#andrew smut

[kryannoy]

what his kinks are . . .

genre: nsfw, smut

character: andrew graves

warnings: hair pulling, doggy style, biting, marking, choking, + no ashley involved

a/n: i am a bit too obsessed with him at the moment so let me relive my 13 year old self where i used to love psycho guys

HAIR PULLING

Definitely. It was shown in his flashback with Julia where he asked her to tie up her hair. In this case, he would love it if you tied your hair up in a ponytail. It makes it easier for him to grab all of your hair in one go. However, if you're not tying it up, he'd still bunch up your hair in one hand and fuck you from behind.

DOGGY STYLE

Speaking of, he likes doing it in this position. Not because he can admire your ass being pounded by his hips, but also your gorgeous back where he can easily have access to mark you all up.

BITING / MARKING

His body is always so close to you because he can't keep his mouth away from your skin. He loves to bite you, suck you, lick you—whatever to show you're his and his only. He loves to see the purple and red spots and bite marks all over your neck, shoulder, chest, tits, thighs, everywhere. It reminds him of the intense night he had with you.

He even loves it when you leave scratch marks on him. He likes to know he's fucking you good. It boosts his ego, making his oh so hot smirk appear on his face.

CHOKING

He doesn't actually want to hurt you but if you want to he's fine with it. Plus, if it's a rough day for him and he'd go feral, he will choke you in bed. It's like another side of him you get to see.

This includes him collaring you. Oh, he loves to see you wearing a pretty pink or red or black collar with a heart. He loves to pull on the heart which tightens the grip. He wouldn't mind putting on the leash, holding onto it tight and fucking you into the sheets. At times, he really wants you to keep it on even off bed but other times, he likes to see the mark it leaves on your neck along with the hickeys.

[stellar-constellations]

Andrew Graves Kinkmas

I'm sorry this is late, I literally didn't even think of doing a Kinkmas until Christmas Day! This served as great practice for my writing, although it's very amateurish since I've never wrote any smut/sex before. Hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 13,000 words

WARNINGS (or what this includes): Sex, sex, sex. Amateurish sex scenes. Threats of voyeurism. Overstimulation (male and female). Mirror sex. Pussy eating + blowjobs. Unprotected sex. Sex toys. Praise. Poorly disguised author fetishes (wish of marriage). Bondage. Small dirty talk. Food play. Cum eating.

Kinkmas one: Pussy Eating!

        Andrew had you lying on the kitchen counter, making you lay on your back so he could easily keep your legs spread open. 

        “Andrew!” you mewled, squirming as he forced his arms under your thighs, locking them in place around his head. “Please!”

        You weren’t sure exactly what you were pleading for; if it was for him to go faster for you to that sweet release, or for him to slow down so you could savor the moment.

        “I know, baby.” Andrew hummed, his face messy and shiny under the kitchen’s lighting. “Gimme another minute.”

        “You already said that!” you whined, your eyes darting to the oven clock, breathing heavily to the point you were panting, feeling rushed for your orgasm. “I need to leave for work soon!” 

        “Y’know I love me a woman in uniform...” Andrew teasingly smirked, glancing up from your thighs. "But I'm busy."

        You looked down at him, frowning before your eyes looked back at the clock, another whine leaving your throat, more desperate than the last. “C’mon, Andrew! Please!”

        “Don’t worry, baby.” Andrew hummed, kissing your thighs, before biting down. “I won’t make you late to work. Promise. I’ll drive you.”

        That promise was a little better, but it didn’t exactly help your worries with the limited time you had before needing to clock in for work; and just thinking about trying to orgasm made you feel farther from it. 

        “Keep talking about work and I’ll get the muzzle for you…” Andrew muttered, removing his teeth from your thigh to lick at it, before moving his head and licking a straight line on your clit.

        “Ah!” you gasped, surprised at the feeling of his hot tongue on you, a whimper leaving your lips.

        “It’s that clock, eh?” Andrew questioned, speaking casually as if his tongue wasn’t swirling around your clit, causing your thighs to try and clamp up at the sensitivity—but he wouldn’t allow that. “C’mon, turn over.”

        He put your legs off his shoulders, letting you get up off the counter. He took off his sweater, leaving himself shirtless as he bent you over the counter, covering your head with the sweater so you couldn’t see.

        “Be good and spread ‘em.” He hummed, getting down on his knees and tapping your legs a few times.

        He sat so that you were facing him and the wall, while his head resting on the cabinet, facing your body. 

        Your legs were on one side of Andrew, before you opened them and placed your other foot to his other hip, standing over him.

        A squeal left your lips, surprised at the feeling of his tongue invading your pussy, circling around as he was nose-deep. His tongue scooped out your juices, greedily slurping it down before coming back for seconds, and thirds, and more that you couldn’t count.

        “Fuck!” you cried out, your cheek against the cold counter as Andrew’s tongue rotated between scooping your pussy and sucking on your clit.

        Andrew grabbed your ankle and threw one of your legs over his shoulder, his lips parting from your clit as he spit on his fingers. He allowed two fingers into your pussy at once, softly pumping them in and out for you to adjust.

        “Ngh… Andrew…” You moaned, keening at the slow pumping, before it started speeding up, his long and slender fingers going knuckle-deep, before he started to curl them up to hit that precious spongy spot in you. “Andrew!” 

        His mouth went back to your clit, licking and sucking on it as his fingers curled and uncurled at a faster rate, causing you to whine and squirm.

        His free hand that was resting on your hip went to your ass, before he gave it a warning slap, not too hard but still enough to make you jump.

        “Grind.” He commanded, lolling out his tongue for you to use. 

        You didn’t hesitate to allow your hips to take over, grinding your pussy into his mouth and onto his nose, your legs close to buckling at the pleasure, both of your erotic zones being stimulated at once.

        “Gonna cum!” you whined, your hips bucking as Andrew’s head gently hit the back of the cabinet; although he didn’t care as he continue to finger and lick you.

        A cry left your lips as your legs shook, your hips stuttering as your stomach uncoiled, closing your eyes as scratching the counter as you came, orgasming on his tongue.

        Andrew smiled, pleased as he removed his fingers from your pussy, licking them clean.

        “Always so sweet…” he muttered happily before he hit your thigh, “C’mon. Again…”

Kinkmas two: Toys

        Andrew’s cock had a nice curve that hit your G-spot every time you slammed your hips down onto it, before pulling yourself up, only to drop yourself back down.

        “Fuuuck… Just like that, pretty…” Andrew groaned, his hands resting on your hips as he helped you bounce onto his cock. 

        Little pants and gasps came out from your mouth, out of breath as you worked your thighs overtime to please him. 

        Honestly, riding wasn’t your favorite. The stinging in your legs distracted you from the pleasure of his cock hitting your G-spot, but you didn’t want to disappoint him. So you kept bouncing.

        Andrew knew something was wrong as he looked at the way your eyebrows furrowed together, closing your eyes as you tried to channel all your energy into this intense exercise. You were panting more than you were moaning,

        “Hey.” Andrew spoke up, slapping your thigh. “Stop.”

        You slowed your pace before stopping altogether, looking at him confused. You took the break to breathe, feeling your legs tremble as you saddled Andrew’s lap. 

        “S-something wrong? Am I not… d-doing it right?” you questioned, worried as you tried to catch your breath.

        Andrew sat up from the mattress, before quickly pinning you down underneath him, giving you a stern glare.

        “So this is what we’re gonna be resorting to, huh?” he sighed. “If you’re not enjoying it, tell me.” 

        “But I was!” you stammered, you felt your face burn up, embarrassed at being caught. 

        Andrew sighed, rolling his eyes before he leaned over the bed, opening a drawer from the nightstand.

        “It doesn’t feel good if you don’t feel good. Making me feel like an asshole over here…” Andrew huffed, grabbing a rose vibrator, turning it on and holding it to your clit.        

        “Ah-ha! ‘M sorry!” you cried out, squirming at the sensation.

        “Don’t apologize. Obviously you can’t use your words.” Andrew scoffed, grabbing his hard cock with his free hand and lining it up to your pussy. “I need to feel you cum around my cock. Then I’ll know if you’re sorry.” 

        Andrew smiled, gently pushing his cock into you, starting off with a few soft thrusts to get you warmed up before speeding his hips up.

        “Sorry! ‘M sorry!” you mewled, your hands coming to his shoulders and holding them for dear life.

        Andrew grabbed one of your legs and held it to his hip, causing you to hook it around him and sinking himself balls deep into you, a nasty plap! plap! echoing throughout the room as he sunk himself deeper into you, pulling out before thrusting his cock back into your pussy. 

        “I- Fuck!” you cried out, closing your eyes and moaning, your hands digging into his skin and raking down his arms, leaving fire trails in its wake. 

        Moans escaped your mouth and you were worried the neighbors would hear, but your thoughts immediately melted as Andrew raised the setting of the vibrator, a loud cry escaping your lips as your hips bucked up to chase the pleasure.

        Andrew leaned down and peppered your neck with kisses, leaving small bites as you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down and moaning into his ear. 

        Another minute of Andrew’s deep thrusts into your pussy and the vibrator toying with your clit, you came with a cry, your hips rocking against the vibrator to milk out your orgasm as you squeezed his cock. 

        A few moans escaped his mouth before he groaned, shoving his face into your neck to hide it, his hips slowing down to enjoy his orgasm.

        You squirmed and whined as the vibrator still played with your bundle of nerves, overstimulating you before Andrew turned the vibe off, pulling it away from you.

        “You feel good now?” Andrew muttered, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. 

        “Mm-hm.” You nodded, panting as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the afterglow, your brain feeling mush and no longer worrying about the ache in your legs.

        “Good,” He muttered, kissing your neck’s pulse before removing his head from there. He smiled, his stilled hips starting to thrust again. “Let’s keep it that way.” 

Kinkmas three: Grinding + French kisses

        You walked through the door and noticed Andrew sitting on the couch, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs, playing video games on the living room TV. 

        It was annoying to see him after your shift at work. He hadn’t bothered cleaning up, getting dinner started, or even getting up off the couch to greet you!

        “Welcome home.” Andrew muttered, not sparing a glance to you as he button-smashed the controller in his hands. 

        You huffed, walking towards him and pushing his chest, knocking him back against the couch. 

        “Hey?” Andrew huffed, confused before his girlfriend sat down in his lap.

        “Some men really got the audacity. Chivalry is dead.” You scoffed, pouting at him.

        “Wait,” Andrew spoke through gritted teeth, desperate to win his match as he leaned his head to the side to look past you. “I just gotta—damn it!” Andrew hissed, a "game over" text on the living room screen, before he glared at his girlfriend. “Happy?”

        “Very.” You smirked, glad to see you have his attention now. “You can pay attention to me now.”

        “Only until the next match starts or a teammate revives me.” Andrew sighed, before a small smile came to his face.

        He could never be mad with you if all you wanted was a little bit of affection. He reached his hand up and ruffled your hair teasingly, watching as a smile made way onto your face.

        You leaned in, your plush lips connecting with Andrew’s. He reciprocated the act, his hand combing through your hair, brushing away all of your work-stress and drama.

        You let out a protesting whine when he separated from you, mumbling something about his game starting, before you reached out and placed your hands on his cheeks. 

        A surprised sound escaped Andrew’s lips as your quickly crashed your lips right back onto his, tilting your head and attempting to deepen the kiss. 

        Andrew almost pulled away to complain about you getting in the way of his game, but a slow drag of your hips meeting his own quickly made him swallow his complaint; completely forgetting about his game when he had better things to worry about.

        He felt your hips slowly working slow grinds onto his cock, and suddenly that game didn’t seem so important. 

        He opened his mouth for your tongue to glide through his lips. Your tongue pressed up against his, causing a delightful shiver to run down his spine. 

        You squirmed into a position more comfortable, scooting closer as you pressed your chest up against Andrew’s, your clothed pussy directly against his covered cock as your legs wrapped around his waist. Andrew’s hands went to your hips to help grind them into him more firmly.

        A moan forced its way out of his throat, but it only got sucked up in yours as you started sucking on his tongue like it was your favorite hard candy. 

        “Mm… just like that…” Andrew groaned.

        He took one of his hands off your hip and moved it to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you deeper into the kiss. His free hand resting on your hip, before it went to your pants. 

        His fingers traced your thigh, before moving up and latching onto the waistband, tugging down—before his hand was suddenly slapped away.

        “Don’t.” You grumbled into his mouth.

        “Mm… why?” he muttered, trying to pull his lips away from yours, but you wouldn’t have that as your hands went to his collar and kept your lips against his.

        You kept kissing him, sucking on his tongue before finally parting. You bit his bottom lip teasingly, before pulling away.

        “Because you haven’t done anything to earn it…” you answered. “Today was your day to cook, and you didn’t. Your day to clean too. It was your responsibility to get stuff done while I was at work.”

        “I’m sorry. I forgot. I got too distracted playing video games…” Andrew muttered, feeling a slight sting in his lips from where you bit him, the spit-glossed area swelling up. 

        “So you don’t get to fuck me.” You spoke.

        “Fuck. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Andrew spoke, furrowing his eyebrows and gritting his teeth, desperate to feel you.

        “If you’re sorry you’ll listen to me.” You muttered, your pussy grinding onto his cock. “You need to cum first before I even think of letting you fuck me.”

        “God… you’re evil.” Andrew gasped, feeling your hips speed up. 

        He threw his head back against the couch cushioning and let out a throaty groan, both hands going to your hips and gripping them tighter.

        You leaned down and kissed his neck, biting down on some areas and sucking to leave love bites. His hands helped grind your pussy onto his cock, his cock head leaking with pre-cum that stained his boxers. 

        His own hips stuttered, before he started to thrust up into you, his hard cock grinding against your clit in a way that made you gasp and disconnect your teeth from his neck. 

        Andrew pulled you in for a kiss, pinching your hip and causing you to yelp, allowing him to finally dominate your mouth now with his tongue. 

        As his tongue played with yours, Andrew could feel your pussy toying with his cock. He could taste his release, and it was like he could feel your empty pussy squeezing your walls, desperate for him to be inside you.

        “Fuck…” Andrew muttered, his thrusts quickening, albeit becoming sloppy. “G-gonna…” 

        He couldn’t finish his sentence as he groaned, his head hitting the couch as his hips shook, thrusting against his will as he chased his orgasm. His eyes closed tightly, as if trying to escape the intensity of his orgasm. His cum spoiled his boxers, a wet stain appearing on his pants as he panted. 

        “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Andrew groaned, coming down from his high, his hips letting out a weak thrust up every now and then on reflex. “G-give me a second… then I’ll fuck ya, baby.”

        “Oh?” you grinned, tilting your head to the side. “When did I say I was gonna let you fuck me? I’m still not convinced you’re sorry yet.” You purred, your hips speeding back up to a painful pace.

        “A-aha! Fuck!” Andrew hissed, his eyes shooting open and grabbing your hips to try and stop them. “(Y/N)!” 

        It felt like a spiking pain in his now-empty balls, but it was mixed with the pleasure of his cock being stimulated again, a sensation that made his head spin and mouth drool.

        “Cum again, Andrew. Make me convinced you’re sorry.” You hummed, kissing the pulse on his neck. 

Kinkmas four: Phone masturbation + small dirty talk

        Andrew had been visiting his parents’ house after not seeing them since his early college years. He decided to go alone this year since he was only going to be staying there for a weekend, but it was a weekend too long as you tossed and turned in your shared bed.

        You finally accepted that you couldn’t sleep. With a groan, you reached over and turned on the lamp by your bed, illuminating the room with a soft yellow glow.

        You stared at the ceiling, frustrated before eventually just grabbing your phone, unlocking it and searching through your gallery for a picture of Andrew.

        You had an album dedicated to him. Pictures of just mundane things like grocery shopping, running errands, eating food; you liked seeing how handsome he was just by simply existing. 

        You were head over heels for that man.

        You clicked on a picture you took of him finally getting his hair cut. It was just a slight trim, and right after they left the salon he immediately ran his fingers through his hair and messed up all the stylist’s work at trying to keep it out of his face. 

        You liked the photo because of his sly smile from ruining the look, but also because it was him being comfortable with how he normally looked, just being himself. 

        You thought about all the hugs and kisses you’d demand from Andrew when he finally returns home. Contemplating just how many hours of cuddles he owes you for abandoning you (for 2 days).

        You thought about how many hours he owes you in bed, making it up to you and your pussy.

        Damn it, now you were thinking of something else.

        You groaned, brightening the image despite how it hurt your eyes in the low lighting of the room, wanting to see as much of him as you could. 

        Your hands trailed to your panties, toying with your clit over the thin material before going to your slit. You nudged the cloth away and stuck two fingers into your pussy, not bothering in trying to re-enact Andrew’s cock thrusting into you, simply just trying to get a quick quickie in as you curled your fingers up.

        It didn’t do anything. Your fingers were barely even long enough to graze your G-spot, let alone even fill you up as well as Andrew’s fingers did. 

        You resorted to plan B.

        You reached into the bottom of your nightstand and pulled out a dildo. It was a silicone replica of Andrew’s cock that you and him made together on their three-year anniversary.

        You grabbed some strawberry lube and lathered it on your palm, rubbing it up and down the cold silicone replica. You wished it was Andrew’s cock, longing for the warmth in your palm, the feeling of his pulse throbbing between your fingers as you'd jerk him closer and closer to release, his tip turning a pretty red before shooting white blanks. 

        Once you were satisfied with the lube dripping down the purple silicone, you had the tip play with your hole, imagining it was Andrew rubbing his cock up and down your slit, putting his tip in before chuckling and removing it, leaving you wanting more. 

        Luckily, you could decide your own pace as you inserted the full length into your pussy, shuddering at the cold silicone. It was nowhere near warm as Andrew’s was, but you couldn’t be picky with him gone.

        You closed your eyes, imagining Andrew’s voice ringing through your ears as you moved the dildo in and out, trying to match that same pace Andrew would go.

        Your phone rang, ruining the fantasy as you opened your eyes with a frustrated groan. You looked over at the small device resting on your nightstand, before realizing it was Andrew’s contact.

        You immediately stopped what you were doing, before getting an idea. You answered the phone, moving the dildo slowly in and out of yourself, almost moaning at just the sound of his voice. 

        “Hey, baby.” Andrew hummed, a hint of sleep on his voice as he spoke. “What are you doing still up? You know it’s like midnight where you are right now?”

        “I can’t sleep without you.” You muttered, breathless as you held yourself back from speeding up the dildo’s pace so you wouldn’t get caught.

        “I know… I miss you.” Andrew sighed, his deep raspy voice playing out in your ears.        

        You put the phone on speaker so you could place it down on your pillow, leaning back and closing your eyes as the dildo bottomed out, before your wrist pulled it back only to slowly have it fill you up again.

        “I miss you too…” You whimpered on accident. 

        “You okay?” Andrew questioned—you could practically just see the smile on his face.

        “I just want you to come home soon…” you spoke, your body shivering as you felt a slight pang of guilt for using his voice to get yourself off.

        “Yeah?” he hummed. “I can’t wait to come back home. It’s real boring over here, talking about mundane stuff like ‘how’s work?’ or ‘when are you gonna get married?’” Andrew spoke, chuckling. “But you’d like that? Wouldn’t you?” 

        You quickly nodded, a low giggle escaping your lips as you smiled. “O-of course I’d like that…” you breathed out. “B-been waiting… for that.” You muttered.

        “Yeah? A nice ring for you? I can watch as that ring sparkles while you’re shoving your fingers in your pussy.” 

        You quickly stopped the dildo’s movements, shocked.

        “Or maybe see your hand wrapped around my cock pumping it. But I always do like holding your hands while I fuck you.” Andrew purred.

        You sat up, confused. You looked around the room for a second, wondering if Andrew was here or if you were just hearing things.

        “W-what?” you questioned, your voice a bit unsteady.

        “I could hear your pussy crying for me. Sounds like you’re using that dildo; your fingers are always sloppy and out of rhythm…” Andrew smiled.

        “I-I…” you stammered, your face flush as you were embarrassed from being caught. “I’m sorry.”

        “You can make it up to me by continuing.” Andrew hummed.

        “But—“ 

        “Don’t get shy on me now, baby. It’s not like I can see you.” Andrew chuckled, surely a smug smirk on his face. “C’mon, now. All you gotta do is fuck yourself for me… Surely you can at least do that?”

        It sounded like he was mocking or even possibly degrading you, but knowing he wanted you too—wanted to hear your cries and moans—really made you excited. 

        “Mmm…” you breathed out, re-inserting the dildo back into your hole. “O-okay…”

        “Put her on the phone.” Andrew demanded, her being your pussy.

        You listened, leaning back on your pillow and placing the phone right next to your hip, slowly pushing the dildo in and out.

        “Fuck yourself faster; I wanna hear her.” Andrew spoke. 

        You whined, closing your eyes to focus on his voice, listening to Andrew’s voice.

        There was a spitting sound on the other line, before a plap! sound, a low moan from Andrew. You didn’t even know when Andrew had begun pleasing himself, but all you could hear were the wet squelches of lotion he used as he fucked his own fist to the rhythm of your pussy crying out around the dildo.

        “Doesn’t feel as good as your cock, Andrew…” You whimpered, panting, feeling an orgasm building up the more you were exposed to Andrew’s low moans and deep groans.

        “Oh. I know, baby.” Andrew chuckled, almost cockily as he talked you through it. “Just keep going, baby. You’ll have my cock tomorrow when I come home…” Andrew mumbled, moving his hand up and down his shaft. “Keep fucking yourself for me.”

        You let out a shaky breath, a twitch in your thigh as you bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet so the neighbors couldn’t hear.

        “Let me hear your pretty moans, baby. I need to at least hear you to get off…” Andrew spoke, his voice airy. “I need a part of you to come, baby.” 

        “Andrew…” you whimpered, shivering as you started taking shorter breaths, your chest feeling heavier and heavier.

        “Good girl… Fuck yourself faster for me.” Andrew purred, wanting to give you some positive reinforcement for the noise.

        “Fuck… Andrew. I-I think I’m gonna come…” you panted, your other hand coming to your clit and rubbing quick circles as you sloppily moved the dildo in and out of you.

        “Y-you just do what you need to do to make you come, baby.” Andrew spoke, letting out a breathless sigh, his stutter giving away that he was close too. 

        “I-I'm coming!” you gasped.

        Your thighs twitching as your fingers grew sloppy on your clit. Your pussy clenched around the dildo, weeping as it didn’t have Andrew’s cum to milk.

        Your thighs and back were drenched in sweat, the feeling uncomfortable as you spread your legs, feeling them unstick from the bedsheets. Some strands of hair covered your face—some even in your mouth as you just realized, your slick-covered hand moving the hair away.

        “Andrew…” you whimpered, listening to Andrew’s voice, pressing your ear against the phone just to better hear any little noise he made.

        “F-fuck! Fuck! (Y/N)!” Andrew hissed, his voice sounding muffled on the other line.

        The hem of his shirt was being held in his mouth to silence his moans. He groaned as his cock spurted white globs, dirtying his hand and stomach. 

        You could almost cry at the loss, wishing you were there to lap up his cum with your mouth—even better, if you were there, it would’ve never left your pussy. 

        “Hah… ah…” Andrew panted, catching his breath as he closed his eyes, working his way through the aftershocks of his release.

        Andrew opened his eyes and looked at his hand, letting out a sigh at the mess before getting an idea. 

        “(Y/N), baby. You still with me?” he hummed.

        “Mm… yeah?” You nodded, listening intently to whatever he had to say.

        “Turn on FaceTime for me.”

Kinkmas five: Sex in the Snow

        You didn't know that challenging Andrew to an innocent snowball fight would end up with him balls deep into your pussy outside.

        All you wanted was to go outside and play with your dear boyfriend after seeing on the news it would snow. You even set an alarm to wake up early so all the snow wouldn't melt! You begged and begged your boyfriend to get up out of your shared bed—which was a pretty hefty feat considering he usually woke up at 2 PM.

        All dressed up in your shirt, jacket, and pants (very underdressed for 10 degrees outside, but you knew that), you were able to drag your boyfriend out into the snow. All it took was a few snowballs to the face to wake him up and get him irritated enough to start chasing you with a mega snowball he composed, large enough to be the head of a snowman. 

        You let out a thrilled shriek, running away from him; but you should know by now that you can never outrun your boyfriend, he is bigger and stronger than you after all! 

        He managed to catch up with you, knocking you to the ground by throwing the colossal snowball at your back. Tumbling down in the snow, it cushioned your fall as you laughed.

        "Andrew!" you giggled, your cheeks hurting from the cold air nipping at your exposed skin. "It's cold!"

        Andrew looked down at you with a smile. He crouched down to roll you over on your back, his long legs in between yours. He couldn't help but admire that bright smile on your face, rivaling the early sun reflecting off the snow. Your now messy and wet hair stuck to your face, mini icicles forming on your eyelashes, but you looked nothing short from an ice goddess.

        He couldn't help but pressed his gloved hands onto your cold cheeks, leaning in and kissing your frozen lips with his. 

        Your eyes widened, surprised at the sudden affection, but you were always a sucker for him as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the warmth of his kiss. You enjoyed his warm breath mingling with yours to fight the cold air surrounding you both. You enjoyed his lips pressed against yours in a delightful bliss. You enjoyed his tongue sliding into your mouth with a murmured excuse of "Let me warm ya up."

        His tongue diligently and effortlessly explored your mouth, your face heating up at the close proximity of his as his tongue just went deeper down your throat. You let out a small whine, remembering you were both still in public as you tried to pull away. Your lips only part for a second before Andrew's gloved hand went to the back of your head, his lips reattached to yours, pushing you back in the snow but with Andrew's hand protecting your scalp from the cold. His tongue re-entered your mouth, swirling around your own hot muscle before sucking on it. 

        His mouth parted from yours, kissing down your jaw before going to your exposed neck. He left hot kisses as his hands unzipped your jacket, grabbing the hem of your shirt.

        "Andrew!" you gasped, feeling the cold invade your skin as he lifted the shirt above your stomach. "We're in public!"

        "So? Nobody's around..." he muttered.

        It's not like your boyfriend would ever allow anyone else to sneak a peek at you. Whenever you wore a skirt in public and dropped your lipgloss tube, he always made sure to stand behind you to block any perv from looking up your skirt (and steal the view for himself). Besides, Andrew would go to the point of murder to keep you safe, no doubt about it.

        "You didn't give me my morning quickie today so you could run outside and play. Let me have this." He muttered. 

        He pressed a quick peck to your lips before your shirt went over your chest. In your haste to come outside, you didn't bother wearing a bra, a factor Andrew took to his advantage as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking on it as if he was expecting milk to dribble out. His hand kneaded and tweaked at your other nipple, feeling it harden due to the harsh winter breeze. 

        Your breath came out in icy smoke as you moaned, squirming underneath your lover as you were pinned to the ground. 

        You figured he wanted to be quick so nobody in the park could walk by and see. As his mouth switched to your other nipple, his free hand that wasn't playing with your nipple was buckling his pants and pulling down his boxers enough to reveal his swollen cock.

        "Fuck, that's cold!" Andrew shivered, a violent spike of ice rushing up his back as he visibly shook.

        You let out a giggle, deciding it would be the perfect opportunity to tease him.

        "The cold won't bother you and little Andy's performance, right?" you smirked, remembering reading online that male genitalia shrunk in the cold. 

        "Little?" Andrew questioned, visibly annoyed at your smartass comment. 

        His hands went to pull down your pants and panties, not bothering to unbutton them as he opted to simply tug them down like an animal in his haste. 

        "I'll show you little..." he muttered, whether to you or himself, you don't know. "I just need to get warmed up is all; and what better way is there other than your warm cunt?" 

        He ripped his glove off his hand with his grabbed some snow and pressed it onto your pussy, causing you to violently squirm under him and yelp.

        "Andrew! What was that for?" you whined as the snow melted into cold water on your throbbing clit. 

        "Positive punishment." Andrew smirked. 

        "Water does not work like lube!" you whimpered, feeling his warm hands rub the cold water up and down your slit. 

        "Cry about it." Andrew shrugged, a smirk on his face as he grabbed a glob of fresh snow, before sticking it and two of his fingers into your pussy.

        Another surprised cry left your lips, squirming at the weird sensation. The feeling of Andrew's warm hands mixed with the snow melting in your hot cunt almost made you cry, giving you a mental whiplash with your thermoreceptor trying to decipher if it was hot or cold... but it felt oddly good as his fingers kept fucking in and out of your pussy quickly.

        He had enough of teasing you, wanting to make this quick as you both were still out in the open. His slick-covered hand went to his cock, giving it a few pumps and shivering at the cold around him, before sticking it into your cunt. 

        "Ohhh..." he let out a relaxed groan, closing his eyes. "Fuck, your pussy feels so warm." 

        You couldn't respond back as he started to thrust in and out of you, already starting at a faster than normal pace. Quick ah, ah, ah's left your lips along with moans as your eyes squirmed shut, your head falling back on the gloved hand Andrew was still using to help protect your scalp from the cold. 

        His balls slapped against your clit, eliciting sharp gasps and whines from you, his dick rubbing your tight inner walls and hitting that sweet spot just right to have you seeing a color whiter than snow. 

        Every now and then, his lips would sloppy kiss yours, before his head retreated into the crook of your neck, his warm breath heating the skin there as your back continuously rubbed against the snow. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders and brought him in close, hugging him to protect you from the cold (and have his cock bury deeper into your wet pussy). 

        You're surprised that there isn't a hole in the snow from how heated he was roughly fucking you into the snow. It felt like utter bliss having his hips thrust into yours as deep as he could go, not being able to separate from you for more than a second as he quickly sought back out for your warmth. 

        Andrew's free hand kissed your clit, his fingers now cold after their prolonged exposure out in the snow as he rubbed quick circles around your clit to make you come. You couldn't help but come quickly after a few more thrusts, feeling Andrew rotating between kissing and groaning into your neck before his hips stuttered, pouring out all of his cum into your warm and awaiting pussy. 

        You both stopped to take some breaths, calming down after your climax. Now that you were done passionately dirtily making love, the freezing cold truly set in.

        "Shit... Let's go inside now." Andrew groaned.

        You had no complaints, not after being fucked so good. Your legs felt too wobbly to try running around in the snow again, so you let him pull out of you, watching his cum fall into the snow and camouflage with it.

        Andrew pulled back up your pants and re-buttoned his. He helped you off the ground and picked you up like the gentleman he is.

        "Hey, look." Andrew spoke. "We made a snow angel." He snickered dirtily, bringing your attention to the holes in the snow your bodies made while Andrew was warming your insides with his cock.

        Maybe not so much of a gentleman...

Kinkmas six: Sex in a fitting room

        Christmas was coming up, and that meant shopping for presents. It’s hard to try and come up with gifts as you get older. 

        Usually you’d buy a nice smelling candle for someone and call it a day, but you’re old enough to where candles don’t work as presents anymore. Your extended family has little ones now, and you can’t trust those kids with not eating cookie scented wax. 

        At least Andrew was there to keep you company, but he wasn’t no better when it came to Christmas presents, usually buying mugs that said things such as “best mom, best dad, best sister, best brother in law,” those cliche 15 buck mugs. 

        You two weren’t really the best shoppers, huh?

        It’s how you found yourself at the mall, trying to find gifts for the kids that were actually worth it. A kid won’t care about a damn mug, and they especially cannot play with fire while trying to light a candle. The best option is clothes; helps with the parents bank account and doesn’t drive them insane with the noise.

        Sure, the kid might not care too much, but they’re three, there’s not too much they like other than cartoons and sweets. 

        “Hm. Andrew, what do you think?” you questioned, holding up a black and red flanneled dress.

        It was pretty cute for the kid. It’s nice colors, soft quality (you made sure, thanks to your sensitive skin and fabric tastes), and it doesn’t have cringy words like "Daddy’s girl" or a weird hole in the back showing the kids skin.

        Seriously, what’s with these stores and their adult choices for kids? Mini bikinis for a three year old? Either the clothing companies are ran by pedophiles or “independent moms who want their kids to express their interests.” They’re three Susan, they’re in their dinosaur phase and will secretly never grow out of it. Get real.

        “Better than what most of these are…” Andrew sighed. “I mean, seriously. I get the stereotype that girls wear pink, but this is too much. It feels like I’m in a Barbie store.” Andrew grimaced. 

        “And now you see why I steal your clothes.” You hummed, ignoring the small (yet playful) glare Andrew sent your way. 

        “I should steal your clothes.” Andrew huffed.

        “You can’t fit in a bra.” You smirked. “But feel free to try the panties.”

        “You’re gross.” Andrew grimaced, annoyed. “Don’t say that when we’re in a kids clothes section shopping for Ashley’s kids…”

        “Good point.” You hummed, realizing how it sounded.

        You grabbed a pair of black leggings and threw it into the small basket you were holding. It’s always good to have a kid wear leggings under their dress, especially because they’re in the phase to pull it up any chance they get (kids just do that cause they’re bored or they’re playing with the fabric). 

        “Alright… we got the clothes.” You spoke. “Should we get a toy too? The clothes can be a gift for the parents, and the toy can be a gift for the kid?”

        You turned to look back at Andrew, but he wasn’t there.

        “Andrew?” you questioned, confused as you looked around.

        Damn it, did you wander too far again? You had a bad habit of getting distracted and wandering away from Andrew. It always makes him worried when he doesn’t know where you are.

        Wait, you’ve still been in the same damn aisle this whole time. Andrew was the one that ran off this time.

        “This is his blood niece, not mine.” You grumbled, annoyed. 

        You walked around the store, before finding Andrew at the woman’s lingerie. 

        If you didn’t know who he was, you’d assume the dude was checking out the girls in the panty photos, but you recognize that dark and moody man as your boyfriend.

        “Did you take me seriously on wearing panties?” you smirked, reuniting with him.

        Andrew sent a quick glare at you, muttering for you to “shut up.” 

        He had some things bunched up in his hands, immediately hiding them behind his back when you tried to peek.

        “Hey…” You frowned, trying to peek behind him. “What’s yours is mine. Let me see!”

        “It’s not mine yet, I haven’t bought it!” Andrew retorted, guarding the fabrics with his life.

        “Show me your fetish!” you spoke stubbornly.

        “I told you I’m not interested in your perverse male crossdressing of me!” Andrew hissed, quickly drawing his boundaries on the matter.

        “I’m gonna marry you one day; let me see your secrets!” you started to whine, your curiosity eating you alive now.

        You’ve never tried lingerie with Andrew before. He’s a simple man with simple pleasures, he doesn’t need lewd clothing to be enticed by you; your Sunday morning clothes are enough to get him going. 

        “Just wait. I could be shopping for your Christmas presents.” Andrew huffed.

        “More like your Christmas presents.” You frowned. 

        “Just c’mere.” Andrew sighed, giving in as he grabbed your hip.

        He guided you to the back where the dressing rooms were, not bothering to wait for an employee to give them a room as he dragged you into a fitting room.

        “Strip.” He spoke.

        “Right now?” you sighed, annoyed.

        “Yes. Let me see how you look in this one.” Andrew pulled one of the pieces of attire from behind his back, revealing a pretty maroon brown shade, a hint of purple in the mix.

        “Okay…” you muttered, hesitantly looking at him before giving into his request and removing your clothes.

        Andrew smirked, sitting down on the fitting room’s bench and enjoying the show of your bare skin, a perverse glint in his eyes as he held no shame in eyeing you up like meat. It would make you feel self-conscious if you weren’t aware of how bad he wanted you (which, judging by the small twitch in his cock, he definitely did). 

        You put on the set of lingerie. It was a teddy bodysuit lingerie, the G-string tight (and let’s be honest, annoying) between your buttocks. You sent a glare to Andrew, pouting.

        “Are you mocking me with this?” you frowned.

        “No, baby.” He chuckled, grabbing your hips and sitting you down onto his thigh. “Just admiring you and your body.” He smirked. 

        He grabbed the small G-string and pulling it, before letting it go and hitting you. You’re lucky it’s satin fabric, otherwise it probably would’ve hurt. 

        At least it’s not lace, that’s really uncomfortable.

        “Eh, it’s okay. But definitely not what I was expecting.” Andrew hummed.

        “Are you saying I look bad in it?” you questioned.

        “I’m saying it looks bad on you. It doesn’t flatter you. A disgrace the designer made.” Andrew spoke, grabbing the small string sleeve on your shoulder and sliding it off. “Now, take it off. I think I have something better for you.” 

        What a smooth talker… blaming the lingerie for making you look bad, not you looking bad in the lingerie. Obviously, he has experience with not accidentally upsetting you with his wrongly phrased words. 

        You allowed him to strip the clothing off you, your buttocks thankful as it didn’t have something wedged between its cheeks—well, until Andrew’s hard on instead took its place, his pants straining against you.

        “I can feel you.” You spoke, looking back at him. 

        “Thanks.” Andrew smiled, proud of his size.

        You rolled your eyes, a poorly hidden smile breaking out on your lips just as he grabbed another piece.

        This one was an emerald green, an obvious comparison to his eyes; predictable and cheesy, he was. 

        The lingerie was another teddy, lace exterior with soft cotton on the inside. It hugged your hips and torso, pushing up your breasts. The sleeves were once again string, but at least it wasn’t giving you a wedgie as it was cheeky panties instead.

        There were garter belts that hugged your thighs tightly, your muffin tops pouring out of the tight fabric like risen dough fresh from the oven.

        Andrew sat you back onto his thigh, your legs straddling his lean yet toned thigh. One of his hands went to your thigh, unapologetically squeezing the soft flesh like a stimming toy, while his other hand came up to your hair.

        “I wish you wore your hair bow today…” he sighed. “It’d match this so well…” he muttered, resting his chin on your shoulder.

        His head dipped down to your neck, pressing soft kisses, before he started to bounce his leg.

        A soft gasp escaped your mouth, zipping your lips as you felt your clit vibrate against his thigh. His foot tapped the ground, your breasts bouncing up and down from the movement as his hands moved to your chest, squeezing what he can hold. His hands kept you from falling off his leg as he started to speed up, small whines and moans pouring out of your lips.

        “A-Andrew, we shouldn’t. I’m dirtying the lingerie…” you whimpered, but you couldn’t help looking down at his leg between your thighs, watching as your clothed crotch rubbed against his grey pants.

        “I like it on you. I’m buying it.” He spoke.

        “How much is it?” you questioned, tilting your head back to look at his eyes.

        “Don’t worry about it.” He hummed, one of his hands moving from your chest to grab your chin, forcing your head to look back at the wall.

        His hand moved from your chin down to your neck, a gentle squeeze that caused a whine to escape your lips. A grin painted its way onto his face as he tightened his grip just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded, his mouth coming down to your collarbone to bite on it. 

        “So pretty…” he muttered, smiling as his canines dug into your soft skin.

        “Ow…” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes closed.

        He combated your pain by bouncing his leg harder, pressed his heel on the ground and rotating his ankle so his whole leg would move in circles, creating circles onto your clit that caused an “Ah!” to leave your lips.

        Your head fell back onto his shoulder, your eyes dizzy as his leg toyed with your little bundle of nerves, your clit throbbing as it wiggled under the friction. You could feel his hips thrusting up, his cock pressing against your ass, low pants tumbling out of his lips as he huffed and puffed against your neck. 

        The hands on your breasts moved to your nipples, gently pinching and squeezing at them, causing you to squeeze and arch your back into his cock, whining at the added stimulation.

        Your moans started to raise in volume, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation as a coil in your stomach was about to snap. 

        Only for Andrew’s hands to go to your hips, lifting you up off him.

        “W-wha? An…Andrew?” you panted, breathing heavily as you turned your head back to him, confused.

        Your nipples felt sore from his teasing and your legs were shaking, your clit throbbing with pain from your denied orgasm. 

        “Well? There’s still one more piece.” Andrew spoke, an airy tone in his voice signaling he was enjoying earlier just as much, having your ass grind down into his dick. “Come on. Try it.”

        He pulled a white lingerie hiding behind him, cheekily smiling as he showed you it.

        It was white babydoll lingerie, lace on the exterior and (once more) cotton on the interior. At least Andrew wanted you comfortable, you noted as you shivered at the feeling of removing the soaked emerald lingerie off you, exposing yourself to the cold.

        The new lingerie had a translucent, babydoll skirt that hung over the cheeky, crotchless panties, leaving your arousal exposed and dripping down your legs as your put it on. It had over-the-shoulder translucent sleeves, and a classic push up bra built in, along with white garter belts to match. 

        It felt like lingerie you would wear on your wedding night, the white symbolizing your purity you were going to get rid of to your husband. 

        “I take it back. You should’ve definitely wore your hair bow with this one.” Andrew smiled, admiring you like you were his newly wedded bride.

        Andrew stood up from the bench, picking it up and moving it to the door, that was he was sitting right in front of the fitting room’s mirror. He grabbed your waist and he guided you to the position he wanted. You were sitting down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest.

        Andrew’s legs wrapped around yours, his ankles holding yours hostage as he spread your legs open and forced them to stay open using his own. One of his hands grabbed your chin again and tilted your head to the side, the other hand moving down to the hole in your lingerie.

        His index finger slid up and down your slit with ease thanks to your arousal lubricating the area. His middle and ring finger nudged at your entrance, before sliding right in.

        A slow moan escaped your lips, before it grew in volume as his fingers wasted no time getting to the good part, curling up to hit that patchy spot in your pussy that made your clit scream.

        His fingers mercilessly abused your G-spot, all while he gently kissed up and down your neck, mumbling praises about “how good you take him” and “how pretty you were trying to keep quiet.”

        His fingers pounded that spot inside you, your head falling back to his chest as your shoulders shook and heaved, taking every ounce of your body to keep quiet, begging that nobody nearby could hear your loud pants or the soft, dirty squelching coming from your pussy as it gripped onto Andrew’s fingers desperately.

        Andrew removed his fingers from your pussy, taking them to his mouth to have a taste. He plopped them onto his tongue, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked on your taste like it was a lollipop.

        “I can never get over how good you taste…” he muttered, popping his fingers out his mouth, licking his lips to savor the taste. “When we get home I want you riding my face.”

        He slapped your thigh, prompting you to jump up from your seat. Andrew stood up with you, the sound of his belt being undone as he took his cock out from his boxers. 

        His hand grabbed yours, eloping behind you and pressing your hand against the wall, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. It was embarrassing, seeing your messy hair and the hickeys and bite marks Andrew left on your neck and collarbone; but it was arousing seeing Andrew’s eyes focused on yours through the mirror, not bothering to watch as he slid his leaking mushroom tip—purple and drooling with pre-cum—into your prepped pussy.

        A relieved sigh escaped his lips as you groaned at the familiar intrusion, feeling his pelvis meet your skin, bottoming out to his balls inside you. 

        “Focus on your pretty face, baby. I want you to love what I love.” Andrew whispered in your ear, smiling as his head burrowed into the crook of your neck, both of his hands grabbing your hips and forcing them back into his.

        He started at a nice pace, a relaxing rhythm that caused low sighs and hums to escape your mouth, your eyes drooping as your mind descended into pleasurable bliss—that was until his arm wrapped around your abdomen, bending you over as his pace became rougher.

        You had to hold your arms on the walls so you can stabilize yourself from Andrew’s harsh thrusts, loud plap! plap! plap!'s echoing throughout the fitting room.

        It was like he was trying to get caught. Like the idea of someone seeing him balls deep inside you—making your eyes roll back to your skull—turned him on. 

        His cock throbbed as his hips slapped the back of your thighs and ass, leaving mean strawberry marks as his other arm joined his against your abdomen.

        He hunched over more, forcing you to bend and take his weight above you as he used your pussy to pound into as he pleased. The angle of his thrusts like this, and his arms tightly squeezing your abdomen, made you cry out in pleasure, your hands scratching down the walls as you watched you lose yourself in the mirror. 

        Your eyes glazed over as you made eye contact with Andrew—who was still looking at you. His eyes had a dark cloud over them, small huffs and groans tumbling out of his mouth as he viciously thrusted into you like you were being punished. You cried out, wondering what you did that set him off.

        Was this punishment for teasing him earlier?

        There was a loud knock on the dressing room, the person’s words unintelligible. You could practically feel yourself die inside, utterly embarrassed as you forgot you were still in public. 

        “Occupied!” Andrew gruffed, speaking up through the wet slaps of his balls against your pussy. 

        Your knees felt like collapsing, buckling under you as your height dropped. Andrew quickly picked you back up, grabbing the bench from behind and moving it in front of you. He bent you over it, your stomach pressed against the cold wood as his hand found its way to your hair, forcing your head up to look at your reflection as you could only accept watching you come undone around his cock.

        His free hand made home on your clit, circling it mercilessly. Another loud moan tumbling out of your lips, before you whined.        

        “Andrew! Andrew! Andrew! Coming! I’m coming!” 

        Your body shook as your nervous system was overtaken with ecstasy, feeling as Andrew drained his balls into your awaiting pussy that milked him of everything he’s worth.

        “Good girl.” Andrew muttered, panting as he pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck.

Andrew licked his lips, getting down on his knees behind you, preparing for his well-deserved meal before another loud knock echoed.

        “Get out of there!” a female spoke.

        “Oh my god.” Andrew muttered, rolling his eyes, annoyed. “Terrible customer service around here. Who rushes their customers?”

        You felt humiliated as you took off your lingerie and quickly changed into your normal clothes. Andrew unlocked the door, irritated he as held your basket of items.

        “Can we buy these before you kick us out?”

Kinkmas seven: Food Play

You had cookies cooling on the counter, the smell of gingerbread wafting in the air as you pumped the icing for the cookies.

        Andrew sat in a chair, withering and squirming as you had him tied by some Christmas lights, your hands milking his cock over and over again.

        “Ah! Fuck! Ah! Baby, please!” Andrew sobbed, some tears in his eyes as his thighs shook profusely.

        “Still not enough icing…” You muttered, looking at the bowl of icing, it was only about 4 tablespoons, not enough for a whole batch of gingerbread cookies. 

        “Please. I need a break.” Andrew begged.

        Even though he was asking for a break, his hips still bucked up, chasing the pleasure coming from your hands squeezing his cock.

        You sat on the ground in front of him, on your knees are your hands moved up and down his dick quickly, your hands squeezing his shaft.

        “Please. Please.” He pleaded, his head thrown back on the chair, panting as a string of drool dripped down his chin and jaw, landing on his shirt that was raised up to his chest. 

        His abdomen shrunk and expanded, his abs shaking and cramped from how many times they clenched to come. His hands tied behind his back, restrained by Christmas lights that dug into his skin every time he tried to move, no doubt leaving dull bruises for later.

        “Keeping making the icing.” You spoke, unfazed by his begging as one of your fingers played with the slit on his big mushroom tip.

        The head of his cock oozed with pre-cum, practically covering his whole length. His tip was purple, sore and overstimulated, but that didn’t stop you from milking him of all he’s worth, ignoring his begging for a break as you squeezed the head.

        It felt like hell and heaven for Andrew, closing his eyes to focus the sensation even more. The pain of his over-milked cock filled with the thick pleasure in his stomach left his head dizzy and vision spinning, wondering what he did to deserve this treatment and how the hell he can get it again in the future.

        You stood up from the ground, confusing Andrew as he opened his eyes. You pulled down your panties, sitting on Andrew’s lap and grabbing his dick, lining it up to your pussy before sinking down on him.

        “Ah!” Andrew gasped, his voice whiny as his hips unconsciously bucked up to meet your welcoming warmth.

        Andrew would’ve grabbed your hips to stop you if he wasn’t tied up, but he couldn’t, so he was just forced to sit back and let you bounce on his cock.

        “Oh my f-fucking god…” Andrew moaned, his eyes threatening to roll back in his skull. “Y-you’re so fucking perfect. S-so fucking perfect.” 

        His hips desperately thrusted up into you, heavy pants and whiny moans escaping his lips. It was hot seeing a moody, broody man like Andrew reduced to a puddle of mush, his face bright red from his usually pale white, watching your pussy take him in and push him out, only before pulling back in.

        “I-I’m gonna come.” Andrew rasped out, only after a few bounces from you.

        “You’re already gonna come, pretty boy?” you smiled, giggling.

        Usually that nickname would make him annoyed at you, but there was truly no other words to describe him as other than a pretty boy. With his flushed, pale skin. The heavy bags under his eyes paired with the piercing green in his crying eyes. The slimness of his collar bone marked with your bites and lipgloss marks. The red—almost desperate purple—color of his flushed, throbbing cock in your pussy. 

        You continued riding him despite his whiny cries of it being “too much” and how he “can’t come anymore.” 

        His jaw dropped as his thrusting stuttered, a loud cry escaping his mouth as his whole body violently convulsed, his shoulders shivering as his feet repeatedly hit the ground like a rabbit trying to run from the hungry wolf.        

        His cock twitched inside of you as his already-empty balls worked overtime to try and produce more cum for you to take. 

        His glazed-over eyes looked at the ceiling, more tears falling down his face as his body finally stopping jerking, although he still shook. You wiped a bead of sweat off his face, pressing a soft and almost apologetic kiss on his lips, before sitting up off his cock.

        A strained whimper left his lips as your warm heat left him. You looked at the small amount of cum between your legs, letting out a disappointed sigh.

        “Andrew. This isn’t enough for the whole batch.” You frowned.

        “I-I’m —hic— sorry. So fucking s-sorry…” He whimpered, teary eyes desperately trying to open his eyes and keep them on your face. 

        You clicked your tongue, disappointed as you wiped the cum off your pussy and added it to the bowl of cum. You mixed it in with a scoop of icing, watching it all combine. 

        You grabbed a spoon and spread the mixture out on one of the now-cooled cookies, spreading the icing evenly onto the gingerbread. You grabbed the cookie and took a bite, enjoying the salty, sweet, gingery taste of the sweet. 

        “Andrew.” You spoke, holding the cookie up to his shivering lips. “Come on, eat up. You need energy for more. There’s still more cookies to ice…”

Kinkmas eight: Female Overstimulation

        It had been your fault for those cookies, tying him down to that chair and torturing (pleasing) him like that.

        You should’ve known he would’ve sought out vengeance; it wasn’t like Andrew to just let your bratty behavior go unpunished. It was your fault for dropping your guard after a tiring shift, opening your front door only to be dragged to the bedroom by your boyfriend.

        Andrew had your hands bound with a silk ribbon you’ve used in the past for BDSM. Of course he’d tie you up, he couldn’t have your hands trying to fight and push him away when the pleasure became too much. 

        The worst part was it wasn’t even his hands touching you. His hands were too busy playing some YouTube video you couldn’t give a damn to identity as you laid next to him, a vibrator stick to your clit, leaving you defenseless as you sobbed into his chest.

        One hand held his phone while the other gently brushed his fingers through you hair, the affectionate act almost mocking you as he neglected you of his cock.

        Another violent surge of pleasure shot through you, burying your head deeper into his chest as you cried, feeling your poor, used clit throb again. 

        His fingers didn’t stop brushing through your hair, as if reassuring you despite being the one to put yourself in this situation. 

        You sobbed as another wave of pleasurable pain wrecked your clit, the stimulation almost unbearable as you were forced to be overstimulated once more.

        “Please. Sorry. Sorry.” You cried, looking up to meet his eyes, big fat tears in your own as you pleaded at him.

        He ignored you, his hands still in your hair as he continued watching his video. You would assume he’d be immune to your pleads and tired moans if you weren’t aware of his hard cock straining through his jeans. 

        The YouTube video finally ended and Andrew turned off his phone. You looked up at him, hopeful to finally have his cock buried inside you, even if you were sensitive.

        “You ready to behave?” Andrew inquired.

        “Y-yes! I am!” you rasped, your voice sore from crying and moaning.

        “Do you want my cock now?” Andrew questioned, smiling.

        “Please, yes!” you nodded your head, your heart racing as it felt like a dream come true to finally have him inside you again.

        He grinned, a grin too big to let you know he was planning something. He leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer, grabbing a dildo—the replica of Andrew’s dick. 

        Your smile fell, all your hope shattered instantly upon seeing that dildo. 

        “W-what? But y-you said…” Your voice sounded weak, like a child seeing their ice cream fall, the vibrator against your clit already making your voice sound pathetic as it is.

        “Yeah. My cock. My cock replica.” Andrew smiled, a evil smirk on his face. “It’s still my dick, after all. Are you being picky?”

        “W-well, I m-mean—“

        “Do you not want it?” Andrew questioned.

        The threat of losing the closest thing to Andrew’s cock actually terrified you. You quickly shook your head, afraid.

        “N-o! Please, no! I’ll t-take it!” you responded quickly, desperate to not take away what was closes for what you could get.

        You’d just have to suck it up—for now.

        Andrew slapped the dildo against your already abused clit, pulling a whine from you. He rubbed the dildo up and down your entrance, lubing it up with your arousal before he pressed it into your pussy.

        You let out a moan, closing your eyes. The dildo helped settle an ache that burned in your stomach—but it didn’t extinguish that fire in you.

        No matter how many times you came from the vibrator sucking on your clit, or the dildo Andrew manually pounded into your cunt himself, it wasn’t enough to satisfy your need for him.

        You were in no position to beg. Even if you were tired from coming and just wanted to be done with, it was like you couldn’t be satisfied until you at least had Andrew inside of you. 

        It was like you were conditioned to associate Andrew with pleasure and safety, mediocre vibrator and flimsy silicone dildos just didn’t do the trick. It didn’t take care of you and scratch that itch only Andrew could reach. 

        “P-please.” You pleaded, ready to beg and do whatever it takes to have Andrew take care of you himself. “I n-need your cock. Your real, t-throbbing cock attached to you. I need y-you to come inside me.” You begged, your voice dry from all your loud moans earlier.

        Pride, ego, dignity, self-respect be damned; you’d probably go insane within the next ten minutes if you didn’t have Andrew’s cum dripping down your thighs.

        “What a dirty mouth, pretty.” Andrew chuckled, smirking as his hand controlled the dildo going in and out of you. “It’s been awhile now… 40 minutes about…?” he hummed, looking at the clock. “Come one more time and maybe I’ll think about it.”

        A frustrated whine escaped you, before Andrew’s free hand quickly tweaked at your nipple, gently pinching it. 

        “Ah. Watch your attitude. It’s what got you here in the first place.” He scolded.

        You felt like you could cry, fed up and desperate while being full just at the same time. It was a frustrating edge teetering between “too much” and “too little.”

        But Andrew just loved pushing you off that edge.

        The dildo hit your sweet spot with scary accuracy; a spot Andrew had dedicated to memory. He felt like he’d be an incompetent loser if he couldn’t even please his woman—and by damn was Andrew anything other than incompetent. 

        A few more thrusts and you were seeing stars you didn’t want to see. Your pussy gripped tightly on a fake dick you didn’t want instead you. Your clit screamed and throbbed from a vibrator you really wanted off now as it shot painful, overstimulated shockwaves to your little bundle of nerves.

        Andrew turned off the suctioning vibrator, placing it on the nightstand. He pulled out the dildo your pussy unconsciously kept clenching around, lifting it up to your mouth for a taste.

        You knew what would please him, peeking your tongue out just slightly and sucking on the tip of Andrew’s fake cock, tasting the overly sweet arousal of yourself mixed with the dildo’s silicone taste.

        It was always surprising how sweet you tasted, like sugary lemonade on a hot day, ready to quench your thirst and leave your tongue salivating for more and more. 

        Speaking of tongue salivating, Andrew was feeling pretty thirsty himself after seeing you squeeze the life out of the dildo, a loud moan escaping you as you came.

        You could even formulate words, or even try to put up a fight as Andrew removed the dildo, tossing it somewhere on the bed as he grabbed your waist. He laid down on the bed, dragging your hips to his face and forcing you to face the wall.

        His tongue licked a long stripe on your slit, a loud cry escaping you. If you weren’t tied up with ribbon, you would be gripping onto the headboard for dear life—but you weren’t, so you settled for resting your forehead on the cold wall and crying out for your neighbors to hear just on the other side of the wall.

        You couldn’t beg Andrew to stop or keep going, to give you a break so you could regain your composure. You would’ve at least appreciated being gagged so you wouldn’t have an awkward conversation with the neighbors later at the mailbox about your private life (even if it wasn’t really private anymore). 

        Andrew’s tongue couldn’t help but explore your wet warmth, refusing to part as he licked and poked at every ridge, squish, and layer there was. He couldn’t help but flex his jaw and open wider, his hands grabbing onto your thighs tightly and pulling you down into his mouth.

        A loud sob escaped your lips, your head softly hitting the wall. It felt like you were going mad. His tongue was driving you mad. You wanted to squirm and scream but you couldn’t control your vocals, and Andrew’s strong grip onto your thighs refused to even let them flex.

        Curse him and his sleeper build. It wasn’t fair to be tall, broodingly hot, and strong; it might as well be a wet dream for girls like you. 

        Wet indeed, just like how Andrew’s hot muscle ventured your hot cave without any insecurity or concern, unwavering confidence as he explored your ocean like he hasn’t wadded in it before.

        “Fucking hell… such a pretty pussy…” Andrew groaned, his mouth leaving your pussy, one of his hands coming to your clit to rub the swollen nub.

        You let out an unintelligible sob, your hips forcing themselves to rock and chase that pleasure despite knowing it’ll hurt again from the overstimulation—but the promise of your sweet orgasm outweighed that concern as your clit rubbing his fingers.

        “Taste so fucking good. I don’t need anything else in my life…” He groaned, his eyes drooped, dazed as he watched your overflowing arousal from your hands coat his fingers.        

        He slapped your clit, causing a yelp to leave you as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, savoring your taste, before working his lips back onto your lower ones. 

        He stuck his tongue back in your pussy, drool escaping his mouth as he unhinged his jaw to reach as deep as his tongue can go. He was a man with a mission as his hands grabbed your hips and forced you to grind on his face. 

        Your mouth fell open, your eyes practically rolling to your skull as you saw white? Or was it black? Whatever damn color of the rainbow it was, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t bother to worry about the color when there was a flood of juices escaping your pussy with the force of a tsunami, squirting all over Andrew’s face and dripping down his neck.

        You wanted to apologize, even though you knew it’d be fine with Andrew. You would’ve at least gave a warning if you could speak.

        Andrew didn’t care about the mess, he just cared about cleaning it up at he lapped at your pussy and thighs like a dehydrated man. 

        “Fuck! Yeah! That’s more like it!” Andrew laughed, breathless and a new found rigor as he slapped your clit again, making sure there was no more juices you were trying to hold back from him as he grinned. 

        He sat you right up off his face without any struggle, having you straddle his lap while he untied the ribbon around your arms; a reward for squirting.

        Once he got the ribbon off, he pushed you down on the bed, landing you on your back as he grabbed your legs. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them up to his hips since you had no strength to wrap them around his waist. You couldn’t do anything but moan and grip the bedsheets.

        He thrusted his cock into you, causing you to see stars and wonder what you did to reach Heaven’s gates.

        “Such a good girl coming that hard around my tongue. ‘Could feel the circulation practically stop.” Andrew chuckled darkly. “You can give me another one, right? Squirt on my cock, baby.” 

        A loud cry you didn’t know you could even make escaped, your ears ringing as your head rattled with the wet, sticky sounds of plap! plap! plap!'s bouncing around your eardrums. 

        Andrew’s arms wrapped around your knees and raised your legs to your shoulders, folding you into a mating press. 

        You couldn’t even last five minutes, especially not with how Andrew’s fingers started circling your clit, desperate to have you coming on his cock faster.

        Andrew’s cock hit a spot that made you drool, something you shouldn’t even be surprised of by now as your back arched, creating a perfect angle for Andrew to reach said spot easier. 

        “Oh, fuck. Merry Christmas to me…” Andrew groaned, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he bit his bottom lip, holding his composure.         

        Andrew’s rested his sweaty forehead against yours, panting and smiling as you struggled to make eye contact with him without the possibly of your eyes rolling back.

        He kissed you just as you came around his cock, his hot lips and the taste of you and him invading your mouth as he sucked on your tongue for being a good girl and squirting around his cock.

        But even when you reached his orgasm, he hasn’t reached his yet, so he just kept plowing and plowing until he was satisfied with your mess—but that wouldn’t be until awhile…

Bonus! New Years Eve

        “Andrew, where’s your girlfriend?” one of the elder neighbors asked.

        It was New Years Eve. The whole apartment complex decided to get together to celebrate, all partying with chips and hotdogs and some poorly woman’s green bean casserole that was too soggy. 

        But the neighbor was right, you were nowhere to be seen. That is, if they don’t look until the table.

        The table had a red protective cover that reached the floor, absolutely perfect for you to hide under.

        Some would go under the table to eat twelve red grapes, but you had two red balls in your mouth instead to match the red sopping panties you had underneath your skirt. 

        “Bathroom.” Andrew spoke with great haste, his hand on resting on your head as your mouth slid up and down his length.

        A small line of drool escaped his lips, one quickly disguised as he picked up his glass of juice (you insisted it’d be sparkling juice, but he couldn’t give a damn about alcohol while your mouth was insistent on milking his cock for a beverage instead). 

        His fingers were tangled snuggly in your hair, guiding your bobbing head up and down, up and down.

        Sometimes you would lick a teasing circle around his cock’s slit and he’d have to cough so he could explain why his mouth kept suddenly opening and closing.

        The clock was two minutes left, as a countdown on the TV in the living room played right next to the dining room.

        Andrew could feel your hands taking ahold of his cock, taking the bottom of his shaft as your focused your mouth on his red, mushroom tip. 

        He could feel his eyes roll back, a pleased sigh escaping his mouth as he rested his head back on the chair.

        “Are you okay, Andrew? Your face is pretty red.” One of the partygoers commented.

        “H-hot as hell in here with all the food.” Andrew grumbled, a dazed expression on his face as he resisted the urge to moan as you sucked on his tip.

        “You seem out of breath.” Someone commented.

        “Asthma.” Andrew quickly shrugged, his hand in your hair going to the back of your head so he can shove you more down his length, a smirk on his face as he felt you silently gag around his cock before continuing, almost rolling his eyes back as the vibration almost caused him to come.

        There was a minute left on the countdown before the New York ball drop in Times Square would drop, all while you started to lick and kiss his own balls, adoring and worshiping his cock with the same passion a faithful follower would to their god.

        In your eyes, Andrew was your everything. Nothing mattered so long as you had your boyfriend with you, who you hoped would be your husband one day. 

        And Andrew wished that day was sooner, hearing wedding bells already as you fondled and massaged his balls like it was dough. 

        One of your hands went to your red panties, moving aside the cotton so you could rub at your clit the same way Andrew would, quick and teasing all with the accuracy and pressure to get you off quick so you’d be wet enough for him to slide into.

        “Seriously, where is she? She’s gonna be the fireworks?” your elderly neighbor grumbled.

        “Touching up her makeup.” Andrew groaned while you touched up his balls.

        He probably sounded annoyed to his neighbors, but really he was just trying not to come from your mouth around his cock, bobbing your head again.

        All the neighbors gathered around the TV, leaving you and Andrew alone in the dining room. The ball on the TV dropped as everyone cheered, giving him the perfect chance to speak.

        “Good fucking girl. Take it, baby.” Andrew groaned, his eyes rolling back, a smile on his face.

        Your throat swallowed around his cock. Your tongue lapping at his tip. You hummed around his length, enjoying the pleasure of tasting his cock. One of your hands toying with your clit while the other gently squeezed his balls. All of it at once was enough for him to have his hips ramming and stuttering up into your throat, no doubt leaving a bruise in the back of your throat as his cum painted your red walls white.

        You kept sucking his member clean, refusing to stop until you felt him stop throbbing in your mouth. You finally pulled off him, tucking his cock back into his pants and giving him the chance to regain his composure as you got up from out the dining table.

        You sat down onto his lap, giggling as you saw the dazed expression on his face. His eyes were all bright and droopy, a dumb smile on his face as some drool dripped down his chin. 

        You licked up the drool, before reaching his lips and kissing him. Andrew’s hand reached up to hold your cheek, kissing you as he tasted his taste in your mouth.

        “I’ll return the favor later, baby…” he muttered, playfully tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

        You smiled, listening to the fireworks go off in the sky above you as your neighbors started filing back into the dining room.

        “Oh. You’re back! You missed the fireworks.” The elder neighbor spoke, but you had your own white fireworks going off in your mouth so you weren't upset. “I thought you were fixing your makeup?”

        Andrew looked at you, not even noticing your red face, your messy hair, your smudged red lipstick and weeping mascara. To him, you always looked beautiful, even with crying makeup.

        “Sorry. I got carried away with kissing.” Andrew shrugged, indifferent as he lied.

        “Happy New Years, hon.” You smiled, pecking Andrew’s cheek.

        “Happy New Years.” Andrew hummed, before whispering into your year for only you to hear. “Hey… You had my dick in your mouth since last year…”

I have some major respect for smut writers. It can be hard trying to find all these different descriptions and poetic words to piece together just plain sex. Hopefully you guys enjoyed my amateurish writing. There will be more smut in the future as I work on my stories!

Happy very late holidays everyone!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

[goldenispunk]

[c1nnam00n]

me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

[natti-ice]

Peter Parker p links!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

18+ minors do not interact or click the links! Each link contains porn. All links are from twitter. You must be logged into Twitter for the links to open!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Tobey!Peter

blindfolding you to keep his identity secret

Peter filling your pussy up after you’ve begged for it all day

cozy evening fucking

jerking off bigdick!Peter

riding his face

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Andrew!Peter

showing Peter your tongue trick

Peter loves his alt girlfriend

first time trying anal together

making sure he breeds your little pussy

him cumming all over your body

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Tom!Peter

playing with your sensitive pussy

movie night at Peter’s place

getting pounded in the bathroom

sucking him off while he games

Peter using your pussy to let out some pent up anger

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

@alanangels @laughingphantoms @lyd14-d33tz @imnotmanu @fandoms-are-my-hOme @avatarobsessedgirly @jul-es @swagskeletongiantdreamer @someblessedmonster @spideyswebz @tpwknjj @ansaturn @ariharlow17 @mikisworls @abzyisinsane @yoyo4544 @peterisinapickle @jypiecesgf @jade-is-jaded @lovelymax10 @cindrness @cece969 @xcallmewhatevrrx

[lustagel]

i just know they hit that one spot. every time. each thrust.

[thearchergirlsposts]

hey Can you recommend me fics with THESE Andreil vibes? I've read a few but it's never enough I appreciate your suggestions and this art is great and conveys so much contained longing on Neil's part. I love it

Art source: lunapiq on IG

https://www.instagram.com/lunapiq/p/DBQ19BXok37/

(I'm so sorry for not crediting the art sooner. I didn't mean to pretend it was mine, this was a huge oversight on my part because I've literally only been using tumblr for 3 months, so yeah, sorry)

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬

→ premise: peter needed to test how strong the new formula for his web shooters is so why not get his gf’s help, and have a little fun with it. its not like he had millions of other more scientific ways to test its strength.

→ pairing: tasm!peter x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, bondage [with peters webs], fingering, small edging, peter possibly ooc, nicknames [baby, princess]

→ a/n: kinktober 04

Sure Peter had plenty of other ways he could test out the strength of his newly formulated web fluid. But you were just so eager to help your boyfriend out, always asking him if there was something you could do. Sewing up gashes and holes in his spider suit, patching him up after a fight, etc. So why not enlist the help of his pretty girlfriend instead of testing it out the same old boring way he always did. Of course being unaware of his little scheme you innocently and sweetly said yes when he asked if you'd help him out with an experiment. That was how you ended up in Peter's bed, hands restrained together and stuck to the headboard with his webs.

His body was currently nestled between your spread legs, eyes roaming your body before fixing on your face. Your lower half is entirely exposed, the breeze from his open window nipping at your skin making you squirm. “This wasn't what I thought you meant when you asked for help, and I said yes Peter” you whine and buck your hips into his touch as his hands roam up your sides, rubbing and caressing your body. You can feel the cool metal of the singular web shooter strapped to his left wrist. “Oh this is fully what I intended when I asked baby, tug all you want, squirm all you want” he coos as he uncovers your breasts by pushing your shirt up to reveal them. “Need to test how strong the new formula is” he explains softly as his right hand falls between your open thighs, middle and ring fingers nudging open your slit and rubbing through your folds. Slick immediately collecting on the tips of his slender fingers.

With a sharp intake of breath you twist your body and try shifting your hips away from his hands. His free hand that has the web shooter aims towards your writhing leg and shoots webs that wrap your ankle tethering it to his foot board. “You sure this wasn’t what you intended, princess? You're so wet for me” he emphasizes his tease with a tilt of his head, smirking softly as his two fingers push at your hole.

You whine and push your hips back on his hand trying to get them inside you, your hole clenching at the small intrusion. “I missed you Pete, you've been so busy” you explain and look through your lashes at your boyfriend hovering over you, your eyes full of longing and love. “Awww well i'm here now baby” he leans down and presses his lips to yours just as his two fingers push knuckle deep inside you. You let out a short surprised moan against his lips as you kiss back greedily. You tug at the webs around your wrists, hands desperate and itching to touch Peter. “Keep tugging baby, try your hardest, you can do it” he mumbles into your mouth, his words both encouraging and mocking before humming when you whine in response. Goosebumps rise on your skin from the pleasure, his free hand coming to pin your hips down holding them still.

Pumping his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt, a sloppy squelching sound filling the room along with your muffled whimpers and moans. “Fuck!~” you let out a plaintive cry and pull away from peters mouth when his thumb is added in, stimulating your clit. Rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves as his fingers speed up their movement, making your mouth fall open and your head fall back against his pillows. Your hands tug as well as your leg at his webbing, the action doing nothing to tear or unstick it. A heat spreading through your body, you liked this idea of him tying you up with his webs more than you could’ve guessed, the heat settling and growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Come on baby, i don't think your tryin’ hard enough to break out” he taunts as his long fingers find that spongy spot deep inside you and start abusing it, the rough pad of his tongue speeding up its circles. “Gonna have you cumming before you break the webs princess” he chuckles softly and leans down to kiss along the exposed column of your neck. Your head goes fuzzy from his mouth on you, his fingers ruthlessly thrusting inside you, the feeling of him all over you. “Can’t- I can’t do it Pete, i cant break em’ fuck- please baby im gonna cum!” you whine and cry out, your eyes squeezed shut as you teeter on the edge of your climax.

He grabs ahold of your chin and moves your head up the movement forces your eyes open, you stare into his deep brown eyes, his pupils blown.

“Not yet baby, the experiment hasn't gone on long enough, need to see if they break” his voice comes out sweet yet concedesing as he crashes his lips against yours to muffle your wanton moan.

Truthfully Peter had gotten enough information from all your squirming and pulling that he figured it was strong enough, he was just having far too much fun playing with his pretty girlfriend.

→ a/n: i havent written for tasm!peter in a bit so I feel like he’s possibly out of character ? Idk I felt rusty when writing him

[iridescentparkers]

lessons in sexting ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

warnings: very suggestive! (18+)

“PETER!” you exclaimed, and he dropped inside of your bedroom window. You lay on your shared bed where you once waited for him to arrive. He yanked off his mask and crawled between your legs, quickly placing his hand along your waist and head buried in your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I can never go outside again,” he muffled, turning his face to the side as he remained on your chest. 

“What are you talking about?”

He dug around in his pocket before grabbing his phone and scrolling to find a picture of himself. Lying down, his sight refused to meet yours as his head remained turned to the side, and he raised his phone to your face. “Read the text.” 

The photo was quite…shameful. In the photo, the phone was angled downwards towards the bottom half of his thin, sweaty suit. Peter was unbelievably hard and gripping his erection above the material. The upper half of the photo showed Peter’s teeth gripping his mask, drippings of sweat falling down his face. Underneath it was a text that read, “Baby, I miss you <3” 

“I didn’t get this text-” 

“Look up,” he murmured, and you moved your eyes to see that he sent it to Harry. You couldn’t help but laugh, Peter then groaned into your body and placed his hands on his face. 

“Is business rough these days? I didn’t realize Spiderman offered this kind of service.” You laughed, slamming his phone down on the bed. 

“Please.” he began, “He hasn’t responded 'cause it's late but I know he will never let this die.” 

“I don’t know if I will either!” 

“I missed, you!” He exclaimed. “It was getting boring and hot in that suit.”

“If it helps,” you whispered, running your fingers through his unkempt hair. “You looked good.”

“Really good?” He murmured, moving his eyes up to your face before placing kisses on the top of your breasts.

“Mmm hmm,” you hummed, nodding as Peter moved to hover above your body, placing you beneath him as he kissed you deeply. “Really good.”

[p3terparker]

𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)

“please hold me” 

it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.

“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.

“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.

adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.

you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.

“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”

“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”

“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.

“how did you–”

“i’m spider-man, baby”

“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.

“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”

“very. now come lay back down”

you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.

“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”

“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.

“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”

“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”

“okay fine, i’m done”

“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.

“you are truly such a big baby”

“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”

how could you deny him?

“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 

“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.

“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.

you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.

“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 

“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.

you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.

you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.

[electrosuite]

shower sex with peter plsssss

warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, shower sex, oral sex

word count: 774

masterlist

Peter was especially dirty tonight. Being thrown into a puddle of mud that soaked through his suit meant that he was literally caked in dirt and blood. You wound up putting the suit into a trash bag for the time being to avoid it getting everything else dirty, shoving it under your bed so no one found it.

You hated seeing him after a fight, all bruised and bloody. Turns out New York City had a huge villain problem that you didn't know about before you met him.

You watched him in the mirror as he stepped into the shower, even his ass dirty. You stripped yourself bare and followed him in. He was just standing under the water with his eyes closed, sighing of relief at the feeling of the hot water.

You placed your hands on his sides, eventually sliding them all the way around and hugging him from behind. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder blade and he tipped his head back to lean it against your scalp.

You were careful not to hurt him, but you weren't gentle enough. A couple of his ribs had been cracked and were hurting his lungs. But, to be completely honest, your arms around him was welcomed. He needed a hug, especially one from you.

After a few seconds, he turned around to face you. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you gently, water now hitting the back of his neck.

He swapped your positions, putting you under the stream. He slowly pushed you against the wall, the water hitting the top of his head and flowing down your faces.

His hands slid down your body to your ass and he smirked into the kiss. He squeezed a bit and you couldn't hold in the moan that conjured up.

He kissed down your body and didn't stop until he was on his knees, holding your writhing body by your hips.

"Peter," you said softly.

"Hm?"

"Why don't we take a real shower and move this to the bedroom?"

"Mm, I don't wanna."

Immediately, he kissed your clit and you shuddered. He hiked your leg over his shoulder, his other hand on the back of the straight knee.

You didn't feel like trying to persuade him to stop, and honestly any thought you had in your head was gone the second his tongue made contact.

You reached down and tangled your fingers in his wet hair, giving you a better grip on it. It didn't take long for you to be a moaning mess, him having to hold your trembling legs still.

The second he was kissing you again, it was like something took over and he was smushing his face against his. He scooped you up and wrapped your legs around his hips. He held you up with one hand — that damn Spider-Man strength — and positioned himself at your entrance with the other.

"Are you hurting?" you asked after he winced a bit.

"Not much. I'm good."

"You sure? I could always just let you take me from behind," you said seductively.

As an answer, he sunk you down onto him and you moaned, laying your head back against the wall. His lips latched onto your neck as he began thrusting, the water hitting where your bodies connected.

You'd only had sex standing once or twice before so you forgot how good it felt for your body to be completely controlled by him. Shoved against the wall, your feet not even on the ground, he could move and fuck you however he wanted to.

But tonight, it didn't seem like he would last much longer. You didn't blame him though, as he never did after he fought bad guys.

You grabbed his face and looked into his eyes, his pupils as big as his irises. Eye contact was always a big turn on for him, so you knew this would get him to cum soon.

"Peter, I want you to cum in me."

"You sure?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. Fill me up." And with that, he was slamming into you, trying to get there quickly. "Fuck, that feels so good."

Within seconds, you felt his warm cum fill you to the brim, dripping out onto the shower floor. You always loved seeing the look on his face when he came — eyebrows pointed up, mouth agape. It was hot as hell.

After a few more kisses, he put you back down on your feet and sat down on the side of the tub on top of the shower liner to catch his breath.

You smirked, washing your hair as you breathed heavily.

[stellar-constellations]

Heart on the Market (ONGOING SERIES) Chapter 2

        

WARNING: This series will include; NSFW, dead dove, reader is a serial killer, black market possible inaccurate historical slang and fashion, gore, alcohol, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, implications of misandry (male misogyny), perversive thoughts, nonconsensual drugging, gaslighting, possibly more to add.

Inaccurate canon-timeline and setting (Ashley doesn't exist). Modern AU.

Incest is not Wincest.

Andrew Graves x Old school! Serial killer! Fem! Reader

Wordcount: 6,600+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, current chapter, chapter 3 (in the works)

You grabbed rags from your closet and wet them, using soap and water as you scrubbed the apartment’s carpeted floors stained with blood.

        You occasionally kept an eye on Andrew’s apartment door, finding that he hasn’t stepped out of his apartment yet.

        He must’ve decided on not working tonight. You thought. 

        Good. It’ll make it easier to supervise him. He won’t blabber to an unsuspecting customer or call the police on the gas station’s phone and have a SWAT team break into your home.

        You couldn’t kill Andrew. The Manson Murderer has never directly targeted someone, so a murder inside of a random apartment complex would be extremely suspicious considering all of the murders were unsuspecting night folk outside.

        Having a crime scene inside of your home would be too suspicious, and it would prevent you from sneaking back into the apartments at 3 AM if there’s police stationed outside. If the murders noticeably decrease, the police will know that they’re hot on the murderer’s trail inside of the apartment complex, putting you at serious risk.

        So your best chance was seduction, but even you're not sure how long you can keep that up. It was absolutely nauseating kissing a guy you've barely known. Revolting having to shove your tongue down his throat knowing you're not his wife or even courting him. 

        You shivered and shook your head, getting goosebumps just as the thought of premarital intimacy, focusing your attention to dumping the rag in your bucket of water, wringing it out and scrubbing more of the blood off the carpet.

        Of course the bag rips… You thought, groaning. This new age cutting corners in production to save a few bucks.        

        You got up from the floor, looking at your handiwork. 

        It’s not the worst, but it’ll save you for now. Besides, it’s not like you’ll just have some random dude with a UV light wandering the halls spraying luminal on the ground to cause a chemiluminescence reaction once it detects hemoglobin found in a person’s DNA… Yeah, that would never happen. 

        Even still, hydrogen peroxide wouldn’t work on the carpet; not only would it stain the carpet and cause suspicion, but it’s really not guaranteed to 100% remove the DNA, only damage it a little. It’s not like that matters anyways, crime scene investigators don’t need blood to understand where exactly a crime scene happened or how it played out; it’s just a piece of evidence after all.

        Besides, with this new technology they’re developing, they’ll eventually be able to detect old DNA particles using eDNA machines that will extract the DNA from the air itself. Pretty spooky to know how far technology will come.

        Damn scientists and their new machines… You grimaced, annoyed as you walked back into your apartment with your bucket.

        But for now, that technology doesn’t exist, and your apartment has no cameras, so you'll simply just keep on killing. 

        You entered your apartment and rummaged through your bathroom cabinets, finding old containers of floss you got from the dentist. You stole the floss from the containers, tying them together to make a large string and grabbed a bell from your arts and crafts box inside your room. 

        You tied the bell on one end of the floss string, adding multiple knots to make sure it was secured, then walked out of your apartment, tying the other end of the floss string onto Andrew’s door knob. You walked back into your room and closed the door, placing the bell onto the floor. 

        If Andrew opens his door, the bell will move with the door and ring, signaling to you Andrew has left his apartment. That way, he can’t escape. 

        So far, you’ll just have to trust he hasn’t called the police. 

        You walked into your kitchen, grabbing ingredients out of your fridge. 

        It’ll be a quick meal, you don't want to leave Andrew alone for too long. You have plans after all.

        You grabbed butter and chicken breasts from your fridge. You placed the butter in a large saucepan and heated it, cutting up the chicken breasts into bite-sized pieces with a knife and cutting board. You cooked the chicken in the butter, adding a generous helping of Cajun seasoning.

        You grabbed a pot and filled it with water, adding a tablespoon of salt and letting it boil, before dumping some Alfredo noodles into the boiling water.

        You put the cooked chicken on a plate and set it to the side, grabbing heavy cream and an aged Parmesan from your fridge. You poured the bottle of heavy cream into the saucepan to start cooking, then you grated the cheese. You threw the cheese into the sauce a handful at time, waiting for it to melt before doing another handful.

        Once the sauce was ready, you placed the chicken back into the pan, adding a bit more Cajun seasoning. You grabbed the cooked noodles and strained them, adding them into the sauce. You grabbed two bowls and scooped some of the Chicken Alfredo into the bowls, and finished it with grated Parmesan on both.

        You grabbed a fork and put it on the right side of the bowl. Then you grabbed Rohypnol (a tasteless, odorless sleeping drug commonly used for date-rapes) from your medicine cabinet, grabbing a plastic bag and chopping it up into fine powder. 

        You grabbed a handful and dashed it on the bowl without a fork, letting the medicine blend in as cheese, then washed your hands good to get rid of any residue. You grabbed a fork and placed it on the left side of the bowl, grabbing your bowl in your right hand, and Andrew’s drugged bowl in your left hand.

        You carefully opened your front door, closing it behind you. You set the bowls down on the ground for a moment, grabbing a bobby pin from your hair.

        Your father taught you how to open just about any lock using a bobby pin, so you're rather good with it. It’s a nice skill to have to keep the family tradition alive. 

        You peeked into the room carefully, seeing all the lights were out, although there was a dim white light illuminating the living room.

        Silly boy. He thought he could turn off the lights and act like he wasn’t home! You smiled, stifling a giggle.

        You crept into the apartment and closed the door behind you, locking it.

        Not even a bullock on his door, or even a sliding lock at that. Shows how much he cares about security… You thought, mentally rolling your eyes as you placed the bowls of food on the nearby counter.

        The only useful technology that exists, and he doesn't even use it!

        You walked into the living room, appearing behind him and reaching for the lamp on his side table, flicking it on.

        “Ah!” Andrew yelped, startled.

        He whirled his head around to look at you, his eyes widened as he gulped, caught in the act. 

        There was a computer on his living room table, open with an article of the Manson Murderer. There was a notepad next to him, black ink messily scribbled writing notes to try and string the Manson Murderer to you. 

        Is he leaving notes for when he’s dead?

        “Oh! Now, now!” You smiled, snatching the notebook from him. “Good boys don’t snitch. I have a few friends that’ll stitch that big ol’ trap of yours if you don’t keep it shut.”

        “H-hey!” Andrew gasped, a blush spreading across his face, ignoring the pet name as he tried to reach for his notebook.

        “Hands to yourself, darling.” You hummed, taking a few steps away, grabbing a lighter from your purse and lighting the paper on fire.

        You placed the paper on the ground, ignoring Andrew's surprised face and watching as he stood up and ran into the kitchen for a cup of water.

        You smiled, shaking your head and giggling as he left. The notebook was small and already reduced into a pile of black burning ashes, a flame licking the top. You pressed your heel onto the small flame, denying the fire of oxygen as you smushed your foot left and right.

        “See? Small fires like these can easily just be stomped out, as long as you’re not wearing anything flammable that is.” You smiled, as if teaching a dog. “By the time you would’ve grabbed water, the unsupervised fire could’ve grown and the whole room would be set aflame!”

        “W-what… What are you doing here again?” Andrew questioned. “Have you come back to finish the job?”

        “Finish? Oh, I don’t look to finish you! Not in the way you’re thinking, at least.” You purred playfully, stepping over the pile of ashes and walking closer to Andrew.

        Andrew leaned back as you got into his space, your body leaning towards his. You smirked as he looked down at you, nervous before you glided past him.

        You picked up his laptop from his coffee table, going to his search history and deleting all the information he was trying to look up of you and the Manson Murderer.

        Your eyes paused at a few links an hour ago moments after your first visit, before you looked up at him and smirked.

        “Huh… ‘(Hair color) (eye color) porn actresses with soft lips?’ Rings a bell…” You teased, before placing the laptop back down onto the coffee table.

        “T-that’s not what you’re thinking of! That’s just coincidence!” Andrew blurted out, nervous as he snatched the laptop up, cradling it to his chest defensively.

        “I just meant that one famous actress.” You hummed. “Ya know, in every new movie now.”

        “Right…” Andrew muttered.

        “Of course, only in the movies cause they’re hot though.” You hummed. “Although, movies are so evil, don’t you think? I prefer seeing plays and reading books; there’s just no passion in money.” 

        “Uh, yeah…” Andrew nodded. 

        The last play he went to was his own kindergarten musical; his role was a tree.

        “It’s only looks that put you at the top. Like Rachel Welch.” You hummed. “Only in movies for sex appeal, but that’s every woman in Hollywood now.” You tutted, crossing your arms.

        Andrew looked away from you, feeling a bit called out.

        Sure, it’s nice to engage in some eye candy when it’s on the screen, but it’s pretty annoying if you’re not watching a romance or a slapstick/chickflick. 

        Modern examples of sex appeal would be Megan Fox or Jennifer Lopez; they’re pretty but man do they not bring anything else to the table.

        But hey, Hollywood is Hollywood. Everyone’s holly jolly with some money in their pockets. 

        “It must suck though, practically signing away their rights. Surrounded by paparazzi and the societal standards of what a good actor and celebrity is.” Andrew spoke thoughtfully.

        “Well, I suppose everything has consequences. It’s a matter of outweighing the pros and cons. Most enter that career wanting that attention and fame until they realize what it actually means; crazed fans with parasocial relationships and all...” You hummed. “But I didn’t come here to talk with you about that.”

        You smiled, walking back to the counter. You grabbed the bowls you left, holding your bowl with the fork on the right side. You held it and gave Andrew his drugged bowl.

        “Here. Dinner.” You spoke, not much of an offer as you shoved the bowl into his chest for him to take.

        “And how do I know this isn’t—“ 

        “Poisoned?” You questioned, cutting Andrew off. “Oh golly no! Are you really that afraid of me?”

        “Yes.” Andrew grumbled, looking at you unamused. “Considering you drug a dead man through the hallways and into my home.” 

        “Hm? Oh, I don’t recall.” You hummed, grabbing your fork and a piece of pasta.

        “Like Hell you don’t—“ You shoved your food into Andrew’s mouth, almost choking him as he shut up and chewed.

        “That’s not a nice word, you know. Can’t you show manners? Swallow down that attitude of yours.” You spoke, removing the fork from his mouth.

        He was going to argue, but the food wasn’t bad, so he shut up and kept chewing until he swallowed.

        “It’s… not bad…” Andrew muttered.

        “It better not! It’s rude to say so after I spent the time cooking it for you!” You huffed.

        “For me?” Andrew questioned, surprised as he looked at you with suspicion.

        “Consider it a truce.” You smiled, putting the same fork that was in Andrew’s mouth into your mouth.

        Andrew stared at you as you ate, watching before he sighed, picking up his fork and eating. 

        “So, you have a girlfriend?” You questioned. 

        “Excuse me?” Andrew questioned, looking up at you.

        “I assume not considering you watch a lot of X-rated videos.” You hummed.

        “Could you not while I’m eating?” Andrew groaned, embarrassed as his face turned pink.

        “So?” You questioned.

        “Why’s it matter to you?” Andrew grumbled. 

        “To see if you’re available.” You smiled.

        Andrew gulped, swallowing his meal nervously as he looked at you with hesitancy.

        “If it helps, I’m celibate.” You added. “Not for religion, but morals.” 

        “J-Jesus! I didn’t need to know that!” Andrew exclaimed, his blush worsening at your words, just thinking about it.

        A virgin? Possibly every man’s wet dream if he’s got a corruption kink.

        Something Andrew does indeed have. 

        “Now? Do you?” you questioned, scooting closer to him, their legs now touching.

    “Yeah, okay? I’m single…” Andrew grumbled, avoiding your eyes.

        It’s not like he hasn’t been pursued before, but he just never saw the interest in dating; at least not until after college. Middle and high school relationships end fast over stupid reasons, besides, it’s just fake dating. How can you date and not go out together outside of school?

        Besides, it’s all just hormones and horniness… a feeling Andrew often struggles with by himself.

        Andrew tried to scoot away, but you quickly followed and pressed yourself back against his side, repeating the process until he was flushed against the armrest and couldn’t move any further.

        “Come on, eat more! I made it for you after all. Don't be mean!” you spoke.

        “I can’t eat if you don’t give me space to raise my arm.” Andrew huffed, annoyed at you rushing him before he took another bite.

        “So, what do you feel about moving in with me?” you questioned.

        “No.” Andrew responded quickly.

        “Why not?” you frowned.

        “I’m not getting arrested for being an accessory to murder or a murder accomplice.” Andrew spoke.

        “But it’s not technically a murder accomplice if you don’t help me kill.” You pointed out.

        “However, I know that you’re a murderer and I didn’t tell the police therefore they’ll arrest me.” Andrew huffed.

        “I can stop whenever I want.” You hummed. “I can stop if you move in.”

        “Yeah, right.” Andrew scoffed, annoyed as he shoveled more food into his mouth.

        “Come on, I can be good!” you pleaded, placing your hand on his arm.

        “Stop that!” Andrew huffed.

        You wanted to try and convince him more with a kiss, but you were a bit worried if the Rohypnol would affect you if it’s in his mouth, so you didn’t risk it.

        “Can’t you just leave me alone?” Andrew questioned, irritated.

        “Let’s watch a movie instead!” you spoke, trying to distract him.

        “No!” Andrew hissed, watching as you grabbed his TV remote and turned the TV on. “Leave my apartment!”

        “No!” you huffed, using your arms to wrap around his arm, and wrapped your legs around his torso, clinging onto his side like a koala.

        “What’s with you? You’re like a damn koala!” Andrew hissed, trying to pry you off.

        “Just let me stay with you!” you whined, starting to get whiny and desperate to stay.

        All you have to do is buy enough time for that Rohypnol to kick in.

        Andrew heard your whines, his face feeling flushed as a pit of heat formed in his stomach. 

        “Jesus. Are you touch-starved? Lonely or something?” Andrew commented, annoyed.

        “If I say yes will you let me stay?” you questioned, looking up at him, resting your head on his shoulder.

        Andrew looked down your pleading face, the expression too much as he felt himself getting worked up. 

        “Only a movie…” he grumbled, adverting his gaze to the TV so he wouldn’t feel worse.

        He can't believe you're actually convincing him. He must be stupid or desperate for a good lay. 

        You smiled, proud as you placed your bowl on the coffee table, wrapping your arms around Andrew’s torso, forcing him to stay with you as you nuzzled your head against his chest.

        Andrew grimaced, before sighing, draping his arm around your shoulder half-heartedly. He watched as you put on some stupid movie of a boy who wants to be an artist. “A Dog of Flanders” or something like that… Some old movie.

        The movie was boring and he could feel himself falling asleep, but he didn’t want to sleep in case you tried to steal his kidney or whatever weird shit you're into.

        But he couldn’t help it as he slipped unconscious, his head falling to rest on his shoulder awkwardly. You felt his heartbeat soften as you rested on his chest, waiting until the sad part of the movie came. 

        You turned the movie off before something bad could happen to Patrasche (the boy’s dog in the movie). 

        You got up from the couch, looking at Andrew to make sure he was still asleep before you opened up his front door. You looked down the hallway to make sure nobody was coming, then opened your front door. You walked back and grabbed Andrew’s collar, dragging him off the couch and into your apartment.

        You left Andrew inside your living room, then shut the door. You let out a sigh, checking the time. 

        2 AM. 

        Good. Nobody should be walking down the apartments at anytime, so it should be fine for you to spend the next hour packing Andrew’s stuff and moving him in.

        You grabbed some rope from your secret drawer in your room, tying Andrew up in case he wakes up (though, you doubt it considering he was drugged, not passed out). 

        Andrew may be lonely, but you doubt he’s lonely enough to just live with a killer. Manipulation is best, but you just have to try and think of a good way to keep him under control.

        You could always use an accomplice… 

        Nonetheless, you brainstormed ideas as you moved Andrew’s clothes and small belongings into your home, starting to create your perfect scene. 

        A few tries of reorganizing furniture and stuffing his clothes into your closet and drawers to make it look like he’s always lived here and you succeeded. You added his bath products into your bathroom, along with his hairbrush and toothbrush. You snatched some foods from his pantry and added it to yours, hoping the sight of familiar foods would make it look more like home.

        Last, but not least, you fed your cat Georgia.

        What? It’s a cute name, and Georgia reminds you of peaches since it’s the state fruit, which is oddly cute…

        Georgia was a cat you adopted from the pet shelter you volunteer at. Originally, you only volunteered so you can maintain a good reputation in case of any suspicion against you (like that would ever happen though, you’re a professional). 

        A few months of volunteering at the shelter, you eventually grew an attachment to the brown ragamuffin cat. She had the sass of a gossipy Southern aunt, hence the name of the Southern state Georgia. 

        Georgia was an outside cat though, preferring to roam the streets and go on adventures rather than be cramped in a small room. You can’t blame her—it’s probably boring as a cat napping and shitting in litter all the time. 

        You kept your window open for Georgia to crawl in and get her food. Now onto more pressing matters…

        You grabbed some pajamas you took from Andrew’s wardrobe, a simple white T-shirt and grey sweatpants.

        You stripped him of his clothing, glancing over and making a mental note of his large, well-endowed package. 

        It’s a fact you’ll need to know later. You justified to yourself as you clothed him with his pajamas. 

        After dressing him to looking like he had been taking a planned slumber, you dragged him into your room and plopped him down on your king-sized bed (ah, the perks of being a middle-class citizen). 

        You tucked him in before smiling, satisfied with the perfect scene you’d set up for Andrew.

        Step one: completed.

        Now with that out of the way, you needed to focus on the dead body. You opened the body bag that still rested in your apartment, placing the man in the kitchen where the tile was. You picked him up (with a struggle) and got him onto your kitchen counter. Luckily, he didn’t bleed much thanks to the dried blood on his slit neck, but there were still blood splatters on your counter nonetheless. 

        First, you checked for any belongings. A phone to make sure there wasn’t a tracker, a wallet for identification (and money), and any valuable items such as a ring to not only see if he was married and someone would be looking for him, but to also sell.

        What? Money is money.

        After grabbing what you wanted, you maneuvered his body so that his head was hanging over the kitchen sink. You carefully, with delicacy and grace, proceeded to make incisions into the crow feet of the male’s skin, using a scalpel to unfold the layers of thin skin and muscle with ease.

        Once reaching the bone, you used a handheld bone saw and proceeded to carefully cut small triangles into the bone, making holes. You grabbed some forceps and your scalpel, cutting off the optic nerves and severing them from the eyeballs. 

        You tilted the dead man’s head forward, catching the squishy eyeballs and delicately placing them in a jar of UW solution so they could be preserved.

        Now with claiming your trophy, you had to get to business. You spent hours in the dead of night making careful incisions and cuts, grabbing organs, bone marrow, certain body parts; all valuable in the black market as you plucked them out like a bird would to a worm in the ground.

        Preserving all the organs inside different jars of UW liquid, you finally finished dissecting your little money-making machine. You grave your laptop and emailed some colleagues of yours, telling them of your new stock. You emailed your cleaner, setting up a time tomorrow to rid the body before it’ll start to decompose and smell. 

        You placed the rest of the dead male’s body in a bag, and another bag, and another bag; triple-bagging him like goods at a grocery store, making sure no leaks or spills would happen to the body. 

        You left him there in the living room, cleaning up your mess in the kitchen and storing the jars in boxes to package up later. You didn’t pack the jar of eyes though, oh no, that was your trophy.

        You went to your bedroom and placed the jar to join your collection. The door leading to a small closet in your room was filled with shelves of peering, preserved optic orbs instead of your favorite shirt. It was a collection of your kills, trophies you rightfully earned whilst purifying the world. 

        You shut the closet door and looked over at Andrew sleeping on your bed. You turned your eyes to look at the clock, letting out a sigh.

        6 A.M. 

        You haven’t even had any sleep yet. Being a serial killer is hard work, but you have bills to pay and dresses to buy.

        You grabbed Andrew’s laptop you stole, exiting out of the many porn tabs where the female actress looked like you. You opened his emails and wrote an email to your landlord, impersonating as Andrew and explaining that "he" will be moving in (Y/N)’s apartment and dropping the keys off at the lobby for them to pick up in the morning, so to put his apartment on sale and take his name off it. 

        You finished with the living situation and now it was time to shower for bed (finally). You grabbed one of Andrew’s sweatshirts and a pair of panties and pajama shorts, walking to the bathroom to shower.

        You rid yourself of all the blood from that dead man. The dirt from dragging him through it. Sweat from running around the diner and carrying limp bodies around. And tears from laughing at just how smart you were.

        Yet again, you got away with it. It’s to be expected, murdering people runs in your family after all. 

        You got dressed in your new sleepwear from now on. Usually you’ll wear a silk nightgown, but with Andrew here, it’s best to wear his clothes every now and then to establish a sense of familiarity between the two of you. 

        You put your hair in stay-in hair rollers to sleep in. You applied lotion on your face and body, brushing your teeth before calling it a night. 

        You walked into your bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind you. Turning off the lights, you climbed into bed with Andrew, burying your head into his chest and wrapping your arms around his unconscious body.

        You snatched his phone, scooting closer to him and propping his head onto your chest. You unlocked his phone with his thumb, taking a picture of the two of you and saving it as his phone screen.

        You put his phone on the charger, pushing him away from you before settling down to sleep.

        .        

        .

        You sat in a bathtub, the water pure red as you relaxed. You washed your skin and your hair, letting the crimson water soak into your body.

        Today was your special day. It was your wedding day.

        You were getting married to your high school sweetheart, Judah Mot. He was a dashing transfer student from Europe, with gorgeous tan skin, piercing blue eyes, and golden hair gifted from angels. His voice might as well been its own sacred hymn, and his body was one the Greeks used to carve into marble. 

        The epitome of the perfect man.

        Or so you thought.

        You sang a soft hum, enjoying the vinyl's soft static of your phonograph's needle softly scrapping against the disc's grooves, creating that peaceful static you could honestly listen to just by itself. You listened to Doris Shore's song "A Guy is a Guy,” humming as you rinsed the conditioner out of your hair.

        ”Little one?” your mother knocks on the door, “Will you be out soon? Your dress is ready, and all the bridesmaids are so excited to see you.” 

        ”Yes, mama.” You hummed. 

        “Make haste now, child. The groom is waiting.” Your mother spoke, before her heels clicked away.

        You got up from your red bath, smelling of roses from your bath bomb. You rinsed with the shower head to rid any debris of the bath bomb on you, then proceeded to dry off. 

        You grabbed a white bra and panties, putting them on before exiting the bathroom. Your mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law helped you put on the dress that your mother-in-law chose.

        It was beautiful. While it wasn’t completely your style, having an itchy top with no barrier to protect the lace from rubbing against your skin, it was tradition for the mother-in-law to choose the dress. You didn’t mind much, at least the tulle skirt was pretty and comfy, enough so you can walk without tripping. 

        You put on your dress, letting your five sisters put your hair into a braided bun. You put on the white high heels your mother-in-law provided, smiling as she gave you a necklace.

        ”I wore this necklace on my wedding day. I was going to give this to my daughter, but I was never blessed with one.” She explained. “Until now, that is.” She spoke, putting a lovely silver necklace onto your neck.

        “Thank you, mother.” You smiled. 

        Your sister tried to put blush on your face, but you stopped her. 

        “Oh, please. No makeup except the red lipstick. I know that it’ll get ruined later.” You spoke politely.

        “From crying of joy?” your sister giggled.

        ”Precisely.” You smiled.

        Your sister put on the lipstick you request, and then you were escorted with your family and mother-in-law to a white limousine. The limousine had red leather seats, black carpet, and some white grape juice (non-alcoholic, per your request). 

        You engaged in small conversation until the limousine stopped at your destination. Your sisters opened the door for you, your mother-in-law stepping out to help you out of the car. 

        You were faced with a walkway, wedding music playing as you looked around. There were folding chairs in aisles, leaving space for the walkway, the chairs filled with your family and groom’s family. There was a table with deserts that you will certainly be exploring later. And your father was here, smiling at you as he stood by the limousine door.

        He held out his arm, waiting for you to hook your arm, to which you did. You smiled, watching as your niece walked down the aisle with a basket of white petals, dropping them on the ground. They got seated, and it was your time to shine.

        You walked down the aisle with your father, feeling all the eyes on you, as all should on your special day. You locked eyes with Judah, happy as you walked to the groom.

        Your father took his seat next to your mother as you stood in front of Judah, smiling. Your brother, a priest, was the officiator for the wedding, holding the (L/N)’s family vows in his hand. He smiled at you, watching as you joined with the groom. 

        You gave vows, just short and sweet ones. Sickness and health, blah, blah, blah. Get on with it so you can get to the fun part.

        You exchanged vows and watched one of your little nephews come up with the rings, being the ring bearer as he held up his hands with the rings.

        You took the ring and put it on Judah’s right hand. He looked at you, confused. Why didn’t you put the ring on his left hand, closest to his heart? You gave a reassuring smile, saying to trust you. You held right hand up for him to put your ring on.

        “Do you, Judah Mot, take (Y/N) (L/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife?” your brother questioned.

        “I do.” Judah answered.

        ”And do you, (Y/N) (L/N), take Judah Mot to be your lawfully wedded husband?” your brother questioned.

        “I do not.” You smiled.

        Judah’s smile dropped, surprised. “W-what?” 

        “When you all came in today, you received a quiz of the bride and groom. It came with questions. 'What’s the bride’s favorite color?’ ‘What is the groom’s favorite TV show’ and one question: Who does the groom love?” you spoke.

        ”(Y/N), now is not the time to be talking about the wedding activities! You just rejected—“ 

        “It’s Delilah.” You answered. “Judah loves Delilah, my best friend.” 

        Some gasps played out in the audience, but your family members didn’t look surprised. It was if they knew, because you told them. You told them when you saw his eyes stop showing that love and compassion you fell in love with back in high school.

        His eyes held nothing now; but when they looked at her, they lit up. You could deal with a broken heart, you can deal with a breakup; but there’s no broken heart in infidelity. In fact, you felt glad.

        Glad to see Judah for what he really is, just another piece of meat that fell victim to you. Glad to see your best friend, one who had been with you since middle school and supporting your relationship since the beginning, was nothing more than a home-wrecking skank.

        Stay away from what doesn’t belong to you. 

        “For our first activity tonight, I’d like to begin the hunt.” You smiled. 

        This island was yours—your family’s. You had private jets to escort all of Judah’s family members for the trip out here. There was no cell service out here, not on a literal island. You told the private jets to accept no passengers in or out for 48 hours. Thanks to the private jets escorting Judah’s family out here, they have no idea where they are, so they were never able to tell anyone a location for where they’re heading; meaning they’ll just drop off the radar. Everyone was isolated, including you and your own family. 

        Perfect.

        “Every family member of the groom has one hour to find a place to hide, or try to run, before you die. The hunt will last for 48 hours.” You explained.

        He was the groom, but he was never your groom. 

        You walked to the desert table, picking up a delicious red raspberry macaroon, taking a bite. 

        “May the odds and your Gods ever be in your favor.” You smiled.

        Your father pulled out a chainsaw from under the dessert table, revving it to start the game. You lifted a silver lid to reveal a 9mm, shooting your husband in the head.

        Everyone panicked, getting down on the ground, rushing for cover, pushing each other to the ground, anything to hide from the stray bullets, the chainsaws, the machetes. 

        You smashed someone’s face in with your heel, watching as blood stained your dress. And you laughed. You laughed till you cried tears of joy, and thank God you didn’t wear a heavy amount of makeup to ruin your beaming face. 

        You smiled, making eye contact with Delilah as she hid behind a tree. She saw you and ran, but you smiled, holding up your gun and aiming, before shooting for the kill. 

        Oh, what a romantic day it was.

        .        

        .

        You had woken up first, you always wake up early, even if you go to bed late. It’s important to keep a routine, even if you’re a killer.

        You woke up at 10 AM, but stayed in bed till 12 PM, when Andrew finally woke up. You pretended to be sleeping, still buried in his chest. 

  When Andrew stirred, groggy and a bit woozy, still seeming to be affected by those drugs you gave him. He finally opened his eyes, confused on where he was and why he was here. 

        “The fuck…?” was the first thing he muttered, followed by him jumping, “(Y/N)?!”

        You pretended to wake up upon hearing him, letting out a tired moan before opening your eyes.

        “Mhm?” you hummed, your eyes glancing to Andrew before smiling. “Good morning, my love.”

        “What am… why am I—(Y/N)!” Andrew huffed, pissed off, confused, scared. “What the hell?”

        “Language.” You frowned. “What are you talking about, dear? Did you have another nightmare?”

        “I don’t have nightmares. I’m a man.” Andrew quickly retorted with a frown, before shaking his head, pushing you off his chest. “N-no! You’re distracting me! You killed that man!”

        ”We killed him.” You hummed, speaking as if it was natural.

        ”You did.” Andrew rebutted, frowning.

        “Dear, get up.” You sighed, sitting up.

        Andrew reluctantly got up, cautious as he stood near the door. You got up, Andrew taking notice of your attire.

        “Take off my shirt.” He huffed.

        “I’m not wearing anything underneath.” You quickly spoke. “Besides, I always wear it. What’s with you?”

        “You don’t always wear it! It’s mine.” Andrew huffed, before looking around the room.

        His poster of his favorite game was hung up. His pants and belt were on the floor, left lazily scattered on the ground like he owned the place. His shoes were by the bed. His wallet and phone were on his bed stand, unlocking it to reveal a photo of Andrew sleeping on your chest.

        “What?” Andrew questioned, confused. “What’d you do to my screen saver.” 

        “Jeez, hon…” you sighed, pretending to be tired with the conversation and “accusations” already. “Is this about your nightmares again?”

        “I already told you, I don’t have nightmares!” Andrew huffed. 

        “I mean the dreams, or memories, you get of when you were living alone. Without me.” You spoke, resting your head on your palm, watching his meltdown as he tried to decide if this was real or not.

        “You’re tricking me! You’re—“

        You shut him up with a kiss, pressing your lips onto his lips as you placed your hands onto his cheeks. 

        It was annoying having to kiss a man so damn much, and you almost felt repulsed having to kiss this damn-near stranger again and again; but you had to keep the act up. You couldn’t just let him run off.

        You have to drag him down with you.

        “W-what was that for?” Andrew inquired, confusion and a small tint of red visible on his face.

        “I can’t kiss my fiancé?” you tilted your head, smiling.

        “F-fiancé?” Andrew questioned, surprised. 

        “Duh.” You smiled, rolling your eyes. “You’re the one that proposed, dummy. We’re saving up for engagement rings though.” 

        Andrew frowned, looking at his finger. He didn’t have a ring, but it checks out considering you said they were saving money for rings.  

        “Now, come on.” You smiled. “Get up. We have work to do today!” 

        Andrew got up from the bed, hesitant as he looked at you. He sighed, getting up from the bed. You watched with a smile as he moved his way to the closet, opening it and letting out a short scream.

        “What the fuck?!” he shouted, his eyes meeting dozens of others entrapped in jars.

        “Love?” you questioned, feigning ignorance as you ‘wondered’ why he was frightened.

        “What is this shit?!” Andrew questioned, holding a jar up to show you, before quickly grimacing and putting it back down on the shelf when the eyes rolled to him. 

        “Um, my trophy collection?” you scoffed, offended, before quickly correcting yourself. “It’s our collection, duh?”

        “No, no. It’s not mine. I didn’t do any of it!” 

        “Andrew!” you huffed, standing up from the bed. “You know, I’m really not liking your attitude. I understand you have dreams and sometimes mix them with reality, but Andrew you need to stop acting crazy.”

        “Crazy?!” Andrew exclaimed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Me?! Crazy? Woman, there are eyeballs in your closet!”  

        “And?” you retorted, crossing your arms. 

        “It’s gross! And immoral!” Andrew groaned.

        “Please, you’re not a saint yourself.” You rolled your eyes. “Andrew, you promised when you proposed that you’d join my family’s business. If you’re proposing to leaving me, or telling about the business, you’ll be another body bag in the morgue.” 

        “B-but—“ Andrew stammered, utterly confused and possibly even starting to doubt it.

        Did he really ask her for her hand? Did he really kill someone? Kill more than one? 

        “You better be dressed when you get into the kitchen. I’m going to get dressed and cook breakfast.” You chirped, a smile on your face before you walked to the bathroom to get your clothes inside of your walk-in closet.

        You wore a cute black and white polka dot dress, wearing some shorts underneath and pairing it with black Mary Jane flats. 

        You undid your hair curls, brushing out your hair to show your perfect curls. You applied hair spray to keep it in place, and put on your signature red lipstick. 

        You exited your bathroom to see Andrew sitting down on the bed, staring at you with a blank expression. He met your eyes and smiled, standing up.

        “So...dear?” he spoke, almost as if he was questioning it as he walked over to you. “Take off your clothes and prove it." He smirked, pinning you down to the mattress.

        ...What?

Chapters: Chapter 1, current chapter, chapter 3 (in the works)

I don't really have anything important to say. My updates might be a little slow, I have some family issues going on and I just got a new job. We'll see what happens.

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Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

[daryldixonnn]

slut for them

[3wishesgenie]

Mean!Cowboy who you happen to meet one day at a bar with your friends.

Mean!Cowboy who buys you a drink while your already tipping out of your seat

Mean!Cowboy who looks at you crazy when you take his hat off his head and sit it on yours

Mean!Cowboy that you tell your friends whose taking you home for the night

Mean!Cowboy who smiles as he closes the door behind the two of you ready to give you the best ride of your life

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

mistletoe

a/n: thanks for helping me distract myself from everything that's happened these past few weeks ৎ୭

polls for the story: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

summary: while spending the holidays for the first time with your boyfriend’s family, you and his stepfather finally snap and a romance ensues. 

warnings:  boyfriend's stepdad!bucky barnes x reader x peter parker, smut, christmas stuff, major age gap (y/n is a uni student and bucky is in his 40-50's), college au, forbidden romance, cheating, established relationship, bucky has a tattoo sleeve instead of the metal arm, lawyer!bucky, dubcon, the classic "stuck under the bed" trope, clothed x naked, polyamory, threesome, kissing, dirty talk, public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, spit kink, masturbation, mutual masturbation, oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, bondage, blindfold, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 8687

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When you five minutes earlier had snatched up the spare key hidden in the flowerpot on the frosty front porch of your boyfriend’s house, the last thing you’d expected to happen next, once you’d tip-toed inside the vacant abode, was the unfortunate entanglement you found yourself in presently.

Trotting up to Peter’s room, not long passed after you’d set down your bag, your mind scrambling for the best spot to plant yourself in to pose perfectly for the surprise you were about to spring on him, that the phone in your palm tumbled out of your grasp and in the hectic flickering that crackled through your senses, your foot accidentally bumped against the device and sent it soaring under the bed that stood in the middle of the room. 

Through the grumbles that swiftly flowed from your lips, you sank down to your knees on the hardwood and twisted your head downward to grant you the perspective needed to spot the still glowing screen in the dusty darkness. 

Soon half of your body had disappeared beneath the bed as you stretched an arm up as high as your reach would let you, though as the tip of your tongue peaked out past your lips and you tried to squeeze yourself further into the dark, only a whisper of your touch managed to graze against the phone’s smooth edge. 

However, when the bright idea hit you to try and find a long item to help you scoop it closer to you, a sharp sting of resistance met your scalp as you reeled to try and crawl back out. 

“Fuck!” you hissed as your right hand soared up to the clump of hair at the crown of your head that had somehow gotten snagged on the underside of the bed frame. 

As you continued to yank and tug without prevail, dread slowly began to settle within your being before a creak suddenly found your ears and washed away some of the flickering panic. 

“Oh, thank god you’re here!” you squeaked from under the bed at the person in the doorway, presumably the guy whose bed you were trapped under, “baby, I–,” an airy giggle couldn’t help but seep out and filter through your sentence as you said, “this isn’t how it was supposed to go, I was gonna lay down on your bed or something, all dramatically, and surprise you, but now none of that matters because I’m stuck,” you laughed at your pitiful situation, your bottom barely covered in your short skirt as it wiggled up at him, “Peter, please, just help me out. I wanna kiss you, I haven’t seen you in two months.”

Though your boyfriend didn’t utter a word as the floorboard groaned beneath each of his steps, slowly crossing the room till you felt his presence behind you.

“It’s my hair,” you muttered, your hand still curled up by your head, “I don’t know if there’s like a nail or whatever’s going on under here, but it’s caught on something, and I can’t get it free.”

Gently, you felt his hand reach under the bed till it was gliding up the back of your neck. Slipping your fingers down to his, the skin felt much more rough and calloused than you remembered, though you swiftly shrugged that observation off as you guided his touch up to the imprisoned strand. 

As he attempted to break you free, his body couldn’t help but slope down against yours in order to reach your hair, and as you unconsciously wiggled beneath him at every futile attempt, you felt a hardness begin to grow and press up against your ass. 

A giggle couldn’t help but slip from your lips as you noticed, “aw, baby. I’ve missed you too,” you rolled your hips and offered him a purposeful grind, “you just gotta get me out of here and then I’ll let you do whatever you want to me… promise…”

But as soon as you’d intentionally rocked back against him, his grasp in your hair began to slacken and melt away till he let his touch travel down the slope of your spine, ghosting across your curves till his fingertips tickled along the bottom hem of your skirt. 

His warmth then disappeared from your frame as he sat back further behind you. Ever since you left your dorm room this morning, an excited spot bloomed and decorated your panties in anticipation of your sinful schemes, though now, hours later, the soaked patch that adorned the cotton that poked out from under your skirt, completely visible to the man behind you, had grown to a nearly embarrassing declaration of your desperation.

Slowly and almost hesitantly, he let his touch ghost over your covered core, catching you off guard by the tickling gentleness that your boyfriend hadn’t had to initiate with for the longest time as you’d both grown too comfortable with each other not to simply be bold in your actions, but this felt as if he was touching you for the very first time, as if he thought you were made of the purest porcelain. 

A heavy breath shuttered out of your frame as his light touch grazed over your covered core, slowly swiping up and down the drenched gusset. Eyes fluttering shut, you quietly joked, “you watch too much porn,” your words came out sounding hazy as the cliché fantasy got to you too, “if you really want to reenact this genre, then I’d much rather do the version with a washing machine and then just pretend that I’m stuck in there, that’s a much less dusty version, plus I wouldn’t actually be trapped.”

But as his tentative touch kept up, you couldn’t help but tilt back into it and feel yourself sink further into the ecstasy.

Soon his fingers hooked in the sliver of cotton as he tugged the gusset to the side, glistening strings of your want clinging to the fabric as he exposed your cunt to him, and as then his touch brushed over you without any barrier to dull the sensation, a breathy moan tumbled out of your lungs. 

Lightly, he rolled your puffy pearl beneath the rough pads of his fingers, the slick sounds of your nectar sloshing and echoing throughout the bedroom as he tickled at your core. 

And when his digits stopped resisting the tempting twitch of your entrance and they plugged it up so perfectly it made your toes curl, you soon found yourself moving even more desperately than his own efforts caressed you as you fucked yourself back onto his fingers in a rock so erratic that the movements ended up being your saving grace as your lock of hair pulled free. 

A dizzy smile found your lips as you finally regained the ability to shift your head without an excruciating sting ripping at your scalp. Though just before you reached your peak, you twisted your head to glance back over your shoulder. Your eyes swiftly widened and your efforts ceased as the man whose fingers were making your drooling pussy sing wasn’t who you had assumed. 

“O-oh fuck!” you quickly scrambled out from under the bed and jolted away out of pure shock as you came face to face with your boyfriend’s stepdad, “Mr Barnes!”

But just as his lips hesitantly parted in a reply, the front door downstairs slammed and caused you to shoot up to your feet, Bucky rising as well. With your chest heaving in your hazy periphery, you could barely think before your palms began to shove at the older man’s broad frame, till he crossed the threshold of the bedroom and his feet began to carry him the rest of the way down the hall till you watched from the doorway as he disappeared into a different room. 

And with the soft click of that door closing behind him, the creaking on the grand staircase suddenly ceased and your eyes snapped over to find Peter frozen at the top step. 

“Oh my god, babe!” he exclaimed, a wide grin swiftly warming up his features, “what are you doing here?” his feet shuffled towards you before his arms enclosed around your form, “why aren’t you at school? I thought you had exams till next Friday.”

Still in shock as you felt your pussy leak down your thighs, “I managed to get done early,” you tried to mirror your boyfriend’s smile as he pulled back to look at you, “surprise!” 

When you last year had found yourself a little internship at the most prestigious law firm in town, it hadn’t come as a surprise to you just how many of the middle-aged men working there shamelessly flirted with you as you brought them their coffees. However, what you hadn’t expected in the slightest was Mr Barnes. 

Though his attempts were much more subtle than the rest, they in no way had the same effect on you as they didn’t make you squirm as the others did, but instead every time you tip-toed past his corner office and he so much as offered you a glance, you felt yourself spiral into a blushing mess and morphed into nothing short of a flustered schoolgirl.

Numerous scorching trays of coffee were nearly dropped, sentences embarrassingly stumbled through, as well as many other minor casualties in the carnage created when the lawyer would flash you a rare smile. 

But when December rolled around, and you found yourself at the annual holiday party, you should have looked up when you sauntered up to him to wish him a merry Christmas, as the dried twig of mistletoe above was swiftly made more than apparent to the both of you as every inebriated colleague surrounding you both grew rowdy, pressuring you till your lips met one another. 

The kiss may have begun as forced and hesitant, but soon it morphed into something much stronger than anything they served at the open bar, causing you both to forget your own names as the buzzing party from around you melted away till it was just the two of you in the office. As the heated kiss broke and you remained incredibly close, blinking back at one another, a heavenly curve found your lips as he gazed down upon you as if he was mere moments away from tossing you over his shoulder and hauling you into his office to have his way with you, not caring one bit about the lack of privacy the fronted glass provided. 

But just as your heart swelled in your chest, rumbles in the crowd swiftly broke it into a million tiny little pieces.

“Oh damn! Interns, they’re trouble. Just don’t tell your wife, Barnes! I know you’re new to that whole concept, what–, has it already been a whole month since the wedding?” 

“Yeah, here’s a lesson for you,” a different man shouted through his laugh, “what happens at the office, stays at the office! Not really a good idea to take the fun and games back home to the missus.”

You almost quit a whole month before the opportunity was supposed to come to an end but couldn’t, as the mere thought of not seeing his face every day any longer somehow shattered your heart even further. 

But one day, as you felt yourself drowning in the torture, Peter, a guy close to your own age showed up in the lobby, waiting for someone he knew at the firm. As his wait drew out and the minutes neared an hour, every ounce of his attention remained glued upon you. In an effort to mend your own heart, you decided that flirting back with him wasn’t the worst method to test out. However, it wasn’t till you began to move on and you actually fell for the sweet guy from the lobby that your world came crumbling down around you. 

The first time that Peter had invited you back to his home, as soon as you walked through the door, the truth of the relation between your newly minted boyfriend and the man, who at that time hadn’t been your boss any longer for a few weeks, was instead tossed in your face like a bucket of ice water. 

Mr Barnes turned out to be the rich asshole Peter’s mom had fallen for earlier that year, the one he often couldn’t hold his own tongue to grumble about as he hadn’t yet warmed up to the new father figure in his life. 

And that was how you got stuck in the bittersweet reality you now lived in. There was no way you could end things with Peter as he was the most wonderful boyfriend you’d ever had and whom you’d genuinely grown to love. But that wasn’t the only reason why you couldn’t do it, since if you were to let him go, then you would also have to let go of Mr Barnes, even if he was just a harrowing haunting of a hopeless dream. 

The house was completely silent as every soul within it slumbered, everyone except for you as plain beige wrapping paper crackled gently beneath the silk bow you tightened over it. You’d slipped into an office, that stood on the opposite side of the upstairs to where the cluster of bedrooms were, to secretly wrap up the handful of gifts you’d hidden at the very bottom of the bag you’d brought with you.

Though just as you sliced a pair of scissors through the paper to cut off a piece for the last present, a small bump suddenly echoed throughout the dark home. 

Getting up from your makeshift workstation on the floor, you peeked out into the dim hallway. Your slow steps caused the floorboards to groan as you took a look around, even casting a glance down the staircase to the entryway that bloomed below, before the noise found your ears once more, snapping your attention to somewhere deeper down one of the shadowy corridors.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you crept closer to the latch you now noticed was open. Ladder unfurled, the abyss of the attic loomed above you and sent a shiver down your spine. 

But then as a broad figure suddenly appeared in the opening, you couldn’t help but let out a shuttering yelp, even after you’d recognised the man whom your sudden shriek startled. 

“Mr Barnes!” your palm soared up to your pounding heart, “I thought you were a ghost or a burglar or something! What in the world are you doing up there?”

Ascending the ladder, you noticed the heavy box he balanced in his arms, “I was just getting some decorations for the tree,” he huffed as you caught your breath, reminding you of the still bare pine tree that stood down in the living room. 

“Right, I forgot that’s the plan for tomorrow,” you murmured as you spun around on your heel. Though as you entered the office once more, a glance over your shoulder led you to discover his shadow, “what are you doing?” you asked in a small voice as he followed you into the room. 

“This is my study,” he tilted his head as if that was common knowledge. 

“Oh,” you breathed, “I didn’t know,” and glanced down at the gifts you’d left on the floor, “sorry, I’ll go somewhere else.”

But just as you bent down to gather up your supplies, his deep voice crackled from behind you, “no need, make yourself at home,” he sat down the box before rummaging through it, taking out a few of the delicate ornaments before only tangles of twinkle lights were visible in the container, “I’ll only be a second.” 

Kneeling down beside the electrical socket closet to the door, he then began to check all of the lights, one by one, making sure none of the tiny bulbs were dead. 

And as you returned your hazy attention to the last of your remaining gifts, Mr Barnes then once again filled the silent office with his low tone, “…look, I–…” he hesitantly started, keeping his ocean stare glued to the ground, “you deserve an apology,” he exhaled heavily, “I don’t know what came over me earlier. It was wrong, completely inappropriate, and I can’t believe I let it happen.”

Blinking up at him as he refused to lift his gaze, a quiet, “oh…” shuttered out past your lips as his apology only broke your heart further. It, of course, hadn’t been ideal the way that he’d taken advantage of the unfortunate situation he’d found you in, but that doesn’t mean it hadn’t been a dream come true for you, complicated as it may have been. 

“Kiddo,” he sighed, “I understand completely if you don’t wanna spend Christmas here anymore. You just say the word, and I’ll make the arrangements for you to go back home.”

“Is that what you want?” you heard yourself utter, “for me to go?” 

Finally meeting your gaze, a crinkle found his dark brows, “…what I want can only cause harm…”

As you lost yourself in the ocean of his blue eyes, you whispered almost dreamily, “…do you still remember?” you felt your lips tingle at the memory as you slowly rose back up to your feet, “because up till today I had convinced myself that you were too drunk that night to recall…”

Shifting his gaze, Bucky then let out an exhale, “kid…” the single syllable carrying a gentle whisp of warning. 

“Or is it just normal for you to kiss interns under the mistletoe,” you couldn’t help but go on, “especially like that?”

“No,” he finally murmured as his head found a slow rock from side to side, “it isn’t,” though swiftly met your stare to caution, “and I’d hold my tongue if I were you before you say something that you shouldn’t.”

“Like what?” you breathed, “the truth?” 

“Stop,” he squeezed his eyes shut as his head faintly shook, “you’re my stepson’s girlfriend.”

“That’s true…” you averted your gaze to where your fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, “but he wasn’t the one that I fell for first… the one that I still can’t seem to get over…”

Your eyes then found one another for a split moment, locking with each other for a single breath before Bucky’s feet began to shift and he crossed the room. Catching your face in his wide palms, he then crashed his lips against your own. 

Your heels instinctively levitated off the ground, lifting you up closer to his towering height as he kissed you like he’d just come home from some mystical war. 

A sigh softly seeped out of your nose and tickled the grey that speckled his beard as you felt his starved tongue silkily sweep against your own. 

But just as the intoxicating taste of him weakened your knees, he tilted his chin and cut the kiss short. Blinking up at him as he kept your jaw in his grasp, you breathed, “Mr Barnes–”

“What the fuck am I doing–,” a faint whisper seeped through his sigh, “I’m going to hell for this…”

“So then stop,” the sound of your small voice beckoned his gaze to find your own, “if you don’t want me the way that I want you,” your fingers tangled in his tie, “just stop and go back to bed with your wife…”

“…I didn’t–…” he hesitantly began, “I didn’t expect to meet someone like you, especially not right after I’d gotten married,” his eyes stayed locked with your own, “I thought I’d finally figured it all out, and then there you were, all fresh-faced, sticking out like a sore thumb among all the suits…” the corner of his lips briefly twitched into a faint smile at the memory, “you turned my world upside down,” his fingers on the side of your face flexed gently as he uttered that declaration, “after you stopped working there, I–… I damn near almost quit myself… but then Peter brought back his new girl, and seeing you again, even if it was just a glimpse every once and a while, it was like I could breathe again.” 

Blinking up at him, dizzy from his honied words, your fingers tangled in his tie, then tightened, and you tugged him far enough down for your lips to lock once again.

Swiftly, his feet began to absentmindedly shuffle till your hips bumped into the edge of the polished desk that stood in the middle of the office. The bundle of forgotten Christmas lights were still glowing on the floor by the ajar door as your boyfriend’s stepfather let his broad hands scoop down over your body and pluck you up to sit on the table. 

It was the hold that you still had around the silky accessory knotted around his neck that caused him to slot in between your parted thighs, just a little tug was all it took for your knees to be needily grazing against his sides. Pulling on the tie, your lips didn’t stray from one another’s for but a moment as you undid the knot, let the fabric slip out from under his collar and tumble down onto the floor below. 

Though when his smouldering touches finally came to ignite against the softness of your tits through your sweater, a whimper tumbled out of your lungs and melted against his tongue, only narrowly getting muffled by his kiss as the sound threatened to fill up the entire room.  

“Shh,” he barely withdrew to hush, only tilted his head to catch a different angle before he dove back into your sweetness. 

“Sorry,” your murmur swiftly got swallowed by his pecks. 

But when his hands continued to rake across your form, making you feel like a flicking star that shot across the night sky, as his grip came down to dent your ass, it wasn’t just a soft whine that crawled up your throat, but a full on moan, as the manner he’d squeezed your curve had sent a tingling bolt straight to your throbbing clit. 

“You gotta be quiet.” 

“Shit,” you cursed as you heard it yourself, “sorry, sorry.”

This time you truly did try to keep your mouth shut, consciously biting your tongue as his burning hands nearly singed the clothes from your frame, but when his palm eventually snuck up the short hem of your skirt and slipped off the soaked panties that clung to your core, the sound that forced its way out of your body when his touch finally grazed through your dripping folds echoed into the night. 

And as soon as the moan tumbled off your lips, Bucky’s hand rapidly vanished from between your quaking thighs as he took a large step back. 

“You’re killing me here,” he groaned as he reached the opposite side of the room to plant his inked palm against the open door, shutting it as he leaned his weight into it, “you’ll wake up the whole house,” the fingers still clutching your underwear caught the lock and flicked it to the side. 

“I’m sorry,” you dug your nails into the polished wood you were balanced on, “I swear I’m trying to be quiet, I really am.”

“Well, not good enough,” he glanced back over his shoulder at where you sat before his vision flickered down to land upon the ribbon only half tied around the last of the presents you’d wrapped. His expression then softened as he slowly picked his stride up once more, “…but, I think I might be able to help…” on his way to where you were seated, he bent down to snatch up the loose strand still not fastened around the wrapped box, and when he stood before you once again, Bucky’s gaze fluttered to your mouth as he then uttered, “open up,” before you parted your lips for him. Your eyes swiftly grew as he first fed you the cotton of your panties before he wrapped the emerald silk ribbon around the stuffed opening and tied it off at the back of your head, “there,” he purred as he pulled on the small bow at the nape of your neck, “that’ll shut you up. Now where were we? Right! It was somewhere around here,” his word was emphasised by his touch as it slipped back up under your skirt, though this time when the broad pads of his fingers slipped through your glistening petals, your purrs were completely muffled against the makeshift gag. 

As his touch tickled at your core and caused your legs to quiver at either side of him, his face stayed close to your own, nose denting your hot cheek as his breath fanned against your skin. He even stayed that close as he began to strip you of your clothing, tossing it all to the floor till you were sitting before him wearing nothing but the bow he’d tied himself to keep you quiet.

Though as you shifted to mirror his actions, he stopped you just as you caught onto the zipper of his pants. 

“Na-ah-ah, kid,” he backed up just enough for the palpable tent in his trousers to disappear from your palm’s reach, “keep your hands to yourself. Be good, and then you’ll get your present.”

However, his whispered warning didn’t sink into your senses enough as barely any time passed before you stopped fighting the urge to touch him again. 

“What,” his chuckle washed over you as he captured your gaze, “don’t tell me you need to be tied up too?”

That notion sent a shiver down your spine before a smile poked out behind your gag as you playfully shrugged, your apparent approval causing Bucky’s light laugh to reappear in a second wave. 

Spinning around, the older man before you then grabbed the cord of glowing lights on the floor before stringing it along to where you were planted. First, he wrapped the vibrant strand of tiny bulbs around your wrists, tying them together in front of your body, before he tangled the remainder of the length around your torso, over your arms and all the way down to your waist. 

As he took a step back to admire his handiwork, that’s when he finally freed his dick, letting it spring forth from his pants as his stare licked up your bound visage. The strokes he swiftly offered himself were long and slow, making you press your thighs together as you watched, a yearnful whine vibrating against the cotton stuffing up your mouth. 

“Aw, do you want my cock?” he mocked as your constricted fingers instinctively tried to reach out for him. Closing the gap between you once again, with one hand, he scooped you closer to both the edge as well as the throbbing girth heavy in his palm, “you want this dick, huh?” he smirked before brushing the bulbous head through the drooling mess between your thighs. 

Your eyes fluttered as he nuzzled his hardness against your buzzing clit, though he somehow kept your stare captured in the intenseness of his own as he dragged the tip through your petals, making them part for him. It seemed like ages that he went between teasing your leaky entrance to sweeping up and flicking at your puffy pearl, though gradually each time he’d near your little hole, crying out for him to sink into, he dipped inside just a tiny bit, each time granting you more of his length till his heavy balls were nuzzled against your slick skin. 

His lips pressed against your cheek, kissing it softly as his girth split you open. A slick symphony echoed throughout the room each time his hips slammed against your own, and as your own cries were hushed, it was only the sinful sound of that, as well as Mr Barnes’ heavy breath and the occasional suppressed groans, that filled the office and lulled you into nothing short of a trance. 

With Bucky’s left hand that he had weaved into a clutch at the twinkle lights tangled at your front, the colourful glow illuminated the dark tattoos that marked up the back of it and caught your hazy gaze as he then tipped you over and layed you back down against the desk, his ruthless rhythm never faulting for a second. 

And as you layed there before him, the both of you creeping ever near to that inevitable end, you watched as his eyes drifted down your frame. From where the string of lights squished against the softness of your boobs, to where he spread your thighs apart further, letting him spot just how perfectly his fat girth sank into you, till finally settling on the dull bulge just above your glistening pussy. The imprint of his daunting size rocking within you, illuminated just sufficiently enough by the string of glimmering lights for his eyes to spot, bloomed a bright grin on his features and caused his hips to snap, feverously slamming his cock so deep inside of you that the tightly wound coil within you had no other choice but just to let go in a burst of vibrant hues. 

Once his length was throbbing inside of you and pumping you full of his cum, breathlessly he removed the gag, though barely let you fill your lungs with air before he locked his lips against your own, both of your smiles blurring the kiss with giggles as you made out sweetly. 

As Peter’s figure appeared behind you in the doorway to the little bathroom that shot off his room, his frame abrupted the bright morning light that streamed in through the window. 

Still only clad in a borrowed shirt, the hem rose up as you bent down over the sink to spit out the toothpaste foaming in your mouth, but just as you did, a quiet click revealed your boyfriend’s presence behind you. 

Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted the Polaroid camera, that you’d remembered to bring from your dorm room, firm in his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you muttered as you rinsed off your toothbrush. 

“Just growing my collection,” he smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he wafted the small photo the camera had spit out. 

“Hey, I brought that for capturing memories,” you snatched it back as you passed him, “not using all the film for nudes,” before bending down and stuffing it back into your bag. 

The lump of guilt that ached in your chest nearly persuaded you to spill everything to Peter long before you both got dressed and descended the stairs. 

Should you even tell him what had happened and hope for the best or had you just backed yourself into a corner so impossible that you had no other choice but to break things off with him? If that truly was so, then you couldn’t do it yet, not now, at least wait until January if that was the only option. 

Though as soon as you both entered the kitchen, the visage of Bucky fiddling with the coffee machine caused the unbearable knot to slowly melt away the longer that you gazed at him. 

“Hi Honey,” Peter’s mother came sauntering in from the dining room and flashed her son a smile before diving into a drawer for some cutlery on her mission to set up the breakfast table, “did you two sleep well last night?” 

“Yeah, I was out like a light,” your boyfriend uttered before his glance flickered to you, “this one however didn’t come to bed till really late.”

“Oh, did you have trouble falling asleep?” his mom found your eye. 

“Uhm, no,” your glance momentarily flickered to the broad back before the coffee machine, “I just–, uh, I was wrapping presents. Hope it’s okay that I borrowed some paper and stuff.”

“Of course,” she smiled, “if you want a caffeine boost, there’s a fresh pot of coffee,” and nodded in the direction of her husband, “and the mugs are up there.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m actually more of a tea drinker.”

“Well, we have some of that as well,” she tilted her head before crossing into the dining room once again, “take a look in the pantry.” 

Slipping down the narrow path between the central kitchen island and the line of counters, your body brushed against Bucky’s as you passed before crossing into the small storage room. Though as your gaze scanned the stocked shelves before you, a crinkle found your brow. 

“Wait, where is it?” your quiet voice seeped out of the pantry. 

“Up over the shelf where the cans are,” Peter tried to guide you before his stepfather shot him a glance. 

“I’ll help,” he murmured, “she’s probably too short to reach it anyway.”

You didn’t even have to peek over your shoulder to find out he was there as just the warmth of his presence radiating off of him was enough to cause your eyes to flutter closed and your lungs to be filled with a deep breath. Though when he pressed his wide frame against your spine, his low exhale seeping into your soul, a dull throb between your thighs bloomed as an underlying beat to his palms he then let glide over your waist before one shot up to tilt your chin and he craned his neck to plant a kiss to your lips. 

“Did you find it?” Peter’s voice from on the other side of the thin wall caused you to fumble away from his stepdad, nearly knocking over half the contents on one of the shelves at the jolt. 

“Yep! Yeah!” you squeaked, scrambling before Bucky reached above you, plucked a small box off a shelf, and placed the random tea in your fumbling hands, “I’ve–, uhm, yeah!” before you shuffled back out into the kitchen, “water, water…” you murmured as your eyes scanned the space. 

“Over there,” your boyfriend nodded to the electric kettle in the corner before he carried the stack of plates in his hands into the dining room. 

And as you boiled the water and brewed the tea, every chance Mr Barnes got to follow his heart, he grasped with both of his fists. If the others had momentarily stepped out of the room, or even if they’d just turned to face away, there he was at your side, suddenly much closer than what was appropriate for a parental figure of one’s partner to be. If he had the time, his touch would sneak down to tickle you over your clothes, or occasionally his lips would even find your neck and make you too dizzy to even care how risky his behaviour was.  

It even continued long after you’d joined the rest at the dining table as the last two seats remaining were slotted right next to one another, though this time, now that he had the table as a cover, the cocky bastard let his hand grow even more daring than before. 

When his touch teasingly travelled up your thigh before boldly darting straight to his goal and making you nearly choke on your herbal tea as he pressed down on the seam of your jeans, rubbing your throbbing clit through the rough fabric.

“Are you alright?” Peter’s mother cut off what she’d been blabbering about as you almost spit out the hot beverage. 

“Mhm,” you hastily nodded, attempting to keep a straight face as Bucky’s inked fingers kept up their bullying between your thighs, “just burned my tongue,” the mug met the table in a soft thunk, “I’m fine,” you breathed shakily and kept your gaze glued to the piece of toast on the plate before you. 

“Oh, well, blow on it next time,” she said before returning to the topic the secrets beneath the breakfast table had interrupted, “so, what do we think,” she sank her fork into a piece of orange, “should we head off to the Christmas market today or do that a different day?” 

The scent of warm spices wafted through the air from the cluster of booths, selling every scrumptious festive treat imaginable, right next to the windy entrance to a pen where children could ride some sturdy ponies from a local farm. 

“What if we all split up for a while?” Peter’s mother suggested as you all eyed the handcrafted goods displayed by the many snow-dusted stalls, “I know I may or may not have already spotted a few things I wanna buy in secret.”

“Good idea,” your boyfriend nodded as he let go of your mitten-clad hand, “should we meet back here in, what–, half an hour?” he gestured up to the grand Christmas tree, glowing in the centre of the market. 

“Sure,” Bucky’s voice rumbled, “then we can grab a bite afterwards.”

His stolen touches hadn’t become less bold after you’d left the house. From purposefully letting his palm graze against your boob when he’d helped you reach for your seatbelt in the car, to the numerous times at the market he’d yanked you around the corner of a rustic booth to steal a kiss. 

“You know,” Bucky’s voice suddenly tickled the shell of your ear as he found you standing before the line of small children, all waiting for a chance to meet the market’s Santa, “when I get you alone,” he whispered as your eyes lingered on the elderly man in the distance, all clad in red, “you can sit down on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas…”

“Oh yeah?” the corners of your lips tipped up into a smile, “will you also ask me if I’ve been naughty or nice?”

“Well, I already know the answer to that,” he chuckled before twisting you around to face him. 

The gentle giggle that billowed out from your lungs was swiftly silenced as the older man bent down to press a kiss to your lips. 

“Wait,” you suddenly pushed him back as the exposed nature of where you stood sank in, “not here,” and your eyes swiftly darted around the crowd in hopes that they wouldn’t land on anyone you knew, “someone might see.”

Snatching up his hand, you then tugged him with you as you crossed over the small square. Passing by a small ice-skating rink, your snow-crunching steps eventually led you into the maze-like wonder that was the Christmas tree lot. 

Soon, the make-out that blossomed between the dense pines snowballed into you on your knees, on the cold and needle-covered ground, with Bucky’s girth twitching in your grasp as you tilted your head to plant a sloppy trail of pecks down his heavy balls. 

If he hadn’t riled you up all morning, then you probably wouldn’t have desperately kneeled down before him in the middle of a crowded space, just because he’d made your brain melt so fiercely that your mouth itched to be used. That or perhaps you would still have found your way here on your own if he hadn’t given you a push, after all, it had been you who had simply told him to be on lookout before you snatched off one mitten, sank down in front of him and, without any further warning, freed his fat cock. 

As you let go of his sack with a pop, before you could crane back up to swallow his length, Bucky briefly bent down to steal a sloppy kiss before letting you get back to it, though when he broke the peck, a string of saliva keeping you connected a moment as he straightened back up, a soft frown tainted your features as you blinked up at him. 

“You stole all my spit,” you pouted as his lavish tongue had managed to lick up most of the gathered slickness you’d wished to glisten up his dick with. 

“Sorry,” a soft chuckle rumbled within his broad chest as he bowed down to grasp your chin. Prying your lips apart, he then let a dollop of his own saliva drop down and land upon your silky tongue. 

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as they wrapped around his thick girth. Marvelling up at him as you found a playful pace, he only granted himself a rare peek between his neck twisting from side to side, vigilantly keeping an eye out as you sucked him off. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as your drool gurgled up your bobbing. Lips ever parted, his fingers sneaked down to tangle themselves in your hair, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” he slowly brought your head back till only the tip stayed warm within your mouth, “though knowing you, you probably wouldn’t even pause if someone actually did wander this way,” a short hiss of pleasure flowed out of his lungs as your tongue silkily traced the bulbous head, “even if it was your little boyfriend, you’d probably just yank down his fly so you could choke on his cock as well…”

Squinting up at the dried orange slices strung up and decorating the living room window, you let out a contemplating hum before it morphed into an idea, “we could watch a movie?” 

“Ah,” Peter exhaled next to you on the couch, “I don’t know… what if we went for a walk? It just stopped snowing.”

“No, I don’t really have the energy left for that,” you shrugged, “plus it’ll be dark soon… I kinda just wanna take it easy the rest of today and eat as many of those cookies your mom’s baking while they’re still hot.” 

Glancing over his shoulder at the doorway leading into the kitchen, Peter then nodded, “alright, sure. We could put on some music or something.” 

“Uh!” an idea then stuck you and lit up your gaze, “and we could play a board game, or even better, do a jigsaw puzzle! Do you think you have one?” your body tilted a bit closer, “you have one, right?”

“I think we have more than one,” he cocked his head and got up from the couch, “how hard do you want it?”

“Pretty hard, but also not like impossible,” you breathed, “it would be nice if we finished it before the new year.”

“Alright, I’ll go find one,” his feet began to drag across the hardwood floor, “you go gather provisions. I think I just heard the timer in the kitchen go off.”

A gasp swiftly flowed out of you as you rushed to rise to your feet, “cookies!” before you darted along, leaving Peter to a soft chuckle as he went out into the entryway and popped open the large closet. 

Though as he slipped inside and shifted to switch on the lightbulb dangling above, near the top shelf that carried all of the games, his elbow collided with a few of the coats on the row of hangings off to the side, unfortunately knocking some of them to the ground. Among the casualties were both yours as well as Bucky’s, though when the jackets came tumbling down, a few items also came pouring out of the pockets. 

Glancing down at the polaroids at his feet, even though the backsides were staring up at him, Peter still assumed that they’d fallen out of your pocket. Plucking them up into his grasp, a smirk swiftly curved his lips as he flipped over the short stack to reveal the familiar visage of your nude form. And the deeper into the small pile he got, the more explicit they became. 

But when he reached one that captured you lying on your stomach and with your lips wrapped around a cock, the smile swiftly faded from his features as he caught sight of the hand that reached down from behind the camera to stroke your hair. His hand certainly didn’t have either a wedding ring nor a chillingly familiar tattooed pattern scrawled upon the skin. 

And as he shuffled the deck to reveal the last photo, his suspicions were confirmed as he was confronted with the visage of his stepfather railing you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom. The camera was in his one hand as he held your hazy gaze in the mirror, while the other one curved around to capture your tit, the soft peak decorated in droplets as you stuck out your tongue and let your drool drip down. 

And though confusion, rage and jealousy were the cocktail of emotions to first take over his body, the palpable tent in his jeans beckoned for his attention too and convinced him to take care of it, blindly pumping his dick till his load coated the photos in his palm. 

“Fuck…” he hissed as his stare stayed glued to the cum covered pictures, “…I guess I’ll need to have a little talk with my stepdad…”

“The whole house all to ourselves… however shall we pass the time?” 

Your giggle bounced off the kitchen tile as you hopped up to sit upon one of the counters, only moments after both Peter and his mother had driven off to do some last-minute holiday shopping. 

Leaning back against the kitchen island, Bucky crossed his arms over his burly chest and smiled, “I have a feeling that we’ll think of something to do.”

And that was how you ended up moaning on either sides of the kitchen. 

Though he only loosened his tie, popped open the first few buttons of his shirt and undid his belt to free his cock, you tore off everything except for the red lingerie your clothes unwrapped for him to see and led him to beg for the sheer mesh to stay clinging on your skin while you let your fingertips dip into the waistband. 

But before either of you could finish, the older man snatched you off the counter and hauled you into the living room. 

And as you both stood there, his arms around you keeping your dizzy form upright as he kissed you feverishly, his head then tilted back, a blooming smirk on his lips, before he uttered, “I have an idea…”

The idea in question involved his silky tie being secured over your eyes, a proposal you of course jumped at to outlive. 

Though as you stood there, one of your senses dulled as Bucky’s touch fluttered across your form, the smattering of pecks and caresses had you floating away to some far-off realm. In the blissful fog of it all, you lost track of his touch and swore on occasion that it didn’t add up, as sporadic kisses were planted in places not plausible from where you thought he stood, or his wide hands even seemed as if they weren’t just one pair. 

And as you tried to connect the dots, your fingers fluttered up to push the makeshift blindfold up to your forehead, and the visage that met your eyes promptly caused them to grow wide. 

“Peter!” you gasped as you came face to face with not only Bucky, but also your boyfriend, “I–, I–”

“Hey babe,” he simply breathed as both his own and his stepfather’s touch faded from your half-naked form. 

“Peter,” your heart hammered in your chest as tears began to blur your vision, “I am so so sorry. I–, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah? So you’re not sneaking around with my stepdad behind my back?” he kept your gaze captured in his, “baby, it’s–,” a sigh broke up his sentence, “I was about to say that it’s alright, but–,” a dry chuckle then bubbled out of his throat as it obviously wasn’t okay, before he then shook his head and got to the point, “we had a little chat, Bucky and I.”

“…you did?” you finally shifted your glance and let it flicker to Mr Barnes. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “we came up with a little arrangement so that we’d all get what we want.”

“So now all you gotta do is just tell the truth,” Peter’s fingers floated up to tug a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “did you just use me to get to him? Was anything about our relationship real?” he asked in a soft and sombre tone. 

“It was, it is,” you swore as you raised up your own palm to graze over his that still lingers by your jaw, “I may have lied to you about certain things, but my feelings for you were never one of them.”

“Okay…” your boyfriend’s head slowly began to rock in a nod. As he let you lace your fingers in with his own, another question left his lips, “so, do you think that heart of yours is big enough for the both of us?” 

Your vision then widened before it shifted between both of the men standing before you, “…are you suggesting–”

“Only if you want to,” Bucky tilted his head and awaited your answer. 

“I–,” you gasped as a grin slowly grew upon your lips, “oh my god!” and an uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of you. 

“Is that a yes?” Peter asked, his hand still in yours. 

“Yes! Yes, of course, it is!” you beamed before throwing your arms around him and crashing your lips against his own, only moments before you shifted to mirror the action with the older man still by your other side.

And as the kiss you pressed to Bucky’s lips stretched and drew out, it suddenly broke when he abruptly tossed you down to lay across the plush couch behind you. As he slotted in between your parted thighs and clutched the red mesh to the side in order to finally grant himself some of the sugar you’d teased him with moments before, your head sloped over the armrest before Peter appeared above you and bent down to claim your lips in a kiss to muffle the whine that flowed from them just as his stepdad stretched your open. 

Momentarily, Bucky plucked your hips up off the couch and drove them to meet his own, fucking you like a toy, before he let you drop back down and joined you on the sofa. 

And as the older man between your thighs spread them wider and granted himself the perfect view of how his staggering girth disappeared in your fluttering pussy, your boyfriend above you slid a hand under your head and tilted it closer to the length throbbing in his fist. 

Tapping his cock against your moan, it didn’t take long before he was buried in your mouth, each greedy thrust bringing him further down your throat till the imprint of his cock bulged in your neck. 

“That’s impressive,” Bucky commented on the way the younger man fucked your face, “why haven’t you shown me that party trick yet?” he hummed as Peter roughly yanked his dick back out and granted you the chance to catch your breath. 

Seizing the moment, Bucky flipped you around before your mouth could be filled once again, tossing you onto your knees and letting your forearms crash to the armrest, your head nearly falling face-first into Peter’s lap, lending him to catch you as he flashed the man behind you a grin, “you know that she does anal too, right?” 

A low groan then flowed from Bucky’s lungs as he let his broad thumb sweep across your little rosebud, “does she now…”

“Yep,” Peter grunted proudly, “she might even let us fuck both of her pretty holes at once if we’re real nice. She’s let me do that before with toys.”

“Of course she has,” Bucky chuckled lowly as he eased his fat cock back inside, “what do you say, kid? It is Christmas after all, I think we deserve something special.”

“I–, uhm,” you tried your best to answer him through the ecstasy they tossed you into, “sure.” 

“Attagirl,” Bucky croaked as his heavy balls tapped messily against your puffy pearl, “do you wanna pick who gets what honour?”

But before you could squeak out an answer, Peter instead uttered, “or we could make it a game, let you try and guess,” as his touch travelled up to tug at the blindfold still resting atop your brow. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

thinking about tutor!nerd!peter coming to your house for another study session… but things get steamy and he’s so gentle and mocks and coos at you with faux sympathy but he loves making you go all dumb and squirm for him…

——-

“oh dear..” he cooed at you softly as you perched up on your elbows to look down at where he was at the edge of your bed, fingers ghosting the pillows of your thighs. peter looked up at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose as you parted your legs more, letting him see whatever he wanted from under your skirt. he peered his head down, as if he were investigating, a smirk on his face.

“looks like you made a lil mess here angel. this all for me?” he asked gently, coaxing little noises out of you as his thumb pressed down on your clit through your panties, fingers circling the little wet patch. instead of studying calcus, like you had originally planned with peter as your tutor, now he was studying what touches made different noises. little gasps, or moans, or even silent little pleas that you squeaked out from his touch as he teased you, coming up to pin you down on the bed, hand never leaving its position between your legs. “you’re such a smart girl baby. but when i touch you, you go all dumb. why’s that hm?”

you moaned as he moved his hand away from your cunt and came up to pop his thumb between your lips, letting you suck greedily- little bits of drool coating his digit. “all dumb up n here eh? just need daddy to make you feel all good yea? do all the thinking for you.. my silly little girl.”

i’m going insane goodnight