#Nicole barber
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The Oscars
MASTERLIST ↠ SINGER!READER UNIVERSE
Summary: It’s time for the Oscars
Warnings: swearing, most likely inaccurate stuff about the Oscars… I tried to collect as much information as possible, but it is entirely likely that I messed the whole thing up.
Pairings: Scarlett Johansson x fem!reader (romantic), Scarlett x Lorelai Philips (platonic), Scarlett x Quinn Jones (platonic).
A/N: Happy birthday, Scarlett ❤️❤️
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Scarlett sighed nervously as she watched the people around her bustle and hustle in her hotel room, attempting to get her ready for the Oscars. She silently hoped that she would be nominated for at least one award but never voiced her thoughts out loud, not wanting to be disappointed if she didn’t get nominated. Looking around her busy room, she really wished that you could’ve been here.
You’ve been on tour for over a year now and the last time she was able to physically see and feel you in person was 7 months ago when you performed for 3 nights in Atlanta. She had a couple of reshoots for Black Widow there, and when you had told her that you would be having a concert there, she instantly bought tickets to see you perform. She bought tickets for all 3 nights, singing/screaming the words to the songs until her voice was raspy and on the verge of going away. She bought tickets for your brothers, your dad, and the rest of her family to go with her, to support you. She had so much fun watching you sing and dance; seeing you have fun with your dancers and backup singers on stage had her so mesmerized. And watching the way you interacted with your fans, she really understood why you loved them so much.
She gasped lightly, getting pulled away from her thoughts when her hairstylist accidentally tugged too hard on her hair. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Johansson.” Quinn apologized quickly.
“It’s okay,” she reassured. “And how long have you been my hairstylist?”
“6 years-ish, give or take,”
“And how many times have I told you to call me Scarlett?”
“Too many to count,” they said, sheepishly.
“Exactly, so are you going to start calling me Scarlett?”
“It’s very unlikely,” the two of them laughed at that. “Are you excited for tonight?” they asked.
“Yeah,” Scarlett replied, “I think it’ll be really fun,” she smiled while they added the finishing touches to her hair.
“And done.” they said, showing her hair in the mirror.
“I love it, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, now go get your dress on. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Lorelai’s head is gonna explode.”
Scarlett looked over at her manager, who was standing in the corner talking on her phone, and Quinn was right, Lorelai looked beyond stressed. “She looks like a headless chicken.” she said, grinning.
Quinn burst out laughing, which caught Lorelai’s attention. “Shit shit shit, go to the bedroom now!!” They pushed her off the makeup chair. She quickly ran into the bedroom and put on her dress. Looking at herself, she smiled softly. God did she wish that you were here right now.
She decided to pull out her phone and give you a call. The phone rang for a couple seconds before your voicemail came on. “Hi, this is Y/N; I am currently not available at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can.” Scarlett smiled at the sound of your bubbly voice.
Beeeeeep
“Hi baby, I was just calling because I missed you. I’m just about ready to leave for the awards tonight and I wanted to hear your voice. Call me back tonight when you’re free? I love you.” She hung up.
“Scarlett!! Are you ready?” Lorelai asked, a little panicked, knocking excessively on the door.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
In the car, Scarlett pulled out her phone and began to watch reels of you singing during your tour on Instagram. She honestly couldn’t be more proud of you, she knew you always wanted to be a singer, but that dream didn’t solidify until you first sang in the first Pitch Perfect movie. She saw how hard you worked for this, and knew that you deserved every single round of applause you got after each song you’d sing.
↠↠↠
Scarlett stepped out of her car, putting on a practiced smile for the cameras. She looked at the paparazzi and her fans who were screaming and crying out her name. She got her picture taken and was led to the section where interviews were taking place. She did a couple of them, she even had one with her co-star and friend, Florence Pugh.
Soon, Lorelai was ushering her off to the next part. Scarlett smiled as she greeted Cole Walliser; he was the one in charge of the GlamBOTs; the camera that moves extremely quickly but the footage taken is in slow motion. After he instructed her on what she should be doing, Scarlett did her iconic over the shoulder pose into the camera and smiled happily. The speed of the camera startled her for a moment, but she was quick to regain her bearings. She thanked him again, and then joined her manager in one of the more secluded areas as an usher led them into the building.
Scarlett smiled softly in thanks at the attendant who led her and Lorelai to their seats. Getting inside the building took quite a bit of time; with the amount of celebrities showing up in it was bound to get crazy. She sighed, gently wiping her hands on her dress. “You nervous?” Lorelai whispered quietly.
“Little bit,”
“Don’t be,”
“I kinda wish Y/N was here…”
“I know,”
“Not that I don’t love your company.” Scarlett amended quickly, “I just– I just miss her. I mean, I haven’t seen the woman in 7 months!”
“I know that too,”
“And I know that she’d be able to calm me down in a second if she were here. I know that she wouldn’t care if she won an award tonight, cause she’d think that all the other nominees deserved it better.”
“That sounds like Y/N,” Lorelai laughed. “Now before you can go into a spiral right now, do you think you’re gonna win tonight?”
“Maybe…? I mean there’s so many other people to consider before me,”
“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. I know you, and knowing you, I know you’ll get a nomination, I’m sure of it.”
Scarlett smiled a genuine smile at Lorelai, “Thank you,”. Lorelai winked at her, before the night began.
Scarlett smiled brightly as each nomination was announced. She had to admit, even if you weren’t here, she was having a nice time. Her heart had skipped a beat when she heard Taika Waitit’s name get called when ‘Jojo Rabbit’ won Best Adapted Screenplay. She quickly stood him and congratulated him, sharing a moment of joy before he went on stage. “He deserves this,” Lorelai said, watching as Taika started his speech.
“He really does, this was one of the best scripts I’ve ever read.”
“I know…. I saw the movie.”
Scarlett scrunched her eyebrows together. “Hey, do you know why you have an empty seat beside you?”
“I don’t know, maybe someone wasn’t able to show up?” Lorelai guessed.
“Probably, I wonder who couldn’t make it.”
↠↠↠
“How’re you feeling?” Lorelai asked, a little bit later. They were now watching the little clips put together for the award of Best Documentary Feature.
“The nerves are still there but I’m good.”
“Good,” Lorelai smirked, she had a strange look in her eyes as they began clapping as the winner was announced. Scarlett gave her a suspicious look but paid her no mind as she listened to the speeches.
Soon enough, Mahershala Ali came out to present the award for Best Supporting Actress. Scarlett held her breath, squeezing Lorelai’s hand lightly as her heart beat out of her chest.
Mahershala began his speech. “Most every actress and actor I know wants to build a lasting body of work choosing roles that do more than just speak to them personally, but with the hope of their performance will resonate with others. The five women nominated Best Supporting Actress have done just that.”
The short clips of multiple different movies began, starting with Laura Dern in Marriage Story. Then she saw herself as Rosie Betzler in ‘Jojo Rabbit’ play on the screen. She sighed happily, feeling exhilarated that she was nominated. She smiled even harder when she saw Florence was also nominated. “Here are the nominees for performance by an actress in the supporting role.” He paused, “Kathy Bates, Richard Jewell. Laura Dern, Marriage Story. Scarlett Johansson, Jojo Rabbit. Florence Pugh, Little Women. Margot Robbie, Bombshell.”
“And, the Oscar goes to……. Scarlett Johansson, Jojo Rabbit.” Everyone in the crowd cheered as Scarlett stayed frozen in her seat. It wasn’t until Lorelai nudged her lightly did she realize that she had really won. Hugging a couple of friends quickly, Scarlett headed up onto the stage, smiling bashfully as everyone continued to clap. “Congratulations,” Mahershala said, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” she smiled, taking the award as he handed it to her. She walked up to the microphone set up in the middle of the stage, standing in front of everyone beaming proudly when the crowd began to clap even harder.
Suddenly, Scarlett felt two arms wrap around her waist from behind. She spun around quickly, alarmed. She was fully prepared to scream out when she stared into a pair of eyes she’s longed to see in person for the past 7 months. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her words barely audible. Scarlett let go of her award as she wrapped her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. With your quick reflexes, you manage to catch the award before it hits the ground and you hand it off to Lorelai who was waiting to receive it at the bottom of the stage.
You returned Scarlett’s hug just as tightly, cupping your right hand over her neck and wrapping your other arm around her waist, pulling her into you. “Hi baby,” you whispered into her hair, kissing her temple. You closed your eyes for a moment, cherishing the feeling of her finally being in your arms again. You didn’t realize how much you really missed her until just now.
You felt her body shake and gently you removed her from your body, keeping her at a nice distance. Scarlett had tears streaming down her face as she reached for you. “No,” she whimpered, her hands coming up to clench at your clothes. “Too far,” she clarified, tugging you closer still.
“Okay, I won’t go too far, but why’re you crying?” you asked, gently turning her body so her back faced the stage. Delicately, you brushed away her tears while you tried not to ruin her makeup. Thank god for waterproof makeup.
“I just missed you so fucking much,”
“I missed you too,” you kissed her head again, relishing the fact that she was with you for real and that it wasn’t a sick dream.
“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were still in Rome!”
“I was… but I thought I’d stop by before my next show in a couple of days.” you replied, smiling warmly at her.
“What’re you wearing?” Scarlett asked, once she’s got a good look at you.
“What? You don’t like it? I think I’m dressed very nicely for the Oscars,” you teased, tugging at your hoodie and sweatpants, and then scrunching your face up, showing your face without any makeup.
“I think you look great.”
“I know… I was supposed to be at the house before you came here to actually be there for you but my flight got delayed because of the weather,”
Scarlett gasped, “That’s why you didn’t take my call!”
“Didn’t see it, had my phone on airplane mode. Anyways by the time I landed, the event had already started. And when I actually got here, they were presenting your award. I didn’t have time to change, if you can’t tell.”
“You look beautiful,” she said. “And I love you very much,” she murmured into your neck as she buried herself back into you. “And I appreciate you being here for me,”
“I love you too,” you mumbled. “Now, I think there’s an entire room full of celebrities waiting for your speech.” you quickly pulled away, making sure that you didn’t smear any of her makeup. Hastily, you reassured Scarlett that you would still be there when she was done with her speech but she wasn’t convinced. Instead, she clasped your hands together behind her as Lorelai handed her back her Oscar and headed back to her seat.
What the two of you didn’t realize was that during your reunion, the microphone had picked up everything you’ve both said and there wasn't a dry eye in the audience. Anyone who knew you and Scarlett knew that you were perfect for each other. And anyone who’s heard of you knew that you were the power couple that dominated every industry. You were the ‘it’ couple. One of the only couples the world knew that clicked as well as the two of you did.
You stood behind her, beaming with pride as Scarlett started her speech, her hand still grasped tightly in yours behind her back. “I’m so sorry about that, um, I haven’t seen her in 7 months and yeah,” she chuckled lightly, “I just wanted to thank everybody who got me here. I want to thank…” the rest of her speech faded away from your ears as you admired your girlfriend. You knew without a doubt that this would be the person that you’d spend the rest of your life with. “I also want to thank my partner in crime, Y/N,” you snapped back to reality at the sound of your name. “Without you, then none of this would’ve been possible, you helped me remember my lines and perfect my German accent, which was not easy, by the way, and yet, you never wavered. You never doubted for a second that I couldn’t do this, and I am so grateful to have you in my life. I love you more than words can ever express.” You smiled, kissing her cheek before you led Scarlett down the stairs to get her name engraved into her award. You stood beside her the entire time, holding her hand tightly, squeezing it periodically to reassure her that you were still there. And then again, when she went to get her picture taken. The media had a field day at the sight of you with Scarlett, dressed in old baggy clothes. However, you didn’t care at all. The only thing important to you was Scarlett.
The only time you let go of her hand was when an attendant needed her to return to her seat. You smiled at her comfortingly, “I’ll be back in a bit, love. I need to change into more appropriate clothes for tonight. I’ll meet you back at the seats.” Scarlett nodded before walking away, finally understanding the empty seat next to Lorelai when she saw she had moved down one spot.
“You sly bitch,” Scarlett whispered to her. Lorelai simply smiled before turning back to Cinematography clips.
Soon, Scarlett grew restless wondering where you were. As if you knew about her worries, you immediately appeared beside her, taking a seat next to her, dressed up like everyone else. You were wearing a black mermaid dress with no straps and shimmers decorated the fabric of the dress. Your hair was released from its messy bun and lay to rest on your shoulders. Your makeup around your eyes was dark but simple, just a bit more eyeliner on your waterline.
Scarlett’s incessant staring started to make you nervous and self conscious. “What? Do I look weird?”
“How is it possible that in only a couple minutes you can look so gorgeous while it takes me hours to look like this.” she gestured at herself.
“You look absolutely amazing,”
“You really think so?”
“Definitely,”
“Even if I probably had snot and tears running down my face earlier?”
“To me, you looked like an angel.”
↠↠↠
Everyone began clapping again as Rami Malik walked up onto the stage. “It is truly an honor and privilege to be here celebrating the transformative performances as displayed by these five nominees; they're powerful, profound, and indelibly etched in our history and in our hearts.” You smiled excitedly at Scarlett when you saw her picture from Marriage Story show up on the big screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw your performance for ‘Palm Springs’ appear on stage. “Here are the nominees for performance by an actress in a leading role. Cynthia Erivo, Harriet. Scarlett Johansson, Marriage Story.” You cheered loudly. “Saoirse Ronan, Little Women. Charlize Theron, Bombshell. Y/N L/N, Palm Springs.” This time, it was Scarlett who was cheering loudly for you, as you smiled shyly.
“And the Oscar goes to…… Y/N L/N.” Standing up, you had tears in your eyes as you gave everyone a hug. Scarlett gave you a quick kiss before you walked up onto the stage. “Congratulations,” Rami said, when he hugged you.
“Thank you,” you smiled as he handed you your award. Walking up to the microphone, you looked out into the crowd.
“I don’t know if any of you saw it earlier but I literally just arrived…” you laughed lightly, “Um wow… I did not know that I would be winning an Oscar tonight, or else I would’ve been more prepared. Truth be told, I was only really here to support my girlfriend, Scarlett Johansson. I had no idea that I would be winning something too. So, I’ll make this quick, I just want to thank Max Barbakow who even gave me the chance to audition for the part of Sarah. I also want to thank the amazing cast and crew, without you here then there wouldn’t be a movie to make and I am so grateful for all of you. And finally, I want to thank my incredible girlfriend, Scarlett Johansson. If it weren’t for you then I would’ve never even thought about taking this role. You have guided me and supported me through this entire project and I can’t thank you enough. I love you so much more than you’ll ever know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about 7 hours left here before I have to fly off to the next destination on my tour. Congrats to all the nominees and the winners tonight!”
Speedily, you walked across the stage and out the back to get your name engraved. You stopped for a couple pictures before you returned back inside. You came back in just as they announced the last winner for Best Motion Picture. The event soon came to a close.
You grinned along with Scarlett as everyone around you congratulated the two of you. Florence even came to tackle you into a hug. After arranging a date to hang out together again, you and Scarlett headed through the back where Lorelai and her driver were already waiting for you inside the car.
You opened the door for her, letting her in first. On the way back to the hotel, the two of you were sitting as close as you could with your seatbelts on. Your arm over Scarlett’s shoulder while she kept her face buried in your neck, trying to memorize your smell. The two of you spent the rest of the night talking about nothing and everything.
THE END
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3292 words
#scarlett johansson#scarlett johansson x reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#the oscars#singer!reader universe#singer!reader#scarlett x reader#avengers#marvel#mcu#marriage story#jojo rabbit#rosie betzler#Nicole barber
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Marriage Story (2019)
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The Most Tragic of Mistakes
|Charlie Barber x Fem!Reader Short Story|
Chapter One
Masterlist of Series
Summary: You're a fresh-faced makeup artist trying to make it in the Big Apple. Finally, you get a job as a makeup artist for Exit Ghost's new production of Caligula and meet the infamously intense director, Charlie Barber.
Author's Note: Hey y'all! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this short story. I uploaded this quite some time ago on AO3 and Wattpad, but not on here. Why? I'm unsure. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Warnings: Smut, age gap, slight innocence kink, adultery, unprotected sex, dom Charlie, the other woman-type trope, power imbalances, workplace relationships, choking, hair pulling.
You set down the glass of red wine on your coffee table, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram with your feet propped up, and release a long sigh. An anxious feeling permeated your stomach for the day you have ahead.
The sun has long since set and covered the outdoors with its shadow, the only light shining in the corner of your living room with a soft yellow hue.
Your first big makeup gig starts in only a few hours. It would help if you slept, but you can't. The anxiety is too much to relax your heart.
When you applied for the makeup artist position in the art department for a new play production, you didn't think you would get it. There was still the microscopic hope you would when you clicked 'apply' on the website, but this was New York. There was no way in Hell that an unknown "just-graduated artist" could book a gig like this. So young, so fresh out of cosmetology school that you hadn't even been able to work at a spa or salon, no real-world training. Nevertheless, the risk-taking director, Charlie Barber, decided you were the perfect fit.
When you got the call back from the hiring manager, you were stunned. No words could leave your mouth when she told you when the start date was. You could barely even reply a yes when she asked if you were still interested, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You suppose you were one. A small fish yanked from the comfort of its calm water, Charlie Barber, the person who reeled you up, taking a chance on some nobody girl.
You reach your hand over, feeling the cold stem of the wine glass and twirling it between your index finger and thumb.
You had known who Charlie was before applying to this job, being familiar with the theatrical troupe of Exit Ghost but needing more interest to look at any of their past performances. You regret that now. What if any actors or coworkers tried asking you about your knowledge of their past plays? Quizzing your dedication to Charlie Barbers' work, asking for your thoughts and opinions on his directing. You couldn't brush those questions off; your ignorance and naivety would shine even more than your artistry.
You quickly tap the magnifying glass on your phone screen, searching for Exit Ghost. Surely, they would have social media. Everyone and every company had one to keep up with the growing advancement of technology and popularity to ensure they stayed in the loop.
It looks good if you follow your employer.
Finding their page, scroll down, making sure to follow them. You continue looking through their page, taking notes of all the plays they've mentioned. Opening nights here and there, celebratory dinners after successful shows, and some intimate pictures of the acting process occasionally. Then, you reach a post with the caption, "A look at the director: Charlie Barber mean mugging, no mess ups accepted!"
A small smile grows as you examine the picture. His intense brown eyes bore ahead at what you assume is the stage, his raven hair whispered back, framing fluffily around his freckled face, his nose prominently showing in the stage light. Sleeves from a blue button-up shirt rolled past his forearms, exposing the broad muscle, black hair lightly covering it. Charlie's giant fist covers his mouth as a sliver watch adorns his wide wrist, resting an elbow on a crossed thigh.
He's beautiful and regal, even if he's the inspiration for every Roman statue in history—a longing forms in your chest. You wish you could reach through the phone and touch him. Trace your thumb across his nose and cheekbones, feeling the chiseled structure. Run your fingers through his hair and feel the tickling between them as you kiss his lips, exploring every hidden inch of Charlie Barber's mouth.
Your thumb twitches at the thought, a white heart popping up on the screen.
You freak, a panicked cry releasing as you realize you liked a picture from three years ago. Three fucking years ago! You quickly unlike it, but the damage is done; they'll still be notified when they open the app. They'll see that the only picture your profile liked was the one of Charlie.
"This is so fucking embarrassing." You groan, cheeks on fire.
Hopefully, enough people will like their page, and your notification will be buried among them, but that isn't certain. The average amount of traffic they get in a single post is around a hundred or so, and more is needed to disguise your own digits' betrayal.
You put your phone face down, unable to stomach the antagonizing look of the pixels, and down the rest of your wine. That's enough electronics for today as you decide to go to bed.
Your phone buzzes you awake, the vibrations sending a small shock through your bones. Turning over in bed, you stretch, your muscles and joints groaning at the sudden movement. You sit up, slouching inwards as you stare lazily at the blank wall in front of you, trying to keep yourself alert after only being asleep for a few hours. The chill air hits your skin, causing goosebumps from the lack of blankets as you smack your lips together, mouth dry. You grab your phone, checking the time.
4:05 am
Why would anyone make rehearsal start so early?
You woke up extra early, unsure of the commute from the station to Exit Ghost's theater. Not to mention the time it would take to set up your station.
Finally, you crawl out of bed, eyes still hazy with sleep as you ready yourself for the long day ahead.
You arrive at the theater building, rolling a makeup case in tow. It was sketchy lugging that thing around the sidewalks and subway. You kept it near, wrapping your legs around it and studying anyone who dared to look your way.
If someone even attempted to touch your most prized position, you would lay your life down for all those cosmetics, not batting an eyelash. But thankfully, no one dared to try.
Pushing down the retractable handle, you grab the one on the side of the black case, hoisting it up and leaning as you ascend the concrete stairs. Your biceps curl and flex underneath the weight of it. The end of it tips backward. The force is too strong to be gravity. Your grip falters, nearly dropping your most prized possession on the dirty cement. You turn your body, swinging the luggage in the opposite direction as you curl your fist, ready to sock the person who dared to touch your makeup bag.
Charlie Barber stands there, his arms up in surrender, a leather bag strapped across his body as he chokes on a laugh.
"Woah, hey there now, put that sucker away." His eyes match his light-hearted tone with a hint of humor.
You quickly lower your fist, almost hiding it behind your back as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, your face scorching with embarrassment.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Barber. I didn't mean to do that." You release an awkward laugh. "I didn't know it was you."
He chuckles, finding this situation a whole lot more entertaining than you
"It's all good, Miss..." He pauses, unsure of your name.
A pang of sadness hits you, completely involuntary. It's not like you should expect him to know it. After all, you've never met him, only having talked to the hiring manager, but it still hurts. Surely he should know his new hires? You push it down, filling in the gap with your first and last name.
"Ah, yes," he says, acting as if he knew it in the first place, repeating it back to you. "That seems like a mean left hook there! I'm glad I didn't have to taste it. I feel bad for the next guy, though."
You smile back, lips tight as you nod, refusing to speak, unsure what to respond with. Your mind is not nearly as witty as his. A small silence enters the air, soon interrupted by Charlie clearing his throat.
"Uh... Would you like help with that?" He asks politely as you shake your head. You're still uncomfortable giving your respective baby to a stranger, even if he was technically your boss.
"No, thank you. I got it. It's honestly not that heavy," you lie.
Charlie nods, humming slightly with approval as he steps aside, walking the few places to the door. You close your eyes as he passes, releasing a sigh of almost pleasure at the noise, knees going weak.
He unlocks the door, letting you enter first with the swoop of his hand, and you nod thanks.
A marble stairwell is all you're greeted with, silver and black plaques designating which floor you can go to. You stand there, wondering where the dressing room will be. No one ever told you the layout. If it weren't for Charlie, you wouldn't have entered the building.
The door closes automatically behind him as he shrugs his bag, adjusting it on his shoulder. You look at him, a deer caught in headlights, unsure of where to go, pleading for help.
"Which way to the dressing rooms, sir?" Your voice sounds small, barely bouncing off the hard stone. Charlie steps closer, nearly ending the small gap of space you have in the tiny area. His plush lips smile down at you, almost caring, wanting to guide and take care of you. He licks them.
"Let me show you," he says plainly. His rumbling voice sends shivers down your spine as you turn around, ready for him to lead. You're sure even if he led you to a different place, you would still follow, clinging to each step in the movement. "The dressing rooms are on the first floor with the stage."
Charlie rests a small hand on your lower back. It stays there as you descend, both of your shoes lightly tapping the hard floor. You stiffen at the touch but don't move, letting him guide you.
He shows you the dressing rooms, a mirror with light bulbs surrounding it that spans the entire room length, and wooden chairs with fabric backs resting in front of a long table. It's so secluded from everything, the cream walls trapping every sound.
You glance at the mirror, Charlie stares at your reflection, and you meet him, both expressionless. What is this? Why does your gut stir when you see him? Why does your mind lose control of your body when he talks?
He's just so handsome.
You would do anything for him. You would run your fingers through his hair for hours as he pulled you close. Brush your noses against each other as you kiss him, his plush lips overlapping yours. You would rip off your clothes and display your most intimate parts just for him. If only he would ask.
He removes his hand from behind you, lifting itself towards your neck. Your legs clench with anticipation, feeling your core damp and getting through your pants. And that's when you see it. A glint of gold sparkled in the mirror lights- a wedding band.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
He's married! Of course, Charlie is fucking married!
You shuffle away from him, turning your head to look at the ring.
"You're married?" You question with shock, your composure leaving you momentarily at the revaluation. "How long?" You force a polite smile on your face, trying to cover up the hurt from your past words.
He quickly drops his hand, his other fingers twisting the band nervously like he was checking if it was still there.
"I'm not sure exactly. Ten years or so? It's been so long." Charlie's words sound wistful, cold even, at the mention of his marriage. You brush off the feeling of his voice, trying to hide the hurt brewing inside.
"That's so sweet." You add a smile to your face. "Finding a partner you could get lost over the years with. So many people would kill for that."
Oh my God. You want to fuck a married man. You're officially a homewrecker.
"Yeah. I guess you could see it that way."
Anger pools behind his eyes. You want to reach out and touch Charlie, comfort him, trace the freckles and moles on his face, and ask what's making him hurt so much, but you don't. You can't. He's not yours, and he never will be.
He clears his throat, cutting through the thickness that has built.
"Let me show you the stage." Charlie glances at the silver watch on his wrist, the same arm his wedding ring rests on. "The others should be filing in soon."
He shows you the rest of what you need to know. The quickest way to get from the dressing room to the stage is by introducing yourself to the people who come in.
Eventually, you excuse yourself, saying how you needed to set up and get comfortable with your station. Which you needed to do; it wasn't entirely an excuse to get away from Charlie.
Others have already settled in the dressing room. White fabric costumes that resemble togas hang on silver racks, making the ample space incredibly small. When someone taps you on your shoulder, you set your case down, unzip it, and pull out all the makeup you packed within.
"Hi," a middle-aged woman with brown hair greets. Her skin hangs slightly with her years, crow's feet showing as she smiles. "I'm Mary Ann. I'm the Stage Manager here at Exit Ghost." She extends her hand, and you grip it lightly, startled by the sudden and loudness of her words.
You say your name politely, exchanging formalities, telling her your title.
"Oh, so you're the newbie!" She looks you up and down, examining your body, hair, clothes, and everything about you. Sizing you up almost. "You're a bit young, don't you think?"
You gawk at the audacity, too stunned to speak. She's not wrong, but there's no need to point it out. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to make any sound as Charlie enters, ducking through the doorway.
"Now, Mary Ann, you be nice to her. It's her first day." The man from before, cold and aloof at the idea of his marriage, is gone, replaced with a stern yet kind man, a director.
She backs away from you, finding a place by his side, her arm sneaking a slight touch on his side. You examine how her body gravitates to him, her eyes lighting up with an emotion only lovers share. You see it. No one seems to notice or care about it, but you do.
You tilt your head and squint at her slim fingers, trying to find a diamond, but you don't. Your pupils travel across their bodies as they converse, lost in the conversation of what the lighting should look like in this scene, how this one actor was off, and such.
Charlie glances at you, stuttering as he sees the realization dawn on you. He knows that you know. Out of everyone here, the newbie spots it and sees his affair.
He pushes Mary Ann away harsher than he should, not believing that he let himself slip in front of all these people. In front of you. The newbie he had to hold back from caressing their neck just moments ago, from griping her jaw and fucking her right there while they were alone.
You stare at him, unrelenting, as Mary Ann tries acting like he didn't just tell her with his body to leave.
Maybe Charlie made a mistake saying yes to the young cosmetology graduate, letting her into his production and thus his life. How could she, out of everyone here and out of everyone who interacted with him and spoke with him every day, see it? It was she who saw Charlie for what he was. An unfaithful man, a husband who broke his vows to the woman he swore death would be the only thing to separate them.
You break the stand-off, continuing to unload your supplies. Charlie excuses himself from Mary Ann-- from this whole situation. The sudden urge to light a cigarette and leave the theater for the rest of the day, to run away from them all, is strong, but he snuffs it out. Putting on the hard face of the director, everyone knew. The one that everyone needed for this production to go well.
Actors periodically returned to the dressing room, testing different makeup styles and techniques in the lighting, getting fit, and seeing what worked well and needed to be changed.
Charlie never returned. Mary Anne relayed all messages to him.
Finally, the black and white clock ticks to three, signaling your freedom from the almost den of a dressing room. You pack up, clicking every palette closed and sheathing every brush in its protector.
"Hey," the art director, Heather, says, a white toga with a golden belt in her hands. "Do you think you could hang this up for me since you're still in? It goes on hanger seven."
She throws you the garment, not waiting for an answer. You catch it before it falls on the dusty floor.
"Thanks," she calls back. And with a wave of her hand, she's gone. Everyone's gone, you realize, every chair empty, leaving only you... alone.
You look at the gown again, straightening it with a flick of your wrists. You turn your head, seeing something dark on the fabric that shouldn't be there. Eyeshadow. All color from your face drains, and you feel like you'll puke.
"Shit," you whisper. "Shit, shit, shit."
Slamming the costume on the table, you search desperately for a makeup wipe, rubbing the black shadow. It only makes it worse, smearing the pigment upwards.
"Oh God, what am I going to do?" Your breath quickens, panic setting in as you continue to scrub viciously.
You don't even notice when Charlie calls your name, too concentrated on the end of your career muttering expletives. His significant digits wrap around your tricep, and you jump, trying to cover the mess.
"What are you still doing here," he questions with a raised brow, looking you up and down. A smile cracks on your face as you hide the costume from his view.
"Oh, you know, just," you lift your hands, gesturing, "cleaning up... and... stuff." Your eyes snap to the side with each pause.
"Uh huh," Charlie responds in an unbelieving tone and puts a palm on his hip, his hair shining in the artificial light.
Why does he have to be so hot?
You blush, crossing your ankle over the other, subconsciously creating friction.
"What's that there behind you?"
You chuckle nervously.
"Oh, uh, this?" Gesturing to the ruined toga behind you. "Nothing. Just a costume that needs put away."
"Okay..." He draws the word out on his pink tongue, still a hint of curiosity behind his iris.
"Is that all you needed, Mr. Barber?" Hopefully, this will urge him to be on his way, and you'll find a way to fix this.
"Yeah..." Charlie says, once again drawing the word out.
Suddenly, his fingers snatch the robe, whipping it back too fast for you to grab it. He examines the dark, damp spot on the fabric. You flip your body around, signaling you're done with the conversation, and he can finally leave.
"Did you do this?" He questions, tone flat, devoid of any hints of his emotions.
"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Heather just threw it at me, and-and I had makeup on my hands..." You ramble, tears nearly springing from your eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barber." You look away, shame forcing you.
"Don't call me that." Your eyes snap up, ready to apologize again as he throws the toga on the floor and steps closer. "Do you see what it does to me?"
Tilting your head, you study him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion when nothing seems different. Charlie moves again, and you slide back, spine hitting the table. He gestures to his waist, a prominent bulge protruding from his khaki pants. You cough awkwardly, too stunned to speak.
"Look at me," he commands, "look at what you do to me. Do you know how difficult it is for me not to fuck you right here?"
A bolt travels through you, straight to your core, as you squeeze your thighs together. He puts his hands on the table, caging you in. You cower away from the intensity, his hot breath rolling down your cheek.
"You're so beautiful, and you don't even know it. You stand there, looking all innocent with those doe eyes begging me to fuck you." You shudder, Charlie's words so erotic and explicit in your ears. "I bet that's what you want right now, isn't it? For me to rip off all your clothes and pump your cunt full of my cum?"
There's nothing more in this world you would want. You felt that life would be complete if he just claimed you. A moan escapes from your chest, unable to longer contain your desire for Charlie.
His knuckle brushes down your face, fingers wrapping around your throat, threatening you into submission.
"Say it." He commands, pausing and waiting for your answer. He tightens his grip when you don't respond, your knees weakening from the growing desire. "Say it," Charlie repeats, the words gritting his teeth.
"Yes," you exhale in a soft breath.
Charlie leaves no room for second guesses as he slams his mouth into you, the soft flesh squeezing between the gaps of your teeth. Your fingers slither into his hair. It feels exactly as you imagined, silky and clean, with hints of product to smooth it back as you groan, opening your lips further.
If someone came in and shot you, you would die with a smile, your life finally complete with this one moment. It's as if everything in the past has led you to this moment. Forged you and carved you out for this very thing.
A giggle vibrates through your connected mouths, your chest bouncing as Charlie pulls back with a questioning look. You shake your head almost in disbelief.
"I was made for you, Charlie Barber." He smirks as he goes to cup your breast, testing it in his hand, seeing if your statement is true. Your back arches into his touch, asking without words for him to use it however he sees fit.
Finally, he removes your shirt, diving into trailing kisses down your neck, sucking too harshly as you whine. He bucks his hips into your still-covered cunt, grinding, seeking friction to ease the ache in his cock.
That's all he can think of as if it has a brain, neurons firing into his muscles and controlling his movements.
Charlie's digits unclasp each hook of your bra, exposing your tits to the chill air, your nipples perking into peaks. He latches onto one, licking and teasing you until you writhe under him, desperate mewls whispering.
Your legs buckle as teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, but Charlie stops you from falling, palms resting behind your thighs as he lifts you on the table. He pulls back from your tits, examining your state.
Cheeks flushed with blood, skin prickled with goosebumps, sweat dampening your sternum as your heart hammers in your chest. If Charlie didn't know better, he would think he's already fucked you, but seeing as your pants are still on, he digresses.
"Look at you. Already coming undone for me, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whimper, pouting with embarrassment at your lack of self-awareness. "Awe, sweet thing." He says, grasping your chin with his thumb and index pads, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Don't worry. I'll fix that for you."
He unbuttons your pants, sliding them down your legs as he kneels between them, nose pressing against the clothed mound. You move your hips slightly, trying to seek pressure covertly, but he notices and smirks, nuzzling closer. Charlie mouths at your wet panties, and you gasp, the foreign sensation building.
He continues to teethe lazily, not giving you nearly enough of him. You gently grab his obsidian hair, forcing him to meet your gaze, but not enough to completely pull away. Your eyes wide and pleading, begging for him to give you what you desire, ready to bargain anything for it. He gets the message, hooking his middle finger on the hemline and pulling it to the side, your wet and waiting pussy appearing.
He trails a digit down the middle of your slit; you gasp, happy with finally getting some semblance of what you want. Charlie purses his lips, a glob of fat spit splattering on your entrance. He pushes it in, finger-twisting and curling to ensure it stays there. Your hips buck and thighs clench as he hits that sweet spot inside you.
"Please, Charlie, I need more."
If your pussy could talk, it would be weeping, crying at the lack of attention it's getting, as Charlie teases.
"What a greedy little thing," he comments. "Who knew you were such a slut?"
You moan at his words, swelling from them as he gives in. He slides another finger, stretching your hole too broad for an average man as he moves it back and forth with a slow "come here" motion.
"You sure you can take me, sweetheart? You feel so tight."
"Yes! Your fingers are just huge," you grit out.
Charlie chuckles as he picks up his pace, pulling the tidal wave of your pleasure out to sea. He leans back into you, his lips circling your clit as he sucks, tongue licking.
You stroke his scalp, smoothing the waves back. He hums into your cunt, the vibrations sending you shivers. A sudden pang enters his chest, nearly stopping him for a beat before continuing.
The feeling is longing within his ribcage, old emotions Charlie thought he would never feel again with a woman, though unbeknownst to him, he sought-- a woman to fulfill his carnal desires that his wife no longer wanted. He thought he could find it with Mary Ann, but with her, it was just empty nothing.
But with you... With you, it was different.
The feeling of you softly gliding your nails along with his head as he devoured your cunt wasn't one of a woman who was just lost in ecstasy, greedy for her climax, but one who seemed to care. One who seemed to enjoy the thought of him wanting to take the time to put her first, to ensure she enjoyed herself without any expectation of reciprocation.
It hurt him almost to realize that what he was looking for, begging for, was someone happy with just the thought of him, grateful for his kindness and thoughts.
Perhaps it was selfish of him to want anyone else other than Nicole to give him that, but at the same time, was it too much to ask? Did he not deserve to be happy again? Not to be bogged down by a person who only saw the faults in him and nothing else. He was sure you would be his death in so many ways.
Charlie wraps his arms around your legs, smashing his nose into your pubic bone as you begin the crescendo of your orgasm.
Yes, he did deserve it, deserved the serotonin it gave to be with someone who saw him for what he was in his entirety-- deserved you. Your screams and cries of heaven are lost on Charlie's ears. The only thing he could hear was his thoughts.
I do deserve her. She's mine. Mine.
And he had to have you. Again and again and again. You couldn't walk until his milky white seed dripped down your pussy and thighs.
Charlie grips your hips, fingers digging in painfully as you cry out, spinning your body around and flipping you on your stomach. He rips your panties down your legs, the dry cotton burning your skin. He grabs his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops, his shirt untucking as he unbuttons his pants. They slide down, getting stuck on his knees as you see his tight grey underwear, his impossibly hard cock straining underneath the fabric, a small dark dot on the top from pre-cum. You look into the mirror, seeing the reflection of Charlie behind you, his cheeks tinted pink and hair wild even after smoothing it. He's so crazy, completely unhinged behind you, your pussy tightening around nothing as you wait.
Charlie's thumbs hook onto the lips of your hole, prying you open for him, his fingers splayed over your ass.
"You sure you're ready for me," he teases.
You nod frantically, trying desperately to get what you want as he smirks, removing his hands to take off his underwear. His cock springs free, veins protruding on his long shaft, the pink head glistening with seed. Your mouth falls open. Charlie is enormous, more significant than anything you've ever seen. He's equally as wide as he is long. Unsureness washes across your face.
Maybe you can't take it? You could barely take his fingers; how could you even handle his manhood? Charlie notices your hesitancy as he steps closer, bending as he peppers comforting kisses down your spine.
"You can do it, sweetness." He affirms, his hot breath dancing on your skin. "I know you can."
If it were possible to turn into a liquid, you would do so now. Charlie's words were so sincere and kind that you could melt into the cracks of the tile floor. You nod, agreeing with him as he spares you one last lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud.
The head of his cock pokes at your entrance, daring to go farther, just testing the waters. You gasp, feeling Charlie's skin on yours enough to send you into a frenzy as you buck your hips back. He pulls away, sliding his shaft along your wetness, readying himself for you, tiny shocks of pleasure traveling through your nerves as he rubs your clit. You whine, clenching around nothing, finally having enough.
"Charlie," you mewl, "please, I can't wait anymore."
His heart swells at your voice, happiness overcoming his entire being at the thought of someone needing him. After all, he is a caring man. He can't deny you any longer, not when you need him.
Charlie pushes the tip into you as you gasp, gritting your teeth, a slight sting emerging from your core. He shushes you with his lips, his palms rubbing soothing circles on your ass cheeks as he goes in a little further.
"Look at that," he comments. His cock disappears into you.
Your head lowers as your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escaping you as he bottoms out, stretching you so tightly around him.
"You take me so well."
Your body twitches at that, cinching around him momentarily, causing him to groan. The sound is heavenly, putting a smile on your face. You could listen to that noise forever, putting it on a loop and never getting tired of it. You do it again, trying to coax it out of him. Charlie grunts with a small ah, his hand smacking your skin in punishment as he slides out, leaving only a sliver of him, your lips encompassing his cock.
Charlie begins thrusting, his hips coming into contact with your thighs as you feel the tiny tickles of his hair. He doesn't go slow this time, his carnal desires taking over as he slams back into you, his head brushing against your cervix. You cry out, the pain of him stretching you mixing with the pleasure of his cock rubbing your sensitive spot.
You flatten yourself on the table as he pistons into you, his pace unrelenting as you continue to pant. Your hands scratch the plastic-coated wood, trying to find something to ground you at this moment as his strength pushes you against the mirror. Your cheek squishes as the oils smudge it. Your eyes look feral. Your pupils dilate with lust as you search for his. Charlie's lips are pursed, gaze downcast as he concentrates on your cunt, your pussy swallowing his cock.
You could stay like this for hours, looking like a mindless little fuck toy for him, doing anything and everything he could ask for and thanking him in the end.
He catches you staring in the mirror, looking entranced. He grabs your hair, his digits tangling in the locks as he pulls your head back, fucking impossibly deeper than before. Your chest rises and falls in a quick breath as he keeps drilling, a pressure in your gut growing.
"You are doing so well," he smirks. You return a small, lazy smile, happy to be pleasing him.
"Thank you, Mr. Barber," you say breathlessly, your voice hiccuping. "You feel so good."
Charlie sighs, your words putting him in a daze as his mind wanders.
It's been so long since he felt this way... truly appreciated even this most simplistic of actions. It has been years since Nicole had sex with him, months since she had let him kiss her, even hug her. Their bond was severed and destroyed long ago, their spark lost. He tried to find it in Mary Ann. Charlie was so desperate for a connection, for anything, when he confided in her about his marital troubles that he had no idea she took it as him wanting her.
He did not stop the affair from advancing; it was a good distraction for the most part. He could channel the affections and longing he wanted from Nicole through her, and it worked... kind of.
But then you came.
Walking up the stairs of his theater building, he was severely overdressed with an air of innocence he wanted to possess again. So new and fresh-faced to the world, Charlie realized he had to have you, be with you, guide you, and teach you about what this life has to offer.
And here he was, balls deep inside you as you panted his name, praising him for making you feel so good. It was almost naive of you to do, so childish that you thought it was a luxury to feel this good when Charlie could do it all the time. He wanted to teach you about life, and wasn't this a part of it?
Your velvet walls tightening around Charlie rips him from his thoughts. He could tell you were close, inching your way over to ecstasy.
He snakes his hand around you, the pads of his fingers coming into contact with your clit, your body twitching.
"Oh, God, Charlie, I'm so close." You pant, eyes shutting as another intense wave of pleasure washes over you.
"Look at me," he demands. You don't obey, too lost in the building pressure. He slaps your clit in admonishment as your leg hikes up at the intense sensation. "Let me see those eyes."
They almost flutter shut again at his command. It sounds like pure sex on your ears.
"Good girl," he praises, "I wanna see your face when you cum."
Those words nearly push you over the edge, but you hold back, not wanting this moment with Charlie to end.
"I bet I'm the first man ever to make you feel this good. The first one to have you cum from my cock alone."
The squelching of your wet folds as he thrusts is almost embarrassing, your face heating up even more.
"Listen to yourself. You're sopping wet, and it's all for me, only for me." Charlie's hand tightens your scalp. "You're going to fucking cum on my cock, and then, I'm going to stuff you full of my seed. Until it's dripping down your thighs and on the floor."
You shudder, his words almost pulling you out of your body as the pressure in your stomach bursts. You orgasm deep inside, racking through every bone in your body as he pulls you through it. Fucking you until you're a blubbering mess under him, twitching and clamping.
He lets go of your hair, and you collapse back down on the table, air shuddering out of your lungs. Charlie keeps fucking you a little slower now. You're like a rag doll under him, stilling and moaning softly when you realize he hasn't come yet. He put your pleasure before his own; tears nearly spring at the thought. You need to make him cum. He deserves it more than anything else in the world.
You extend your back, pushing your ass into him as he grunts. He must be so close. You don't want him to hold back any longer. You want him to fuck you and use your body for his own.
"Charlie." His gaze snaps up to yours in the mirror, his lips swollen and eyes glossy. "Please, cum. I need to feel you cum inside of me." You plead. "Please, Mr. Barber," you hiccup as his hips snap harshly into you. "You deserve it."
His mouth twitches, his jaw clenching as he slams into you a few more times, chasing his high. His warm seed fills inside your walls as his pelvis stalls and groans, tucking his chin to his chest. He pauses, catching his breath as he finally pulls out. You squeak as his tip glides over your sensitive spot, sending a bolt of overstimulated pleasure. You hear Charlie chuckle as he shuffles around and gathers your clothes and belt. You stay there, not trusting your knees enough to get up; you're too happy to move.
Charlie gently grabs your ankles, telling you to pull them up so he can slide your pants back on. They reach the crease of your ass before he stops, his thumb gliding over your swollen and abused mound, collecting the cum dripping and pushing it back in. You gasp, still sensitive. He runs soft fabric over the area, cleaning you up to the best of his ability as he pulls your pants up the rest of the way. Your turn around still bent over the table.
"Charlie, where is my underwear?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already having somewhat of an idea of where they could be.
He grins, showing you the cum stained panties as he stuffs them into his breast pocket. You roll your eyes as you extend your arm for the rest of your clothes, regaining enough strength to move. Finally, fully covered, you glance at the costume you ruined draped over his arm as you frown.
"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Barber. I can take it to a dry cleaner to see if they can fix it. I'll pay for everything." You still can't believe you ruined a costume on your first day. You won't believe you did many things on your first day. He waves away from your offer with a shake of his head.
"No, it's fine," he says your name tenderly. "I'll take care of it." You nod, agreeing with your lips pursed, still feeling guilty as you gather your things to leave, walking to the exit as Mr. Barber shouts for you. "Also, please don't call me that, Mr. Barber." You nod again wordlessly. "Everyone just calls me Charlie around here."
"Okay, Charlie." It feels foreign when you're saying it without his cock inside you. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say with sleep lacing your voice. "You and Mary Ann have a great rest of your day."
Your words would sound innocent to the middle ear, just a coworker wishing her bosses a good day, but you know better, and so does Charlie. He also knows that he and Mary Ann will, in fact, not have a great day with what he plans on doing now. You've changed everything for him, unbeknownst to you, as the wheels of your makeup bag click on the floor. Whether or not it is for the best remains to be seen.
You set down the glass of red wine on your coffee table, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram with your feet propped up, and release a long sigh. An anxious feeling permeated your stomach for the day you have ahead.
The sun has long since set and covered the outdoors with its shadow, the only light shining in the corner of your living room with a soft yellow hue.
Your first big makeup gig starts in only a few hours. It would help if you slept, but you can't. The anxiety is too much to relax your heart.
When you applied for the makeup artist position in the art department for a new play production, you didn't think you would get it. There was still the microscopic hope you would when you clicked 'apply' on the website, but this was New York. There was no way in Hell that an unknown "just-graduated artist" could book a gig like this. So young, so fresh out of cosmetology school that you hadn't even been able to work at a spa or salon, no real-world training. Nevertheless, the risk-taking director, Charlie Barber, decided you were the perfect fit.
When you got the call back from the hiring manager, you were stunned. No words could leave your mouth when she told you when the start date was. You could barely even reply a yes when she asked if you were still interested, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You suppose you were one. A small fish yanked from the comfort of its calm water, Charlie Barber, the person who reeled you up, taking a chance on some nobody girl.
You reach your hand over, feeling the cold stem of the wine glass and twirling it between your index finger and thumb.
You had known who Charlie was before applying to this job, being familiar with the theatrical troupe of Exit Ghost but needing more interest to look at any of their past performances. You regret that now. What if any actors or coworkers tried asking you about your knowledge of their past plays? Quizzing your dedication to Charlie Barbers' work, asking for your thoughts and opinions on his directing. You couldn't brush those questions off; your ignorance and naivety would shine even more than your artistry.
You quickly tap the magnifying glass on your phone screen, searching for Exit Ghost. Surely, they would have social media. Everyone and every company had one to keep up with the growing advancement of technology and popularity to ensure they stayed in the loop.
It looks good if you follow your employer.
Finding their page, scroll down, making sure to follow them. You continue looking through their page, taking notes of all the plays they've mentioned. Opening nights here and there, celebratory dinners after successful shows, and some intimate pictures of the acting process occasionally. Then, you reach a post with the caption, "A look at the director: Charlie Barber mean mugging, no mess ups accepted!"
A small smile grows as you examine the picture. His intense brown eyes bore ahead at what you assume is the stage, his raven hair whispered back, framing fluffily around his freckled face, his nose prominently showing in the stage light. Sleeves from a blue button-up shirt rolled past his forearms, exposing the broad muscle, black hair lightly covering it. Charlie's giant fist covers his mouth as a sliver watch adorns his wide wrist, resting an elbow on a crossed thigh.
He's beautiful and regal, even if he's the inspiration for every Roman statue in history—a longing forms in your chest. You wish you could reach through the phone and touch him. Trace your thumb across his nose and cheekbones, feeling the chiseled structure. Run your fingers through his hair and feel the tickling between them as you kiss his lips, exploring every hidden inch of Charlie Barber's mouth.
Your thumb twitches at the thought, a white heart popping up on the screen.
You freak, a panicked cry releasing as you realize you liked a picture from three years ago. Three fucking years ago! You quickly unlike it, but the damage is done; they'll still be notified when they open the app. They'll see that the only picture your profile liked was the one of Charlie.
"This is so fucking embarrassing." You groan, cheeks on fire.
Hopefully, enough people will like their page, and your notification will be buried among them, but that isn't certain. The average amount of traffic they get in a single post is around a hundred or so, and more is needed to disguise your own digits' betrayal.
You put your phone face down, unable to stomach the antagonizing look of the pixels, and down the rest of your wine. That's enough electronics for today as you decide to go to bed.
Your phone buzzes you awake, the vibrations sending a small shock through your bones. Turning over in bed, you stretch, your muscles and joints groaning at the sudden movement. You sit up, slouching inwards as you stare lazily at the blank wall in front of you, trying to keep yourself alert after only being asleep for a few hours. The chill air hits your skin, causing goosebumps from the lack of blankets as you smack your lips together, mouth dry. You grab your phone, checking the time.
4:05 am
Why would anyone make rehearsal start so early?
You woke up extra early, unsure of the commute from the station to Exit Ghost's theater. Not to mention the time it would take to set up your station.
Finally, you crawl out of bed, eyes still hazy with sleep as you ready yourself for the long day ahead.
You arrive at the theater building, rolling a makeup case in tow. It was sketchy lugging that thing around the sidewalks and subway. You kept it near, wrapping your legs around it and studying anyone who dared to look your way.
If someone even attempted to touch your most prized position, you would lay your life down for all those cosmetics, not batting an eyelash. But thankfully, no one dared to try.
Pushing down the retractable handle, you grab the one on the side of the black case, hoisting it up and leaning as you ascend the concrete stairs. Your biceps curl and flex underneath the weight of it. The end of it tips backward. The force is too strong to be gravity. Your grip falters, nearly dropping your most prized possession on the dirty cement. You turn your body, swinging the luggage in the opposite direction as you curl your fist, ready to sock the person who dared to touch your makeup bag.
Charlie Barber stands there, his arms up in surrender, a leather bag strapped across his body as he chokes on a laugh.
"Woah, hey there now, put that sucker away." His eyes match his light-hearted tone with a hint of humor.
You quickly lower your fist, almost hiding it behind your back as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, your face scorching with embarrassment.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Barber. I didn't mean to do that." You release an awkward laugh. "I didn't know it was you."
He chuckles, finding this situation a whole lot more entertaining than you
"It's all good, Miss..." He pauses, unsure of your name.
A pang of sadness hits you, completely involuntary. It's not like you should expect him to know it. After all, you've never met him, only having talked to the hiring manager, but it still hurts. Surely he should know his new hires? You push it down, filling in the gap with your first and last name.
"Ah, yes," he says, acting as if he knew it in the first place, repeating it back to you. "That seems like a mean left hook there! I'm glad I didn't have to taste it. I feel bad for the next guy, though."
You smile back, lips tight as you nod, refusing to speak, unsure what to respond with. Your mind is not nearly as witty as his. A small silence enters the air, soon interrupted by Charlie clearing his throat.
"Uh... Would you like help with that?" He asks politely as you shake your head. You're still uncomfortable giving your respective baby to a stranger, even if he was technically your boss.
"No, thank you. I got it. It's honestly not that heavy," you lie.
Charlie nods, humming slightly with approval as he steps aside, walking the few places to the door. You close your eyes as he passes, releasing a sigh of almost pleasure at the noise, knees going weak.
He unlocks the door, letting you enter first with the swoop of his hand, and you nod thanks.
A marble stairwell is all you're greeted with, silver and black plaques designating which floor you can go to. You stand there, wondering where the dressing room will be. No one ever told you the layout. If it weren't for Charlie, you wouldn't have entered the building.
The door closes automatically behind him as he shrugs his bag, adjusting it on his shoulder. You look at him, a deer caught in headlights, unsure of where to go, pleading for help.
"Which way to the dressing rooms, sir?" Your voice sounds small, barely bouncing off the hard stone. Charlie steps closer, nearly ending the small gap of space you have in the tiny area. His plush lips smile down at you, almost caring, wanting to guide and take care of you. He licks them.
"Let me show you," he says plainly. His rumbling voice sends shivers down your spine as you turn around, ready for him to lead. You're sure even if he led you to a different place, you would still follow, clinging to each step in the movement. "The dressing rooms are on the first floor with the stage."
Charlie rests a small hand on your lower back. It stays there as you descend, both of your shoes lightly tapping the hard floor. You stiffen at the touch but don't move, letting him guide you.
He shows you the dressing rooms, a mirror with light bulbs surrounding it that spans the entire room length, and wooden chairs with fabric backs resting in front of a long table. It's so secluded from everything, the cream walls trapping every sound.
You glance at the mirror, Charlie stares at your reflection, and you meet him, both expressionless. What is this? Why does your gut stir when you see him? Why does your mind lose control of your body when he talks?
He's just so handsome.
You would do anything for him. You would run your fingers through his hair for hours as he pulled you close. Brush your noses against each other as you kiss him, his plush lips overlapping yours. You would rip off your clothes and display your most intimate parts just for him. If only he would ask.
He removes his hand from behind you, lifting itself towards your neck. Your legs clench with anticipation, feeling your core damp and getting through your pants. And that's when you see it. A glint of gold sparkled in the mirror lights- a wedding band.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
He's married! Of course, Charlie is fucking married!
You shuffle away from him, turning your head to look at the ring.
"You're married?" You question with shock, your composure leaving you momentarily at the revaluation. "How long?" You force a polite smile on your face, trying to cover up the hurt from your past words.
He quickly drops his hand, his other fingers twisting the band nervously like he was checking if it was still there.
"I'm not sure exactly. Ten years or so? It's been so long." Charlie's words sound wistful, cold even, at the mention of his marriage. You brush off the feeling of his voice, trying to hide the hurt brewing inside.
"That's so sweet." You add a smile to your face. "Finding a partner you could get lost over the years with. So many people would kill for that."
Oh my God. You want to fuck a married man. You're officially a homewrecker.
"Yeah. I guess you could see it that way."
Anger pools behind his eyes. You want to reach out and touch Charlie, comfort him, trace the freckles and moles on his face, and ask what's making him hurt so much, but you don't. You can't. He's not yours, and he never will be.
He clears his throat, cutting through the thickness that has built.
"Let me show you the stage." Charlie glances at the silver watch on his wrist, the same arm his wedding ring rests on. "The others should be filing in soon."
He shows you the rest of what you need to know. The quickest way to get from the dressing room to the stage is by introducing yourself to the people who come in.
Eventually, you excuse yourself, saying how you needed to set up and get comfortable with your station. Which you needed to do; it wasn't entirely an excuse to get away from Charlie.
Others have already settled in the dressing room. White fabric costumes that resemble togas hang on silver racks, making the ample space incredibly small. When someone taps you on your shoulder, you set your case down, unzip it, and pull out all the makeup you packed within.
"Hi," a middle-aged woman with brown hair greets. Her skin hangs slightly with her years, crow's feet showing as she smiles. "I'm Mary Ann. I'm the Stage Manager here at Exit Ghost." She extends her hand, and you grip it lightly, startled by the sudden and loudness of her words.
You say your name politely, exchanging formalities, telling her your title.
"Oh, so you're the newbie!" She looks you up and down, examining your body, hair, clothes, and everything about you. Sizing you up almost. "You're a bit young, don't you think?"
You gawk at the audacity, too stunned to speak. She's not wrong, but there's no need to point it out. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to make any sound as Charlie enters, ducking through the doorway.
"Now, Mary Ann, you be nice to her. It's her first day." The man from before, cold and aloof at the idea of his marriage, is gone, replaced with a stern yet kind man, a director.
She backs away from you, finding a place by his side, her arm sneaking a slight touch on his side. You examine how her body gravitates to him, her eyes lighting up with an emotion only lovers share. You see it. No one seems to notice or care about it, but you do.
You tilt your head and squint at her slim fingers, trying to find a diamond, but you don't. Your pupils travel across their bodies as they converse, lost in the conversation of what the lighting should look like in this scene, how this one actor was off, and such.
Charlie glances at you, stuttering as he sees the realization dawn on you. He knows that you know. Out of everyone here, the newbie spots it and sees his affair.
He pushes Mary Ann away harsher than he should, not believing that he let himself slip in front of all these people. In front of you. The newbie he had to hold back from caressing their neck just moments ago, from griping her jaw and fucking her right there while they were alone.
You stare at him, unrelenting, as Mary Ann tries acting like he didn't just tell her with his body to leave.
Maybe Charlie made a mistake saying yes to the young cosmetology graduate, letting her into his production and thus his life. How could she, out of everyone here and out of everyone who interacted with him and spoke with him every day, see it? It was she who saw Charlie for what he was. An unfaithful man, a husband who broke his vows to the woman he swore death would be the only thing to separate them.
You break the stand-off, continuing to unload your supplies. Charlie excuses himself from Mary Ann-- from this whole situation. The sudden urge to light a cigarette and leave the theater for the rest of the day, to run away from them all, is strong, but he snuffs it out. Putting on the hard face of the director, everyone knew. The one that everyone needed for this production to go well.
Actors periodically returned to the dressing room, testing different makeup styles and techniques in the lighting, getting fit, and seeing what worked well and needed to be changed.
Charlie never returned. Mary Anne relayed all messages to him.
Finally, the black and white clock ticks to three, signaling your freedom from the almost den of a dressing room. You pack up, clicking every palette closed and sheathing every brush in its protector.
"Hey," the art director, Heather, says, a white toga with a golden belt in her hands. "Do you think you could hang this up for me since you're still in? It goes on hanger seven."
She throws you the garment, not waiting for an answer. You catch it before it falls on the dusty floor.
"Thanks," she calls back. And with a wave of her hand, she's gone. Everyone's gone, you realize, every chair empty, leaving only you... alone.
You look at the gown again, straightening it with a flick of your wrists. You turn your head, seeing something dark on the fabric that shouldn't be there. Eyeshadow. All color from your face drains, and you feel like you'll puke.
"Shit," you whisper. "Shit, shit, shit."
Slamming the costume on the table, you search desperately for a makeup wipe, rubbing the black shadow. It only makes it worse, smearing the pigment upwards.
"Oh God, what am I going to do?" Your breath quickens, panic setting in as you continue to scrub viciously.
You don't even notice when Charlie calls your name, too concentrated on the end of your career muttering expletives. His significant digits wrap around your tricep, and you jump, trying to cover the mess.
"What are you still doing here," he questions with a raised brow, looking you up and down. A smile cracks on your face as you hide the costume from his view.
"Oh, you know, just," you lift your hands, gesturing, "cleaning up... and... stuff." Your eyes snap to the side with each pause.
"Uh huh," Charlie responds in an unbelieving tone and puts a palm on his hip, his hair shining in the artificial light.
Why does he have to be so hot?
You blush, crossing your ankle over the other, subconsciously creating friction.
"What's that there behind you?"
You chuckle nervously.
"Oh, uh, this?" Gesturing to the ruined toga behind you. "Nothing. Just a costume that needs put away."
"Okay..." He draws the word out on his pink tongue, still a hint of curiosity behind his iris.
"Is that all you needed, Mr. Barber?" Hopefully, this will urge him to be on his way, and you'll find a way to fix this.
"Yeah..." Charlie says, once again drawing the word out.
Suddenly, his fingers snatch the robe, whipping it back too fast for you to grab it. He examines the dark, damp spot on the fabric. You flip your body around, signaling you're done with the conversation, and he can finally leave.
"Did you do this?" He questions, tone flat, devoid of any hints of his emotions.
"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Heather just threw it at me, and-and I had makeup on my hands..." You ramble, tears nearly springing from your eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barber." You look away, shame forcing you.
"Don't call me that." Your eyes snap up, ready to apologize again as he throws the toga on the floor and steps closer. "Do you see what it does to me?"
Tilting your head, you study him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion when nothing seems different. Charlie moves again, and you slide back, spine hitting the table. He gestures to his waist, a prominent bulge protruding from his khaki pants. You cough awkwardly, too stunned to speak.
"Look at me," he commands, "look at what you do to me. Do you know how difficult it is for me not to fuck you right here?"
A bolt travels through you, straight to your core, as you squeeze your thighs together. He puts his hands on the table, caging you in. You cower away from the intensity, his hot breath rolling down your cheek.
"You're so beautiful, and you don't even know it. You stand there, looking all innocent with those doe eyes begging me to fuck you." You shudder, Charlie's words so erotic and explicit in your ears. "I bet that's what you want right now, isn't it? For me to rip off all your clothes and pump your cunt full of my cum?"
There's nothing more in this world you would want. You felt that life would be complete if he just claimed you. A moan escapes from your chest, unable to longer contain your desire for Charlie.
His knuckle brushes down your face, fingers wrapping around your throat, threatening you into submission.
"Say it." He commands, pausing and waiting for your answer. He tightens his grip when you don't respond, your knees weakening from the growing desire. "Say it," Charlie repeats, the words gritting his teeth.
"Yes," you exhale in a soft breath.
Charlie leaves no room for second guesses as he slams his mouth into you, the soft flesh squeezing between the gaps of your teeth. Your fingers slither into his hair. It feels exactly as you imagined, silky and clean, with hints of product to smooth it back as you groan, opening your lips further.
If someone came in and shot you, you would die with a smile, your life finally complete with this one moment. It's as if everything in the past has led you to this moment. Forged you and carved you out for this very thing.
A giggle vibrates through your connected mouths, your chest bouncing as Charlie pulls back with a questioning look. You shake your head almost in disbelief.
"I was made for you, Charlie Barber." He smirks as he goes to cup your breast, testing it in his hand, seeing if your statement is true. Your back arches into his touch, asking without words for him to use it however he sees fit.
Finally, he removes your shirt, diving into trailing kisses down your neck, sucking too harshly as you whine. He bucks his hips into your still-covered cunt, grinding, seeking friction to ease the ache in his cock.
That's all he can think of as if it has a brain, neurons firing into his muscles and controlling his movements.
Charlie's digits unclasp each hook of your bra, exposing your tits to the chill air, your nipples perking into peaks. He latches onto one, licking and teasing you until you writhe under him, desperate mewls whispering.
Your legs buckle as teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, but Charlie stops you from falling, palms resting behind your thighs as he lifts you on the table. He pulls back from your tits, examining your state.
Cheeks flushed with blood, skin prickled with goosebumps, sweat dampening your sternum as your heart hammers in your chest. If Charlie didn't know better, he would think he's already fucked you, but seeing as your pants are still on, he digresses.
"Look at you. Already coming undone for me, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whimper, pouting with embarrassment at your lack of self-awareness. "Awe, sweet thing." He says, grasping your chin with his thumb and index pads, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Don't worry. I'll fix that for you."
He unbuttons your pants, sliding them down your legs as he kneels between them, nose pressing against the clothed mound. You move your hips slightly, trying to seek pressure covertly, but he notices and smirks, nuzzling closer. Charlie mouths at your wet panties, and you gasp, the foreign sensation building.
He continues to teethe lazily, not giving you nearly enough of him. You gently grab his obsidian hair, forcing him to meet your gaze, but not enough to completely pull away. Your eyes wide and pleading, begging for him to give you what you desire, ready to bargain anything for it. He gets the message, hooking his middle finger on the hemline and pulling it to the side, your wet and waiting pussy appearing.
He trails a digit down the middle of your slit; you gasp, happy with finally getting some semblance of what you want. Charlie purses his lips, a glob of fat spit splattering on your entrance. He pushes it in, finger-twisting and curling to ensure it stays there. Your hips buck and thighs clench as he hits that sweet spot inside you.
"Please, Charlie, I need more."
If your pussy could talk, it would be weeping, crying at the lack of attention it's getting, as Charlie teases.
"What a greedy little thing," he comments. "Who knew you were such a slut?"
You moan at his words, swelling from them as he gives in. He slides another finger, stretching your hole too broad for an average man as he moves it back and forth with a slow "come here" motion.
"You sure you can take me, sweetheart? You feel so tight."
"Yes! Your fingers are just huge," you grit out.
Charlie chuckles as he picks up his pace, pulling the tidal wave of your pleasure out to sea. He leans back into you, his lips circling your clit as he sucks, tongue licking.
You stroke his scalp, smoothing the waves back. He hums into your cunt, the vibrations sending you shivers. A sudden pang enters his chest, nearly stopping him for a beat before continuing.
The feeling is longing within his ribcage, old emotions Charlie thought he would never feel again with a woman, though unbeknownst to him, he sought-- a woman to fulfill his carnal desires that his wife no longer wanted. He thought he could find it with Mary Ann, but with her, it was just empty nothing.
But with you... With you, it was different.
The feeling of you softly gliding your nails along with his head as he devoured your cunt wasn't one of a woman who was just lost in ecstasy, greedy for her climax, but one who seemed to care. One who seemed to enjoy the thought of him wanting to take the time to put her first, to ensure she enjoyed herself without any expectation of reciprocation.
It hurt him almost to realize that what he was looking for, begging for, was someone happy with just the thought of him, grateful for his kindness and thoughts.
Perhaps it was selfish of him to want anyone else other than Nicole to give him that, but at the same time, was it too much to ask? Did he not deserve to be happy again? Not to be bogged down by a person who only saw the faults in him and nothing else. He was sure you would be his death in so many ways.
Charlie wraps his arms around your legs, smashing his nose into your pubic bone as you begin the crescendo of your orgasm.
Yes, he did deserve it, deserved the serotonin it gave to be with someone who saw him for what he was in his entirety-- deserved you. Your screams and cries of heaven are lost on Charlie's ears. The only thing he could hear was his thoughts.
I do deserve her. She's mine. Mine.
And he had to have you. Again and again and again. You couldn't walk until his milky white seed dripped down your pussy and thighs.
Charlie grips your hips, fingers digging in painfully as you cry out, spinning your body around and flipping you on your stomach. He rips your panties down your legs, the dry cotton burning your skin. He grabs his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops, his shirt untucking as he unbuttons his pants. They slide down, getting stuck on his knees as you see his tight grey underwear, his impossibly hard cock straining underneath the fabric, a small dark dot on the top from pre-cum. You look into the mirror, seeing the reflection of Charlie behind you, his cheeks tinted pink and hair wild even after smoothing it. He's so crazy, completely unhinged behind you, your pussy tightening around nothing as you wait.
Charlie's thumbs hook onto the lips of your hole, prying you open for him, his fingers splayed over your ass.
"You sure you're ready for me," he teases.
You nod frantically, trying desperately to get what you want as he smirks, removing his hands to take off his underwear. His cock springs free, veins protruding on his long shaft, the pink head glistening with seed. Your mouth falls open. Charlie is enormous, more significant than anything you've ever seen. He's equally as wide as he is long. Unsureness washes across your face.
Maybe you can't take it? You could barely take his fingers; how could you even handle his manhood? Charlie notices your hesitancy as he steps closer, bending as he peppers comforting kisses down your spine.
"You can do it, sweetness." He affirms, his hot breath dancing on your skin. "I know you can."
If it were possible to turn into a liquid, you would do so now. Charlie's words were so sincere and kind that you could melt into the cracks of the tile floor. You nod, agreeing with him as he spares you one last lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud.
The head of his cock pokes at your entrance, daring to go farther, just testing the waters. You gasp, feeling Charlie's skin on yours enough to send you into a frenzy as you buck your hips back. He pulls away, sliding his shaft along your wetness, readying himself for you, tiny shocks of pleasure traveling through your nerves as he rubs your clit. You whine, clenching around nothing, finally having enough.
"Charlie," you mewl, "please, I can't wait anymore."
His heart swells at your voice, happiness overcoming his entire being at the thought of someone needing him. After all, he is a caring man. He can't deny you any longer, not when you need him.
Charlie pushes the tip into you as you gasp, gritting your teeth, a slight sting emerging from your core. He shushes you with his lips, his palms rubbing soothing circles on your ass cheeks as he goes in a little further.
"Look at that," he comments. His cock disappears into you.
Your head lowers as your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escaping you as he bottoms out, stretching you so tightly around him.
"You take me so well."
Your body twitches at that, cinching around him momentarily, causing him to groan. The sound is heavenly, putting a smile on your face. You could listen to that noise forever, putting it on a loop and never getting tired of it. You do it again, trying to coax it out of him. Charlie grunts with a small ah, his hand smacking your skin in punishment as he slides out, leaving only a sliver of him, your lips encompassing his cock.
Charlie begins thrusting, his hips coming into contact with your thighs as you feel the tiny tickles of his hair. He doesn't go slow this time, his carnal desires taking over as he slams back into you, his head brushing against your cervix. You cry out, the pain of him stretching you mixing with the pleasure of his cock rubbing your sensitive spot.
You flatten yourself on the table as he pistons into you, his pace unrelenting as you continue to pant. Your hands scratch the plastic-coated wood, trying to find something to ground you at this moment as his strength pushes you against the mirror. Your cheek squishes as the oils smudge it. Your eyes look feral. Your pupils dilate with lust as you search for his. Charlie's lips are pursed, gaze downcast as he concentrates on your cunt, your pussy swallowing his cock.
You could stay like this for hours, looking like a mindless little fuck toy for him, doing anything and everything he could ask for and thanking him in the end.
He catches you staring in the mirror, looking entranced. He grabs your hair, his digits tangling in the locks as he pulls your head back, fucking impossibly deeper than before. Your chest rises and falls in a quick breath as he keeps drilling, a pressure in your gut growing.
"You are doing so well," he smirks. You return a small, lazy smile, happy to be pleasing him.
"Thank you, Mr. Barber," you say breathlessly, your voice hiccuping. "You feel so good."
Charlie sighs, your words putting him in a daze as his mind wanders.
It's been so long since he felt this way... truly appreciated even this most simplistic of actions. It has been years since Nicole had sex with him, months since she had let him kiss her, even hug her. Their bond was severed and destroyed long ago, their spark lost. He tried to find it in Mary Ann. Charlie was so desperate for a connection, for anything, when he confided in her about his marital troubles that he had no idea she took it as him wanting her.
He did not stop the affair from advancing; it was a good distraction for the most part. He could channel the affections and longing he wanted from Nicole through her, and it worked... kind of.
But then you came.
Walking up the stairs of his theater building, he was severely overdressed with an air of innocence he wanted to possess again. So new and fresh-faced to the world, Charlie realized he had to have you, be with you, guide you, and teach you about what this life has to offer.
And here he was, balls deep inside you as you panted his name, praising him for making you feel so good. It was almost naive of you to do, so childish that you thought it was a luxury to feel this good when Charlie could do it all the time. He wanted to teach you about life, and wasn't this a part of it?
Your velvet walls tightening around Charlie rips him from his thoughts. He could tell you were close, inching your way over to ecstasy.
He snakes his hand around you, the pads of his fingers coming into contact with your clit, your body twitching.
"Oh, God, Charlie, I'm so close." You pant, eyes shutting as another intense wave of pleasure washes over you.
"Look at me," he demands. You don't obey, too lost in the building pressure. He slaps your clit in admonishment as your leg hikes up at the intense sensation. "Let me see those eyes."
They almost flutter shut again at his command. It sounds like pure sex on your ears.
"Good girl," he praises, "I wanna see your face when you cum."
Those words nearly push you over the edge, but you hold back, not wanting this moment with Charlie to end.
"I bet I'm the first man ever to make you feel this good. The first one to have you cum from my cock alone."
The squelching of your wet folds as he thrusts is almost embarrassing, your face heating up even more.
"Listen to yourself. You're sopping wet, and it's all for me, only for me." Charlie's hand tightens your scalp. "You're going to fucking cum on my cock, and then, I'm going to stuff you full of my seed. Until it's dripping down your thighs and on the floor."
You shudder, his words almost pulling you out of your body as the pressure in your stomach bursts. You orgasm deep inside, racking through every bone in your body as he pulls you through it. Fucking you until you're a blubbering mess under him, twitching and clamping.
He lets go of your hair, and you collapse back down on the table, air shuddering out of your lungs. Charlie keeps fucking you a little slower now. You're like a rag doll under him, stilling and moaning softly when you realize he hasn't come yet. He put your pleasure before his own; tears nearly spring at the thought. You need to make him cum. He deserves it more than anything else in the world.
You extend your back, pushing your ass into him as he grunts. He must be so close. You don't want him to hold back any longer. You want him to fuck you and use your body for his own.
"Charlie." His gaze snaps up to yours in the mirror, his lips swollen and eyes glossy. "Please, cum. I need to feel you cum inside of me." You plead. "Please, Mr. Barber," you hiccup as his hips snap harshly into you. "You deserve it."
His mouth twitches, his jaw clenching as he slams into you a few more times, chasing his high. His warm seed fills inside your walls as his pelvis stalls and groans, tucking his chin to his chest. He pauses, catching his breath as he finally pulls out. You squeak as his tip glides over your sensitive spot, sending a bolt of overstimulated pleasure. You hear Charlie chuckle as he shuffles around and gathers your clothes and belt. You stay there, not trusting your knees enough to get up; you're too happy to move.
Charlie gently grabs your ankles, telling you to pull them up so he can slide your pants back on. They reach the crease of your ass before he stops, his thumb gliding over your swollen and abused mound, collecting the cum dripping and pushing it back in. You gasp, still sensitive. He runs soft fabric over the area, cleaning you up to the best of his ability as he pulls your pants up the rest of the way. Your turn around still bent over the table.
"Charlie, where is my underwear," you ask, raising an eyebrow, already having somewhat of an idea of where they could be.
He grins, showing you the cum stained panties as he stuffs them into his breast pocket. You roll your eyes as you extend your arm for the rest of your clothes, regaining enough strength to move. Finally, fully covered, you glance at the costume you ruined draped over his arm as you frown.
"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Barber. I can take it to a dry cleaner to see if they can fix it. I'll pay for everything." You still can't believe you ruined a costume on your first day. You won't believe you did many things on your first day. He waves away from your offer with a shake of his head.
"No, it's fine," he says your name tenderly. "I'll take care of it." You nod, agreeing with your lips pursed, still feeling guilty as you gather your things to leave, walking to the exit as Mr. Barber shouts for you. "Also, please don't call me that, Mr. Barber." You nod again wordlessly. "Everyone just calls me Charlie around here."
"Okay, Charlie." It feels foreign when you're saying it without his cock inside you. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say with sleep lacing your voice. "You and Mary Ann have a great rest of your day."
Your words would sound innocent to the middle ear, just a coworker wishing her bosses a good day, but you know better, and so does Charlie. He also knows that he and Mary Ann will, in fact, not have a great day with what he plans on doing now. You've changed everything for him, unbeknownst to you, as the wheels of your makeup bag click on the floor. Whether or not it is for the best remains to be seen.
Masterlist of Series
#charlie barber#charlie barber x you#charlie barber fanfiction#charlie barber smut#charlie barber x reader#adam driver#marriage story#charlie barber fanfic#charlie barber x y/n#adam driver fanfiction#adam driver fanfic#nicole barber#marriage story fanfic
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An Affair
Summary: He knew it was wrong.You knew it was wrong too.That didn't stop you guys from being with each other. He wished things were different. He wished he would have met you first and he wished you would have met him first as well.
Charlie Barber x Reader Slight Armitage Hux x Reader
Charlie stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants as he stared ahead. People sitting in the subway looked at Charlie in the corner of their eyes. Honestly they were a bit scared at the tall man standing in the subway staring into space with a pout. His eyes were glossy with unshed tears.
He felt a warm sensation fill his chest as he remembered you.
He could hear your laughter and your voice in the subway. Three days ago Charlie and you took the same train and were talking about a few shows he was thinking of directing.
He stood in front of you as you leaned against the closed doors of the subway. Both of you ignored the people around you that night. Charlie could taste the wine from your mouth as he kissed you deeply. He moaned softly when you pulled away. Your fingers ran through his dark locks as you kissed him again. He had invited you to a nice Italian restaurant uptown after work. Afterwards you walked with him to Skywalker's Bar. He stood near you and he held you tightly so you wouldn't fall over whenever the subway would hit a bump or make a stop.
The tip of his ears turned pink when he felt you lean against him. Your face pressed against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He smiled and kissed the top of your head. He was happy, you gave him physical contact. Something he was missing, something he was craving for so long.
His memory faded away as the doors opened and new passengers walked inside. Charlie heavily sighs as the train begins to move again. He stared out of the subway window. The skies were dark and the grey clouds were covering over the city matching his mood. He looked away when the subway went underground. He stared at his own reflection for a moment before staring on top of the half rip ads that were marked with graffiti.
He's so tired. So angry.
Charlie ignored the people around him as they passed by him to get off at their stop.
He came home that afternoon after working late in the theater. He was tired and just wanted to sleep on the couch. That's where he was currently sleeping. It's been months since Charlie and Nicole were having problems. Charlie slept on the couch, he wanted Nicole to be more comfortable so he gave her the bed. He made it home and was about to go to the living room when Nicole started to scream her head off at him. It's always the same thing. Apparently he never made time for her or Henry. He stared at her for a moment before screaming at her.
"You left us for two fucking months to go to LA for a show" He yelled pointing a finger at her.
"How dare you say that I don't have any time for my own son." Charlie yelled. It was true, Nicole left for a short tv show months ago. She left Henry with Charlie all by themselves.
The sudden halt of the train caused Charlie to get out of his haze and look out the window.
He was here.
He quickly made his way out of the subway to the staircase that led up to the streets of upstate New York. He walked down the streets as he stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. He sighed happily as he found his lighter. Quickly going to the corner store to buy a pack of Marlboro. He lit a cigarette up at the red light, he inhaled the nicotine deep into his lungs.
"Fuck off." Nicole yelled at him pushing him out of the apartment.
That's when he decided to go to you. He knew he should have called you first. If you were busy then he would just go to a bar and drink his sorrows away but you were the first person he thought of.
You were always the first person he thought of.
Charlie across the street and stopped when he saw you. He threw the bud of his cigarette to the ground and looked ahead at you. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you.
He knew you had just come out of work. You wore a pair of black jeans with black chelsea boots. The green pea coat he bought you for your birthday was wrapped around you. He saw you raising your laptop bag up to your right shoulder as you opened your mailbox in front of the building complex. He softly frowned at the sight of your wedding ring.
He knew it was wrong.
You knew it was wrong too.
That didn't stop you guys from being with each other. He wished things were different. He wished he would have met you first and he wished you would have met him first as well.
He watched you go inside the building and leaned against the light post on the street corner. He took his phone out of his back pocket and rang you up.
He lit another cigarette as the phone rang.
"Hello, love." He smiled as he heard your voice.
"Hey, hun. How are you?" He said softly, taking a drag.
"I'm alright. Just came home from work. I'm a bit tired. What about you, love? Working late again?" You asked him. He couldn't help but enjoy the warmth feeling fluttering in his stomach as you asked him about his day and his well-being.
"I'm ok." Charlie answered softly. He mentally groaned at his weak response.
"You sure, love?" You asked him. Charlie bit his tongue at your question. He threw his cigarette to the ground and cleared his throat
'You sure, love?' Your question repeats in his mind.
My god, how much he loved that. He loved when you called him love, or baby. Or any nickname you gave him.
"Charlie?" You called out. Charlie shook his head at himself. He gets so into his head when thinking about you.
"Yeah. I just got into a fight with Nicole and she threw me out." He told you.
"Do you want to spend the night? Where's Henry?" You asked him.
"He's spending the weekend with his friend, sleepover." Charlie answered you.
"That's good, love. Do have a place to stay or you want to come.."
"I miss you." Charlie blurted out as he held the phone tightly over his ear. He shivered when the cold breeze ran over him.
He heard you laugh softly and replied. "I miss you too. Armitage isn't here. He left today to Ireland for work."
"That's good." Charlie said with a smile. Your husband wasn't here.
"Where are you?" You asked him. Charlie looked down at his feet at your question.
"Outside." He said shyly. He heard your door open through the phone and the call ended. He looked ahead again and saw you standing outside near the door.
"Hey." You said smiling as you pulled the sleeves of your sweater to your hands, trying your best to stay warm in the cold weather. Charlie gave you a smile and jogged up the steps. He slipped the phone in his coat pocket.
He happily welcomed your hug you gave him. He instantly wraps his arms around you.
"Let's get inside." He said trying to block you from the cold. You nodded and grabbed his hand pulling him inside to your apartment.
"Beer?" You asked him as you walked into the kitchen. You heard him shut the front door of your apartment.
"Yeah." He called out as he took his coat off and hung it next to yours on the coat rack. He looked around and saw your apartment. He didn't know how you made your apartment so homey.
Meow
Charlie looked down and saw Millicent. He smiled at the cat as he bent down. The fluffy orange cat happily purred against Charlie's hand.
"Hey, Mill." Charlie whispered while scratching behind the cat's ear.
"I swear to god, you love that cat more than me." Charlie looked up and saw you leaning against the door frame of the living room with a beer in your hand.
"Definitely not true." Charlie told you as he stood up and walked towards you. He took the beer bottle from your hands and placed it on the coffee table by the couch.
He looked down at you as he walked closer to you.
"Are you ok?" You asked him softly as you wrapped your arms around his waist.
Charlie hummed as he nodded at you. He slips his arms over your shoulders tugging you closer to him.
"Don't lie to me." You told him staring into his warm brown eyes.
You knew when he was lying to you. His eyes were bloodshot, he smelled like cigarettes. Charlie only smoked when he was horribly stressed.
"I'm just tired." He said softly as you rubbed his back. Charlie brought his left hand to your cheek.
"I'm tired. I just wish we could..." He said but stopped when he saw his wedding ring. You knew what he saw. You felt the cold metal band of his ring against your cheek. You pulled away from him and walked to the kitchen.
Charlie frowned when you walked away from him.
"Are you hungry? I'm sure you didn't eat anything today." You called out from the kitchen. You took the cold cuts from the fridge and placed them on the kitchen counter. You stopped and braced yourself over the counter. You looked down at your hands and saw your own wedding ring.
You always ignored the guilt every time you were with Charlie.
'How can something be so wrong, feel so good?!.' You thought to yourself.
Truth be told you love Armitage, you did but you didn't love him like you love with Charlie.
You were young when you married Armitage. You were in love with how much of a gentleman he was, his accent. You adored his red hair and his interests in cats but when he started working for a new company, The First Order. You started seeing less and less of him. His temper was now violent. If there was any bad news at work, a book or a cup would be thrown across the room.
He never hurt you but he yelled at you and you were never the one to stand quiet. You would never let a man speak that way to you. That's when the fights would start. Screaming matches. Objects were being thrown. Doors being slam shut. When the fights would be too much, you would leave him during his rant and go on a walk. You knew you had to do that because if you didn't you were going to jail for killing the ginger man.
You remember the night you met Charlie. It was one of the nights that the fight you had with Armitage was just nasty. Names were being called and the fight ended with you slapping him across the face. You ran to the train station with tears rolling down your face. You needed to get out.
When you got off the subway you were near where you worked. You knew Armitage would never get into the subway due to it being in his word 'unsanitary' so you were safe. You walked down the streets of New York and made your way to the nearest bar.
Skywalker's Bar was written in red font on the banner.
You enter the bar with a frown. You never see a bar so empty on a Friday night. The smell of cigarettes and stale beers filled the bar. Not really wanting to walk more, you decided to stay. You sat on the nearest bar stool.
In the corner of your eye you saw a tall man sitting four bar stool away. You looked ahead and saw your reflection in the mirror that they had hanging in front of the bar, quickly fixing yourself up. You looked away when the bartender made his way towards you.
"What can I get you, darling?" The bartender said with a flirty smile.
You ignored the flirty smile and told him. "Double whiskey. On the rocks."
You noticed the bartender froze at your request. He looked surprised at your choice of drink. You also noticed the tall man glance at you but quickly looked away when you made eye contact with him.
"Coming right up, darling." The bartender told you with a wink.
You looked away and grabbed your phone from your bag. You looked at your phone and saw Armitage had been blowing up your phone non stop.
'I'm sorry. Ok.'
'Pick up the phone. Y/n! Pick up the phone.'
'I'm sorry for what I said. Just come back home.'
You rolled your eyes at his messages. You shut your phone when the bartender brought your drink and left to attend the new people that just came in.
You took a gulp from the drink and let out a small wince as you felt the whiskey burn your throat.
"Rough night?" You heard a deep voice ask.
You looked at your right and saw the tall man looking at you. He was oddly attractive. He had dark locks that stopped at his broad shoulders. His lips were a nice color of pink and large. His nose stood out proud. He wore a dark suit with a white button down shirt. You noticed the top buttons on his white shirt were undone showing his pale skin. You noticed his eyes were a lovely shade of honey. You also noticed his eyes were bloodshot as well.
'Has he been crying too?' You thought to yourself.
"Is it that obvious?" You said as you took another gulp from your glass. The man chuckled as he bought his drink up to his mouth.
He leaned back in his seat and looked at you again.
"Charlie."
You nodded and answered "Y/n."
"Rough night too?" You asked him as you held your glass in your hands.
He took a deep breath loudly and gave you a nod.
"Yeah, you can say that." Charlie said as he looked away from you.
He didn't know what caused him to get this much confidence to talk to you. The moment he saw you entering the bar, he saw you from the mirror ahead of him. You looked beautiful. He saw how flushed your cheeks looked. He definitely noticed your eyes too. He knew you were crying. He's been crying alot too. He saw you take off your jacket and placed it in the stool. His eyes rank up and down your body and quickly looked away as he felt something stirred in his pants.
He saw the curly haired bartender flirting with you and giving you googling eyes but you completely ignored him. He wasn't going to say anything to you until he heard your drink order. Never in his life had he heard a girl order such a drink. He looked over at you and saw you were being serious. He looked away when you glanced at him.
He heard the bartender call you darling and walk away to make your drink. In the corner of his eyes he saw when you grabbed your phone from your shoulder bag. He heard you sighed as you scrolled through your phone.
He took a sip from drink and looked towards you.
'Fuck it' he thought to himself.
He wanted to make conversation with you. He honestly never made small talk with any woman since he was married. He always works at the theater and when he was at the bar, it was always with his coworkers and Nicole. This was the first time in years he was at a bar by himself.
When he asked you 'Rough Night?' He wanted to smack himself in the face for such a short sentence. He was surprised when you answered back at him.
Just like that the conversation started between you and him. Around midnight and five whisky doubles both of you sat next to each other and talked. He told you that he was a theater director and lived just a few blocks away from the bar. Both of you found it easy to talk amongst each other. When the topic came up about relationship. Both of you stood quiet because both of you saw each other's wedding ring. You saw his silver band on his left hand just as he saw yours. He couldn't stop staring at it every time you grabbed the glass cup with your left hand.
"Where's your husband?" Charlie asked you quietly after the bartender left another pair of drinks on the counter. You drowned the drink you had in your hand quickly.
"Home." You told him looking over at him as you placed the empty glass on the bar.
"Your wife?" You asked him.
"Home too." He said and took a drink.
"Kicked me out. Not the first time, she has done it." He told you as he placed the drink on the counter next to yours.
"I walked out. Not the first time as well but I slapped him for the first time ever." Charlie raised his eyebrows at you and nodded. You bit your bottom lip as you felt your cheeks blushed around. You were a bit embarrassed that you told Charlie that. You knew it was the liquor making you talk.
"Did he deserve it?" He asked you.
"Yes." You answered quickly with a sigh.
"He called me a fucking cunt." You told him as you stared down at the amber drink from the new glass you got. Charlie cleared his throat as he frowned at your words. He could see your eyes staring sadly down at your drink.
"He absolutely deserves it then." You looked over at Charlie when he spoke. You smiled at his response. He gave you a smile and you just couldn't help smile wider at the sight of his dimples.
That night was the first time you cheated on your husband as well for Charlie. He told you later that night that he almost slept with one of his coworker but he just couldn't do it. Charlie got a hotel room that night after the curly bartender yelled out last call. Both of you were extremely drunk and it happened when both of you stepped outside. You shriek as you felt the cold New York air.
"Shit!" Charlie yelled buttoning his coat as he shivered next to you. He immediately tugged you closer to him and without a thought you wrapped your arms around him. He looked down at you for a moment. His cock twitched at the sight of you licking your lips. He was staring at your lips the whole night. He was quite jealous at the whiskey that touched your lips all night. The tip of your nose was pink. Your cheeks were a bit red from the harsh cold winds. He leaned down and kissed you in front of the bar. When he pulled away, Charlie was about to apologize but you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him for another kiss. The night ended with both of you moaning and panting against each other. Charlie woke up alone the next morning, he saw a handwritten note you placed on the nightstand.
Thank you for the drinks. In the corner of the paper, he saw your number.
It was a few days later when Charlie decided to call you. The memory of you smiling and laughing filled his mind during work and on his way home. He had to admit you absolutely bewitched him. He hasn't felt this feeling in so long. You were so different, so refreshing.
He called you and asked you out for dinner. You accepted it and met him later that day. Night ended with the same hotel room.
A year has passed and honestly it's been the best. Both of you didn't say anything about feelings for a while. It was mostly both you hanging out and sleeping with each other but Charlie fell head over heels for you. Coffee dates, dinner dates, and long walks in Central park. Reading a few plays that Charlie was thinking about working with. Charlie had even gone far to introduce you to his friends at the theater but of course he told them that you were just friends. You did the same when you were invited to a dinner at work. Charlie watched you as you talked among your friends and coworkers. He watched with awed as you laughed and talked. He liked that you always got him into the conversation with your friends and coworkers. You didn't make him feel like an outcast. You never made him feel like he was doing something wrong or if he was falling short. The moment he knew that he loved you, truly loved you was when you gave him a small present. Charlie stared at the Spiderman wrapping paper in his hand. His eyes widened when he saw Henry's name on the corner of the gift.
"I remembered you told me he likes Spiderman and that his birthday is this weekend. Just a little something for him." You told him and he could see you were a bit nervous it made him smile.
Charlie told you about Henry when you first met him. He had shown you the small pictures he had in his wallet. Henry's school pictures and school trips were safely kept in his leather wallet.
"Thank you. He's gonna love it." Charlie said giving you a kiss.
One of the things Charlie didn't regret was his son. He loves his son. When he saw the gift you got for his son. His heart soared. You meet Henry later that weekend. You smiled at the boy who held his Spiderman action figure in one hand and the other he was holding a small plate of ice cream cake. Charlie told you that Henry saved you a piece and wanted to give it to you himself.
When Henry entered your apartment, he fell in love with the big, fluffy orange cat. Millicent happily rolled over on her back and let the little boy rub her belly. Charlie watched you with a smile as you kneeled down next to Henry. You looked up and saw Charlie with watery eyes.
"Have you heard anything of her?" You whispered to him when you got up.
"She called for his birthday. Two months is almost gone. She said she'll be coming back next week." Charlie said as he looked at his son then at you. You felt him grab your hand pulling you near him.
"Who's that?" Henry said, pointing at a picture hanging from the wall above the couch. Charlie looked at the picture and frowned.
You pulled away from Charlie and followed Henry who walked towards it and looked at it with wide eyes.
"That's my husband, Armitage. The picture was taken the day of our wedding." You told Henry.
Charlie listened as Henry asked you more about your husband. He was a bit jealous as he saw the pictures that Henry pointed out in the apartment. His brown eyes stared at the pictures of you with Armitage. Some were of him hugging you, others were you at a dinner with Armitage. He looked at your wedding picture and just for a second he imagined himself in Armitage place.
The day that you told Charlie that Armitage was a bit violent. He wanted to kill him and he was so upset about how so nonchalant you said. You told him while Charlie was cuddling with you, naked bodies against each other. Charlie stopped kissing your shoulder when he heard you and sat up to look at you.
You never seen Charlie so serious before. He came closer to you and asked you if Armitage had ever hit you. You shook your head and Charlie stood silent. Charlie told you that night about his parents and how his childhood was filled with the abuse of alcohol and screaming. You could imagine young Charlie Barber under his bedsheet at night covering his ears as his parents yelled in the other room. Both of you held each other close that night.
Charlie followed you to the kitchen and saw you leaning over the counter. He walked behind you and hugged you close to his chest. You instantly held his arms that rested in front of you.
"I've been thinking a lot." He told you.
"That's never a good thing." You joked trying to ease your anxiety that was caused by his words. You dreaded what was going to happen next. The first thing that popped in your head was that he wanted to end things. Maybe he got tired of you.
Charlie laughs as he tugs you closer to his chest.
"I'm thinking about divorcing Nicole."
You froze at his words. When Charlie didn't get a response from you. He turned you around to face him. He looks down at you with a worried face.
"I don't love her anymore. I haven't loved her for a year. I'm not happy with her. I'm not happy." He said softly.
You placed your hands on his chest.
"Please say something." Charlie begged.
"You should do whatever makes you happy." You tell him as he tugs on the belt hoops of your jeans. He nods and tells you.
"I want to be with you. You make me happy." You smile at him.
"I want to be with you too." You tell him truthfully.
"Divorce Armitage, Y/n. I know you don't love him. Be with me. Tell me you don't love him." Charlie tells you. You were thinking about it for months, divorcing Armitage. Charlie telling you this was the push you needed to make it happen.
"I don't love him." You said.
You nod at him. "Ok. I'll do it. We can be together."
Charlie smiles widely. "Together. I want to show you off. Bring you everywhere."
"Is that so?" You ask with a smirk.
"Yes, kitten." Charlie whispered as he leaned down to kiss you.
You grin against his lips wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him to you.
Kissing Charlie was something you never experienced. He gave so much. He kissed you like it would be his last kiss.
You giggled when Charlie picks you and places you on the kitchen counter. He pulls away from you and parts your legs so he gets in between.
"Say it." He whispers to you leaning his forehead against yours. You push his hair from his face as he holds you.
"I'm yours. All yours." His eyes lit up at your words.
Your hands find their way to his shirt. Unbutton them, wanting to feel him. He bits his bottom lip as he feels your nails run up and down his bare chest leaving light red marks. He kisses your neck as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.
"Mine." You whispered as you held his hard thick cock in your hands. He groans as you jerk him off gently.
"Yours, Kitten." He said out of breath as you jerked him off. His cock was hot, you rub your thumb over the head of his cock with his precum.
"I want to do something." He tells you, making you look up at him.
He stood up straight and took a deep breath. He looks down at his hands and takes his wedding ring off. He places it on the counter next to you. You watch the look of relief wash over him.
He was free. Not physically yet, or on paper but he is emotionally and mentally free now. He was free from the guilt and drama because he was going to be with you now.
You take your hand away from him and do the same. Charlie lets out a wide smile when you drop your rings next to his. You both share a look and let out a laugh.
Both of you are free now.
He leans down to kiss you again. Both of you mumbled the future together as you continued to jerk him off. You told him how you were going to leave your husband. He told you how he would do the same with Nicole. He promised you a new life. A happy life. He carries you to the kitchen table. Quickly removing your sweater, you leaned down backwards pushing the place mat off the table. You feel Charlie's hand taking your jeans off frantically. He throws them over his shoulders and pulls you closer to him. He pushes his pants down to his ankles not even bothering to take it off.
His eyes stare at your breasts, the lacy bra holding your breasts up together. He couldn't help out but lean down to pop one of them out. He latches on to your breasts. He groans against your chest, he pulls your breasts out of the bra. He moans against your hardened nipples when he pushes your panties to the side and feels your wet cunt.
"So wet, kitten." He mumbles against your nipples then kisses your cheeks to your neck. You moan as he bites your neck softly as he thrust two fingers into you.
"Kitten, I need you now. Please. Please." He whines as he fucks you with his fingers.
You lean backward and spread your legs to him. His thumb circling your throbbing clit as he looked up and down at you.
"Give it to me." You tell him.
Before he can say anything you pull him down for another kiss. He grabs your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the table. You let out a moan as you feel the head of his cock part your wet lips.
He throws his head back as he splits you in half.
"Always so fucking tight." He groans as he thrusts hard, burying himself fully inside of you.
"Always tight for me, kitten."
"Yes." You moaned at him looking up at him.
Charlie's gives you a few lazy thrust into you. He couldn't help but stare down as he watched his cock thrust into your cunt. You were so wet. You clit stood out as he fucked you. He loves how you pussy held on him as he fucks you. He loves how you were always wet for him.
"Faster baby." He hears you cry out.
Charlie doesn't give you any warning. He just started to pound into you relentlessly. He pulled you closer to him making you moan loudly. The wooden kitchen table screeched and wobbled by Charlie's hard thrusts.
"Fuck kitten!" He yells as he rams into you. You cry out as you feel his nails cutting into your hips as he holds you into place. His tights hitting the back of your legs. You gripped with one hand on the side of the table trying to hold on.
Charlie grunts as one of his hands lets go of your hip. You immediately feel his large fingers rubbing your clit as he pounded into you. You are so close to cumming, moaning as your pussy tightens around his thick cock. You look up to see Charlie looking down at you with his lips parted slightly. He's breathing heavily, his eyes were dark.
Your legs were practically shaking as he continued to pound into you. You wonder how the hell the table hasn't broken yet.
The sound of your sopping pussy and skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the kitchen. Charlie growls with a hard thrust. You can feel his balls hitting against your ass as he fucks you.
You were about to come. The feeling of his fat cock deep inside of you and his thick fingers rubbing your clit was too much, too good. Charlie moans at you loudly as he feels your pussy clenched down on his cock. Both of you didn't hear the front door open. You didn't hear the sound of Millicent's collar bell jiggling as she ran to the front door. You certainly didn't hear the footsteps coming to the kitchen.
"Y/n!"
You were looking up at Charlie and frowned when you heard a familiar scottish accent. You let out a gasp when you looked over and saw Armitage on the doorway of the kitchen. You let out a soft moan still looking at Armitage. You felt Charlie's dick ram deep inside of you. Your legs shook as you were being filled by his cum.
Charlie grunted loudly as he slammed his hand down to the table. Charlie throws his head back and pulls you closer to him by your hips.
"Kitten." He groans as he fills you up and looks down at you. His sweaty brows knitted together when he saw you were looking to the right side of the kitchen. You looked scared. He followed your graze and saw your husband.
Armitage saw the tall man between your legs then looked at you. He saw how red your cheeks were. You were almost completely naked on the table with your legs wrapped around him. Your breasts were over your bra, Armitage can see the hickeys starting to form on your breasts and neck. Armitage looked back at the man who was between your legs gripping your hips and the table. His shirt was open, pants down to his ankles.
You didn't know what to do. All you can feel and think at the moment was Charlie's hot thick cum dripping out of you when he pulled out. Charlie stood up straight and pulled you to his chest wrapping an arm around you to cover you. You can feel his chest tense up while he was catching his breath. Charlie stared hard at Armitage as he held you.
#charlie barber#charlie barber smut#charlie barber x reader#armitage hux#nicole barber#Marriage Story#cheating#smut#kitchen smut#we cheating
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I typed Charlie Barber into the search bar and the next song on my spotify was “The Other Woman”
#lowkey accurate#quite sad about that#he’s the only cheater i want#whether or not i like him is a different matter but probably if he wasn’t in his divorce i would’ve#that was the point of the film though no#charlie barber#marriage story#scarlet johansson#nicole barber#adam driver#lana del rey#the other woman#the other woman lana del rey
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The failmarriage of the day is Nicole and Charlie Barber from Marriage Story!
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I just want to read a Nicole Barber x reader fic 😭
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HOLYY SHITT COULD YOU WRITE A SHORT OF WHATEVER SMUTTY FIC WITH NICOLE RYDER LIKE SHE GETS JEALOUS THEN TAKES OUT ANGER ON YOU BY OIKE UNDRESSING YOUR PLAYING WITH UR BOOBIESS?
God I just read your previous nat fic and when I saw a Nicole pic I thought of it so fasttt I'm sorry by the aggression thoughh -----------------------ღ-------------------------
you made nicole jealous, insanely, in the middle of a party and wants to grope your breasts until you begged her to stop.
warnings | mild smut - 18+ MINORS DNI! mild touching, nicole ryder being jealous, pet names, and yeah...
notes | i hope this is something you wanted :D i liked this a lot
I wasn’t doing it on purpose. Well, I might hint a lie there; I think I was. Nicole had invited many of her friends to her house in Los Angeles, where we are currently staying due to her processing divorce with Charlie. I remember how we met, I remember the first night she touched my face. Asking me, chanting me, is this wrong? I nodded but kissed her anyway. Then, it was suddenly her turn of convincing me that nothing between us was wrong. She loved to hug me every night I spent with her, she loved it whenever I was close to her mom even though she can be obnoxious–I’m just saying. I remember vividly when I accidentally dropped a glass of water onto the grass where she picked it up, willingly, and placed it near my plate. I remember when she suddenly pulled me into a deep closet and gave me a searing kiss that I could never resist.
And now, I’ve made her into a jealous, envious mess. Maybe it was because of my outfit that showed a lot of my skin, a lot of it. I was wearing a short white skirt that matched the pearls around my neck, and a silky red tank top along with it. She wore something simple, yet elegant–which I love about her. And when I turned over my shoulder, I could see her from afar where she was holding onto her glass of whiskey with a tight grip; her eyebrows furrowing when a man touches my lower back as if he knew me. And as soon as I walked back to the main room, she followed me all the way to the bedroom where I expected her to be.
“Don’t act like I didn’t see that, Y/N.”
Innocently, I turned and shrugged my shoulders. Play safe, I thought.
“I’m not following, Nick.”
She likes me calling her Nick. It was short for Nicole, and it didn’t matter what gender role the name should be. I didn’t really care much. But I liked calling her nickname because it slipped out easier with my tongue.
“He was touching you,” she said as she near herself to my body with a raging voice. “He touched you! You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. You’re–”
“We aren’t even together, we’re sleeping together.”
“But we are together!”
“Oh please,” I shrugged once more and turned around to remove my pearls since it was getting a little sensitive on my skin. As soon as I took them off, I spun around and pressed against the wall–almost yelping. She towered at me with loud breathing that came out of her mouth, muttering: “You think you’re owned by anyone, huh? No, you’re mine. Do you fucking understand me, Y/N? You’re mine.”
I do understand, I understood that more than I had in my education in school. I was going to kiss her when she suddenly rips off my top with a grunt that truly surprised me with how strong she was, and her hands were now groping hard on my boobs. I was gasping for air, curling my toes into my shoes as she kneads them like dough. Nicole grumbles and kisses my neck, but never my lips. I was trying to utter words, telling her how much I loved those hands, but nothing came out of my mouth. I was so distracted, so distraught, and so aroused by her jealousy that seeps out of her skin.
“You’re nothing but my whore,” she emphasize, looking down at me with her messed-up blonde hair that was almost covering her eyes. I can’t tell if she was drunk, because I was too. I clung my arms around her neck while she grunts out of pleasure from my breasts. “Okay? You’re too beautiful to be someone else’s. Now, be a good girl and let me use your god damn tits.”
She touches me again with a flat tongue that strikes up against my neck, all the way to my jaw. She gropes them harder, pressing them together with a low moan that erupts from her throat. I held her closer to me, trying to hump her pelvis with mine to get more of that friction. But no, god no, she wasn't giving me what I wanted. Perhaps this was my punishment, and I'm gladly taking it like a good girl I was.
"God, touch me harder."
"You don't get to tell me what to do, pretty girl," she whispers to my ear hotly and tweaks my left nipple. "Submit yourself to me, come on. Do it for me."
tag: @mistygayz
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Nicole, I love you
Pairing: Nicole Ryder x Reader
Summary: Sharing a loving moment with Nicole in a Hollywood party, where her focus is solely on her love.
Warning: 18+ (General), fluff
Word count: 681
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Never such an ambuscade—by the striking eyes staring at you from across the well-lighted room or in bed at two in the morning. Nicole, a love so gentle and bold, she smiles at you and it falls hard on your heart. The blossoming feeling of love, nudging your body towards her without a second thought.
“Hey,” you greeted her with such softness, her own hand meeting yours and pulling you into her embrace. “Hi,” she had whispered back as the crook of her neck became the bed for your head to rest.
Bodies sway as music played in the background. The humming sound pays you no mind as your heart submerged within the comfort of her arms around your body, the heat that radiates a warmth to your heart and something that makes you stomach flutter—as if, butterflies were making home by the base of your stomach.
“You look beautiful tonight,” you muttered, leaning away enough to meet her eyes. “Really beautiful,” you added and saw the way her eyes seems to glint, it’s gentle at first when she leans her forehead against yours and the embrace of her lips on yours—it leaves you begging for more than hasty kisses in a room full of people.
Nicole knows this, the nudging of your heart towards her and how your eyes simply never left hers, not for the sake of other’s advances as your eyes were shun for her—only for her.
“And you,” she paused, hands moving to rest on your waist as she leads the swaying of your body to the music. “You are a work of art,” she whispered, and you had to stop your body from reacting to the drop of voice or how her hand inches lower.
“I,” your words form and dissolve in your throat, the warm lips of her meeting the crook of your neck, slowly trailing to a spot that you wish she didn’t—
And a breathless moan leaves your mouth, warm tongue gliding across your sensitive skin before the nimble of her teeth makes the ache of need grow in your stomach. The hands on your waist tightens. It leaves you with a high, the kind that wonders of people watching two actors risking their image for a quick moment together at a Hollywood party, those who assumed a failed marriage will render her broken—infinitely, the people who spew jealous at knowing she found you and you—
“God, Nicole, I love you,” and the confession wasn’t old, those words of love fell from your mouth by the sheer moment your eyes met hers. The mornings where you woke up with your head on her chest and limps tangled, the only thought in your head were filled of her as the confession of love leaves your mouth and her cheeks reddens with the excuse of morning’s cold.
Nicole doesn’t miss the moment your hand rest on her nape, seemingly ensuring she won’t stop marking your neck while the other on her shoulder, holding yourself from falling apart before her.
And you quietly allowed her to guide you away from the party. Several people noticing the eagerness on her face and the pure bliss on yours, the ones offering smiles of their own while some, the little population of them, still festering of jealous to know that she—is completely in love with you as you are with her.
You couldn’t tell time at that moment—perhaps, it was seconds or hours later that she pulled away, eyes dark of lust as stared into your equally lustful eyes. But you take the time, remembering the details of her face, the spaces from one birth mark to the other, the way her lips were full and when she smiles, it’s sets ablaze to your heart and your own lips curves like hers.
“I love you,” her words meet with an eager kiss from you, and you felt the smile appearing on her face from where lips have yet to part. “Let’s leave,” she mumbled, hot breath hitting your lips from the proximity.
#nicole ryder x reader#nicole ryder imagine#nicole (marriage story) x reader#marriage story#nicole ryder#nicole barber x reader
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The Gallows Pole
The Gallows Pole (Serie 2023)
#MichaelSocha #SamuelEdwardCook #NicoleBarberLane #JordanPreston #RalphIneson #SophieMcShera
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SerieJahr: 2023-
Genre: Drama / History
Hauptrollen: Michael Socha, Samuel Edward-Cook, Nicole Barber-Lane, Jordan Preston, Ralph Ineson, Sophie McShera, Thomas Turgoose, Anthony Welsh, Adam Fogerty, Yusra Warsama, Fine Time Fontayne, Eve Burley …
Serienbeschreibung: Die Geschichte folgt Hartley, während er eine Gruppe von Webern und Landwirten für einen kriminellen Plan versammelt, der die…
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Marriage Story (2019)
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It Started With A Book | C.B.
pairing: Charlie Barber x fem!reader
summary: You were Henry’s babysitter. He employed you to watch his son. You were a pretty little thing, and he should’ve known better than to pursue you… but damn could he just not help himself.
word count: 6.7k
warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is of age), dirty talk, praise, innocence kink, size kink, breeding kink (kind of??), PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of the book ‘Lolita’
A/N: the ‘Henry’s babysitter’ thing has been done before so full credit to everyone else who’s written one for the inspo !! i let my daddy issues run rampant with this one whoops
Charlie had known you since you were sixteen. He hired you for the first time when he was still with Nicole, before the entirely messy divorce had unfolded.
You were bright eyed and eager to please, which he liked. He was even more gratified when Henry took an immediate liking to you, especially since Henry didn’t click with many others.
He adored the way that you adored Henry, how you indulged to him one time that you saw the job more like hanging out with a friend; that you didn’t see Henry as an obligation, but as someone you enjoyed being around.
He was especially thankful that following the divorce you still didn’t seem to mind in the slightest to keep babysitting for him when he had obligations he simply couldn’t get out of; or in simpler terms— him not wanting to bring Henry to the theater and keep him up past his bedtime.
Charlie cursed himself for the way he took more notice of you the moment you turned eighteen— the way you interacted with Henry, the way your lashes would flutter when you wished him goodnight before you left, the way your soft lips would curl into a gentle smile when he’d walk in the door.
He scrutinized the way he could recall every flick of color in your irises. The way your skin looked soft and supple. He damned the innocent air that surrounded you, the one he so desperately wanted to defile and tear into with his teeth.
He knew it was wrong, and he hated himself for it. But goddamn could he not help himself when he got sight of you.
He looked forward to the private moments when Henry was fast asleep that you two would share a small and admittedly polite conversation, typically about the books you were reading before he would unfortunately wish you goodnight and safe travels home.
He cherished those moments because while you’d ramble on about everything you and Henry had done in the evening, he’d get to stare into your eyes— look over your gorgeous features— and if he was feeling particularly daring and depraved, sneak a glance down your body.
Tonight was no exception. It was a little after ten pm when he pulled open the door. He watched as you perked up at his arrival and he selfishly relished in the attention.
“Hi, Charlie. How was everything at the theater?” you spoke in a hushed voice, same as you did every night. He watched as you shut the book in your hands, placing it in your lap as he pulled off his coat and set down his case.
“Oh, you know…” he said with an airy chuckle, allowing his eyes to look over you again as they did when you first arrived earlier this evening. He looked forward to looking at you more so when he’d arrive home, in the privacy of just you and him.
“Henry’s asleep?” he asked, eyes looking over your chosen outfit. The shirt you wore from a band that he without a doubt believed you’d barely knew of their greatness as they came before your time. That pleated tennis skirt that stopped just at the beginning of your thighs. His eyes wandered farther, down to the ankles of your socks and that pair of utterly adorable mary janes.
You nodded curtly, and he watched those lips of yours pull up into the corners. “He had dinner- all he wanted was mac and cheese, so I gave in." you giggled sweetly, "Then we played board games for a while before he went to bed at eight, like you asked.”
‘Good girl’ had almost burst from his lips, but he quickly stifled it with a gentle clearing of his throat. “Perfect. What is it this time?” he nodded toward the book in your lap. You picked it up, outstretching it towards him. “It’s uh, Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, are you familiar?”
Charlie hummed as he turned the book over in his hands, he noticed the way your eyes followed his movements. “I am actually. Quite a controversial novel, but I’ll admit the writing is fantastic.”
You nodded again, “I couldn’t agree more. It’s written beautifully considering…" Your gentle chuckle filled the room with such an air of purity, he couldn’t help but crack a soft smile as he handed you back the book.
He watched as you stood, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt— his sign the night was ending… tonight, he couldn’t let that happen. He held up a thick finger, “Hold that thought, will you?”
He took notice to the confused look in your wide eyes, but you nodded once more, and with the okay he slipped into his bedroom momentarily, running his fingers along his vast collection of books until he found what he was looking for.
Returning a moment later with a haste to his steps as he couldn’t wait to be facing you once more, he held out the book in your direction. “Here, this is for you.”
He watched your eyes look curiously to the book in his hand before you took it in both of yours. He watched as your eyes wandered the cover of his copy of Lolita, your lashes fluttered in astonishment and disbelief before those eyes of yours met his. “Charlie… you can’t be serious…”
He chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m partial to hardcovers myself,” he used a thick finger to tap the book now in your hands. “This is a first edition print, but it’s still in mint condition.”
His words made your fingers loosen slightly on your grip, your eyes widening a bit more. “Charlie…”
He shook his head, “No, no, take it. I want you to have it.”
Your brows knit lightly as you looked at him, trying to find any ounce that he wasn’t serious— but oh, was he. Just the idea of your small, nimble, perfectly manicured little fingers caressing the pages before you’d turn to the next one made him more than sure of what he was doing. He loved your hands, and how little they were in comparison to his— but then again, everything about him was huge in comparison to you.
“I’m going to give you a hug for this, that’s your warning.” you giggled, making him smile again. His eyes followed you as you turned to carefully place the book on the couch before you turned to him again, practically colliding with him as your arms did their best to wrap around his broad frame.
He easily entangled his arms around you, it only took one of his arms to encompass you, but he indulged himself in wrapping them both around your back, gently rubbing it with his hand.
He felt you sigh softly, felt the rise and fall of your chest against him as his hands slowly tangled into your hair, playing with it around his fingers.
You looked up at him— you looked like an angel. Your eyes wide, blinking softly as you looked up at him. Your cheeks tinged with color.
His heart kicked up speed, he could feel his own cheeks growing pink with fluster. His hand trailed from your back, using his knuckles to caress their way up to your cheek until he took your face against his palm. You were utterly still under his touch as he drew you in closer— his longing to feel you against him was unbearable...
“Would you maybe… let me kiss you?” Your breath hitched in your throat, your chest stuttering slightly in response as he held your gaze to be locked in on his. Your perfect lips parted, but they made no sound. His inquiry had rendered you speechless, forcing you to nod in response.
He felt as his lips curled up into a smile, unable to stop himself. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek, urging your neck to crane further upward to meet his height as he leaned in, watching as your eyelids fluttered shut. He pressed his lips against your plush and plump awaiting lips.
He could feel your heartbeat against his own body, and for a moment he couldn’t discern whose heart was beating faster with the thumping of his own heart ringing in his ears.
He felt your arms snake around his body and press flat against his chest, he couldn’t help but lean into your touch. The feeling of your hands on him was like pure bliss— a sin he’d so often dreamt about. He couldn’t stop himself from letting his hand fall from your face as his arms encircled you, finding their way to the backs of your thighs, feeling just how plush and smooth the skin of your legs were against the pad of his fingers as he pulled you closer to him. He let his thumbs caress your flesh.
He also couldn’t stop the gentle groan of pleasure that pulled from his lips. You were pure ecstasy to him. Your body against his, the gentility of your lips, the sweet and mild smell of your shampoo– all of it overwhelmed his senses and drew him into you, if he had half a mind he’d admit that all of this grew a kindling flame of obsession for you.
Now that he was in, he was all in. All his cards in your basket. Previously he just loved the small things about you but now he felt he had a deeper knowledge of you that dove beyond the surface, and he was drowning in you.
He pulled away just slightly, his lips ghosting over yours not wanting to be apart from them for too long. “You taste so sweet.” he purred before diving back against your lips, catching your bottom between his teeth as he tugged at it gently. When you whimpered at his actions he felt like his brain was going into overdrive. He was dizzy, his head full of just you and he couldn’t get enough of it.
Your voice was soft, slightly embarrassed, and stuttered as you spoke. “Ch-Charlie… I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite some time now.”
He hummed at your words, fingers teasing shapes into the flesh on the back of your thighs, making your bottom lip quiver as he looked you over. He had you eating out of his palm and that’s exactly where he wanted you. He saw the embarrassment flicker through your eyes at your own admission and he pulled you impossibly closer again– if you were any further against his body you’d be inside his bones, and he wasn’t sure that he minded that idea all that much. Those perfect fingers of yours trailed up and down his chest pulling a deep sigh from within it.
He buried his lips against your neck, tasting how sweet and soft and warm you were and he couldn’t help but imagine how you’d taste from between your thighs. He purred your name, “Jump…” he instructed.
He saw the slight confusion flood over your expression, and he pinched at the back of your thighs again. To his relief, you obliged. Your arms tangled around his neck and with a leap he quickly grabbed hold of your waist as your legs wrapped around his hips.
It seemed you couldn’t control yourself just as he, and your lips immediately found his as he walked you backward before pinning you between him and the wall. “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he hummed against your lips, his cock twitching in his slacks as you whimpered again.
“J-Just don’t drop me, will you?” you piped up, a hint of nervousness in your tone and he chuckled darkly. “I would never, I’ve got you.” he assured, pushing you against the wall with his hips as his hands gripped your sides. His lips crashed into yours with intense fervor, tracing his tongue along your bottom lip before prodding his tongue into your mouth. You tasted like candy– so incredibly sweet it almost made his teeth ache but he couldn’t get enough.
His fingers teased the hem of your shirt, feeling the fabric of your top against his skin. “Can I take this off?” his tone was as polite as he could manage, but there was a hint of order to it, like it wasn’t truly an inquiry but a warning that he was going to remove it anyway. His lips found your neck again and he was pleased when he felt you nod against him, adorable little whines and mewls gurgled in your throat in desperation. “Arms up, sweet girl.” he hummed.
You didn’t seem to completely trust him to not drop you as you nervously lifted your arms— but just barely. But drop you, he would absolutely not. He dug his hips into yours, forcing a gentle groan to lurch past his lips as his imprisoned cock pressed against your concealed core. The action made your arms rise up as you gasped softly and he wasted no time to tug your shirt over your head.
He pulled back a moment to admire you– your neck, your collar bones, the bulge of flesh that made up your ever-so-perfect and supple breasts and how they bubbled over the white and lacy confining fabric of your bra.
His fingers trailed up your abdomen, feeling the heat radiating off your skin and onto the pads of his fingers and wandered farther, finding their way to the small pink rose embellishment in the center of your breasts. He flicked it gently, chuckling to himself as even your under layers held a breath of innocence.
He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering as he compared you to the little pink rose, so small, soft and innocent— it was a simple rendition of how he saw you.
His attention was drawn back to your fingers pulling needily at his own top, fingering the buttons of his dress shirt. “Want me to take this off, pretty?” He watched as your teeth bit down on the plush of your lip and you nodded.
He’d never known his fingers to work so fast, grazing from one button to the next with incredible ease as he worked up to the very top button. He couldn’t control his excitement as you assisted him in pulling the top off his arms. He watched as your eyes roamed across him, taking in the rise and fall of his broad chest. One of your arms fell from the grip around his neck, tracing down his pecs.
He held onto your hips, fingers gently gripping at your flesh as he resisted every urge to dig his fingers in, bruise you beneath his touch. You were soft, too pure for that– but he desired with every ounce of himself to taint you.
His lips found your neck again, and he teased his tongue along your skin, before placing open mouthed kisses further down your neck, finding finality against your collar bones. He could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest against his chin. “Charlie…” you whimpered.
God– he loved the sound of his name off your lips. It made his groin ache, longing to be buried deep in your cunt, begging to hear how it would sound as you screamed it, trembling around him.
Your hips shifted beneath his hands as more whimpers fell from your lips. You grinded your core against his hardness in a desperate attempt for friction, drawing a groan from his throat. “You want something, little girl?”
You whined in embarrassment again, your head finding its way to the crook of his neck as your arms tangled around it once more, holding yourself steady. He chuckled again, diving his hands between your bodies and dipped his thick fingers beneath the waistband of that oh-so incredibly short skirt you wore this evening. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers teased your clothed core. “This what you want? You need attention here?”
Your pathetic mewl only made his cock twitch again— christ, was he impatient. But you were an angel, he intended on treating you like such... luring you in gently before truly defiling you.
Your hips bucked against his hand, and his lip curled into a smirk again. He slid his fingers over your clothed slit again. “I’m gonna need to hear your words, sweet girl.” The pet name drove you crazy– he knew so from the way the heartbeat between your legs pounded against his awaiting fingers.
“P-Please…” you pleaded pathetically. He hummed again, “Of course, pretty.” His fingers pulled your panties aside and he finally achieved one of his deepest desires– getting to touch you between those pretty little thighs. You whimpered against his skin, tightening your arms ever so slightly around his neck as his fingers barely even touched you.
He slid his fingers between your slit, gathering your wetness on the length of his fingers, and he teasingly sucked his teeth. “For such a good girl you’re so wet…” he purred, pressing his cheek against your forehead. The heat of your face burned in the crook of his neck and you mewled. It was so easy to fluster you.
He stroked his fingers through your core a few times, letting them caress your sensitive nub every now and again to earn more whines of desperation out of you before his fingertip teased your entrance. “Mmm… I’m gonna make you feel so good, little girl.” You whimpered pathetically once more and he couldn’t stop himself from smirking.
He took his longest finger and slowly pushed it inside of you, feeling the way your velvet walls sucked him deeper and clenched around him. You felt like a glimpse of heaven, and he longed to bury his dick inside of you instead, but you were incredibly tight only around one finger.
He teasingly sucked his teeth again. “Now, how am I ever going to fit my cock inside your perfect little pussy, hmm? I might split you in half.” His words made you clench around his finger, and you dragged your hips again. He took the hint, withdrawing his finger before prodding it back inside of you, earning a soft and stuttered sigh out of you.
He let his eyes flutter shut as he rested his head against yours, fucking into you with his middle finger until he thought you were ready, then he eased his ring finger inside you, curling his hand and dragging his fingers as he seemed to pet you from the inside.
He hummed in content at the way you immediately took him in, listening to the soft whimpers that bubbled in your throat as his fingers stroked you. He cupped his hand slightly, catching your clit with his thumb which he wasted no time to rub small circles against. He smirked as your hands gripped tighter around his neck.
Your hips gently rocked against his hand as he held you steady between him and the wall, making sure you weren’t going anywhere. Your walls seemed to suck him in deeper, desperate for his intrusive fingers.
Just on his fingers you felt like a dream– warm, velvety, slick. He adored using his fingertips to explore every centimeter of your walls, poking and prodding every ounce of you he could find as he curled his fingers inside you.
His head pulled away from the top of your own and he cocked his head to bury his lips against your neck, needing to taste you again as you softly mewled at how his hands worked inside and against you.
His tongue lapped at your skin before he gently sucked on your flesh, his teeth catching before he bit down earning a shocked gasp from you. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He felt like he was biting down into the soft and delicate flesh of a peach. He withdrew himself before grazing his teeth along another spot on your neck, biting down once again. He was gentle, like he made himself promise to be… but every soft gasp you made made him want to bite harder and harder.
Every time he nibbled on your neck you clenched around his fingers and he couldn’t stop himself from working them faster— your sweet, kittenish sounds growing more incessant.
When your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a particularly strained whine, his fingers seemed to act on their own accord, picking up more pace inside of you. “You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl?”
You held tighter around his neck, burying your face deeper into his skin as you nodded feebly, more strained whines escaping from your throat. His thumb drew tighter, more meticulous circles around your clit. “Look at me, sweet girl…”
This time your whine was in defiance, not wanting to draw your head away from the crook of his neck. “Don’t make me ask you again.” he warned.
When you withdrew from his neck, he swore he’d died and was facing the great beyond. Your brows were knit perfectly in pleasure, your eyes barely open; drunk on the bliss he was providing you. Your lips were parted, soft pants leaking from between them as your chin trembled slightly. “Fuck... you’re gorgeous.” he groaned looking you over. Your expression was motivation enough for him to push you over the edge, and it didn’t take long with the calculated movements of his fingers for you to crumble in his hands.
Your lips fell into a perfect little ‘o’ as your eyes rolled back before your lashes fluttered shut. Your walls constricted and stroked his fingers as your cunt flooded with warmth. He quickly buried his lips against yours, swallowing down the cries of your rapture to keep you quiet. As much as he wanted nothing more than to hear that sweet melodious pitch of your moans, he knew better than to risk being overheard.
He drew a few more gentle circles over your clit as he worked you through your release before your eyes opened again and found their way to his. A sloppy smile tugged gently at the corner of your lips and he withdrew his hand.
“Open that pretty mouth.” he ordered, and you obeyed instantly. He plunged his thick, slick coated fingers against your tongue. “Suck.”
You mewled pathetically as you followed instructions. He groaned as your tongue slid between his fingers, lapping up every ounce of your release. Your cheeks dented divinely as you sucked on his digits.
He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop and quickly brought them to his own mouth, tasting your sweetness and saliva on his own tongue. He hummed against his fingers, the sensation making his cock twitch again and he couldn’t deprave himself any longer of the need to slide himself inside you.
“Think you can take me now, sweet girl?” he purred, dragging his thumb along your bottom lip. When you nodded he sucked his teeth again, “Use your words.”
You whined pathetically before you spoke, “P-Please, Charlie.” His lips pulled into a smirk at your obedience. “Such a good girl you are.”
His hands found your waist as he pulled you away from the wall, your legs clinging to his hips to steady yourself as he carried you as silently as he could down the hall and into the bedroom. He used his shoulder to shut the door, only continuing to the bed when it clicked against the frame.
He laid you on the bed gently as if too much pressure would cause you to shatter. He watched as your back arched upward to meet his hands. They curled into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down.
His boyish excitement bubbled in his chest at the sight of your delightfully matching set of underwear. He couldn’t help himself from wondering if you always wore matching underwear or, if more self-indulgently, you knew by a greater power that he wouldn’t be able to help himself this evening and you wore them just for him.
You were a divine sight as his eyes roamed over you. The way your thighs met at the top, the smooth skin of your stomach rising and falling as you breathed with anticipation. You were glorious, and you were all for him.
As his hands began to work at the clasps of his slacks your hands snaked under your back to unclasp your bra. He quickly grabbed at your wrist. “Let me.” he pleaded. He needed to be the one to strip you of your clothing. With a nod of verification he withdrew his hand and kicked off his shoes before he stepped out of his pants, pushing them with little care out of the way.
He leaned over your perfect body, starting with an open mouthed kiss just above your pelvis before trailing them upward until he reached the underwire of your bra. His hands encircled around your frame, pushing between your skin and the sheets on the mattress to find the clasp against your back.
When his fingers made contact he fought against his haste to rip it off of you, instead delicately and teasingly unhooking one clasp, then the next, until the only support the bra had on your body was by the straps on your shoulders.
He pulled away from you, writhing his hands away from your back and to your shoulders as he dragged the straps down your arms, watching as your nipples immediately pebbled in the open air of his room.
He oddly missed the sight of the little rose between your breasts, but the supple flesh of your chest made up for its departure. His hands traced down your sides before roaming up toward your breasts, pawing at them as he placed kisses between them– hearing your sweet little hums of pleasure returning as he flicked his thumb over your bud.
He looked up at you from between your breasts, as your hands tangled gently into his hair, combing it out of the way of his eyes. “You’re perfect.” he praised as he pulled his lips away from you.
He stood to his full height, trailing his hands down your sides until his fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties. This was it– this was the vision he was waiting for. Your body completely bare for him, every ounce of your flesh ready to be swallowed down by his eyes.
His breath hitched in his throat as he sucked down his excitement. First he saw your hips and the beginning of your pelvis, then he dragged the fabric further, finally bearing witness to your perfect little mound.
He dragged your panties all the way down your smooth legs before discarding them to the floor. He took hold of your knees and pushed them backward so you could display yourself for him.
Your whines of embarrassment as he gazed upon your idyllic cunt didn’t deter him in the slightest. He was swallowing up the vision of you– legs spread, completely stripped down for him.
He couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped past his lips. You were unparalleled. And right now, you were his. His cock twitched at the sight, and he palmed himself through his boxers, keeping one hand to caress up and down the side of your thigh.
As soon as his hand met himself he groaned softly, the excitement coursing through his veins again that momentarily he’d be buried deep inside your sweet cunt. Your awaiting eyes, the slightly nervous expression on your face made you seem ethereal– like you were just a dream and he had to resist the urge to pinch himself to verify that you were in fact very real.
He couldn’t take the wait any longer, it felt like it was eating him alive the longer he stared at the glistening evidence of your prior release still slick on your pussy. He tugged down his boxers with haste, kicking them to join his slacks off to the side. Your breath hitched as you caught sight of his size, making his eyes meet yours.
A smirk pulled on his lips, “I know you can take it, sweet girl.” he cooed, taking himself in his hand and giving him a few strokes. He smeared the precum across his length, circling his hand around his girth. His tip was angry, desperate to be buried deep inside you, and his veins pulsed in agreement. In just a moment he’d be able to feel his cock against your velveteen walls.
He kneeled on the edge bed, running his tip through your folds, making you whimper again. He shushed you gently, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
He coated himself with your slick as he aligned himself with your entrance. He slowly, using all the restraint he had to not just completely sheathe himself inside you, pushed into you. Your cunt immediately clenched, tightening around what little he’d put in.
He groaned, working more of himself inside you as you strained out moans, struggling against his size.
The feeling was beyond what he thought he was prepared for. You were beyond perfect. His fingers did little to prepare him for this. Your cunt squeezed against him while simultaneously trying to draw him in, plush walls fluttering around his length.
He couldn’t stop himself, he pushed all the way into you as far as his cock would go, letting out a guttural groan as he bottomed out. “Fuck- you take me so good… you feel incredible.” he praised. You were reduced to only whines and whimpers as you fought to adjust to him, but he didn’t care.
His fingers drifted from your thighs to your tummy, his eyes widening in admiration as he caressed and admired the bulge in your belly where his dick resided from inside.
Christ, he wanted to fuck you dumb, fuck you so hard that you’d forget your own name, only babbling cock-drunken mumbles.
He pulled out of you, no longer interested if you were adjusted or not before he plunged back inside of you, his head lurching forward as his eyes shut at the feeling. You clearly weren’t fully adjusted yet from your feeble cry, but not to worry, you’d be there soon enough.
He dragged his hips back, his hands finding their way to your hips again as he pulled you down onto him– another cry pouring from your lips. He indulged himself with the unrealistic idea that a pretty little thing like you had never been touched before, that you were all encompassingly his.
He hissed through his teeth, his own brows knitting over the idea. “F-Fuck…” he groaned. He found a rhythm, fucking into you as gently as he could but his need was quickly winning him over as he increased the pace of his hips.
The way you whimpered his name drove him wild. Your chest rose and fell heavily, your fingers clutching tightly at his bedsheets.
He leaned over you, pressing his lips to your neck again as he gently nibbled and sucked at the skin, your hands wrapping under his arms stabilized by your head– fingernails scratching down his back as he bucked his hips into you. His cock slid between your plush walls, he hissed curses as he sank down into you, pressing them against the skin of your throat.
“Fuck-” he purred your name, “You’re amazing.” he praised, making you whimper again.
You pressed your hips to his with every withdrawal, as if you couldn’t stand the idea of him pulling out of you, as if you couldn’t wait for him to fill you again.
He bit down onto your neck, a little harsher than he’d admittedly meant to, making you mewl out. He withdrew from your body and grabbed tightly onto your thighs, dragging you toward him as he moved to stand at the edge of the bed. He pulled your legs to either side of his shoulders, desperate to breach as much of you as he could– and he was instantly gratified when his cockhead prodded against the silky, firm makings of your cervix. A groan of your name pulled from his throat as he sheathed himself against it.
Every pound of his hips to yours, every ram against your insides, made you cry out. He looked at the angelic expression of your pleasure before he leaned forward and pressed his hand over your mouth. As desperate as he was for you, he was even more so to not wake Henry– he wanted this moment to last forever, uninterrupted by anyone or anything.
With your noises muffled by his strong palm his movements grew fervid, his teeth gritting together to stifle his own sounds of pleasure. Your walls stroked him effortlessly, it drove him wild– borderline animalistic.
Your hands wrapped and gripped around his wrist as he looked over you, your brows knit together, your eyes pinched tightly shut as he fucked into you, each harsh thrust making your tits bounce as skin slapped against skin.
It was filthy, you were such an innocent and delicate thing, yet you let him fill you up with his cock like a whore.
That familiar clench he felt around his fingers now overwhelmed his length. His hand clutched tighter over your mouth as your whimpers grew incessant. You were unraveling right around him.
“Gonna-cum-on-my-cock-like-a-good-girl?” he emphasized his words with thrusts of his hips making you cry out against his palm. Your walls continued to clench, fluttering around him as he fucked into you.
Hitting again and again against the firm, slick surface of your cervix, the noises he worked so hard on muffling– he was nearing bliss himself. You nodded against his hand, muttering stuttered pleas against the skin of his palm.
“Then cum, sweet girl.” His hips slammed against yours again and as if he’d said the magic-fucking-word, your cunt fluttered causing his tip to twitch as your walls stroked him, your second release unraveling.
His hand dug harsher against your mouth as he watched you reach your peak– your eyes rolled before your lashes fluttered, pinching tightly shut. You cried out curses against his hand as you came on his dick.
He groaned as you milked his cock. White hot euphoria blurred his eyes as he leaned his head back, hips stuttering only for a moment before he shot ropes of cum deep inside your cunt.
You whimpered against his palm, your walls fluttering around him as he twitched, still thrusting into you but at a much slower fervency now. He opened his eyes and huffed harshly, looking down into your fucked out expression as he withdrew his hand.
He shoved your legs off his shoulders, closing in the distance between yours and his body as he crashed his lips against yours hungrily, clashing teeth against lips in the haste.
You moaned into his mouth and he happily swallowed them down, panting into your own, still dragging his hips through the end of his orgasm.
You were fucking perfect. He couldn’t say it enough, you were a gift from the heavens above; an angel. He often fantasized about the idea of fucking you– but he found his fantasies were not nearly as incredible as the genuine thing.
Fucks sake– he would happily stay buried in your cunt til the end of time. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you to whine in the loss of contact as he stood up to his full height and took himself in his hand, withdrawing from you.
As he unsheathed himself he watched as the combination of your releases slid from your hole… he couldn’t have that. He needed it to stay deep inside of you. Needed a part of him to remain in your cunt as a reminder of what he did to you, how he soiled your sweet air of innocence.
He dragged his tip along your folds, gathering up as much of it as he could before he gently shoved his cock back inside of you, making you whimper pathetically in overstimulation. He buried himself up inside you, bucking his hips gently as you tightened around him, making him hiss between his teeth.
You whimpered his name and he huffed softly, “Okay, sweet girl.” he cooed, curling over you again, and writhed a hand through your hair consolingly as he unsheathed from your sweet cunt.
Fucked out, skin tainted stickily with sweat, eyes heavy and tired… you were still nothing less than perfect to him– perhaps in this state even more so.
He was filled to the brim with desire for you, but he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a soft and gentle kiss to your lips. One of love rather than lust. He adored the way you hummed against his lips. His hands trailed gently up and down your sides.
He pulled away from your lips, looking down over your face as he gently caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. Perfect, he told himself again.
He helped you redress, as you were relentlessly unsteady on your own legs, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. He savored the way your fingers clutched his shoulders for stabilization as he helped you step into your underwear. He relished the way your head lolled softly against his chest as he pulled on your bra, clasping it in the back.
It was admittedly a walk of shame back to the living room for your shirt, but he’d do it a million times over just for you, for the way you depended on him for his assistance.
The two of you stood for a moment, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say as your eyes roamed each other. You were both, however, in a silent agreement that nobody could ever know what had happened… though Charlie selfishly hoped it would happen again.
“Let me help you.” he murmured, rushing to help you gather your bag, assisting you to pull it over your shoulder before you spun to look at him again.
He couldn’t help but smile as the fucked out expression still tainted your features. “Well… thank you for the book.” you mumbled softly.
After all that, he’d admittedly forgotten all about the book. His lips parted momentarily before they reconnected into a smile, and he softly shook his head. “I know it’s in good hands.”
He watched as your lips curled up into a gentle and innocent smile. “You’ll call me next time you need a sitter, right?” He noted your eyes nervously looking between his own, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer, “You don’t think I’m getting rid of you any time soon, do you? Quite the opposite actually, sweet girl.”
You hummed softly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, making his heart beat a little harder in his chest.
He was rather saddened to watch you pull away from him, making your way to the front door– he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and carry you to his bed to rest your tired body, but he knew he couldn’t do that.
So, he swallowed down his disappointment and unlocked the door for you, pulling it open.
You began to walk out, and he let himself indulge in the gentle sway of your hips as you walked past him, before you stopped, one hand on the frame of the door as you turned to face him.
He watched as your adorable wide eyes stared back into his. “Good night, Charlie.”
He beamed, “Good night,” he purred your name. You lingered a moment longer, and he resisted the urge to raise a questioning brow, until your hand met his chest and your lips met his for one last kiss– you pulled away after a moment, and with an air of excitement you quickly turned on your heel and made your way out the door.
He watched you glance back at him with that girlishly playful smile and he couldn’t help but chuckle. When you were out of sight he shut the door behind you, letting himself collapse against it as he writhed a hand through his hair, selfishly recalling tonight’s memories which were still, and would remain fresh in his mind for quite a while… surely until he saw you again, which he quickly made mental note to need you to watch Henry again soon.
You were a dangerous game, but Charlie wanted nothing more than to play.
#adcu#adcu smut#charlie barber x reader#charlie barber x you#charlie barber smut#adcu x reader#adam driver#smut#whorecake fics
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🎲 Charlie Barber x Female Reader
⚠️ babysitter/client relationship, age difference (reader 18), inappropriate use of Scrabble tiles, hand kink, Daddy, cunnilingus, p in v
✏️ 3k words
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Henry's been asleep since before Charlie got home.
Since putting him to bed, you’ve managed to put away almost all of the night’s activities and start the dishwasher. You’re heading into the living room, sights set on picking up the game of Scrabble (in which Henry insisted ‘gleeba’ is a word) when the front door opens.
“Hey, Mister Barber,” you greet from the floor as you slide the tiles from your letter racks onto the board.
He approaches with a smile on his face and stands over you—tall, towering, his hands on his hips. You swallow and continue tossing tiles onto the board so you can more easily funnel them back into their bag.
"Wanna play?" Charlie asks. "Or do you need to get home?"
Even as he asks the question, he takes a seat on the floor, clearly confident in what your response will be.
He’s right.
"I can play," you say, dumping the tiles onto the carpet as Charlie flips them with thick fingers.
Desperately attempting to focus on anything that isn’t those hands, you spend an unnecessarily long amount of time straightening his wooden tile rack, ensuring it’s perfectly placed.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his two massive palms covering practically all of the tiles as he swirls them around, mixes them up, and you stop breathing when your own fingers graze his.
You choose seven wooden blocks.
“Ladies first,” he says with a smile, voice so deep, it shakes your core. You place your tiles across the star to play ‘CATCH,’ and then take five tiles to replace them.
Charlie keeps score, tallying up your points for you on the pad.
Such a dad.
“How was your meeting tonight?” you ask so you have an excuse to look at his face.
He shrugs, face laced with concentration as he anticipates his next move.
“Fine. Boring.”
You smile. “Hopefully this is a bit more titillating.”
Charlie looks up at you. His eyes fall to your chest as he considers your word choice and you clench as your heart rate speeds up.
“It definitely is, Sweetheart,” he says, voice deep, as he returns his own focus to the letters in front of him.
You’d been babysitting Henry since you were 16, even before Charlie and Nicole broke up. Conveniently enough, you live in the apartment above them and over the years, you’d grown attached to Henry. He’s smart and funny, he always remembers you and doesn’t need Charlie to reintroduce you. And he’s a good kid, easy to hang out with. You never mind canceling plans to help out the Barbers.
Well, to help out Mr. Barber.
Besides, Charlie pays incredibly generously and as you’ve gotten older, you’ve come to appreciate everything about him: his size, his demeanor, the way he’s such a dedicated father. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way you catch him staring at you since you’ve turned 18.
You know you shouldn’t have a crush on the man who pays you to watch his son. You should be interested in guys your own age but… there’s something about your 6’4” client whose hands appear as though they could wrap around your entire waist in one go. And you’ve tried to think of anyone else with your bedroom door locked, and your tiny fingers between your legs–like the captain of the football team, or the guy who sits behind you in Calc, but Mr. Barber always worms his way into your thoughts right as you’re about to come.
Charlie plays the word ‘VEIN’ and you can’t help but clench at the sight of his own veins rolling over his knuckles as his hand flexes, the tendons straining when he reaches for his pencil to document his score.
“Sweetheart?” he asks in a tone that implies he’d been trying to get your attention for a while. “Are you okay?”
You can’t tear your eyes off of his hand as you apologize.
“It’s okay.” He smiles, his perfectly crooked teeth peeking out from behind his plush, pink lips.
When you look up at him, his eyes flick up to meet yours, his features laced with guilt as you catch him staring at your chest again.
Then you play ‘WIDE.’
As you reach to place your tiles, you bend a little further than necessary, so more cleavage is revealed to his clearly hungry gaze.
He inhales sharply.
“We could uh… we could make this more fun,” he says. “If you want.”
“Okay,” you say immediately. “I want.”
Charlie swallows, looks you up and down, his gaze scorching as he takes in your tiny denim shorts.
“Whoever plays the lower scoring word for the round… removes an article of clothing.”
It’s always warm in his apartment, so it’s not like you have a ton of clothes on to begin with, but you nod anyway, and you’re not sure if he purposely plays a word that scores him lower than yours, but he slips his cardigan off his shoulders without prompting and you smirk.
The following round, he’s delighted when ‘CLOSE’ earns him 24 points.
You arch an eyebrow.
“Shirt.” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, eyes dark and focused. He watches you cross your arms at the hem of your shirt and he inhales deeply as you tug it up and over your head, revealing your lace bralette. It’s not completely see-through, but your nipples ache and are desperate for attention. They’re clearly visible as they strain beneath the fabric.
The second round goes to you and you memorize everything about the way his fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. You’re disappointed to see he has an undershirt on. He chuckles when you pout.
The next round goes to you as well and unfortunately, you have to waste this win on his shoes, but he throws you a bone and takes his socks off as well.
The letters you pick up are less than stellar and when it’s your turn again, you mindlessly drag your ‘W’ Scrabble tile across the bare skin of your chest while you survey the board.
“Fuck,” Charlie mutters under his breath as he shifts his weight and you’d noticed the bulge in his slacks earlier but it must be uncomfortable for him now because he rearranges his long legs for the third time in the past minute.
Still, he plays a word that scores him 21 points and his eyes unabashedly shift from your chest to your shorts, and back up to your chest as he considers his options.
“Bra.” You take a deep breath in and bite your lip as you tug the bralette up and slip your arms out of it, your breasts dropping out of the lace.
His expression is caught somewhere between pain and hunger as he devours your bare tits with his eyes. He sees you squirm where you sit, attempting to grind your center on the floor but it’s not the right angle, and it’s not enough. So you play your turn and win the round. You want his undershirt off desperately but you take pity on him and request his pants, his erection now so painfully obvious; it must be throbbing.
Unfortunately, your replacement letters contain no vowels and your options on the board are extremely limited, so when he scores higher than you on the next round, you both know what it means.
His eyes are on your tiny fingers working the button of your shorts after you’ve stood up but your hands are shaking so violently, you struggle.
“Let me, Princess,” he says, walking toward you on his knees.
He’s so tall, he’s eye-level with your chest. He nudges your legs apart before hooking his fingers into the waistband on either side and freezes, looks up at you. You nod, head moving half an inch but it’s all the permission he needs before his mouth wraps around one hard nipple, and his hands tug at your tiny shorts.
You whimper as he pulls them down your thighs, his mouth siphoning at your tit like he’s sucking a milkshake through a straw, and your panties get hooked with the denim.
You don’t even realize it's happening until Charlie pulls off of you to say, “fuck it, I’m taking this, too,” and yanks your thong down as well, leaving you completely bare in front of him.
“Fuck,” he whispers, free hand climbing up the inside of your thigh. “Fuck, you’re so perfect. So gorgeous. So grown up now, aren’t you?” You nod as his finger reaches the apex of your thighs.
You shift your weight back and forth as he strokes your folds, teases the creases between your sex and thighs.
“Mister Barber,” you whimper.
“Is this okay, Princess?” he asks.
You nod. “More.”
He smirks, but applies a bit of pressure and slides that finger through your folds. You can’t help but moan as his thick digit glides effortlessly through your soaked flesh, over your entrance and up toward your clit.
“So goddamn wet. This pussy. Fuck, Princess.”
He gathers some of your arousal onto his fingertip and brings it to your clit. Once slick, he circles the throbbing nub a few times, earning gasps and moans from you. Your hands flail, desperately seeking purchase on his head, his shoulders, anything.
“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He presses his finger to your entrance and slips it inside to the middle knuckle with ease. “Anyone ever touch you like this, Honey?”
You nod slowly.
“Yeah?” he asks. “Bet they didn’t make you feel like I can… will you let me, Sweetheart? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”
You nod.
“Say yes, Baby Girl. I need you to tell me.”
“Yes,” you say immediately, walls clenching around his finger. “Please, more.”
He curls his finger forward toward your front wall and you gasp as pleasure shoots through your system. Then, he adds a second finger.
He pumps them slowly, testing you, watching your face contort to see how much you can take. You groan when he withdraws his fingers, but you get a good look at them when he lifts them to your face.
“Look how wet you are for me, Princess,” he says, painting your bottom lip with your own arousal.
You allow both fingers into your mouth when he prods and you moan as you taste yourself, suck your juices off of him.
Then, you grab his wrist, holding his hand in place so your tongue can make figure eights around and through his digits.
Damn, you never knew that fingers could taste so good, that their weight on your tongue could feel like this, that sucking them deeper into your mouth could cause a surge of arousal to flood your already soaked center.
“You like this, Baby Girl? You like sucking Daddy’s fingers?”
Your knees nearly give out at that. You’d always wanted to say it, to call someone that but… most boys your age hardly want to be called ‘Babe,’ let alone ‘Daddy.’
But it fits him so well, you decide, as this fantasy knocks you off balance.
Charlie sits back on the floor and beckons you down with him using those fingers, until you’re straddling his lap and he lets you continue to suck as his opposite hand plays with your tits. He massages them, squeezes them, holds them in his hand and makes them bounce. You moan when he pinches a nipple and gasp when he twists it.
The ache between your legs is unbearable. It doesn’t help that your legs are spread open so you can’t even rub your thighs together in the way you usually do when you see Mr. Barber.
“Atta girl,” he coos, bringing your free hand to the bulge in his boxer-briefs. “You like sucking on Daddy’s fingers, huh?”
You nod, let your eyes fall shut as you hollow out your cheeks. “Will you do that while you let me fuck you, Baby Girl?”
You whine as he pries his fingers from your reluctant mouth and he chuckles.
“You’ll get them back, Princess. I could never deny you.”
He pulls his own shirt off and you marvel at his chest—the hard muscles and sheer width of him. His soft tummy bulges slightly over the waistband of his boxer briefs and brings you a sense of comfort you can’t explain and didn’t even know you needed.
His broad shoulders flex under your gaze and he smirks. Charlie keeps you in his lap as he maneuvers his boxer-briefs down and grips your waist so tight, his long fingers nearly wrap entirely around you.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, tilting his head up and capturing your lips with his. You moan as he squeezes you harder and thrusts his tongue into your mouth.
You feel him, hard and thick beneath you. You want to see it, but your bodies are pressed too closely together. You feel too small in his embrace, too powerless to make any decisions for the two of you.
“Mister B-” you whisper-whine before stopping yourself and moaning, “Daddyyyyy…”
“Shh, Baby Girl, I promise I’ll take good care of you, okay?” he coos and you nod. “Trust me.”
And you do. He lifts you slowly, until he’s lined up at your entrance.
“Please tell me you’re on birth control.”
“I am,” you breathe and he releases a sigh of relief as he lowers you onto him slowly. “Ahh,” you gasp as he stretches you out, pressing kisses to your chest and throat to distract you from any discomfort.
“Sweetheart, you’re—“
He doesn’t finish his train of thought. Just lifts you up off of him and you groan as he falls out.
“Daddy,” you whine as he sets you down on the scrabble board and pushes you back.
Charlie hovers over you and kisses you while one of his massive hands explores the curves of your body. You feel so vulnerable, spread open on his living room floor like this.
Kissing his way down your body, he pays extra attention to your breasts—sucking, kissing, licking at your nipples until they’re soaked and pointed.
“Daddy!”
Continuing south, Charlie positions your legs, spreads them the way he wants them and licks a stripe up your cunt experimentally and without warning.
“Yes, Princess?” he asks coyly. His hand appears between your legs.
Your back arches involuntarily as he licks your clit, and explores your folds with his tongue. Scrabble tiles dig into your back as you squirm and Charlie reaches up to pin you with a forearm across your hips.
You nearly scream his name as his tongue works you and he covers your mouth with a massive hand.
“Kid’s asleep,” he reminds you, but you hardly hear him when you grab his wrist and take two of his fingers into your mouth.
As you suck them, he sucks on your clit, his siphons matching your pace until you’re moaning, lips vibrating against his knuckles as your climax builds.
No one’s ever done this for you before. Sure, you’d made yourself come, but the boys you’d fooled around with probably couldn’t even point to your clit, let alone know how to tease it and suck at it.
Back arching, heart pounding, Scrabble tiles jabbing, you thrash across the floor and board as your orgasm wreaks havoc through your system, shakes you to your core.
“Good girl,” he praises, lifting his head off of you. He wipes his soaked mouth and chin on your inner thigh, your hip bone, your ribs, like a dog rubbing its scent, marking its territory.
“You came so well for me, Baby Girl. So good, so fucking good.”
Charlie wraps one of your pliant legs around his waist and you do everything in your power to tighten your muscles and hold it there for him while he enters you for a second time, filling you completely, but this time, it’s so much better.
“Fuck, oh my god, I-”
“Shh,” he tells you again, covering your mouth and refusing to allow you to pull it away. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he thrusts hard and fast into you, the Scrabble tiles nearly cutting your back open.
“Fuck, you’re so tight still. Fuck, such a perfect pussy. Can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you,” he babbles as his hips snap against yours.
The friction of his thick cock rubbing mercilessly against your stretched walls renders you unable to think, let alone speak. Whiney babbles escape from between your lips as your body rocks back and forth with the force of his thrusts, your tits jiggling, and legs hardly able to remain locked around his waist.
Your back can only lift so much with his weight over you but as he grinds into you, a second orgasm rakes through your system, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as his thrusts grow sloppy and he spills into you, hitting you hard and deep as he comes. His hand slides off your mouth and he plants it on the floor to lift himself off of you.
“Fuck,” he breathes looking down at your naked body. “That was perfect, Baby Girl. You’re amazing.” He kisses your neck. “You were so good for me.”
You accept his lips when he leans up to kiss you.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, nudging your nose with his.
“Yeah, I just…” you maneuver your hand behind your back and pluck a Scrabble piece jabbing your shoulder blade. “Maybe round two can be in your bed?”
“Round two?” Charlie asks with an eyebrow arched.
“Of Scrabble. After all, we didn’t get to finish our first game,” you tease with a coy smile before dropping your voice, looking up at him through your lashes and whispering, “Daddy.”
Charlie growls before whisking you away to his bed.
Your clothes somehow make it to the room, but the disheveled Scrabble board remains in the middle of the living room floor.
#adcu#Adam driver#adcu fanfiction#adcu smut#charlie barber#charlie barber x reader#charlie barber x you#rachwrites
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Illicit Affairs
Charlie Barber x Reader
Word count: 480
Warnings: Arguing, angst, mentions of affairs
Summary: The aftermath of you telling Charlie that you love him.
“Don’t call me ‘kid’, don’t call me ‘baby’, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.” - Illicit Affairs, Taylor Swift
You knew this was coming. Deep down, you knew. It had to boil over at some point and spill all over your perfect, pretty little plans. That’s just how Charlie is. He’s complicated and indecisive when it comes to these things, and God only knows how that miraculous mind of his works . . .
He’s standing in front of you now, and you are crying. Crying, crying, crying. Why do you always cry when presented with confrontation and conflict?
“I don’t know what to say,” Charlie says, damn-near scoffing at you, even though he isn’t meaning to. No, no, no way. He thinks of you fondly, he’s made it obvious . . .
All throughout this several-month-long affair, he’s thought of you fondly. At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself in order to fall asleep at night.
But now, now that you’ve said the ‘L’ word, Charlie is retreating. Backing away. Closing in on himself the way he does when he’s uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to say anything,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I just wanted you to know.”
Charlie huffs.
“Jesus, you’re killing me here,” he says quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Your eyebrows furrow.
“I’m killing you?”
“Yes!” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.
“What does that even mean!?” you ask, genuinely wanting to hear his response.
“It means fuck! I’m married!”
“That never seemed to stop you before,” you say, crossing your arms as Charlie glares down at you.
“I still care about Nicole. She’s still my wife.”
You pause, hesitating. You’ve embarrassed yourself. That’s what’s happened here. You told him you loved him, and he told you that he still cares about his wife, and–
“Fuck,” you breathe, closing your eyes. “Fuck.”
You tricked yourself into thinking that this could be something more than a fling. An affair. A fun little rendezvous. How could you be so stupid? So blind? He doesn’t love you; he never did. He just wanted someone to fuck, someone who wasn’t Nicole.
He’s saying your name, now, but you’re hurrying to pull your shoes on and get the fuck out of his house. There are paintings and pictures on the walls, ones that remind you that a family lives here, a family you were willing to destroy for a chance to love Charlie Barber.
“Don’t,” you snap when Charlie reaches for your arm. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t go, we can talk this out,” Charlie says.
You shake your head.
“I’m not sticking around just to be your sex buddy, Charlie. I can’t do it.”
He clenches his jaw, and you walk out of his front door for the last time, tears shining in your eyes.
#rynwritesstuff#charlie barber#charlie barber fic#charlie barber angst#charlie barber x reader#charlie barber x you#charlie barber x yn#charlie barber marriage story#marriage story fanfiction#marriage story fic#marriage story#adam driver#adam driver angst
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Late Night Revelations
Summary:You and your husband had never really discussed children, not after what happened with his son, Jacob. But when you find out you’re pregnant, you realize that you don’t really have a choice. Andy Barber x Black Reader
*Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Daddy Kink, Nervous Reader, Confident Reader, Angry Andy, Scared Andy, Spanking (mentioned), Mentions of Grief, Pregnancy Reveal, Happiness, Smut (implied), Minors DNI
A/N: Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
---
You were parked in front of CVS sitting in your car, staring down at your phone. Andy was calling. Again. You let it go to voicemail.
Andy Bear: Y/N, this isn’t funny. Where the fuck are you?
Andy Bear: Why aren’t you answering?
It was after 10:00pm and your husband was understandably very worried. But you weren’t ready to talk to him yet. You didn’t know what to say. Your gaze strays over to the bag resting on your passenger seat. And then your hand goes to your belly.
In that bag were seven tests. All different brands. Because you had wanted to be sure. And they all said the same thing.
Pregnant. You were pregnant. And you didn’t know how to feel about that particular revelation.
Ugh! Andy, not now! You think when you see his name appear for the umpteenth time. I’m having a crisis! So you shoot your husband a quick text.
You: I’ll be home soon. I promise.
Andy Bear: I need you to answer your damn phone and tell me where you are. Now.
You shake your head and do something Andy hates. You turn off your phone. Putting the car in drive you peel out of the lot and head over to a little diner that you like, in need of a burger and fries. But mostly, you needed to think.
You didn’t know how Andy was going to react to this news. Even though you loved each other to distraction, the two of you had never really discussed having children. You knew he’d lost a child before, so the real question was whether or not he’d be willing to try his hand at doing this all over again. He didn’t mention Jacob often, but when he did there was a sadness that crept over him…so you had always skirted around the issue.
And that had been a mistake.
Your hand goes to your belly again. It was too soon for you to feel your little jellybean move, but you could’ve sworn that you felt a flutter. And that’s when you knew that you would do this. You could do this, with or without the man you loved.
It would be hard, and it would break your heart if Andy wasn’t on board with your pregnancy. But you also wouldn’t try to force him to do something that was too painful for him. And you also knew that you would sacrifice anything for your child. Even love.
You take your time at the diner as you nibble on your food. If you knew your husband, and you did, you were pretty sure he was livid right now. You were for sure in for it when you got home. With a sigh, you pay your check and leave.
It was time to go home and face the music. And by music, you meant an irate Andy Barber.
—
The moment you pull into the garage the door to the house is violently wrenched open. A disheveled Andy stands in the entryway. His tie is undone, his shirt is untucked, and his hair is all mussed. You can tell he’s been panicking. Your poor man.
You make sure to grab your purse and CVS bag before exiting your vehicle, still not sure of what you were going to say.
“It is 11:15pm.” He growls. “Where the hell have you been? And why the fuck did you turn off your phone?”
“Driving around.” You mumble with a shrug as you try to brush past him. He grabs your arm, jerking you backwards.
“Who the fuck were you with?” He scrubs a large hand over his bearded face.
“No one, Andrew. Now please let me go.” To your surprise he does.
“I’m going to ask you again.” Andy snarls at your back as you make your way into the kitchen. “Who the fuck were you with? I know it wasn’t Sarah, or Rachel, or Nicole, or Michelle. Because I called them. And you weren’t at Jenna and Marshall’s place, because I called them too. So I’m going to need you to start fucking talking before I lose my mind even more than I already have!” His chest is heaving, his angry breaths coming in quick, hot bursts.
“I was alone, honey.” You tell him as you clutch the drugstore bag to your chest.
“You were alone this whole time? Right.” He snorts. “What’s his name?”
Fuck. Okay. You think as you try to cling to your very fragile little bit of patience. If the roles were reversed maybe you would be thinking along those same ridiculous lines.
“Will you tell me his name if I promise not to kill him?” His fist slams down on the table. “Fuck, I can’t keep that promise.” He mutters. Guess it’s nice to know that your man was willing to go to prison over you. Maybe.
“Andy, sweetheart, if you just give me a moment to compose myself I will explain. Alright?” He crosses his arms as he stares you down with murderous intent in his eyes.
“Divorce isn’t an option, Y/N. Whatever’s wrong, we can work it out.” He hisses, making you roll your eyes. “Roll your fucking eyes again and see what happens. As soon as I calm down, I’m going to fire that ass up. Do you hear me?” You gulp at his words
“I would never cheat on you. I get that you’re worried. And angry.” Andy’s right palm twitches. That was his spanking hand. “Okay, very angry.”
He moves towards you. His hands go to your much smaller biceps and he gives you a light shake. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? How scared I was? You ignored my texts, my calls. You shoot me a vague message saying “be home soon” and then turn off your phone. You do not fucking do that, baby. I am fucking pissed right now.”
“Andy, I understand. And I’m sorry. But I just needed to think. And I needed to do it alone.”
“You needed to think?” He growls as he shakes you again. “Do you know how many rooms we have in this house? You mean to tell me that you couldn’t have done all of your so-called thinking here? At home. Where I know you’re safe?”
“No, honey, I couldn’t. Because I had some very important decisions to make.”
“Divorce isn’t -”
“Hopefully it’s not.” Andy’s eyes flare at your words. There’s a wild look in his stormy blue eyes. “But hold that thought for a moment, okay?” Without further ado, you thrust the bag you’ve been clutching against his broad chest. “Look inside.”
Your bottom lip begins to quiver as he opens the bag. You watch with bated breath as he pulls out the first test.
“Two lines.” He murmurs as he pulls out another one. “Two lines.” He says again. “Two lines.”
“Yes, Andy. Two lines. I’m sorry this isn’t more romantic but -”
“You’re pregnant.” He finishes for you. “Where’d you take these?”
“In a dimly lit CVS bathroom.” You whisper. You watch in horror as your big man backs away from you and slowly sinks to the floor, resting his head against the wall.
“You’re pregnant. With my baby.”
“Yes, your baby. You even attempt to question that and I will slug you in the damned jaw.” You adored him, but he had better not even go there.
Your husband buries his face in his hands as he struggles to get his breathing under control. And then you hear what sounds like a muffled sob. Oh no.
“Andy…I know…with what happened…ahh shit. If you can’t do this, or if you don’t want to…if it’s too much, part of me understands. I won’t force you. But I want this baby, okay?”
He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. “Tonight I thought you were with someone else. I thought you wanted to leave me. And then you give me this?” He waves a test in the air. “You come to me with a fucking gift? Giving me another goddamned chance to do this, and do it right?”
“Oh, baby…oh honey.” You drop to your knees in front of him and wrap your arms around him.”You didn’t do anything wrong the first go-round. Sometimes life is just a bitch, baby. And unfortunately, you got the shitty end of the stick. But you didn’t deserve that. And neither did Jacob.” Andy softly sobs into your shoulder.
“You and I are about to start a brand new adventure together.” You gingerly rub his back, trying to soothe him. “Do you want that?”
“More than anything.” His arms go around you, practically squeezing the breath from your body. “More than words can say. You’re really gonna make me a Daddy again?”
“I’m going to do my best.” You pull away, using your sleeve to wipe at his tears. Sweet man. “But Andy, you never stopped being a Daddy. You’ll always be Jacob’s father. And maybe we should talk about him more. And on top of that, you’re my Daddy. Two different things, I know. But I need you. And this little jellybean that is apparently growing in my belly needs you too.”
“I’m gonna be here, baby. For everything. Every moment, every ultrasound, every fucking craving. Whatever you want, you get.” He vehemently swears before he kisses your lips, letting his tongue mingle with yours. “God, I fucking love the shit out of you. I’m sorry I accused you of cheating. I was scared, baby. And, on some level, I get why you were scared too.”
You sniffle, kissing him again. “But young lady, I really wish you would have brought those tests home and taken them here. I would have waited with you. I hate that you thought you had to do it alone.” Suddenly he’s on top of you, pinning you to the floor.
“You’re not alone with me, baby. Ever. What did I tell you that one time you faced down that racist asshole, Jeffries, without me?”
Your hands go to his ass, giving it a playful squeeze. “That we are forever partners. And we are. But Andy, I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too, Y/N. But we’ve got this, I know we do. We’re going to have a baby, a fucking baby who is fierce and smart and strong…just like his or her Mama.” He kisses your nose.
You sniffle again. “I hope he or she is like you, Andy. Strong and calculating and dynamic…just like their Daddy.”
“They’re going to be a combination of both of us, sweetheart.” He breathes out a heavy sigh. “God help the world.”
“They’re doomed.” You whisper as you capture his mouth again. “Our baby is going to set this world on fire.” You stroke your hand through his tawny locks. “I need you, Andy. I need you to take me. Make love to me. Please.” He nibbles at your neck.
“I need to fuck me before I get fat and start to waddle.” Now that makes him laugh.
“I cannot fucking wait until you start to waddle. Oh my god, we need to schedule a doctor’s appointment for you. We need to make sure everything’s okay with you and the baby. You need vitamins. And no more coffee, or sushi, or -”
You cover his mouth with your hand. “Andy. Slow down, big guy. We’ll get to all that, okay? What matters right now is that I love you. Desperately.”
“I love you two, my sweet, sweet baby girl.” Your husband responds in earnest.
“Good.” You tickle his ears. “But right now, I’m desperate for you to fuck me. Right here. Right now.”
“Like I said. What my girl wants, she gets.” He murmurs as he begins tearing at your clothes.
“I’m going to give you and our baby the world. You have my word. Now lay back and enjoy how I fuck my sweet little pussy.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Your purr.
“That’s my good girl.”
END
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