmm, you know I love those noises you make.” He circles your bundle of nerves again, this time with his thumb, letting two of his fingers dip just slightly into your slick channel. “Give me what I want,” he coos, coaxing with another circle, and another, and you finally break, moaning openly for him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me know how good I make you feel.”

He pumps his fingers full into the knuckle now, and not like anyone else you’d ever been with intimately before. It’s only been a few weeks, but Andy has taken every opportunity to become a master of your body and coax and command pleasure out of every inch of you. He knows just how much pressure to apply when fucking you with his fingers, and he pushes into that spongy spot at the front of you walls insistently, repeatedly as the jet leaves the ground, making you cry out and shake on an abrupt orgasm.

You sink forward, hanging your head on his shoulder, but it’s only the first orgasm he plans to ply from your body on this flight. He draws your left hand to his mouth, and hums as he places a kiss first against the band of your engagement ring on your finger and then into your palm, before trailing his lips to your wrist. He eases you down to the floor, and you lay back and watch as he shucks off his pants above you before descending down to sheath himself inside you next, demanding more.

And as he fucks you there, then on another of the chairs, then takes you back to the sleeping quarters for yet more, you bend to his will and his demands and his lust, overcome with everything he is and everything he makes you feel, lost in the complexity of what he’s confined you into. His spoiled and ruined sweetheart.

go to the next part: DON'T LOOK TOO FAR I'm Your Man Collection Masterlist

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I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #mafia au #chris evans characters #soft dark andy barber #I'm your man #aspen wrote something

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

End Game Masterlist

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned. (Andy Barber)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

#fic #dark fic #dark!fic #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #defending jacob

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sosa2imagines · 7 months ago

Text

Broken Hearts. Part 2

Warnings- Lurking, bruises, Lloyd being a tease, possessiveness, stubbornness.

Lloyd's voice crackled through the phone, assuring you that he was on his way, his determination unwavering. True to his word, Lloyd arrived at your home with a team of his skilled companions.

He did not wait for you to open the door, as if you can, he just barged in, shouting your name before finally standing outside your bedroom, knocking.

“Sugar open up.” “LLOYD!! I can't Steve has locked me in…” you cried. “Step back Sugar.”

In a swift kick, Lloyd broke the door, to see your shaking figure.

Lloyd's eyes darkened with rage as he noticed the bruises on your arms, a silent testament to Steve's possessiveness. In a swift motion, he pulled you into a protective embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hold. His voice, filled with a mixture of anger and concern, growled out a vow, “I'll kill that bastard.”

Lloyd's words carried a weight of protection and unwavering loyalty, as he held you tightly against him. There, in the safety of his embrace, you felt a small semblance of peace amidst the turmoil that had engulfed your world. Lloyd's anger towards Steve, fuelled his determination to keep you safe, ensuring that no harm would come your way under his watch.

Lloyd's eyes filled with concern as he gently touched the bruised spots on your arms, his touch gentle and tender. “Tell me, did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice laced with both anger and worry. With tears streaming down your face, you shook your head no.

Lloyd's voice softened, filled with a mix of protectiveness and acceptance, as he gently pulled you into another tight embrace. “I have got you.” he whispered, silently acknowledging the depth of his own feelings for you.

With you nestled safely in the cocoon of his arms, Lloyd issued commands to his men, his voice firm and authoritative. “Pack her things.” he instructed, a fierce protectiveness evident in each word.

“No!” you declared, surprising both Lloyd and yourself with your newfound strength. “I don't want anything from him. Just pack my clothes and jewellery given by my parents and aunt.”

“You heard my sugar hurry up.”

As the men set about their task, Lloyd held you a little tighter, his presence providing a sense of security in your chaotic world. And as you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, a subtle realization dawned upon you, you felt safe, truly, deeply safe, in Lloyd's arms.

Leaving the scene of your broken relationship behind, Lloyd walked with you towards his car, a firm yet comforting presence by your side. As you reached the vehicle, he turned to one of his men and issued a command. “Fix the doors.” a mischievous glint in his eye.

Confused, you looked up at him, your question hanging in the air, “Why?” But before you could voice your curiosity, Lloyd responded with a playful wink, his voice laced with a hint of impishness. “Just for fun.” he grinned, adding a touch of lightness to the heavy events of the evening.

As curiosity tugged at your consciousness, you wisely knew better than to dig deeper. Over the years, you had come to understand that Lloyd had his own methods of dealing with people and situations. As your lifelong best friend, he had shared his secrets with you, allowing you to witness just a glimpse of his darker side. Deep within your heart, you knew that questioning him would lead nowhere. Trust in him came naturally, a by-product of the unwavering bond you shared since childhood, alongside Nick and Andy.

The car ride remained enveloped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft hum of the engine, as you succumbed to exhaustion. Your head rested gently on Lloyd's shoulder, the weight of all that had unfolded finally taking its toll. As you drifted off, Lloyd carefully lifted you, cradling you against his chest, a tender smile playing on his lips. In that moment, he gently pressed a kiss to your head, his gaze filled with affection and a silent promise of protection.

Even though you had told him to take to your aunt's house, Lloyd brought you to his 'Fortress of Solitude', carefully placing you on the bed and covering you with the fluffy blanket. He looked at you sleeping form, trying to control the burning rage against Steve.

Throughout your time together, it had become abundantly clear that Lloyd possessed a certain degree of mercilessness and danger. His reputation as a formidable force was well known, intimidating even the most hardened individuals.

However, beneath that steely exterior, Lloyd harbored a strong sense of loyalty and kindness towards his true friends. And you, being among the closest to him since childhood, had the privilege of witnessing first-hand the softer side of this enigmatic man. A side reserved solely for those he cherished dearly, especially you.

“Still in denial?”

As Lloyd turned around with a hint of surprise, his gaze met Andy Barber's amused expression. “About what?”

Andy leaned against the wall, a bemused expression playing on his face as he teased Lloyd, stating the obvious. “You love her, always had.”

His words cut through the air like a gentle yet firm reminder, echoing the truth that had been lingering in the shadows all along. Lloyd's gaze flickered with a mix of surprise and resignation, his usual defense faltering.

Lloyd, quickly regaining his bravado, retorted with a mischievous grin, “Yeah, I would love to have her. My dick is amazing.” As the words left his mouth, Andy rolled his eyes and responded with a mix of frustration and sarcasm. “Not that, you idiot!”

The air was filled with a mix of disbelief and amusement, as Andy's lighthearted response playfully brushed off Lloyd's cocky remark.

“Jealous, are we?” “Forget it!” “Good don't start then” “I won't, but someday you will.”

Before Lloyd could answer back, your voice distracted him, “Andy?” Andy stepped towards you, to wrap you in a hug ”How are you Y/n?” “Okay I guess?”

The next day, Steve's voice echoed through the house as he made his return, announcing his presence with a possessive tone, “Baby doll, I'm back. You better behave.” However, as he surveyed the bedroom and noticed your absence, his heart sank, and anger bubbled within him. Panic and possessiveness mingled within Steve's troubled mind, leaving him frustrated and agitated at the realization of your departure. “Y/N!!!!!!”

As Andy began gathering information needed for the divorce papers, he turned to you with a serious expression. “Do you want anything from Steve in the divorce settlement?” he inquired, his tone professional yet compassionate. With a firm conviction, you responded, “I don't want anything. I just want my freedom.” Your words hung in the air, carrying the weight of your desire to truly move on and leave the past behind, seeking nothing more than the liberation to start anew.

“Sugar, are you sure you don't anything from him?” Lloyd asked you in a soft tone. “I don't want anything from him, only my freedom. I don't want to be bound to him in any way. He was pretty adamant that I won’t leave his loyal ass.” “Don't worry Y/n. I will take care of it.” Andy assured you with a soft smile.

Weeks later, as Andy arrived at Steve's penthouse, divorce papers in hand, he presented them to the frustrated man, stating that you had made the process straightforward. “Y/n has made it simple,” Andy declared, “She doesn't want anything from you. Just sign the papers.”

Steve's refusal was immediate and vehement, his voice laced with defiance. “I will not divorce her!” He declared, determination gleaming in his eyes, unwilling to let go of the crumbling relationship.

Andy stood firm, his gaze unwavering as he faced Steve's stubborn refusal. “Steve,” he began, his voice filled with a mix of conviction and authority. “Why are you prolonging this? Y/n wants nothing from you, she wants a clean break. Sign the papers and let her go.” Steve's eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and possessiveness, his words dripping with frustration. “I don't care. I won't sign!” he declared, his grip on the situation slipping further with each passing moment.

Andy's eyes narrowed as he confronted Steve's denial, frustration evident in his voice. “Then you shouldn't have cheated on her!” he stated, the words hitting Steve like a cold reality check. Steve's response, however, was a stubborn protest, his voice filled with defiance. “It's none of your business.” he retorted, his refusal to confront his own actions becoming increasingly evident.

“Steve, don't make this any harder, just sign the damn papers. Trust me you don't want to face me in court.” with that Andy left.

Lloyd was reading some kind of documents in his office, when you knocked on his door with a smile. “Hey are you busy?” Lloyd looks up from his papers at you with a smirk, “For you? never!” “Lloyd thank you for helping me…” “Come here sweetheart.” you go near him, only for Lloyd to pull you, to make you sit on his lap.

“Hey!” you laugh and blush slightly. “Sugar no one can resist my lap, and you have the special privilege to sit on it.”

You roll your eyes playfully and kissed his cheek. “Lloyd I should move to my aunt's house… after all she left it for me.” hearing your words of moving out, made Lloyd tensed and you felt it.

It’s not like you don't want to stay with him, but you don't want to be a burden either. “Lloyd as much as I love staying with you… I don't want to be a burden. You can work more comfortably without my sad ass around, you can bring people to enjoy your time…” Lloyd just gave you a stern look and a glare, before opening his mouth in a stoic voice, “Are you done?” “Huh?”

“You see, I can work wherever I want, and I can bring people whenever I want, and both of that won't trouble you. And as for your sad ass, it is perfectly round and waiting for me to spank and knead it.

You become red instantly and hit his chest playfully, “Lloyd!”

You realize he was not joking when you felt his hand kneading your ass cheek. “Lloyd stop groping my ass…” you laugh nervously and Lloyd just gave you a cheeky smile “They are soft and squishy.” “Lloyd!” “Fine.”

“Sugar there’s one more reason, I'm not letting you go. It is for your own safety.” “What do you mean?” “After Barber gave Steve the papers, he was furious, he went to your aunt's place to see you.”

Lloyd showed you the footage of Steve lurking around the house and tears formed in your eyes.

“He will never let me go… he said I belong only to him.” “No sugar he will let you go, I will make sure of it and you don't belong to him. We have eyes on him, don't you worry.”

“Lloyd?” “Yes?” “Stop groping my ass...”

“You heard her pervert”

With a sudden leap of joy, you jumped from Lloyd's side and lunged towards the man, wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug. “Nick!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with happiness and the comfort of familiarity. Nick, always the light-hearted one, returned your embrace, his signature smile widening as he responded, “Hey there, sweetheart.”

The moment was filled with a sense of affection and the unshakable bond you shared with your dear friends. In fact, you had introduced Nick to Lloyd and they had instantly hit it off.

“I know everyone must have asked you, but still, how are you?” “Now that I'm here with you all, I'm good.”

“Can you guys stop the hugging and stuff? really turns me off” Lloyd scoffs. “Jealous are we? Nick smirks.

“He is looking for an excuse, to grope my ass!” you and Nick both laugh hard and Lloyd looks at you both with amusement.

“Y/n… Lloyd is right by the way. Steve is trying hard to locate you, so it is better you stay here with us.”

“He's never going to leave alone...” Nick brought you in for another hug, “He will, we'll make sure of it.”

“I'm so sorry guys for not staying in touch with you all for so long. This is not how I imagined our reunion will be...”

Because of Steve you lost out on many friends, but Lloyd, Andy and Nick never left you. They knew how much Steve hated them.

“Y/n we know you did not do anything on purpose, Steve hates us. He hates the fact, you have handsome people as friends and hey no more thinking okay?” Nick smirks and Lloyd chimes in “Now you are talking my language. Anyway only I can rock a moustache.” he states proudly.

Part 1 - Part 3

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@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

#chris evans characters #sebastian stan characters #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen x reader fluff #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler #andy barber x reader #andy barber

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