If Not A Whore For Andy Barber - Blog Posts

bend me over and do whatever you want sir🧎🏼

Chris Evans as Andy Barber in Defending Jacob

i just…. this is so fucking good and i LOVE THIS

I read your hc for Andy and i love it! I read it like 5 or 6 times. I have crush on Andy (crush on a fictional character is Silly i know) and Andy in this hc is sooo close to my imaginations. Exept that he got divorce after ten years from his wife (not laurie) which they always had problems an at the end she cheated on him and Andy saw them in bed! So if u accept request i want to ask for a hc Andy and young reader that she give him a BJ. Andy was just with her wife for like ten years and she really wasn't into it so this BJ is after long time and sooo diffrent from what he had in the past :)

notes: first of all, i’m so glad you liked that hc - it’s very near and dear to me and probably one of my favorite things i’ve written for andy! so i appreciate this ask as well :) i won’t lie, though, i did take some liberties with this because i felt more inspired keeping it in the same universe of the original hc! hopefully that’s okay, and you still enjoy this because i had an great time writing it - consider it our second look into fresh start!andy as i’ve started calling him! post break credit to the lovely @evansyhelp!

pairing: andy barber x reader.

warnings: 18+ / minors dni, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking but the tender kind, all in all sweet andy getting back into the swing of dating. you don’t have to read this previous headcanon to get this one, but it does add context for everything reader and andy are worried about! 

wc: 1.7k

The first night you spend at Andy’s house is an accident. You’ve only been dating a few weeks at that point; each one more wonderful than the last but moving, at his request, at a snail’s pace.

So, waking up in his bed, head pounding from wine the night before, feels like a foot on the gas that you can only hope hasn’t ruined things. From the looks of it, he didn’t join you – leave it to him to be so selfless — but you can’t decide if that makes this better or worse. And when you finally emerge from his room, face washed and tongue stinging from mouthwash, it’s with a heart braced for the cold shoulder. For Andy, aching from a night on the couch he wasn’t expecting and irked by the crossed boundaries. 

Instead, you’re met by his usual warmth; a broad smile when he sees you peek into the kitchen and a hand squeezing your hip when you’re close enough to reach. “Mornin’, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks like it’s nothing - like you’re right where you’re supposed to be - and when he presses a cup of something warm into your hands ( made just the way you like it ), you nod, preening.

Crisis averted.

The second time you spend the night, it’s storming. It’s in the depths of Massachusetts winter, just one month after the first night; so a blizzard isn’t all that shocking. But, it had been unexpected, the skies opening up to dump a few feet of snow in just a couple hours.

Andy had hosted dinner again and you’d taken extra care to pace yourself, not wanting to repeat the mistake from the month before. But after just one glance out the window as you pull on your jacket to go home, Andy himself nips that plan in the bud.

“Absolutely not,” he huffs when you insist you could make it back with your ‘state of the art tires’. “This isn’t stopping any time soon and there’s already a few feet down - just stay here and if it’s still bad in the morning, I can help take you back.” 

The invitation isn’t the problem — in fact, your chest warms at his worry, tender spreading through every part of you. But, you worry, still, about imposing after the last slip-up. Even with your wits about you, there’s so much that could go wrong; so much you could do to overstay your welcome the first time you’ve actually earned it. 

Caught up in your thoughts, you don’t notice Andy getting closer until he’s upon you, hands moving to guide yours off your coat. His touch draws your eyes to his face where he, again, has that big smile, this one laced with softness as he works your jacket off you. “Not sure what you’re thinking about so hard over here,” he muses, folding the coat over his arm once he’s done. “But, you’re not arguing with me anymore, so I’m going to take that as a win and get some blankets out here to keep us warm.” 

His lips come down on the swell of your cheek before he turns and as you watch him pad towards his bedroom, you feel your heart flutter in anticipation. 

There’s something about this you could get used to.

The third time you spend the night, Andy can’t stop kissing you. 

It isn’t the first time you’ve made out, now four months into your relationship and long past the nerves that made him clam up at anything beyond a peck. But, it is the most intense, the most indulgent it’s ever been.

It’d started with a night out; with dinner at his favorite restaurant and drinks at your favorite bars. Each new spot found you closer, touching more and more until the levee buckles and you’re in his lap, head spinning equal parts from the alcohol and him.

He gets you home without putting much distance between you, fingers skimming any skin he can reach as you wait for a ride and pulling you into him once you’re both in the backseat. But he doesn’t kiss you again until you’re alone; until you’re back in that small apartment that’s started to feel empty when you aren’t there and he can lick into your mouth until your knees knock. 

That’s all he really wants that night — to kiss until you’re both sick of it. But, some things have a way of taking a life of their own and it would seem tonight that that’s you. Or rather, the desire between you; this pent up, heavy thing that’s grown steadily for some time, but is at a full rage tonight, inevitably landing you here —-

You, on your knees before him while his chest squeezes with a desperate need.

He can’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this; could count on one hand the number of times Laurie took him into her mouth after those early years together. But, he knows better than to write his excitement – and the throbbing in his jeans – off as simply lust for what’s about to happen.

It’s because it’s you. It’s you who wants it, breathing the ache against his mouth so prettily – “Can we — could I taste you, Andy?” — he couldn’t deny you. It’s you sitting there, mouth moist from his kisses as you fish his cock out. It’s you sucking in that hungry breath, eyes watching the precum at his tip leak down over his veiny underside. And it’s you, his sugar-sweet girl, leaning up to trace it with your tongue until you can wrap your mouth around him.

The heat of it sends a jolt through him, something guttural rising from his chest as his hand finds the back of your head. You feel incredible; tongue slipping around him as if gauging the girth before your cheeks hollow and sets his entire body ablaze. “Jesus Christ,” he grunts, embarrassed by the way he actually has to work to keep his hips from bucking up.

You don’t make it any easier, of course. As if you can read his struggle in the tension at his shoulders, you start to move, head bobbing at a pace that’s slow to start. So much so that he’d think you were baiting him if he didn’t know any better. But, there’s something in your eyes, something in the way you devour his expression as much as you devour him that makes it clear that you just want to learn him - see what he likes, what makes it good.

The thought of it makes his body tremble and his fingers tighten some in their grip on the back of your head. It’s only slight, but you notice enough to move faster, the increased pace bringing with it messy sounds that make Andy lose his resolve, if only briefly, and rock his hips to meet your mouth. 

Horrified, he’s stuttering out an apology before you notice, even starting to sit up as if to guide you off, but your hand on his hip stops him cold. You pull off of his cock, but only enough to be heard; he can feel your lips against him as you talk, in butterfly kisses that make his legs jump. “‘S okay,” you breath, giving his hip a reassuring squeeze. “‘S okay.”

You smile then, the curve of it plush against his cock, before you’re taking him back into your mouth, this time to the hilt. Andy’s head falls back against the couch, lips parting in a silent groan that starts to rise as you take on the fastest pace so far. 

This time, he’s convinced you are baiting him, goading him to let go with the way you watch from under your lashes. And when his hip twitches under your hold, pulling one word from you before you’re back on him – “Please,” – Andy’s an absolute goner. 

Eager, but still nervous, he fucks up into your mouth slow at first; cursing at the depth and slick that comes when you’re coming down to meet him too. He’s only a couple, careful pumps in when your fingers dig into his hip and tug; needy, demanding.

You want more.

It bowls him over; how much you want, how much you’ll give. And even with some lingering concern about going too far, he’s finally started to lose his head. Inhibitions lowered, he’s fucking up faster, more intently, as he pants your name into the still of his apartment. And you’re there to meet every stroke, mouth so wide you’re practically drooling just to make it easier for him to press into your throat.

Before long, he’s close, embarrassingly so, and thinks he should at least warn you before he goes over the edge. But, the words don’t come, not in any way that matters, and he’s stuck with stuttered gasps to try and make do. “Baby, s-shit – I’m–” 

You catch on, quickly at that; but to Andy’s surprise, you don’t stop. No, you go faster, take him deeper until he’s lost to his climax, hips lifting all the way off the couch as he cums down your throat with an intensity that takes his breath away. And it’s only when you’re absolutely sure that you’ve gotten every drop that you pull off, a pleased sound rolling in your chest.

You barely have a chance to swallow or even wipe your mouth before Andy’s on you, hoisting you into his naked lap to bear down on you with kisses. His tongue fills your mouth like it’s seeking himself out in the edges and every time he tastes it, he grunts; kisses harder. 

You’ve unleashed something, you think.

But, you don’t have much time to dwell on it when he’s breaking the kiss, nose knocking yours gently before he gives you a sated smile. It’s different from those big, beaming ones you’re used to – dopey and not as wide, but lovely all the same. It stirs you so much, you plant another kiss for good measure before pulling him forward to catch his breath in the crook of your neck.

Content, Andy settles right where you want him, mouth to your still-stuttering pulse. He decides right then that there’s something about this he never wants to lose.