#oh yeah jake is in harvard because of course he is lmao

[mypoisonedvine]

The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom | Andy Barber x reader (part 1)

summary: Jacob was finally taking his college girlfriend home to meet his family.  how was she, a sheltered Harvard girl, supposed to know not to trust the famous, respected lawyer who just so happened to be his father?

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut (dub con??), age gap, infidelity, fingering, dirty talk, a lil choking, wedding ring kink, lots of awkward conversations lmao

@donutloverxo @evnscvll @ballyhoobarnes​

“They’re gonna love you,” Jacob beamed at you as you buckled into the passenger seat.

“I dunno, Jake, I’m not usually a parent’s favorite…” you mumbled nervously, adjusting to be comfortable for the drive.  It wasn’t that long of a trip— just from your dorm at Harvard to the southern suburbs of Boston; your discomfort was a lot more psychosomatic, in fact.  Isn’t it normal to be afraid to meet your boyfriend’s parents?

“Well, my parents are pretty chill,” he assured you.  “Besides, what’s not to like?”

You still felt a little dizzy as you tried to prepare yourself for a weekend with them.  You’d hoped Jacob would just have you guys meet at lunch or something but nope, he insisted that you come with him the next time he visited over a three-day weekend and you’d agreed cause you didn’t know how to say no.  Now here you were, practicing ‘Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!’ in your head as if you were going to forget how to speak English in the next fifteen minutes.  

Honestly, with how nervous you were, it was plausible.

The sun through the trees cast flashing light and shadows through your window as you watched the scenery roll by.  Something by Bon Iver was playing through the car speakers, but the mumbled lyrics were lost to your distracted mind.  You’d heard a decent amount about his parents through him— his dad was apparently quite the bigshot lawyer— but you had no idea how much they knew about you.  You hoped he talked about you a lot but you also sort of hoped he didn’t, so that you’d have a clean slate to start with.

“Your destination is on the left,” Google Maps informed you both.

“There it is,” Jacob smiled as he lifted a hand from the wheel to point to the house.  It was nice, really nice, and a little tinge of jealousy hit you.  

You took a deep breath and gave him a weak smile as you prepared to meet Mr. and Mrs. Barber.

~

You went through the motions of every great introduction to people who need to like you.  So nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things, you have a lovely home, all that good stuff.  Laurie, his mom, was bubbly and kind, and insisted you not call her Mrs. Barber because it made her feel old, apparently; Mr. Barber was a little more stern but still seemed warm enough.

After some basic hand-shaking and introductions, Laurie had explained that she was making dinner.  You offered to help but she insisted that you wouldn’t lift a finger while staying in her home.  That sure did sound nice, though you felt guilty.

So, while Jacob unpacked your and his stuff in the guest bedroom, and while Laurie was cooking, you and Mr. Barber were stuck together in the living room.

“We’ve been hearing a lot about you,” he informed you.

“Oh, r-really?” you stammered.  “Only good things, I hope.”

“Only great things,” he assured.  

You nodded, not sure what to say but realizing the conversation was going to peter out quickly…

“You can relax,” he encouraged with a smile, “we’re not giving you the third-degree or anything.”

You let out a little laugh of relief, trying to keep from looking too rigid.  “I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I just really want to make a good impression.”

“You already have,” he assured you.  “You’re a natural.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laughed nervously, “I’ve never met anybody’s parents before.  I mean, of course I’ve met people’s parents, just not a boyfriend’s or anything— that’s not usually my sort of thing…”

His eyes went a little wide, and you mirrored it as you realized the implication.  “Oh, I don’t mean— it’s not like I only do hook-ups or something, I don’t do that, I just meant I’ve never really had a serious relationship before—” oh god, is that a bad thing to say?  Does it make me seem like I’m too immature for Jacob; or does he not think we’re serious?  “I mean, it’s not like we’re serious serious, it’s not— we haven’t really— we’re not thinking that far ahead, we’re young and all that…” God, even Jacob and I haven’t had this conversation, why am I having it with his father?!

“Well, whatever it is that you two are, he seems to care for you greatly.”

“That’s… good to hear,” you sighed, hoping you could just keep your mouth shut for a few minutes.  Awkward silence was leagues better than this.

“The weather’s great so I thought we could sit outside for dinner!” Laurie suggested.  

“Sounds lovely, honey,” Mr. Barber nodded, jumping off of the couch at any excuse to get out of this conversation.  You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands.

Their patio was spacious and covered in meticulously-gardened plants, with a glass table that had already been set with four place settings.  You helped carry out some of the food and took your seat in the wrought iron chair.

“Do you want any wine, sweetie?” Laurie offered as she turned towards you, bottle in hand.

“Oh, I’m not twenty-one yet,” you explained quickly.

“Well, yeah,” Laurie raised an eyebrow, “but we’re not so sheltered, we know what college kids get up to— just a glass won’t hurt.”

“You’re kind to offer,” you relented, “but I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Laurie questioned, looking a little incredulous.

“Really,” Jacob butted in.  He laughed when his mother gave him a look of surprise.  “Yeah, I know, she’s like, the one person at Harvard who’s sober.”

“Finally, a little respect for the law in this house,” Mr. Barber added as he stepped out onto the patio.  

“You want a glass, honey?” she asked him, seeming to ignore his apparent distaste for her offering alcohol to you.

“Sure,” he nodded, taking a seat.

“So,” Mr. Barber addressed you as he sat down, “what are you majoring in?”

“English,” you answered with a nervous smile.

“And what do you wanna do with that?”

“Whatever lets me read as much as majoring in it allows me to,” you chuckled.

“Do you think you’ll go to graduate school, get a Master’s?” he pressed.

“Actually,” Jacob interjected, “she’s thinking of going for a doctorate.”

Mr. Barber turned back to you with an impressed expression.  “Wow!  Smart girl.”

Something about him calling you ‘girl’ made you feel yourself blush slightly, and shift in your seat.  Or maybe it was the praise.  Still, for some reason it coming from him felt wrong but wonderful at the same time.  “Um, I suppose so…”

It continued on like that for a while; he and Laurie asked you questions, you and Jacob told a few stories.  Mr. Barber managed to get you to open up a little and not be so worried about him judging you or assessing you all the time.  But then again, you’d heard he was a bigshot lawyer so he probably knew how to get people comfortable and talking so he could go in for the kill.

Sometimes you caught him looking at you like he was about to go in for that kill at any moment.

~

“Do you think it went okay?” you asked with faux nonchalance as you slipped into bed, watching Jacob brush his teeth in front of the mirror.

“Okay?  I fink it went greaf!” he responded, the toothbrush in his mouth making his words difficult to parse.

You laughed a little at his silliness, though you were glad to hear he thought it was a successful day.

“And they don’t mind us sharing a bed?”

Jacob snorted with a quick laugh before spitting out his toothpaste into the sink.  “They’re not conservative like that,” he dismissed with a shake of his head.  “I mean, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, it’s normal for us to share a bed.”

You nodded because it was true, but you also found yourself twisting a piece of your hair between three fingers; you wondered if his parents assumed that you two did everything that was normal for boyfriends and girlfriends to do… and, as always, you wondered if Jacob was growing impatient with you in that regard.  He always said that he didn’t mind and was going to wait as long as you needed, but it was still hard to believe.  Sometimes you just wished he would break up with you so that he wouldn’t have to deal with celibacy and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt.

“You ready for bed?” he prompted, tearing you from your train of thought as he sat down on the other side of the bed.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you agreed with a nod, laying down completely and plugging in your phone.

Jacob switched off his bedside lamp, and you were ready to fall asleep, but he quickly pulled you into him.

Oh, yes, cuddling.  This was normal, this was expected; you should feel relaxed right now, and not nervous and confused.  You tried to force yourself to, but it didn’t really work. 

He hummed contentedly, kissing behind your ear.  “Goodnight, honeybun.”

Another girl would love this kind of attention.  Any girl should.  You smiled, but it was fake.  “Goodnight, Jake,” you replied quietly.  You really did like him, you never doubted that.  But as he drifted to sleep beside you and you took in the surroundings of Jacob’s old room— renovated and updated, but still feeling like the graveyard of a childhood— you couldn’t help but question why you were here at all when you knew, deep down, that this relationship was missing something that couldn’t be found.

~

You woke up for no particularly good reason in the middle of the night, a habit of yours.  Squinting as you lifted up and unlocked your phone, you read the clock: 2:16 a.m.

You sighed and realized that you weren’t going to be able to get back to sleep, at least for a while.  

Peeling Jacob’s limp arm off of you and slipping out from underneath the comforter, you tiptoed out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

The streetlights cast faint yellow light into the kitchen, enough that you could see somewhat; enough that you didn’t stub your toe, thankfully. 

You did your best to open the refrigerator quietly as you searched for a snack.  I could make a sandwich but that’s a bit too much food.  There’s so much weird diet food in here, is that Mr. or Mrs. Barber’s?  A glass of juice probably isn’t enough.  Yogurt?  Hmm, maybe…   

“Burning the midnight oil?” the deep and smooth voice of Mr. Barber came from behind you.

You jumped a little as you spun around, finding him standing in the entryway to the kitchen, wearing pajamas and a smug little smile.  You let go of the door and it slowly closed itself; Mr. Barber turned on a dim light and you were able to see him a little better.

“I think we’re a little bit past midnight, sir,” you chuckled softly.

He seemed slightly uncomfortable with the title, shifting awkwardly and clearing his throat.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked, concerned.

“No, no, not at all,” he shook his head.  “I haven’t been sleeping so well recently.  A finger of scotch usually helps…”

For some reason, him telling you this felt too intimate.  You cleared your throat nervously as he poured the aforementioned drink into a crystal glass.

“You really don’t drink?” Andy asked you suddenly, and you laughed a little.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you guys to believe!” you replied.

“No, no, I believe you…” he trailed off.  “I guess I’m just surprised because Jacob seems really into the party scene.  You two seem sort of opposite in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah, we are,” you admitted.  “I think it works for us.”

“You keep him honest?” 

“I keep him from failing out,” you scoffed, though as soon as you’d said it, you instantly regretted your brutal honesty.

“Ah, I get it,” Andy smirked.  “He’s partying while you’re back in the dorm studying enough for the both of you.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he instructed, a little more stern than you anticipated.  “With what I do for a living, I’ve learned to spot a lie from a mile away.”

You swallowed, thinking this was getting a bit out of hand already.  “Well, I ought to get back to bed,” you realized, “and… so should you.”

As you stood up and started to walk past him, he suddenly reached out and grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Mr. Barber, I—”

“Call me Andy,” he encouraged, stepping closer until you were pressed against the wall and he was pressed against you, finally releasing your arm but leaving you just as trapped.  This close up, your height difference was staggering.

“O-okay, Andy, I don’t—”

“Has he fucked you yet?” 

The question made your eyes shoot wide open and your stomach burn with embarrassment.  How could he ask you something like that?  But he seemed cool and collected, staring down at you as he took the last sip of his scotch and set the glass aside.

“I think as his father, I have a right to know,” he added firmly.

“I… we don’t… he and I aren’t…”

“So, no?”

You nodded quickly.

“Well, why not?  Is there something wrong with him?”

No, there’s nothing wrong with him at all, and I hate that about him because I should love him but I don’t.  “N-no!”

He looked you up and down quickly before responding.  “I can’t imagine how he keeps his hands off you…”

You knew you shouldn’t be enjoying this kind of attention, especially from your boyfriend’s father, but something about his gaze made shivers erupt in its wake.  You looked away and forced yourself to remember everything great about Jacob.

“He’s been very patient with me,” you explained shakily.  “He knows I’m not ready.”

“Not ready?”

“To be with someone… that way…”

You shivered when his fingers began to toy with the hem of your nightgown.  “This is nice,” he complimented softly.

“Um, thank you…”

“You’re a very beautiful girl,” he informed you, leaning in a little closer.

“I—” you began, but he was already about to kiss you.  You almost melted into it, you almost let your eyes flutter shut as you tilted your head; thankfully, you stopped yourself at the last second, pushing your hands against his chest.  He was strong enough that your protest would’ve been useless if he hadn’t chosen to stop in the moment.

“Andy, your wife…” you explained weakly.

“She hasn’t touched me in years,” he grimaced.  “She just wants my money, and the appearance of the perfect family.  You have no idea what it’s like to lie next to someone every night and still be completely alone.”

For a split second, Jacob flashed in your mind and you wondered if you did have an idea.  

“I’m… sorry to hear that…” you mumbled.  “But I can’t— you can’t—”

He lifted your chin with one finger, and you looked up at him with wide doe eyes.  “Is he treating you right, sweetheart?  Is he everything you deserve?  Don’t lie to me…”

“He’s…” you whispered shakily, unsure how to respond, “he’s great.”

Andy chuckled incredulously, seemingly not believing your answer.  “Listen, he’s my son; I love him, obviously.  But I know his flaws better than anyone.  And even though I like to think he’s smarter than a lot of boys his age, they’re all the same when it comes to one thing: girls.”

“I think he’s pretty smart in that regard,” you defended.

“If he was smart, he would be taking you to nice places, buying you nice things, treating you right.  If he was smart, he would’ve fucked you already.  If he was smart,” he smirked a little, “he wouldn’t have left you alone with me.”

His hand slipped under the bottom of your nightgown, grabbing your thigh.

“Andy!” you yelped, but he lifted a finger to his mouth with a soft shushing noise.

“Don’t wanna wake anybody, now do you?”

I kinda do though… you thought to yourself.

His fingers travelled higher and higher, nearly brushing against the edge of your panties; you shivered, wondering if you should stop him, and if so, how.

Your hands were still resting on his chest from when you’d tried to push him away, but instead of fighting back all they did was clench and pull at the soft cotton of his t-shirt as his pointer finger hooked into your underwear and pulled them down.

The thick, calloused pad of his finger swiped through your folds, and you bit your lip.  Something about it being the middle of the night, about the forbidden nature of it all, about the way his gaze burned right through you made your entire body so sensitive.  He found your clit instantly, and barely had to touch it to get you bucking your hips into his touch; you only somewhat managed to suppress your gasp.

He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it actually came to fruition and his lips were soft but determined against your own.  You reciprocated eagerly, eliciting a little smile from him as you both realized how bad you wanted this even when you shouldn’t.  The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was also the moment his middle finger slid into your tight and pulsing channel.  You moaned with surprise and it mixed with his own soft groans while your tongues intermingled.

A second finger joined his first, stretching your walls and making you nearly bite down on his lip in your mouth.  He smiled and twisted them within you, pushing right against a spot that made your knees weak, while his thumb stretched out to keep circling around your clit.

He broke the kiss to watch your face, admiring the way your brows furrowed together, and your eyes fluttered shut, and your swollen lip caught between your teeth.  Your head fell back against the wall, the effort of supporting it suddenly seeming too much, and it caused you to look up at him and make some awkward yet sensual eye contact.

“Has he ever made you come like this?” he whispered, jealousy apparent in his tone.  You shook your head ‘no.’  “Has anyone ever made you come like this?”  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he groaned.  “Including yourself?”

You nodded and he laughed a little, stooping down to kiss your neck.  “Always such a good girl, huh?”

His tone shifted as realization crossed over his face.  “Baby… am I the first thing that’s ever been inside you?”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit embarrassed, and nodded again.

He groaned and pressed his hips forward into your hip; the hard shape of his cock against you made you gasp.  “Feel what you do to me?” he smirked.  “God, you’re too fuckin’ perfect…”

“A-Andy, ‘m close,” you whimpered 

“Come on my fingers, sweet girl,” he encouraged.  “I wanna see how pretty you look when you let go.”

It felt like a wave of sensation was about to crash over you, faster than you knew how to handle it.  You reached down and tried to push him away by the forearm, an instinctive way to run from the intensity of the feeling as it started to make your eyes roll back and your toes go numb.  But he was too strong; your fighting was useless as his fingers kept fucking into you and pressing against your constricting walls.

“No, baby, you can take it,” he hissed.  “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Just as you were sure you were about to scream, his other hand clapped over your mouth.  You could feel the hard shape of his wedding ring against your lips and just as guilt hit you, so did your orgasm.  Your knees went weak; you would’ve fallen if it weren’t for the hand inside you all but holding you up.  

Your moans were muffled into his calloused palm as pleasure rippled through you.  You felt your channel grip his fingers at the same time as a gush of arousal coated his hand and even began to drip down to his arm.

Your breathing slowly stabilized, and Andy trusted you enough to finally take his hand away.  He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, licking them with a smirk.  “You taste like heaven, honey,” he praised.  “Go ahead, clean off my fingers,” he instructed as he pressed the fingers into your mouth; it was already hanging slack from exhaustion.  You closed your lips and sucked on his fingers, moaning at your own taste and at the way his skin felt on your tongue.

Once he was apparently satisfied with your work, the hand in your mouth moved back and instead wrapped around your neck as you whimpered.

“Tomorrow,” he growled against your ear.  “I’m gonna get you alone, and we’re gonna finish this.”

You were a little too busy panting to respond to that.  Honestly, you had expected that you would have some post-nut clarity at this point, or even just be satisfied once you’d reached your peak.  But apparently not; even still coming down from it, you already wanted more.  With a sigh, you realized that you were already completely addicted to Andy Barber, and you were going to come back for more as soon as you could.

“Tomorrow,” you agreed in a raspy whisper.

(part 2) // (part 3)