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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 4 days ago

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YES BILLY I LOVE YOU

Gate B17.

pairing — billy hitchcock x fem! reader

summary — you and billy really wanna join the mile high club, but oh noo the flight is delayed… good thing the airport bathroom is open though.

warnings — 18+, unprotected sex, p in v, public sex, making out, cursing, on the sink, mirror sex, french kissing, he talks A LOT during the nasty

a/n — a request from @fapqueen <33

And there you were… Gate B17, a half-empty terminal lit in soft fluorescent doom. Somewhere between LAX and your vacation dreams. Billy’s bouncing his leg like the plane’s late just to spite him. And your skirt’s not exactly helping.

Billy’s sprawled across those cheap plastic airport seats, hoodie haphazardly slung around his shoulders, one hand clutching a drink he doesn’t even remember gettinh. His other arm’s looped around your waist, clinging like a koala that’s two seconds from passing out.

And he’s sulking. Full lip-jutted, wide-eyed sulk mode.

“They said boarding at ten,” he mutters, shooting another look at the monitor blinking DELAYED in big, unapologetic letters. “It’s eleven-freaking-twenty. I’ve aged. I’m gonna start college before this plane takes off.”

You lean into his side, pretending to check your flip phone, but mostly just enjoying the way his hand tightens on your waist every time your thigh brushes his. You’re in your little airport fit; skirt, tank top, lip gloss still sticky sweet. He’s been struggling to focus since TSA.

“Billy,” you say, slow and teasing, “you know once we’re on that plane, you’ve got a mission to complete.”

He blinks at you like a cat who’s just heard the treat bag crinkle.

“Mission?”

You glance around. Terminal’s still mostly empty, a few bleary-eyed passengers dozing, some Karen yelling at a gate agent across the hall.

Then you lean in, your lips brushing his ear.

“You. Me. Tiny airplane bathroom. Altitude. Physics-defying activities.”

He lets out this broken, fragile little sound. “You’re evil.”

“I’m giving you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“You said it was a once-an-a-always-time. Like—like a bucket list thing.” His voice cracks on ‘bucket.’

You smirk, eyes glittering. “And yet... we're grounded.”

He groans, flopping backward across the seat, knees twitching. “God is punishing me.”

You nudge his shoulder. “For what?”

“For wanting to do the nasty at 36,000 feet with my hot girlfriend,” he grumbles, eyes half-lidded. “Is that so wrong? Is that not patriotic?”

You stifle a laugh. “You think doing me in an airplane bathroom is patriotic?”

He sits up fast. “There’s a flag in there, babe. It’s like... government-sanctioned.”

You’re wheezing now, biting your lip to keep from cackling.

Then he glances toward the empty hallway leading to the bathrooms and leans in close, whispering against your cheek, “We don’t need a plane to start the mission, though…”

You raise a brow. “You’re suggesting we christen the airport bathroom instead?”

His smile turns feral. “You ever seen those family restrooms? Whole room. Lock. Ventilation. Sink.”

“Billy.”

“I’m just saying, babe. God closes a gate, He opens a stall.”

And just like that, you’re yanking him up by the sleeve, both of you giggling like high schoolers sneaking out of detention, slipping toward the hallway with his hoodie barely disguising the chaos in his eyes.

You pause outside the family restroom, fingers on the handle, Billy behind you with that too-big grin.

“You’re an idiot,” you whisper.

“Your idiot,” he replies.

Billy hits the lock with one shaky hand and you’ve already got your fingers tangled in his hoodie, yanking him forward like you’ve been starving for him. Your bodies crash together in a tangle of lips, limbs, and adrenaline, his back slamming against the door with a muffled thud.

He gasps into your mouth but you don’t give him a second to think. Your lips crush against his, fast and full of teeth, all heat and hunger. He makes this sound, half-moan, half-whimper, as your tongue brushes his, his hands landing wild on your hips like he doesn’t know what to grab first.

“Holy—” he mumbles between kisses, “this is—insane—you’re insane—I love you—”

“Shut up,” you murmur against his lips, dragging your nails down the front of his hoodie.

And he does. For once in his life, Billy Hitchcock shuts up because your mouth is back on his, and you’re kissing him like it’s your only job. You shift your weight, pressing your knee between his thighs just enough to make him twitch, his breath stuttering as his hands grip tighter, sliding up your back and under your top.

Your bodies grind together in frantic rhythm, hips rolling, lips bruising, and it’s hot—not just physically, but in that all-consuming way, like you’ve both been waiting for this moment since the day you met. Every kiss is messy, desperate, like he’s trying to taste every single word you’ve ever said to him.

You pull back just long enough to smirk, licking your bottom lip. “Get me on the sink, Hitchcock.”

His jaw drops. “You—you wanna sit on the—”

You grab a fistful of his hoodie and spin the both of you, backing up until your thighs bump against the cold porcelain. You hop up like it’s nothing, spreading your legs with just enough of a slow, teasing flair to make his breath catch.

“Now get in here,” you whisper, voice a velvet threat.

Billy steps between your legs like a man walking into traffic, half-aware, fully willing. His hands find your thighs, then your waist, pulling you flush against him, and his mouth is back on yours in an instant. His hips press forward between yours, barely restrained, like he’s fighting the urge to absolutely lose it right here and now.

Your back arches slightly, lips parting again, your hand fisting the collar of his hoodie as he kisses you deeper. The sink is cold beneath your thighs, but everything else is heat—his breath, his tongue, the tremble in his hands as they slide up under your top, groping your breasts.

You moan softly into his mouth, and he makes this desperate, broken noise, pulling back just enough to look at you, his hair wild, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen.

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he breathes.

You drag your finger down the center of his chest, smirking. “Then die like a legend.”

He leans in again, kissing you so hard your head tips back, your spine pressing to the mirror behind the sink. His hands are everywhere now; your thighs, your waist, your jaw.

You’re all smudged eyeliner and parted lips, legs wrapped around his waist, owning every inch of the moment like you planned it all the second you bought the plane tickets.

It starts with his hands under your top; hot, frantic, thumbs skating over your ribs like he can’t decide where to touch first. You’re kissing again, deep and molten, your arms looped around his neck as you drag him closer by the collar of his hoodie. His lips are swollen, breath ragged, and when you nip at his bottom lip with a smirk, he just melts right into you.

“Shirt,” you pant against his mouth, and he doesn’t even question it.

He grabs the back of his hoodie, tugging it over his head in one clumsy motion that ruffles his curls and leaves him breathless. You help him with the T-shirt underneath, hands skimming his chest as it goes flying somewhere near the baby-changing station. He’s warm and flushed and looking at you like you just dropped from heaven onto his lap.

Then his hands are back on you.

He tugs your top up with a groan, lips catching yours again before it’s even off, and you giggle into the kiss—clothes getting stuck halfway, both of you laughing, panting, fumbling like this isn’t the millionth time you’ve been undressing each other. The second your top’s gone, he’s pressing kisses down your neck, all open-mouthed and desperate, like he needs to feel your skin under his lips or he’ll combust.

“God,” he mumbles against your collarbone, “how are you real—how are you real right now?”

“Billy,” you warn, grinning, tugging at his belt now.

“What?” he says, eyes wide, breath shaky. “I’m just saying you look like a fantasy and I’m—ow! Okay, okay!”

You’ve unbuttoned his jeans with a smirk and pinched his side for dramatic effect.

Then he’s kissing you again. Every piece of clothing that comes off is followed by another kiss. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he leans in, your lips parting for him automatically, and his hands are at your hips, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt.

You gasp into his mouth as he lifts you just enough to slide your underwear down, his fingers trembling, his lips chasing yours again like he can’t stand the thought of not kissing you while he undresses you. You kick them off, your legs tightening around his waist again as you yank his jeans down, his boxers following with a flick of your fingers.

“Okay,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours, “this is—the hottest I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Just so we’re clear.”

You kiss him again, fingers tangled in his hair. “Good. Now shut up and finish what we started.”

And he does, hands firm as he lifts you up higher onto the sink. His hips press between yours again, and there’s nothing left between you now.

Then you turn around so you’re on your knees. Your palms hit the sink with a sharp little slap, the porcelain cold under your touch, but it’s nothing compared to the heat crawling up your spine. You look up and meet your own eyes in the mirror.

And behind you?

Billy’s frozen.

Absolutely wrecked by the view.

You’re bent forward, skirt pushed up high, your body perfectly arched and he’s standing there, jeans shoved halfway down, one hand on your waist like he’s trying to remember how his knees work.

“Holy—” he breathes, eyes glued to your reflection. “I’m—this is—oh my god.”

You smile at him in the mirror, lips curved like you know exactly what you're doing to him. “Something wrong, baby?”

He swallows hard, eyes flicking from your reflection to the way your hips sway just barely back into him. “I’m gonna pass out.”

You laugh before giving him a little arch, a tilt of your hips that has him physically shuddering. His hands slide up your sides, he leans in.

His chest brushes your back, mouth ghosting by your ear. His breath is ragged, his lips just barely brushing your skin as he exhales like he’s been holding it in for minutes.

“You ready?” he whispers.

You nod once, slow and sure, pushing your hips back in silent invitation. He groans and you feel him line up behind you, one shaky hand at your waist, the other guiding himself with the kind of reverence that makes your heart stutter.

And then he sinks his dick in.

The slide of skin against skin, dizzying and warm. Your breath catches. His grip tightens.

“Holy—” he chokes out, like the sensation short-circuits every thought in his brain. His fingers dig into your hips, and for a moment he just stays there inside you.

You glance at him in the mirror.

He’s already looking at you.

“Good?” you murmur, smug and breathless.

He laughs, half-moan, half-disbelieving gasp, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, voice cracking as he breathes, “So good.”

And then he moves.

Slow at first, just a roll of his hips, a drag of his hands down your sides, his lips pressing to your shoulder, your neck, your spine. But it builds; fast, needy, chaotic. One hand on your waist to steady you, the other bracing beside yours on the sink. Your eyes stay locked on your reflections in the mirror; him behind you, head down, jaw tight, hair wild. You, breathless and undone, mouth parted, knuckles white against the sink’s edge.

Your moans bounce off the tile, quiet but sharp, like little sparks in the heavy air.

“God,” he huffs, sweat damp at his temple, “you look so—so hot like this. You’re gonna kill me. I’m gonna die in an airport.”

You manage to laugh, just barely. “You’re complaining?”

“I’m—bragging,” he grits out, fingers digging into your hips now, eyes watching every reaction spill across your face in the mirror. “Look at you. Look at us.”

You do.

And it’s a sight.

The mirror fogs at the corners from your mingled breath, your bodies moving in a rhythm that’s all hips and helplessness, chaos and craving. He shifts slightly, changes the angle and your head tips back with a choked gasp, your eyes fluttering shut—

“Keep ‘em open,” he pants, voice all breath and heat. “I wanna—I gotta see—just… just keep ‘em open.”

But his rhythm stutters a second later, and the words keep tumbling out, unfiltered, so him.

“Jesus, look at that… That’s crazy. You’re—God, you’re makin’ faces and I’m not gonna survive this,” he groans, eyes glued to the mirror like it’s showing him his favorite movie in real time. “You look so hot I might die. Like—I’m serious—this is like, cardiac arrest levels of hot.”

Your laughter comes in gasps, legs shaking, arms barely keeping you up, and he grabs your hips like it’s instinct, like he thinks you’ll float away if he doesn’t anchor you there.

“Dude,” he whines under his breath, like he’s actually overwhelmed. “Dude, you’re killin’ me. Why do you look like that right now? Why is your face doing that? I can’t handle this—I can’t handle this!”

You try to sass him, toss something over your shoulder, but all that comes out is a moan and that does it.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, brain clearly short-circuiting, “you’re like—a video game cheat code. This isn’t even legal. This is—I’m gonna black out. I’m gonna straight up die in this airport.”

And then quieter, raw and too honest, like it slips out by accident:

“…You’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen. Like ever. And you’re letting me—this? Me? Right now? What is happening.”

Your grip on the sink tightens, knuckles white, arms trembling, as the rhythm builds to something reckless. You’re gasping and in the mirror, it’s all there: your flushed skin, his sweat-slick chest, the blur of his hair as he leans over you, his mouth open like he’s choking on every sound he can’t hold in.

“Shit—oh my god, babe—babe, I’m gonna—”

His voice breaks, and he lets out a sound that’s half-gasp, half-moan, high and ruined and so Billy, and then you feel him jerk forward, his body locking up behind you as he presses in deep. The mirror fogs hard, your reflection blurring just as your body starts to shake, a choked cry tumbling from your lips as you follow him over the edge of the orgasm.

Your back arches instinctively, your legs threatening to give out, and you swear you feel stars burst behind your eyes. The only thing keeping you grounded is his hand, tight on your hip, and the breathless way he whimpers your name like it’s the only thing he remembers.

“Holy—holy crap,” Billy huffs, forehead dropping to your shoulder, chest rising and falling against your back like he just sprinted a mile. “I—I think my soul just left my body.”

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to steady yourself on the edge of the sink as your heart hammers in your ears. “Yeah? Think you’re gonna make it?”

“No,” he groans dramatically. “Call the pilot. Tell him I can’t board the plane. I gotta be hospitalized. You just destroyedme.”

He eases out of you like he’s scared you’ll snap in half, hands tender now, fingertips skating over your hips like they’re his favorite possession. He pulls your skirt down with clumsy care, still dazed, still mumbling nonsense under his breath like “this is better than Disneyland” and “why do my legs feel like gelatin.”

He stares at you in the mirror as you fix your hair, awestruck and slightly unhinged. “You’re actually not real. You’re a government experiment. Some kind of perfect girlfriend weapon.”

You lean back into him with a satisfied little hum, kissing his cheek.

“And you,” you murmur, “are very lucky I like chaotic men with zero chill.”

Your bodies are still humming, nerves frayed and buzzing, when Billy leans back with a grin so dopey it borders on historic.

Then he throws up his hand.

“High five,” he says, breathless, triumphant, still panting. “C’mon. That was insane. We’re legendary.”

You blink at him, half-laughing, still struggling to catch your breath. “Are you serious—”

But of course you slap your hand into his anyway. Because you’re his girl, and this is exactly the kind of ridiculous moment the two of you were built for.

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 4 days ago

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billy shouldn’t have died

Chevy Cavalier 1997.

pairing — billy hitchcock x fem! reader

summary — you’re billy’s y2k it girl girlfriend.

warnings — 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex (both blow job and eating out), cursing, public sex, outdoor sex, you guys fuck on the hood of his car, he compares u to god at one point lmao, clothed sex

a/n — first billy fanfic i wrote!! hope he’s accurate personality wise <33

There’s a shimmer on the asphalt, molten patches of heat dancing like ghosts in the late afternoon sun. The parking lot outside Suncoast Video is nearly empty, save for a rusted-out vending machine humming like it's breathing and a few wayward shopping carts stranded like forgotten planets in the orbit of the shopping center.

Your platform sandals click lazily against the pavement as you walk, slow and sure, hips swaying like the beat of whatever Britney song is looping inside your head. Your crop top is a whisper of glittery mesh, clinging just enough to make Billy short-circuit when he thinks you're not looking. But oh, you always know when he’s looking.

And he is. Slumped against the hood of his mom’s beat-up Chevy Cavalier, a bag of sour gummy worms half-spilled in his lap, Billy stares like he’s watching a miracle in real time.

He’s in a faded baseball tee, sneakers dusty and unlaced. There's sweat on his temple, a curl of hair sticking stubbornly to his forehead. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, then tries to pretend like he didn’t just fumble the bag of candy for the third time. His whole posture says: I’m lucky she even knows my name.

But baby, you're not just his girl. You're the girl. The one with the butterfly clips that sparkle like tiny weapons in your hair. The one with cherry gloss lips and a closet full of every popular clothing piece popular in 1998–2000 and eyes that could make a boy forget his own damn name.

You lean against the car next to him, arms crossing under your chest just enough to make his throat catch. “You spacing out again?” you murmur, head tilted, voice laced with amusement. You don’t have to raise your voice; your presence is already loud enough to make the air tremble.

Billy blinks like he’s just remembered how to breathe. “Nah—I was, uh—just thinking about… how the sun, y’know… reflects off your hair. Like, kind of blinding. In a good way.”

You don’t answer right away. Just slide your hand along the warm metal of the car, fingers grazing his wrist. He shudders a little at the touch. It’s adorable. You live for it.

There’s a low hum of cicadas in the distance, a dog barking somewhere across the street, the occasional groan of a skateboard wheel over cracked concrete. The world feels like it's holding its breath around you.

Billy sits up a little straighter, trying to play it cool. He offers you a gummy worm, fingers smudged with sugar. “Want one?”

You lean in while looking him right into the eyes, let your glossed lips brush his knuckles as you grab it. His face goes beet red in an instant. It’s almost cruel how easy it is to fluster him but you never push too far.

The sky above is going lavender, streaked with tangerine and cotton-candy pink. Somewhere in the car, a mixtape is still playing, probably something dumb and sweet he burned for you: Third Eye Blind, maybe, or Smash Mouth if he was feeling brave.

Billy shifts again, this time sliding a hand along your thigh, tentative but desperate to anchor himself somewhere real. You don’t stop him.

“I still can’t believe you said yes to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head, eyes gleaming. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Oh, the way he looks at you then.

He leans in, not for a kiss, not yet, but just to rest his forehead against your temple. He smells like sun and sugar and the faint trace of the gas station cologne he always puts on when he’s trying to impress you. His breath catches against your cheek.

You let the silence stretch, long and golden, until it wraps around you both like summer air.

✧˚ · . ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · .

The Chevy Cavalier’s engine rattles like it’s just barely holding on but it moves, and that’s all that matters. Billy's hands are on the wheel, knuckles pale, one moment his eyes are on the road, the other flicking toward you when he thinks you won’t notice.

The sky outside is violet now, bleeding into navy at the edges. Streetlights flicker to life like fireflies caught in glass cages. You’ve kicked off your sandals and tucked your legs up on the seat, body twisted slightly toward him, your back resting against the passenger door.

His mixtape spins lazily in the stereo,  “Semi-Charmed Life” fading into “Crash Into Me” like the soundtrack of a dream you forgot you were having.

Billy reaches over, fingers tracing a line up the inside of your thigh like he’s not entirely sure if he’s dreaming. He glances at you, a quick, questioning look and you give him that little smirk, the one that says I own you and you love it.

“Where we going?” you ask, dragging out each word like you already know there’s no real answer.

Billy shrugs, eyes forward again. The wind from the half-cracked windows flutters your hair like a music video from 1998. “Nowhere,” he says. “Just… somewhere that isn’t here.”

You hum, lashes low. “Good. I hate here.”

He grins, nervous and proud all at once, like he just passed some invisible test. “Me too.”

The road curves, leading you both past the outskirts of town, past shuttered gas stations, fields soaked in moonlight, the rusted carcass of an old playground where ghosts of your childhoods still swing when no one’s looking. The city noise fades into crickets and the thrum of wheels on asphalt.

Your hand finds his on the gearshift, fingers tangling without ceremony. His thumb brushes yours in these soft little stutters. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t need to. He just drives, just touches, just burns in that quiet, trembling way that sneaks up on you.

And you? You're half-curled beside him like a wish he didn’t dare make out loud. Your head finds his shoulder as the car dips into a long, low stretch of road framed by trees. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of the tape flipping sides, the soft hitch in Billy’s breath, the way the road hums beneath the wheels like a lullaby for the lovesick.

You feel his lips brush the top of your head, feather-light, almost scared to exist. A kiss not meant to be seen. A prayer.

Your fingers curl tighter around his.

And for a moment it feels like you could drive forever. That if he just keeps the wheel steady and you keep breathing into the space between his heartbeat and the music, maybe nothing else will catch up.

Not time. Not reality. Not the end.

Just you and him.

The Chevy growls to a stop at the edge of the woods, headlights casting long shadows over wild grass and rustling leaves. Billy kills the engine, and the sudden silence feels thick, like the air just got heavier with whatever’s about to happen.

You swing the car door open and step out into the night like you own it. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you walk, the hem of your denim skirt catching the breeze, the chain around your hips catching the moonlight.

Billy’s slower to exit. Not because he’s unsure, he just needs a second. To breathe. To process.

Because you look like a damn fever dream under the stars, silhouetted in moonlight, a soft curve of danger and desire that keeps tugging at the part of him that never learned to play it cool.

He stands by the front of the car, nervously running a hand through his hair. “So, uh… what’s out here? Just trees and, uh… bugs? Maybe like, a serial killer or two?”

You smile—that smile. The one that says oh, baby, I’m the most dangerous thing out here. You step closer.

“Don’t worry,” you say, voice sweet. “You’re not in danger.”

His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s not sure if he should be scared or grateful.

He opens his mouth to say something, probably something awkward, maybe a nervous joke but you don’t give him the chance.

With one smooth, intentional motion, you press both palms against his chest and push him back. He stumbles, backs of his legs hitting the hood of the car with a soft thump, a startled little breath leaving his lips as he fully sits back on the hood. He’s half-laughing, half-stunned. “Whoa—uh—hi?”

You plant yourself between his legs before he can recover, hands sliding up his chest, nails grazing the thin fabric of his shirt. He’s frozen, like his body’s trying to keep up with how fast his brain’s short-circuiting. You tilt your head.

“You always talk this much,” you murmur, “or is it just when you’re trying not to lose your mind?”

He lets out this nervous little chuckle, all breath and panic and boyish sweetness, like he’s not sure if he’s about to die or pass out or both. “I mean, technically, I’ve, uh… already lost my mind? Pretty sure you stole it. Like, weeks ago.”

You shut him up the only way he deserves.

Your mouth crashes into his, all lip gloss and heat and control. He makes this sound, a low, breathy gasp like he didn’t know it would feel that good.

His hands scramble for somewhere to land, your waist, your back, then finally your hips, holding on like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

The hood of the car creaks beneath him as he shifts, trying to pull you closer. He’s kissing you like it’s the first time and the last time all at once—messy, desperate, so full of feeling it almost trips over itself.

Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to make him whimper. He pulls back for half a second, eyes wide, lips kiss-swollen and glossy.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grin, leaning in close, lips brushing his jaw. “Better me than Death itself.”

That makes him laugh and you kiss him again just to shut him up, teeth grazing his bottom lip, tongue slipping past his defenses like you own him.

Because you do.

The hood of the car is still hot beneath him. Your lip gloss is smeared across both your mouths. The world has shrunk to the space between your bodies and the taste of cherry and want.

And god help him, Billy wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Billy’s hands are still on your waist, but he’s not in control, not even close.

He’s flushed to hell, blinking like he’s drunk on you, like his brain is buffering while his body spirals. His back’s pressed against the warm curve of the hood, legs slightly spread, fingers digging into the denim of your skirt like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

Your hands are on his chest, slowly sliding upward, teasing, pausing at the collar of his tee before tugging it down just enough to expose that pale skin at the base of his neck. The moment your lips graze it, he lets out this breathy "oh god"like a prayer and a warning all in one.

“You always make those sounds,” you murmur, voice low, lips brushing his throat.

“Y-yeah, I—uh—I make sounds,” he stammers, already breathless, already wrecked. “You’re—you’re making me make sounds—”

You cut him off with your mouth again, this time not to kiss, but to bite. Soft at first, teasing. Your lips press a slow, deliberate kiss to the hinge of his jaw, and he leans into it like a sunflower chasing the sun. Then your teeth graze, your tongue follows, and your mouth seals over him like you’re about to leave evidence.

He gasps, head tipping back, hands tightening. You suck, slow and deep, drawing that perfect flush of purple to his neck like a signature, and when you finally pull back, he’s got the audacity to whimper.

“Holy shit,” he chokes out, voice cracking. “That was… that was something.”

You don’t even give him a chance to recover.

You go lower.

You pull the collar wider, exposing more of that soft skin along his shoulder, and you mark him again. A little higher. Then one under his jaw. A small cluster, blooming like stars just under his skin. He’s squirming now, equal parts overwhelmed and addicted, legs shifting as he tries to keep from sliding further up the hood.

“You’re killing me,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut, breath hot and fast. “You’re actually, like—killing me right now.”

You pull back, admiring your work. Red, raw, messy proof of exactly who he belongs to. Your fingertips trace the newest hickey just to make him shiver.

“You’re still breathing,” you smirk, licking a spot of gloss off your lip. “Barely.”

His hands move suddenly, trying to gather you closer, like maybe if he kisses you again he’ll stop feeling like he’s about to dissolve. But you don’t let him, not yet. You push him back with just your fingertips against his chest, eyes dark with heat and power.

“You’re not done,” you whisper, leaning in again, mouth skimming the shell of his ear.

Billy’s entire body trembles.

“Do whatever you want,” he breathes, voice shaking, half-laughing from how overwhelmed he is. “I’m—I’m just gonna lie here and, y’know, ascend or something.”

You chuckle before ducking down again to paint another kiss just below his collarbone.

And just like that, his world goes fuzzy. The woods could burn. The stars could fall. The whole damn car could roll into the trees. But none of that matters. Not when you’re leaning over him like a storm in lip gloss and heat. Not when your mouth is leaving galaxies across his skin.

Billy’s practically melting, sprawled back against the hood of the car like his knees won’t work anymore. His hands are still gripping the edge behind him, knuckles white, like if he lets go he might just float off into the stars overhead.

You slide down in front of him, your knees in the gravel, looking like a vision lit by moonlight, lip gloss a little smeared, eyes hooded, and a smirk that’s half-angel, half-devil.

“Whatcha doing down there?” he asks, voice rough and frayed, breath catching halfway through. He’s trying to sound casual, but it comes out cracked, like he’s not sure if he’s terrified or thrilled.

You glance up at him through your lashes. That slow, heavy look that makes his whole body jolt like a static shock. “Just taking care of you,” you murmur, fingers already dancing along the edge of his waistband.

He gulps, mouth dry. “You, uh—you don’t have to—”

You tilt your head, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just above his waistband. He lets out a sharp inhale, hips twitching instinctively. “I know I don’t,” you whisper. “That’s what makes it fun.”

And Billy loses every last brain cell in his pretty little head. You pull down both his pants and his boxers in one go.

His fingers curl tighter on the hood as he throws his head back as soon as you take his cock into your mouth, letting out this sound—half-gasp, half-swear. The stars above blur in his vision, his chest rising and falling too fast to keep up with. You’re slow, deliberate, teasing every little sound out of him like you’re playing a song only you know the chords to.

“F-Fuck,” he breathes, voice barely there. “You’re gonna—you’re gonna kill me, oh my God—”

You hum around him, lips never lifting. The vibration alone sends another full-body shudder through him. He’s mumbling now, nonsense compliments and strangled moans, every muscle in his body locked and trembling, eyes squeezed shut like he can’t look at you doing this and still remember how to speak.

One hand slides down to tangle in your hair, but he doesn’t push, he just holds, like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this planet.

The sound of the forest has vanished. There’s only the soft rasp of your subtle gagging and sucking, the little sounds he can’t help but make, and the low groan of the hood beneath his weight.

And when it’s all too much, when his whole body arches, when he gasps your name like it’s the last thing he’ll ever say—you finally ease off, slow and sensual, lips brushing over skin like a promise kept.

He collapses back, panting, utterly ruined.

“You okay?” you ask sweetly.

Billy looks up at you like you just parted the damn sea.

“I—I think I met God. And she had butterfly clips in her hair.”

You laugh, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you climb onto the hood beside him. He immediately pulls you into his chest, still shaking a little, heart pounding so fast you can feel it even through his shirt.

“You’re unreal,” he whispers into your hair, kissing your temple like you’re too precious to touch and too dangerous not to.

You grin, curling into him. “Told you you weren’t in danger.”

You slide off the hood, legs still trembling slightly from the last time you made him forget how to breathe. He’s still recovering, sitting slack-jawed on the edge like someone just dragged him out of his body and whispered your name into his soul before stitching him back together.

But you?

You’re not done.

Not even close.

You stretch like a cat, slow and languid, letting your back arch just enough to let him see the curve of your waist and the way your skirt rides up when you move. His eyes follow every motion like he’s hypnotized. You catch his gaze and smirk.

You pause right at the center of the hood, look back over your shoulder, and give him that dangerous little grin. The one that says don’t blink, baby boy, or you’ll miss it.

Then, slow and deliberate, you bend forward, palms flat against the metal as your skirt hikes up just enough to make him swear out loud.

“Well,” you murmur, voice playful but edged with allure, “what are you waiting for, Hitchcock? Get in there.” And boy, does he.

You hear gravel shift as he drops behind you to his knees, breath catching in his throat like he’s seen divinity and it's got glitter on its thighs. His hands land on your hips, warm and reverent, thumbs tracing circles like you’re carved from marble and starlight. He pulls your lace panties aside in no time.

You gasp the second his mouth meets your pussy, hot, open, greedy. He grips your thighs tight, like he’s scared you’ll change your mind or disappear. But you won’t. Not when he’s making you tremble like this. Not when the cool air meets the heat of your body and his tongue is tracing shapes that make your breath hitch and stutter.

He moans against you—yes, moans—like he’s the one being touched, like this is something he needs to survive. And you? You’re a mess of breathless laughter and broken whimpers, your fingers gripping the hood like it might float away.

“God,” you manage to gasp, “you’re so—fuck—so good at this.”

He hums in response, smug and smugger, and you almost cum from the vibration alone.

The car rocks slightly beneath your hands. The woods hum around you. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you think: if anyone finds us out here, they’re gonna need therapy.

But that thought vanishes the second Billy pulls you back onto his face more firmly, adjusts his grip, and doubles down like he’s on a mission. Like you’re the only thing that exists. Like he wants to make you remember this every time you close your eyes for the rest of your life.

And when you finally fall forward with a gasp, thighs shaking, lips parted around his name.

He stands up behind you slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, flushed and wrecked and smiling like he just won the damn lottery.

“You good?” he asks, panting, cocky and a little dazed.

You look over your shoulder, hair wild, eyes heavy-lidded, a satisfied smirk painted across your face.

“I’m still not done.”

His grin fades into awe.

“Oh, f—okay. Okay. I need to hydrate. I need electrolytes. You’re gonna kill me.”

You pull him by the collar and whisper, “Die pretty, then.”

He grabs your waist and lifts you instead, spinning you around like you don’t weigh a thing and setting you on your back against the hood.

The metal is cool under your bare thighs, but the look in his eyes? That’s fire.

He leans over you, forearms bracketing your head, breath ragged and lips parted. You’ve never seen him like this before—eyes dark, mouth twitching at the corners, and a kind of shaky boldness that makes your pulse spike.

“You can’t just—like—do all that to me and think I’m not gonna, like… do something back,” he stammers, eyes flicking down to your thighs like he’s already forgotten how to blink. His voice is rough, caught between awe and pure chaos, like he doesn’t even fully grasp what’s about to happen but knows he needs it.

You smile up at him, slow and knowing, spreading your legs in one smooth motion that leaves him wrecked. The skirt shifts up your thighs like it’s part of the plan, moonlight kissing every inch of exposed skin.

“Well?” you murmur, smug and sweet. “Get to it, Hitchcock.”

Something in him snaps clean in half like a rubber band stretched too tight and then he’s on you, hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. His mouth crashes into yours, sloppy and hungry, teeth clashing, lips desperate. The kiss is less about finesse and all about want—raw, clumsy, real.

He pulls back, panting, eyes scanning your face like he can’t believe what’s happening. “Tell me to stop,” he says, but it’s weak, already unraveling, already gone.

You lace your fingers behind his neck, dragging him down until your lips ghost against his.

“Billy,” you whisper, breath warm against his mouth, “shut up and ruin me.”

You feel the shift in him, the way his body presses between your thighs, one hand fumbling at his waistband, the other steadying himself above you.

He sinks into you in one fluid motion, and the breath punches right out of your lungs. Your back arches against the hood, your mouth falls open around a gasp, and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, locking him there.

He groans—loud—like your name just ripped out of his chest. “Oh god—I—shit—I’m gonna—this is—” He doesn’t finish. He can’t.

Because you’re already rocking up against him, matching his rhythm, dragging nails down his back through his shirt, moaning shamelessly into his ear. Every movement is wild, graceless, full of fire. The car creaks beneath you both, the metal dipping with every frantic thrust, headlights still dimly glowing across the grass.

Billy’s all panting and whimpering and praise, whispering things he probably doesn’t even realize he’s saying.

“You feel so good—baby, you’re so—can’t believe you’re mine—fuck—”

You dig your heels into his back and pull him deeper.

“Harder, Hitchcock.”

He swears, a full-body shudder rolling through him, and then—he delivers.

The pace gets frantic, borderline unhinged. You’re both barely holding on. Sweat, breath, the rhythmic slam of hips into hips. It’s a storm of sensation and noise and need.

There’s just you, Billy, and the hood of a car somewhere deep in the woods where nothing else matters.

And when the orgasm hits, when it crashes through both of you like a wave that doesn't ask permission, he collapses forward, face buried in your neck, his whole body trembling. You’re breathless, trembling, boneless beneath him, your hands stroking his hair as his chest heaves against yours.

No words. Just gasps and the thundering beat of two hearts that just barely survived each other. Finally, after what feels like forever, Billy lifts his head, eyes glazed, lips parted.

“Okay,” he pants. “I—holy shit—I blacked out. Did I cry? I might’ve cried.”

You laugh, voice hoarse but warm, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. “You’ll live.”

“Debatable.”

He buries his face in your neck again, and you both lie there, tangled and breathless, under a sky full of stars and a hood full of memories.

217 notes · View notes

my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 13 days ago

Text

oh how I love bobby

Birthday boy.

pairing — erik campbell x fem! reader x bobby campbell

summary — bobby is a 19 year old virgin and erik, being the great brother that he is, decides that his girlfriend can help with that

warnings — 18+, explicit sexual content, virginity loss, cursing, mentions of body piercings (erik ofc), oral sex, mentions of weed, smoking cigarettes, threesome, erik just watches at first, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n — lord this one is wild and i genuinely hope this doesn’t count as inc3st

Bobby’s 19th birthday party was somehow already a disaster and a success at the same time. The house smelled like dollar store candles, pizza rolls, and Axe body spray. Music thumped too loudly through the old speakers Erik had found in someone’s garage last week, and the couch was half-covered in streamers and a suspicious stain no one had dared address.

There were too many people in the kitchen, the lights were too bright, and the snacks had long devolved into chaos, but Bobby? Bobby was thriving.

Wearing a backwards snapback that didn’t match his outfit, sunglasses inside, and a white tee a size too tight, he moved through the crowd like a human Labrador. Slapping backs, flexing biceps, waving a half-eaten slice of cake around like a sword. His voice boomed every few seconds—laughing too loud, misquoting memes from 2017 like they were hot off TikTok.

You were nursing a red solo cup of something too sweet, sitting on the arm of the couch when Erik came up behind you. You felt him before he even spoke, his hand sliding around your waist, breath warm near your jaw, always too close, too cocky.

“Dude, look at him,” Erik muttered, tone just low enough to make it feel like a secret. “You’d think we were celebrating his retirement.”

You turned your head, letting your temple graze his. “He’s happy.”

Erik made a face. “He’s a virgin.”

You snorted. “So?”

“He’s nineteen. And still a virgin. You know what happens if that doesn’t get handled soon?”

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the drink in your cup. “He turns into a werewolf?”

“No. Worse.” Erik took a long sip from his drink like it physically pained him to continue. “He develops an ego complex, falls down a Reddit hole, and two years later he’s blaming women on the internet for the fact that he can’t find the clit.”

You stared at Bobby, watching him bump chests with a guy he just beat at beer pong. His eyes sparkled like a puppy who just got told he was a very good boy.

You leaned a little closer to Erik, voice dropping into something silkier. “He is kind of hot, though.”

Erik stopped breathing. You could feel the shift in him—shoulders tensing slightly, head turning toward you in slow disbelief.

“What.”

You licked your lips, playing it up just to get a rise out of him. “I mean, he’s got those jock arms. Dumb energy. Big heart. Zero clue what to do with it. I could fix him.”

Erik just stared at you like you’d grown horns.

“You wanna cheat on me with my brother?”

“Not cheat,” you corrected sweetly, dragging a nail down his arm. “Help.”

He ran a hand down his face, visibly spiraling. “You are deranged.”

You leaned into his space again, lips grazing the shell of his ear, voice a teasing purr. “You’re hard, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” he hissed, way too fast. His jaw twitched.

You leaned back just enough to see the look in his eyes—half disbelief, half Oh no I’m into this. The kind of chaos only Erik could embody: territorial and turned on, pissed and amused all at once.

“So?” you prompted.

He stared at the floor for a beat, then the ceiling, then you. You watched his tongue press against the inside of his cheek before he exhaled like he was selling his soul to the devil.

“Alright. Let’s go help him.”

The house was quieter two hours later.

Empty red solo cups littered the counters. Someone’s jacket was crumpled over the microwave. A balloon floated lazily against the ceiling like it, too, had given up. Erik sat at the kitchen table, slouched back in a chair with one leg kicked out and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily toward the overhead light, casting everything in a hazy yellow glow.

Bobby stumbled in, hair a mess, shirt rumpled, cheeks still flushed with leftover adrenaline. He looked like someone who had just been told he was awesome twelve too many times.

“Dude,” Bobby said, breathless, opening the fridge like he was searching for buried treasure. “That was the best party of my life. Did you see Trevor let me carry him up the stairs? I mean, I dropped him on the third step, but like… he laughed.”

Erik didn’t look up from the cigarette. “Congrats, man. You peaked.”

Bobby grabbed a bottle of something halfway expired and twisted off the cap, chugging like he was in a college movie.

“You’re in a good mood,” Erik muttered, finally meeting his gaze.

Bobby leaned against the counter, sipping more slowly now. “Yeah, well. It’s my birthday. Also, I think your girlfriend winked at me.”

Erik exhaled a long stream of smoke and tilted his head. “She did more than that, bro.”

Bobby blinked. “...What?”

Erik tapped the ash off his cigarette, watching the ember glow. Then he glanced up again, expression unreadable.

“She thinks you’re hot.”

There was a pause. Bobby frowned.

“Wait, like… joking hot or like—”

“Like she offered to take your virginity as a favor to society.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped, a bottle of Sprite halfway to his mouth. “What?!”

“She said you’ve got dumb energy,” Erik added, deadpan.

Bobby blinked. “I mean… I do, but—”

Erik pointed the cigarette at him like it was a moral compass. “Listen to me. I don’t know what kind of glow-up puberty gave you, but if you’re gonna start pulling that kind of attention, you need to know how to handle it.”

Bobby squinted. “Handle what? You’re not seriously saying—wait. Wait, are you mad?”

“Mad?” Erik scoffed. “No. I’m your older brother. I’m here to guide your dumbass into manhood.”

“That sounds like a cult pitch.”

“Shut up.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette balanced loosely between two fingers. “Look. You’re nineteen. You’ve got that whole boy-next-door thing going for you. Girls love that shit. But if you start swinging your dick around like a prize, you’re gonna crash and burn.”

Bobby raised a brow. “...This is weird advice coming from you.”

“Yeah, well.” Erik gave him a tight smirk. “That’s why I’m not telling you to be me. I’m telling you to take the shortcut. You wanna lose it? Fine. You want her to show you the ropes? Great. Just don’t be a creep about it. Don’t fall in love with your first lay. And never tell Julia.”

Bobby made a choking noise. “Jules would literally kill us all.”

“Exactly.” Erik stood up, stretched his arms overhead, his tank top riding up just enough to show a hint of ink. “So if anything happens… it didn’t.”

Bobby nodded slowly. “Right. Operation: Denial.”

Erik clapped a hand on his shoulder, smirking. “That’s my boy.”

And with that, he walked off down the hall, dragging smoke and bad ideas behind him.

Bobby stood there alone for a second, holding the bottle and blinking at the dark kitchen.

“…Wait, am I about to lose my virginity?”

The next day, you were on the porch, sunglasses on, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Your legs were kicked up on the railing, Erik’s hoodie slouched over your frame like it lived there now. Hair a little messy. A smudge of something pink on your cheek. You looked like the aftermath of something that left a mark.

Bobby hovered in the doorway like he was approaching a tiger in stilettos.

“…Hey,” he said finally, voice cracking halfway through it.

You lowered your glasses just enough to look at him. “Morning, birthday boy.”

He swallowed. “So. Uh. Last night.”

You took a slow sip from your mug. “Mhm.”

“Did that… like… happen?”

You tilted your head, watching him squirm. “Define that, sweetheart.”

Bobby flushed. “The part where you and Erik were… talking about… you know.” He gestured vaguely at the universe. “Helping me.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him for a moment, amused, your tongue pressing into your cheek like you were deciding how much chaos to unleash before noon.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “We were.”

Bobby blinked. “You were serious?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I wink at people as a joke?”

He made a small, confused hand motion. “I don’t know, I just figured it was like… ironic flirting. Y’know, like when people flirt with customer service workers so they don’t feel like dying?”

You leaned forward, placing your coffee down with a soft clink. “Bobby. You’re hot. Tall. Built like a linebacker. Dumb as bricks in the most adorable way possible. You think I wouldn’t want to ruin you a little?”

He stared at you like you just told him he was actually descended from the heavens. “Oh my God.”

You smiled slowly. “Still want my help?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then—softly, earnestly, with a kind of sacred awe—“I think I’d let you run me over with a truck.”

You laughed. Really laughed. Then stood up and ruffled his hair with both hands. “Good boy.”

Just then, Erik stepped onto the porch, shirtless, yawning, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He paused. Squinted at the two of you.

“…Are you guys flirting?” he asked, deadpan.

You didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

Bobby, nearly vibrating: “YES.”

Erik looked between you both, eyes narrowing. “Do not bang my brother before breakfast.”

You raised your mug in salute. “No promises.”

Later that day, Bobby found you alone in the living room. Erik had just left to pick up some tattoo supplies and probably a breakfast burrito the size of his ego. You were sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a crop top, one leg hooked over the armrest, flipping through a magazine like you weren’t plotting a moral collapse.

Bobby hesitated in the doorway like his conscience was still buffering.

You didn’t look up. “You gonna hover or sit?”

He obeyed immediately, flopping onto the couch cushion beside you like he’d been waiting for permission to breathe. “Okay, so—hypothetically—if this were to happen…”

You turned your head, one brow raised. “If?”

Bobby flushed. “When. When. Sorry. I’m still, like, mentally short-circuiting.”

You smirked. “Cute.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “So… Friday— Julia’s still on that cabin trip with her friends. Mom and Dad are outta town… So the house’ll be empty.”

“Except for us,” you said, giving him a slow, deliberate look.

He gulped. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… That’s good.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “What time do you usually wake up on a Friday?”

“Uh. Ten?”

“Make it nine. I want you showered. Teeth brushed. Hair fluffed.”

He blinked. “Fluffed?”

You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something warm and smoky. “Bobby, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. You’re about to be ruined for other women. The least you can do is smell good.”

He made a small whimpering noise. “Oh my God.”

You sat up and leaned toward him, eyes playful but sharp. “No breakfast burritos. No garlic. No Axe body spray. And wear those grey sweatpants.”

He blinked. “You noticed my sweatpants?”

You just smirked. “Everybody noticed your sweatpants.”

Bobby looked like his soul had momentarily left his body. “Okay. Okay. I can do this. This is fine. I’m fine.”

You reached over, gently tugged the drawstring of his shorts. “You better be.”

He swallowed hard. “Wait—where’s it gonna happen? My room? Living toom?”

You chuckled. “Please. The living room’s sacred ground. We’re using Erik’s room.”

His eyes widened. “Dude. That feels… wrong.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He choked on his own spit.

You leaned back again, casual and predatory all at once. “So. Friday. Nine a.m. Clean, quiet, ready. You knock once and Erik will open the door. And then…”

“Then?” he asked, eyes huge.

You smiled like a cat with a mouse under her paw. “Then I make you forget every crush you ever had.”

From the hallway, the front door creaked open.

Erik’s voice called out. “Yo! You guys better not be doing bonding shit in there!”

You called back smoothly. “We’re just talking!”

Bobby, under his breath, lips pale: “I think I’m gonna die.”

You glanced at him, tossed your hair back, and whispered, “Not before Friday, you’re not.”

Friday. 9:03 AM.

Erik’s room smelled like him—cologne, smoke, leather, and something distinctly male and reckless. The kind of scent that stayed on your skin, even after a shower. You were perched on the edge of his unmade bed, legs crossed, nails painted and gleaming under the soft morning light that filtered through slatted blinds.

Bobby stood in the doorway, looking like a crime about to happen. Grey sweatpants. White tee stretched over his chest. Hands fidgeting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden weight of his body. He looked at you, then glanced toward the corner chair.

Erik was already there. Slouched back, legs spread wide, black joggers riding low on his hips, coffee in one hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him. His gaze was unreadable, flicking from his brother to you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or light the match.

“You’re late,” you said, lifting an eyebrow as Bobby stepped inside.

“I—I had to shave. I didn’t want to be prickly. Or sweaty. Or like, too… I don’t know, eager.” Bobby’s voice cracked halfway through and he winced.

You smiled slowly, rising from the bed. “Relax. You’re not being sacrificed.”

Bobby swallowed hard, eyes wide as you walked toward him. He looked like he’d never seen a woman walk in his life.

You hooked a finger through his waistband and gently tugged him closer. “Let’s start slow.”

He nodded so fast it looked like a glitch.

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheek, and leaned in, your lips ghosting over his before you pressed into him. His mouth opened on instinct, unsure and eager, but you kissed him like you had all the time in the world to teach him.

His hands hovered at your sides, too polite, too careful.

“Touch her,” Erik said from the corner, voice low and unbothered.

Bobby jerked slightly, blinking at him. “W-What?”

“Jesus, man,” Erik exhaled, eyes sharp but lazy, “you think she’s gonna bite?”

“She will,” you murmured, nipping Bobby’s bottom lip. “But only if you’re lucky.”

That seemed to short-circuit him. His hands slid to your waist, trembling a little, and you kissed him deeper, guiding him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him down gently, straddling him, hands in his hair, hips rocking just barely to test him.

And oh—he was already getting there. Poor boy was flushed, pupils blown wide, already hard against the thin barrier of his sweatpants.

Erik leaned back, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, watching. Not leering. Not possessive. Just… invested. Smirking. Maybe a little impressed.

“You’re really doing this,” he muttered, voice coated in lazy amusement. “Can’t say I didn’t think about it. But damn.”

Bobby pulled back slightly, panting, lips kiss-bruised. “Is this… like, is this weird? That you’re—”

“I’m here to supervise,” Erik said, deadpan. “Making sure you don’t cry or nut too fast.”

You bit back a grin. “Yeah, baby. This is hands-on mentorship.”

Bobby let out a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh or a prayer.

You leaned down again, this time slower, with a little more weight in it, your tongue sliding over his as you kissed him like he was something you’d waited for. Like ruining him was a favor you were doing for both of you.

Erik stretched, muscles rippling, his eyes dark now. “Don’t let him get lazy,” he said, voice molasses-slick. “If you’re gonna teach him, teach him.”

“Oh,” you purred, rocking your hips against Bobby’s slowly, “I plan on it.”

You pulled back from Bobby just enough to meet his gaze, your thumb brushing his swollen bottom lip. He looked wrecked already, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes dazed like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You dipped your head again, but instead of kissing him, your lips grazed his jaw, down to his throat, and then to the collar of his t-shirt.

“Take this off,” you murmured.

He obeyed immediately, tugging the shirt over his head with a clumsy kind of urgency. You didn’t rush. You just sat back and watched the reveal—broad chest, soft tan lines, that little trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. He looked like a boy trying hard to be a man, and that innocence made your mouth water.

You slid your hands up his stomach, nails grazing skin just enough to make him twitch. “Not bad, birthday boy.”

He swallowed hard. “Should I—uh—should I take yours off too or—”

Erik cut in from the chair, voice like dry smoke. “Ask permission first, dumbass.”

You turned to shoot Erik a look, half grin, half warning. “He’s learning.”

Bobby blinked up at you. “Can I—can I take yours off?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “You gonna be gentle?”

He nodded so fast it made you laugh softly.

“Then go ahead.”

His hands were hesitant at first, brushing your hips, sliding up your sides to the hem of your crop top. You raised your arms for him, and he peeled it off slowly, like he was unwrapping something forbidden.

His eyes widened as you sat there bare above him—no bra, no shame. You leaned forward and tugged his hands up to your chest.

“Touch,” you said, tone low and warm.

He did. Carefully. Reverently. Like he wasn’t sure if it was a dream. From the chair, Erik exhaled a breath through his nose, blue eyes focused.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, kissing Bobby’s jaw. “Still scared?”

Bobby let out a breathless little laugh. “Kinda.”

“Good.” You nipped his ear. “Means you’ll remember it.”

Your fingers slipped down his torso, grazing the waistband of his sweatpants.

“These go next,” you whispered. “But you’re not the only one losing layers.”

You stood slowly, watching his eyes follow every movement. You hooked your thumbs into your shorts and shimmied out of them, one side at a time, until they pooled at your feet. The air kissed your thighs, and Bobby’s mouth parted slightly when he saw your panties.

You stepped out and climbed back onto the bed, straddling him again.

“Okay,” you said softly, fingers ghosting along his waistband. “You ready?”

He nodded, almost too fast again.

Erik leaned forward slightly in his chair, elbows on his knees, that lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t pass out,” he muttered. “We just got to the good part.”

You slid closer to Bobby, breath warm against his skin, fingers tracing the line of his jaw before settling at the base of his neck. His pulse hammered beneath your touch, every nerve begging for something, anything, from you.

Without hesitation, you dipped your head, lips ghosting down his collarbone, pausing just above the waistband of his sweats. Your hands cupped his hips as you leaned in, eyes locked with his for a heartbeat before you let your mouth do the talking.

Slow, deliberate kisses trailed lower, teasing, coaxing, until you were tracing the edge of the fabric. Your tongue flicked out, slipping beneath the band, drawing a soft gasp from him that made your pulse quicken.

“Fuck... shit,” Bobby breathed out, voice trembling like it caught him off guard.

You worked with patience, hands sliding up his thighs as your lips parted around the tip, gentle at first like you were savoring the taste, learning every curve. His fingers tangled in your hair, breath hitching, eyes fluttering closed as you took his cock deeper into your mouth, slow and sure.

“God, that’s... fuck, yeah,” he gasped, hips pushing forward with a shaky urgency, desperate for more even as you kept him on the edge.

The heat between you spiked, his hips rolling forward on instinct, pressing closer as you took him in, careful to keep the pace just right—teasing enough to drive him wild but not so fast he lost control.

You looked up through your lashes, lips slick and swollen, and caught the raw need in his gaze. He was already undone, every breath shallow, every muscle tense.

“You good?” you murmured, voice thick with promise.

He swallowed hard, voice rough and ragged. “Never... never been better.”

You’re lost in the moment, every slow, teasing motion drawing Bobby deeper, his breath hitching and his hands clutching your hair like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes are half-lidded, desperate and stunned, like you’re literally stealing the air from his lungs.

From the corner, Erik’s voice cuts through the haze, low and sarcastic, like he’s calling the play-by-play on a goddamn championship game.

“Alright, folks—Bobby’s in the danger zone now,” he drawls, eyes locked on the scene like he’s got front-row seats. “Slowing the pace, but the crowd’s on edge. Can he handle the pressure?”

Bobby groans, muffled against his hand. “Dude... c’mon, s-stapH.”

Erik smirks, lighting a cigarette. “Oh, he’s begging already! That’s gotta be a first.”

You glance up briefly, biting back a grin before diving back in. Bobby’s hands grip tighter, hips twitching like he’s fighting a losing battle.

“Bobby’s defenses are breaking down—full surrender imminent,” Erik narrates like it’s the final seconds of overtime. “Can he hold out? Or is this gonna be a quick win for Team ‘Girlfriend’?”

“Dude—fuck—c’mon, man!” Bobby whines, voice shaky, lips pressed hard against you, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll save him.

You hum against his skin, teasing just enough to drive him crazy, fingers threading through his hair, grounding him even as his world spins.

Erik leans back, blowing out smoke, eyes gleaming. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you seal the deal. Bobby’s officially outplayed.”

Bobby groans again, breathless and defeated but grinning like a kid caught stealing cookies.

You finally pull back, letting him catch his breath, his chest rising and falling fast, cheeks flushed like a champ who just scored. You lay back on the bed, parting your thighs for him. He takes a deep breath before climbing on top of you so he’s hovering just above your pussy.

Bobby's inexperienced but eager movements sent tingles through you, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. You watched him, heart fluttering at the sight of him, lost in concentration as he explored your body with tentative touches.

His tongue darted out tentatively, brushing against your folds, making you gasp softly. He looked up at you, eyes wide and questioning, clearly unsure if he was doing it right. You gave him an encouraging nod, threading your fingers through his hair gently.

"You're doing great, Bobby," you reassured him, voice breathy. "Just follow your instincts."

Emboldened by your praise, he leaned in closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin. He seemed to be figuring it out bit by bit, his movements becoming more confident as he tasted and teased you.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," he murmured against your skin, glancing up at you with a blend of trepidation and yearning. "I don't want to mess this up."

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek. "Just relax and enjoy this."

He nodded, determination settling in his gaze as he returned his attention to pleasuring you. His tongue delved deeper, not quite finding your clit yet.

Bobby looks up at you nervously, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You give him an encouraging smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

"It's okay, you're doing great," you murmur softly, arching your back slightly to press your hips up towards his face invitingly.

Bobby takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly before diving in again. This time, his tongue glides across your slick folds with a bit more confidence, circling your entrance before darting inside teasingly.

Bobby’s doing his best. Honestly. He’s trying so hard, and you can feel the effort in every careful movement, every awkward adjustment like he’s solving a Rubik’s cube with his tongue. You let him keep going, because it’s sweet… but that sweetness doesn’t do much when it’s not quite hitting the spot.

From his place nearby, Erik’s been watching with a cigarette half-lit and an eyebrow cocked so high it might fly off his face. His arms are crossed, lip twitching like he’s been holding back commentary for a solid minute.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath through his nose, flicks the cigarette into a tray, and stands up like a guy who's had enough of watching a YouTube tutorial done wrong.

“Okay,” he says, clapping once like a disappointed professor. “Move over, Bobby. That’s enough community service for one night.”

Bobby looks up, lips wet and confused. “Huh?”

Erik’s already kneeling down next to him, rolling his neck like he’s about to crack his knuckles and fix your entire day. “You gave it the ol’ college try, man. Really. I’m proud of you. But I can’t sit here watching you treat her like a Sudoku puzzle any longer.”

Bobby frowns. “I wasn’t—wait, is it that bad?”

You bite your lip, torn between laughter and arousal. “It’s not bad, it’s just… not illegal either.”

Erik grins, wicked and sure of himself. “Don’t worry, rookie. This is a team sport.”

And before Bobby can protest, Erik’s got one hand sliding over your thigh, the other brushing Bobby’s shoulder like a tag-in at a wrestling match.

“Pay attention, kid,” he murmurs against your skin, voice dark and low. “Class is in session.”

With practiced ease, Erik guides Bobby’s hands, adjusting the angle, encouraging the right touch. His voice drops low and teasing as he coaches, “Not too hard, don’t forget to listen. You feel that? Good. Keep that up.”

Erik's guidance transformed Bobby's touch from uncertain to confident. Under his brother's steady hand, Bobby found a rhythm, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, focused flicks of his tongue.

"That's it, just like that," Erik encouraged, a predatory gleam in his eye as he watched Bobby work. His own arousal was evident, straining against his jeans as he knelt beside you both.

You found yourself lost in the sensation, back arching off the bed as Bobby's tongue circled your clit with growing skill. Erik's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder, urging him on, his own breath coming faster.

"Fuck, you're doing so good," Erik groaned, his other hand skimming up your thigh, teasingly close to where Bobby's mouth worked. "Keep going, just like that. Make her cum all over you."

Bobby groaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your nerves. Erik's filthy words and the knowledge of them watching you together pushed you closer to the edge, your hips rocking instinctively against Bobby's face.

Erik watches intently from his position behind Bobby, his hand guiding the younger man's head as he whispers words of encouragement.

"That's it, just like that," Erik praises, his deep voice sending vibrations through Bobby's mouth directly to your core. "Use more pressure, and focus on her clit."

Bobby follows Erik's lead, latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling gently. His inexperienced enthusiasm is actually quite endearing as he explores your body with growing fervor.

Your breathing hitches as the dual sensations of Erik's guiding hand and Bobby's eager mouth overwhelm your senses. You thread your fingers through Bobby's hair, pulling him closer as your thighs begin to tremble.

"F-fuck..." you gasp out, your hips bucking involuntarily against Bobby's face as he brings you closer to the edge with every swipe of his talented tongue.

Erik leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as Bobby brought you to a shattering climax. You came apart between them, tremors wracking your body as Bobby lapped up your release, guided by Erik's knowing hands and gravelly praise.

Erik’s hands are already on your hips, mouth hot on your neck, when he starts shedding layers like he’s got somewhere better to be, but clearly, this is the main event. Shirt flung over the back of a chair, belt clinking as it hits the floor, boots kicked off without a second thought.

Bobby’s still sitting beside you, wide-eyed, probably rethinking every decision that brought him here, especially when Erik’s boxers hit the ground with zero hesitation.

And then—

“Bro,” Bobby chokes, voice cracking halfway through. “You have a piercing on your—on your dick?!”

He’s blinking like he just saw a crime scene. His hand lifts automatically, like he’s about to cross himself or call the authorities.

Erik doesn’t even flinch. He just smirks, one brow raised, stepping fully into view like a man very proud of his hardware.

“Prince Albert, baby,” he says casually, as if it’s just another tattoo. “Adds a little extra sparkle to the family jewels.”

Bobby’s still frozen, blinking rapidly. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Erik shrugs, not missing a beat. “Because I like making people believe in God again.”

Your laugh breaks the tension, breathless and sharp, and Erik shoots you a wink before crawling back onto the bed like a performer who’s just dropped the mic.

Bobby’s still staring, somewhere between traumatized and deeply curious.

Erik throws an arm around his shoulders as he settles in. “Don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be grateful for every disturbing thing I’ve ever done.”

The air in Erik’s room is thick with heat and breathless energy, music humming low in the background like a pulse neither of them can ignore. You’re lying back, already flushed, your skin slick with anticipation, heart thundering like a drumbeat that only speeds up when Erik settles on one side of you and Bobby hesitates on the other.

“Come on, Bobby,” Erik murmurs, voice rough like gravel and whiskey, leaning over you to flash his brother a grin that’s half taunt, half dare. “Don’t get shy now. You’re not gonna break her.”

Bobby looks torn between holy awe and cardiac arrest, his eyes flicking from you to Erik and back again, lips parted as if searching for words but forgetting how they work. Still, he moves closer, drawn like gravity, and when his hand brushes your hip, it’s tentative, reverent.

You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist, guiding him in with a soft, sultry pull. “You’re doing good, Bobby,” you murmur, and that’s all it takes.

His mouth crashes against yours, all nervous energy and clumsy hunger, but it works and you let him press you down into the sheets as Erik watches with that signature smirk that says he knew it would go like this.

“Christ,” Erik mutters, jerking himself off lazily as he sits back and watches. “This is better than pay-per-view.”

You arch into Bobby’s touch, and Erik finally pushes himself onto his knees with that casual confidence, settling near your face. Bobby turns his head for a split second—and freezes.

“Bro—” he chokes out, face going red. “You’re really just gonna let her suck you off? With that thing?!”

Erik just stretches, shameless and proud. “What, the piercing? You’ll thank me later. She definitely will. Besides do you think she never gave me a blow before?”

He slides behind you now, his chest warm against your back, lips grazing your shoulder. “Mind if I take over for a sec?” he murmurs, voice low enough that Bobby has to lean in to catch it. “You can watch and learn.”

You can feel Bobby nod before he even says anything, his eyes wide, lips wet and slightly parted. Erik’s hands ghost along your sides, slow and deliberate, and Bobby’s still kneeling at your thighs, his breathing uneven, like he’s caught between fascination and overload.

Then Erik reaches forward, guiding Bobby’s hand like he had earlier, but this time it's different—hungrier. More intimate. His voice is a murmur against your ear as he whispers instructions, half for Bobby, half for you.

“Just like that. Feel that?” He smirks as your body reacts, your breath catching. “She likes that. You’re doin’ alright.”

Bobby groans softly, his voice raw. “This is insane…”

“Yeah,” Erik says with a grin, “but you’re not tapping out, are you?”

The silence stretches and then Bobby shakes his head very eagerly, breathless. “Hell no.”

You pull him back to you with a smile that says good, your hands tangled in his shirt, Erik’s body flush against yours, all heat and teasing fingertips and tangled limbs.

And when you moan just loud enough, Erik lets out a laugh, smug and sinful.

“Happy birthday, baby brother.”

It’s happening—really happening—and Bobby’s frozen for a beat, like his brain just blue-screened mid-installation. One second he's hovering, nervous as hell, heart rattling in his ribs like a caged bird, and the next...

He sinks into you.

And that’s when his soul momentarily leaves his body.

His breath punches out of him like he’s been socked in the chest. His hands immediately grip the sheets like he’s trying not to float off the planet. Green eyes wide, jaw slack, a raw, involuntary noise tumbles out of his throat—somewhere between a gasp, a whimper, and a desperate "holy sh—"

You’re warm and tight and real, and for Bobby—who’s only ever known the cold, pixelated touch of incognito mode—it’s too much and not enough, all at once. His whole face flushes a deep, beet-red, and he literally pants over you like he just ran five miles barefoot uphill.

“Oh my god—oh my god,” he stammers, completely wrecked already. “It feels—this is—you’re—”

Erik just leans back against the headboard, grinning like he just sold front-row tickets to the most dramatic moment of Bobby’s life.

“Bro,” Erik says with a laugh, “You look like you just saw the second coming.”

Bobby can’t even look at him. His head dips, breath hitching, forehead brushing your shoulder as he moans, shaky and ruined. “I’m not gonna last—I can’t—dude.”

Erik smirks. “Nah, nah. You’re doing great. Just… maybe think about your taxes or baseball or something.”

“Why would I think about baseball?!”

“Exactly.”

You bite your lip to stifle a giggle as Bobby fumbles, overwhelmed and stunned and completely consumed. He looks up at you, eyes blown wide, voice breathless and reverent.

“You’re so perfect, I swear I’m—this is—thank you, oh my god—thank you.”

Erik just claps once from the sidelines like a proud coach watching his underdog score.

“Look at my boy. Whole personality rewiring in real-time.”

Bobby’s barely hanging onto reality at this point, he’s fully gone, moving with raw instinct now, like something ancient and primal just got lit up inside him. Every thrust is wild and needy, like he’s chasing something he doesn’t even have words for yet. He’s panting against your skin, muttering breathless nonsense like “so good, so good, I can’t—” over and over, caught somewhere between prayer and delirium.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, grounding him as much as they’re clinging for dear life.

And Erik? Oh, he’s collected. Too collected. The exact opposite of his little brother’s desperate rhythm. He’s kneeling above you, mouth twitching into a smirk as he slides two fingers beneath your chin and tilts your head just the way he likes it.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice velvet-draped danger. “Don’t forget about me now.”

His hips move with an infuriating sort of control, slow and deliberate, as if he’s got all the time in the world to teach you exactly how he likes it. One hand holds your jaw steady, the other stroking over your hair like he owns the moment, because he does.

“Goddamn,” he groans as you take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you with laser focus. “You’re filthy. Look at you—wrecked on both ends.”

Behind you, Bobby moans—a high, desperate sound that he clearly didn’t mean to let out. “I—I’m gonna—oh my god—”

Erik tilts his head, peering over your shoulder like he’s checking in on a toddler making a mess. “Bobby,” he calls out, voice calm but amused. “Buddy. Pace yourself. This isn’t a sprint.”

Bobby’s too far gone to listen, though. He mutters something incoherent and doubles down, rocking into you with a groan that practically trembles in his throat.

Erik watches the two of you, biting down a grin. “Jesus. He’s like a damn dog in mating season.”

Then he looks back at you, voice dropping to something low and wicked. “Good thing I know how to take my time.”

Then—

Bobby cums. Hard. Inside of you.

Bobby’s still inside you, frozen like a statue, lips parted as his brain slowly catches up to what his body just did. He blinks. Once. Twice.

Then he breathes, “...Oh my god.”

You hum, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes still glazed with pleasure. “That good, huh?”

He looks like he just committed a crime in three states and turned himself in. “I—I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but I didn’t—Erik’s gonna kill me.”

For a second, no one says anything.

The air is thick, sticky with sweat and something heavier, Bobby’s breath caught in his throat, your body still twitching with the aftershocks, and Erik?

Erik is staring.

Not blinking. Not speaking. Just… staring.

Bobby’s eyes widen, panicked. “I came in her.” Like it wasn’t obvious.

Erik tilts his head.

“Dude. You lasted two and a half minutes, blew your load in my girl?” Erik stops. Looks at him. Then at you. Then shakes his head with a low whistle. “The audacity…”

You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I mean, you could at least pretend to be mad.”

“I was mad,” Erik says, starting to smirk like the devil. “Until I saw the look on his face. He came like a choirboy seeing heaven for the first time.”

Bobby groans and drops his face into the pillow, mortified. You giggle, fingers running lazily through his hair. “You okay down there?”

“No,” he says, voice muffled. “I just committed emotional incest.”

Erik snorts. “Relax. If I was gonna lose it, I’d have done it the second you started moaning like a Disney prince in heat.”

Bobby peeks up, cheeks still flushed. “You’re not mad?”

Erik’s eyes flick toward you, his smirk softening for just a moment. “Nah. I’m territorial, not jealous. She’s still mine.”

You blink up at him, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “You’re definitely not mad?”

“I’m insulted,” he mutters. “But mostly turned on. That’s the problem.”

You're lying in the wreckage of what used to be a bed—sheets twisted, limbs sprawled, the air still heavy with sweat and something else too wicked to name. Erik's arm is slung across your waist like a claim, thumb idly stroking your skin. Bobby’s somewhere at the foot of the bed, looking like he just won the lottery and got hit by a bus at the same time.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You stretch, all faux-innocent, and murmur into the air, “Y’know… Bobby’s kind of a natural.”

Both men freeze.

Erik’s thumb stops mid-stroke. His head turns, slow, eyes narrowing with surgical precision.

“I beg your pardon?”

You blink up at him, biting your lip, oh-so-casual. “I’m just saying. He was surprisingly good for a first time. Like, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s done this before.”

From the foot of the bed, Bobby perks up. “Wait, really?”

Erik sits up like he’s been electrocuted.

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “You liked it?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I mean… the enthusiasm? Immaculate. And he—”

“Don’t,” Erik cuts in sharply, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence unless you want me to take your legs off at the knees with my mouth.”

You snort.

“Bobby, put some clothes on,” Erik barks suddenly, not even looking at him.

“Why?” Bobby asks, confused and still very much not moving.

“Because if you don’t, I might black out and do something unspeakable out of pure rage,” Erik hisses.

You hum, still wicked. “Jealous?”

Erik rounds on you with that devil’s grin curling at the corner of his mouth, the kind of look that promises vengeance and velvet sin. “No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, crawling over you like a storm rolling in. “Jealous is what I’d be if you didn’t scream my name louder.”

You smile sweetly. “I don’t remember whose name I screamed louder.”

Erik pauses.

Stares.

And then?

“Okay. That’s it.”

Suddenly you’re flipped onto your stomach with a low growl and a slap to your ass that echoes.

“Bobby, out.”

“Wait—”

“NOW.”

Bobby scrambles off the bed, dragging the sheet with him like a panicked toga. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You didn’t,” Erik calls after him. “She did. But now you both suffer.”

Erik watches Bobby stomp toward the door like he’s just been sentenced to exile, but the second Bobby’s hand hits the handle, Erik calls out, his voice rough but low, almost reluctant.

“Hey, dumbass… come back here.”

Bobby pauses. The door’s still cracked open, the hallway light spilling in, but he hesitates like he’s been yanked back by some invisible leash.

“You really wanna go out there alone after all that? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Bobby’s eyes flicker, and for a second, he looks like he wants to argue.

Erik holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Nope. Come here.”

Bobby gives a shaky breath and turns back.

Erik opens his arms with a grunt, pulling him into this unexpectedly tight, almost protective hug. His chest rumbles low as Bobby melts into the embrace, the tension draining from his shoulders before Erik pushes him into your arms.

“Dumbass,” Erik mutters, the edges of his lips twitching into something like a smile. “You’re lucky you got me. Nobody else would’ve put up with your shit today.”

Bobby laughs softly, voice muffled against your bare skin. “Thanks, man.”

Erik pulls back, brushing a stray hair from Bobby’s forehead, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go put some clothes on before I change my mind and kick your ass again.”

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 13 days ago

Note

pls write for bobby

this is acc all i needed to hear. this is not proof read this js a blurb i wrote in 20 minutes 😓

bobby introducing you to his turtle paco….

you’re standing awkwardly behind bobby, his back is to you while he coos at Paco, his turtle.

honestly, you find it quite endearing, you had never met someone so in touch with their emotions to be honest especially not a guy your age. bobby was different, he was sweet. you had been dating for a few months now and he decided it was time for you to meet his favorite family member.

for some reason you actually felt nervous, like you were meeting a real person but you were sure this was as real as it gets with bobby.

bobby turns with a beautiful smile on his pretty face and there in his palms he holds the small turtle. “Paco, this is my girlfriend y/n.” he lifts the turtle to your face and you giggled softly “hi.” you whispered.

the turtle head is tucked into his shell “don’t be shy.” bobby cooed “y/n’s nice i promise.” and it was almost as of Paco truly understood bobby’s words because slowly his head begins to peek out. he stares almost judgingly at you “it’s nice to meet you.”

bobby’s smile grows as you interact with the turtle, he was almost worried you’d think he was a weirdo for how fond he was of a turtle. “you’re such a cutie.” your eyes moved from paco to bobby “both of you.”

bobby blushes a bit bringing paco away from your face “i think he likes you.” he nodded reassuringly “that makes me very happy.” you nodded along with him. bobby stares for a moment just admiring you, taking note of the way the sun peeking into his room shined onto you like some perfect little angel.

he wondered how he got so lucky.

the moment is quickly interrupted by a gagging noise, the two of you turned your head to where erik stood “get a rooooom.”

you chuckled while bobby rolled his eyes “this is my room!”

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 13 days ago

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The boys!!

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 24 days ago

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Andre Lee NSFW Headcanons

☆ No one asked for this but I needed this

☆ Inside job!

☆ Andre Lee X Reader

☆ Fluff,Smut

☆ Tw// Drug abuse and misuse

☆ New account layout,will try change old layout as much as possible,requests are open.

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Credits to @cafekitsune for dividers!

☆ You two met because you bumped into him at a party

“Fuck sorry,didn’t mean to.”

“You take molly?”

“Yeah,I’m tripping dude.”

MARRIAGE.

☆ OR meeting him at a rave

“Hey have you got anything?”

“Your inner beauty is beyond special.”

“I’ll give you my number if you wanna sell me some Molly.” I giggled

☆ This man is sloppy. SLOPPY. He will be so beautifully sloppy when he’s eating you out,it’s almost a daily orgasm from how much you crave his touch.

☆ This man is an absolute munch and you can’t tell me otherwise. He will look up at you with the most blown out eyes and yet you can still see the adoration in his eyes as he eats you out.

☆ He’s definitely a switch.

☆ MASSIVE Sadist,if you slap him for any reason that man is on his hands and knees begging you to do it again.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“Oh god please do it again.”

☆ He loves a rope bunny,if he can tie you to the bed watching you wriggle underneath him he’s reeling above you.

☆ HIGH SEX. Andre is the best when it comes to high sex,he knows how sensitive you become when you’re high and he knows all the sensitive places along your body,he’s committed them to memory.

☆ Following up he would absolutely take edibles with you. If you get horny while you’re high he’s all over you. Subtly grinding against his thigh,it’s not subtle at all,as he quietly helps you rub against him,you don’t notice.

☆ He’ll absolutely fuck you in his lab. He’s already trashed it,may as well help him further ruin it. He’s high and thrusting up into you like it’s the last thing he’ll do. Fast,quick.

☆ He definitely gets turned on by the thrill of being caught. Thats it.

☆ KINKY. To list of a few of his kinks ;

Masochism,absolutely loves your nails digging into him,reeling whilst you suck hickeys onto his neck,biting around the area.

Praise,tell this man he’s doing so good for you and he’s cumming on the spot.

Degrading,he loves hearing you call him a coke-whore,slut etc. especially when it’s mixed with praise ; e.g, “My good slut.”

Switch,it doesn’t matter if you’re on top of him telling him how good he’s doing or if he’s on top of you telling his princess how good she’s doing,working her through her orgasm. It doesn’t matter,he will cum just as fast either way.

Orgies, you already know that if he can have an orgy and his beautiful girl is with him,enjoying it with him,he’s more than happy.

Orgasm denial, tell him no and he’ll whine and moan,watching him wriggle underneath you as your hand moves sloppy against his cock. He loves it,though when he’s high don’t expect him to hold back.

EVERYTHING, I couldn’t list every kink he has because I‘d be writing for years. He‘ll definitely try everything once and he’ll most probably like it.

☆ He’s more than happy to come home and smoke whilst lying on your tits. He’s also more than happy to do coke off your tits :3

☆ He’d definitely let you ride his thigh. Watching his pretty girl glide against him messily while you smoke.

☆ He’s never quiet he doesn’t care if he needs to be quiet whilst hiding in the broom closet at work or hiding in the bathroom at a rave,he’s LOUD and he physically can’t be quiet.

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 24 days ago

Note

INSIDE JOB KCFFPKAFRDJATS

I need me some more Subby Brett Hand fics like omggg I already read all the ones I could find

—

Denying Brett an orgasm for like the millionth time and he tears up????

👀<3

a/n — Brett Hand my baby girl, I’d do anything for you. Anyways, I have reagan fics after this one.

warnings — Dom!reader, fem reader, Brett calls reader mommy

summary — Series of Sub!Brett headcanons, and then a drabble

ᯓ★ This man is so submissive, I will never understand how people write him as a dom, he is a subtop at best.

ᯓ★ Desperate for approval on an ungodly level, so this translates to a killer praise kink.

ᯓ★ He will need all the reassurance in the world that he’s making you feel good and that your actually enjoying him.

ᯓ★ “Good boy, Brett” He will automatically be on the edge, trying not to cum immediately. You really think so? You really think he’s doing good? He’s eating it up.

ᯓ★ Nowhere near unexperienced, the man was on a frat club in college. But that does imply that ‘making him feel loved’ was not on his party-hookups agenda.

ᯓ★ This basically means that being gentle with him would be a huge turn-on. Yes please make him feel comfortable, tell him how pretty he looks, tell him just how much you like him.

ᯓ★ Would call you mommy. He grew up getting no attention any authority’s figures in his life and now your doting on him and taking care of him? It just slips out!

ᯓ★ Ready to try most of anything, like anything you wanna do. Even if he doesn’t actually like the idea, but most times he would because it’s you.

“W-wait please, I really need to cum this time—“ Brett begged, looking up at you with a desperate look, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead.

“I know, baby. And you’ve been so good for me,” you coo as he answers with a short whine, “But mommy’s not done with you yet, so you’re just gonna have to wait.”

”’m sorry mommy, i-i’m trying but— Oh fuck..”

He stops himself with a low whimper as you drag your finger along the base of his cock, while positioning yourself over him.

You were going to… ride him? He couldn’t handle that in this state, you had to know that! You’d denied him plenty of other times that night, but this seemed almost mean.

He’d have to hold himself back though, as he was terrified of you being upset with him.

You plopped yourself down on his cock, ignoring the tears that instantaneously bubbles in his eyes, “My good boy, you’re taking it all so well.”

He whined, “It’s— god, it’s so much— please, I need to— Aah!” you roll your hips suddenly fast, practically jamming his cock in your pussy, before slowly down. A tear rolled down Brett’s face, and then another.

“Aw, sh sh,” You lean down and wipe the tears path off his cheek, and then plant a kiss.

“Don’t cry, I know you can handle it. I know you can handle more than this.”

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 24 days ago

Text

inside job smut whaaaattt

Brett x Reader (sub Brett Bc who can look at that boy and say he is not a sub)

I haven’t written in a bit so please do not judge

*****

Brett was annoying.

Not in a bad person kind of way, or way too full of themselves kind of way, but in a way too goddamn happy all the time kind of way.

You weren’t exactly sure how Reagen had grown so fond of him. You and Reagen had grown surprisingly close over the last year of work, and you were excited (and to be honest, a little frightened. She had kind of a tendency to want to take over the world) for her to become your boss. She was pretty fun to talk to, and you often spent time with her discussing mechanics. She was a strong person who knew what she wanted, the kind of person you wished you were. So you still have no clue how she and Brett had become friends. Brett was, well, Brett. Too excited, too peppy, too perfect. It felt like he was patronizing you, rubbing in your face how he was always ready for anything, while you needed to give yourself a pep talk before even going out the door. Everyone on the team seemed to like him, something you seem to have still not accomplished.

“Hey Y/N!” Brett waved enthusiastically. He quickly walked with you toward your office. “How was your weekend?” He smiled brightly at you.

“Fine, Brett. Do you need something?” You sipped your coffee quickly trying not to drop any files.

You could see his face fall for only a second. You felt a bit of guilt rise in your chest. He hadn’t done anything yet, and you had been a bit harsh with him.

“Oh, um- I just- well,”

He started nervously stuttering. You just about smiled. It was almost cute watching him all flustered like this.

You quickly shook your head at the thought of him being cute. Brett had been a nuisance the minute he stepped into Cognito Inc. The idea of thinking of those sweet amber eyes as cute was ridiculous.

Brett smacked into you as you turned, your files falling and your coffee spilling everywhere.

“Goddamit Brett! I spent all week on those fucking files!” You got on the floor and tried desperately to salvage any. You had spent hours on these. You knew you should’ve backed them into the computer database. Screw you and your stupid love of paper and pens.

“I am so sorry Y/N, I wasn’t looking and I-” Brett was down on the floor with you, wiping up coffee with his own sleeve. Of course, he would use his own fancy suit in a time like this. Always proving to be a good person even when someone was yelling at him. His hand bumped into yours picking up the papers. His hand was warm and soft. You felt your face heat up. With anger, right?

“Please let me make this up to you.” His watery eyes looked into yours, almost begging you. You liked the look on him. Innocent and needy. “Let me make you dinner tonight! You could come over to my place and I’ll help you rewrite your files.”

He looked at you with pleading eyes. You felt a heart rise in your chest and to your cheeks. As much as you hated him, you knew how long it would take if you tried to redo all the work yourself. With a deep sigh, you nodded. He lit up, a smile returning to his face.

What was the worse that could possibly happen? A free meal and not sitting alone at night sounded kind of nice, even if it was with him.

***

“Are you ready?”

Brett was holding his keys, twirling them around. After an exhausting day of work, he still seemed perfectly put together, while your ponytail was almost completely out, and your lab coat stained with whatever mysterious liquid JR had you test today.

“I’m driving.” You grab your keys and start walking out the door, undoing your ponytail and letting your hair fall. Your lab coat came next, letting it hang off your arm as you felt the cool breeze on your shoulders.

Brett quickly followed. “Oh! Okay, um I’ll give directions.” He was staring at you wide-eyed. You realized Brett had probably never seen you in any kind of none work attire. You had never exactly seen him outside of work. You didn’t really go to any of the work parties or late-night drinking, and Brett had only been with Cognito for a few months.

You looked down at yourself in your tank top. It was a bit more revealing than you had remembered, showing off your chest more than you wanted. You pulled your arms toward yourself, feeling embarrassed.

Brett looked away, bright red. You realized had been looking at you. THE Brett Hand had been looking at you. Your cheeks flushed, and you picked up your pace.

“I don’t know how clean my apartment is, I haven’t had people over in a while.” Brett was walking with you briskly.

“Really? I would think you have girls over all the time.” You chuckled.

“Why do you think that?” He looked at you cluelessly.

You were embarrassed now, having to explain your joke.

“Well, um, you- you’re quite attractive so I just thought you’d, you know-”

“You think I’m attractive?”

Your face was red. You kept walking forward, quicker than before, and from the corner of your eye, you could swear that Brett was blushing too.

The drive there was quick, you focused on the road while Brett tried to hide a constant blush. You couldn’t believe you had called Brett attractive. And to his face! You had never found Brett attractive before, had you?

Dinner was quiet, and most of the work was too. You didn’t think you had ever heard Brett be so quiet. It wasn’t as nice as you thought it would be. You could feel that all-so-familiar panic set in. The thought you had fucked everything up forever. You had gone and done it again-

Brett spoke up quietly, his voice a mere whisper.

“You know, I think you’re attractive as well.” His face had a pink glow, not making eye contact with you as you stared at him in awe. “I think you’re beautiful in fact, but I always thought you hated me.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Brett, the golden boy, thought you were beautiful. Not just pretty, or cute, but beautiful.

“I shouldn’t have said that. Oh god, I am so sorry-”

You were on top of him, one hand behind his head, the other sitting next to his hip. His eyes wide, staring into yours.

“Can I?” You asked him, close to his lips, placing your hand on his chest.

He whimpered at your touch and nodded.

You kissed him violently, digging your hand into his hip. His hands hovered against your waist, almost afraid to touch you. You moved to his neck, breathing hot air onto it, listening to him whimper and buck his hips up into you, desperate for some friction. Biting down on his neck, he let out a gasp. You brought your hand down to his clothed cock, softly going up and down. His moans made you feel like you were on fire. You could hear him quietly begging for more.

“Who would’ve known pretty boy Brett would be a sub?” You snicker.

“Please Y/N, Please-”

You started unbuttoning his shirt while continuing to suck his neck. He rolled his hips up into you. You could feel how hard and desperate he was.

“Please what?” You placed your cold hand on his chest, feeling him shiver underneath you.

“Please, fuck-” His breathy moans come out faster as you pressed yourself down onto his hard-on. Hearing him swear was like floating, a musical sound.

“Please, what pretty boy?” You started undoing his buckle, the other hand pulling his hair.

“Please fuck me Y/N.”

“Good boy.”

You sprung his cock free and saw precum already dripping down.

“Needy little thing.”

He gave a whimper in response, trying desperately to rock into your hand. He was shaking, teary eyed.

You started stroking him, slowly as you could, watching each stroke undo him a bit more. He looked beautiful like this, his shirt halfway off with his cock in your hands. You knew he was helpless to whatever you wanted.

You roughly grabbed his chin as his tried to look away from you.

“Look at me.”

He took your thumb into his mouth, gently licking it and bucking his hips up into your hand. You know how badly he wanted to be good for you. He’s was trying so hard not to just fall apart right there.

You let go of him for a moment, a soft whimper coming from his mouth at the loss of contact. You lifed off your tank top, and he stared.

“You can touch dear.” You laughed as his hands quickly fumbled to try and undo your bra. He’s was so fucking needy, and shaking beneath you.

He put your chest in his mouth, sucking and moaning into it as you grab him again, stroking faster.

You pulled your pants down, slipping your panties to the side. Watching him swirl his tounge around your chest, you slowly sunk down on him.

He gripped onto you, gasping. His hips involuntarily twitched up, and you let out a maon. He was big, and he stretched you out. Your eyes rolled back and you grabbed his hair, bringing yourself up and down.

“Y/N, fuck, please, I-”

You slamed down onto him as he blabbers. You both find a rhythm as he pounded up into you and you go down onto him. His hands clingling onto you for dear life and his eyes are teary. He went faster, and your moans are quick.

“Goddamit Brett, fuck me like you want it.”

And that destroys him.

His hands were clawing at your back as he tried so desperately to please you, going as fast as he can. You could feel heat pool in your stomach as you moaned into his chest.

He was about to finish, you could tell by the way his eyes were rolling back while he stutters.

“Good boy Brett.”

And with one final pant, he’s cumming into you as you clench around him, feeling each shockwave take over your body. He’s panting hard and clinging desperately onto you.

As you both sit there, holding each other, you run your fingers through his now damp hair, whispering to him how good he did.

“I take back what I said before.” He whispers to you, his breathing heavy. ‘You’re not beautiful. You’re exquisite.”

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 24 days ago

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I am so painfully homosexual for dr. Andre Lee like please- I beg- I need him- he’s so- <3333

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 4 months ago

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Double Deep

A/N: cross posted to other blog

Tags: daddy kink, double penetration in one hole, dirty talk, nontraditional a/b/o dynamics

Summary: You're EraserMic's Omega wife.

You pant harshly as you ride your husband’s dick. He’s pinned down under your hand as you gaze hotly into his eyes. “Fuck Shouta, baby. Lemme have it, give me that sweet omega dick Honey.”

The older man below you whimpers and behind you you hear the dark chuckling of your Alpha. “That’s it, Y/N. Hump Shouta’s pretty Omega dick.” You know he’s stroking himself from the slick, nasty sound of his hand. “Come on babe, bounce that fat ass for Daddy.”

A moan leaves your lips and you plant your hands more firmly on Shouta’s chest. You spread your knees wider as you lean forward to give Hizashi a better view of your pussy swallowing your mate’s cock.

The dark haired man pushed up to capture your lips in a kiss, just as your hips started moving. Hizashi’s voice makes shivers run down your spine. “Oh, would you look at that. Sho you’re doin’ such a good job opening her up, Sweetheart. Getting that juicy pussy ready for Daddy’s knot.”

You both moan into each other’s mouths at the alpha’s words. Inside you the other Omega’s dick jumps and your wet cunt grips around him in response. His tongue twines with yours as you begin to ride him.

The drag of his cock inside you was heavenly. The soft curve of his length inside you dragged through your wet heat. On every downward drag hit that wonderful bundle of nerves inside you. The only thing that could be heard outside of the panting in the room, was the wet clop of your coupling.

The kiss breaks and all you can do is curse.

“Shouta-fuck!” His hands tighten on your hips as he thrust up into you.

“Y/N gods! Feels so good Omega.” His thrusts become rougher, pounding your pussy until you’re both whining. You’re close, so fucking close you could just-

“Stop Omegas.”

The voice is next to your ear and there’s a hand grasping the back of your neck.

You’re pulled off your Omega husband as your Alpha drags you into his chest.

“No one said you could come, Omega” Hizashi’s voice is soft, so damn soft, as it always is when he gives an Alpha Command. A result of being hyper aware of what he could do with his quirk. When he’s like this he’s always careful, especially with you and Shouta.

It’s entrancing when he speaks to you like this. So soft, but so commanding. You practically swoon into his arms.

“Daddy-Alpha~”

“Hush up that noise, Babygirl.” Large calloused hands take hold of the underside of your thighs and spread them apart. He rests his chin on your shoulder to look down at your sloppy sex. “Look at that pretty pussy. Bet it tastes amazing.” He looks up, to where Shouta’s still panting, now sitting up on the bed.

He looks completely fucked out. Dark eyes blown wide and long hair sex mussed. He’s panting and looking forlornly at you bared sex.

"She felt good, didn't she Omega? Having our wife's pussy always makes you into a slut Shouta. Just look at you. Pretty Omega dick is almost bursting."

You watch as it jumps between spread legs. Pre is dripping messily from the tip and you whimper, wanting to taste it.

"What did I say, Omega? Hush. Let Alpha talk to Sho."

You quiet down but stare longingly into Shouta's eyes and the older Omega looks torn.

"Oh don't look like that Sho. Daddy's got a special treat for you both tonight." The smile you could see from your peripheral was sinister, but Shouta paid it no mind in his lustful state.

He hoists you up higher by thick brown thighs and positions you over the fat head of his dick.

Red and green eyes look into dark ones. "Watch Omega. Watch how I fuck our precious wife. Look at how pretty she is, all that beautiful bronze skin and her juicy cunt. Isn’t she perfect?"

Both of you whimper at your alpha's filthy praise. You watch Shouta’s dick jump where it rests between his thighs and feel Hizashi nudge your entrance. He slowly sinks you down on himself and you moan at the stretched out feeling. The feeling of him deep inside you, stretching your pussy.

The wet noises could be heard and you felt your neck grow hotter embarrassment. Hizashi winces in your ear as he bottoms out and begins dragging you up and down his shaft.

“Oh listen to that, Omega. Her pussy’s so fucking wet for Alpha. Look at how messy she’s making my dick, Sho. Pussy this good gonna make me pop my knot.” At that he thrust especially hard. The feel of his tip kissing your cervix makes your eyes cross.

Across from you Shouta is whimpering as he fists his dick. His eyes are on where Hizashi's fat dick is splitting you open. He’s transfixed with the way your juices are dripping down his dick, running down over his balls making them shine as they smack against you at every cant of his hips.

“Omega.”

Shouta’s eyes snap back up to see the sinister smile on your shared Alpha’s face. His eyes were half lidded as he gazed at your other mate. “You know how good she feels inside, don’t you Omega?”

Through your haze you heard Shouta respond, but you couldn’t focus past the harsh way he fucks you and the soft cadence of his Alpha Voice in your ear. His filthy words made your skin erupt in goosebumps and your pussy clench around him.

Shouta’s hands were striping desperately over his dick. He wanted so desperately to come. He could feel his omega knot forming at the base of his shaft. “Alpha please. Want it, want to feel it. Feel her on my knot.” Tears prickle in his eyes.

Hizashi moans at the other Omega’s words. His fingers dig in so harshly that you know dark purple bruises will appear on you tomorrow. “Fucking hell Shouta, want to feel this sloppy hole around that slutty Omega knot? Fucking into it with me and feel me against you? Feel our knots press together while our Omega wife squirts around our knot, Sho?”

He pants as he humps into you. You feel lips kiss across your shoulders and neck as fingers roam up to where your nipples have hardened. Rough thumbs graze over them repeatedly, before they’re being roughly pinched, causing you to cry out and arch your back.

“Alpha!” You moan as your head falls back onto a tan shoulder. Your back arches and you drag your pussy up his dick , before sliding back down with a loud wet clop. The harsh pain and pleasure of the action lanced through you as you proceeded to a desperate rhythm of grinding into your husband's thrusts.

Hizashi's near delirious with how good your pusy feels. So lost in it and nearing his peak, he bites into your shoulder and grunts. “Fuck Babygirl that’s it. Give me that nice gushy pussy. Such a nasty thing.” He let go of your shoulder and licked the juncture between your shoulder and neck. Right where your mating bite sat.

The sensation is electrifying.

The noise that leaves your mouth is obscene and it makes your Omega Husband’s dick jump, which Hizashi didn’t miss.

“You're desperate for it, aren’t you Shouta? Desperate to feel how gooey she is inside?” He chuckles darkly as you both shutter.. “Then come closer, Omega. Come press that sweet dripping Omega dick into this fat fucking cunt.” He smacked your clit lightly as he says it, making you clench on him.

Shouta moves fast. He crawls forward before swinging his legs from under him to press closer. Hizashi bent his knees higher so that Shouta could put his own under that paler man’s. Your own legs rest on either side of Shouta hips the two men pressed close, until their balls touched. They both moaned at the contact and you moaned at the way Hizashi twitched inside you.

You open your eyes and look down into darker tired lust filled ones. Shouta is staring at you adoringly, as one hand grips one hip and Hizashi grips the other and they hold you aloft above them when your Alpha pulls out.

You whine at the empty feeling, before it’s cut off with a gasp. You look down, mesmerized as your husbands press into your aching pussy. Your dripping Slick, with the effort to get them both inside you.

Your slick ran down their dick as they sat you down. The stretch of your cunt around your mates was so goddamn good. The thought of both of them filling you up, breeding your fertile pussy until they both knotted and locked themselves inside you.

Now that thought made your soft walls flutter around them. The thought of them breeding you over and over. Coming inside you again and again to make sure that it takes. Alpha and omega come dirtying your sweet nasty pussy, as it’s held in by the two men’s knots.

The keening whine that leaves you as your men slowly fuck you causes them to let out their own feral growl and overwhelmed whine.

The sensation of everything is overwhelming, Shouta’s struggling to hold it together. The way Hizashi’s dick felt stuffed up against his as they fucked you together. The way your hot wet channel felt like heaven on each stroke. The press of their heavy balls smacking together lightly when they slid back in. The pleasure of it all was enough to make the older man cross eyed.

At his base he could feel the swell of his knot. The thick flesh of it up against his Alpha husband’s was so fucking hot.

“Al-Alpha so fucking tight and hot like this. Her pussy’s so good. Omega pussy so-Ah!” Hizashi made his thrust more firm and his heavier balls slap his husband's, making jolt after jolt of pleasure spread through his dick.

Both men’s knots began to swell bigger as their thrusts grew faster and harder. Almost completely formed knots were wedged tight against eachother as they fucked them back into their wife.

“That’s it Shouta, fuck against Alpha’s knot. Thrust that pretty Omega dick into our fertile little fleshlight.”

Your keening whine puts the Alpha’s attention.

“Oh that’s it Y/N, take our knots as we breed you. Let this pretty pussy squirt all over us, Babygirl. Come on precious, get these knots messy.”

Strong hands ran encouragingly over your back as you bounced up and down. Your chest heaving with exertion as you looked into the flushed face of your mate. “S-Shouta-shit Shouta Baby. So good- you both feel so-Ah!” If possible Shouta flushes a deeper red, but he moves in to kiss you.

The kiss is hot and slow and rough. Tongues sliding together as you moan into each other’s mouth. Below you Hizashi groans, and thrusts harshly into you. “Look at that. Look so damn pretty kissin’ like that Omegas. Know just how to drive you Alpha wild.” You whine into each other's mouths and allow your hands to roam, wanting to feel even closer than you were.

“That's it Shouta, make her feel good. That’s Daddy’s good boy. Uh huh fuck her pussy with me. Shit Baby, just like that. Mmmph, gonna breed Y/N deep, Sho. Get her nice and fat with our babies.” His voice was so soft but so demanding. He knew how to play you both.

You let the pleasure of your husband's mouth on yours overtake you as you rode them both. The rough full feeling as they rut into you was growing as their knots start swelling more. The stretch is overwhelming and yet so fucking good you can help how wet you are. Your pussy is practically leaking all over their thighs.

Shouta breaks away and the keens that claws its way out his throat is broken and desperate. "Fuck Baby-You feel so perfect in si-Ah!"

You drag up rigid flesh before dropping down with a filthy wet noise, making your dark haired mate stutter out your praises.

"S-so good Baby. Most perfect cunt I've ever had. 'Zashi our wife has the best fucking pussy. It's so hot around us." He's holding your hips, stopping your riding and holding you still. He leans in to place stuttering kisses along your jaw.

Stubble grazes your jaw and you revel in the sensation. His lips trail up your jaw and to your ear. "Let us do the work, Y/N." Calloused thumbs rub comfortingly over your sides. "L-let us open you up on our knot." A soft kiss to your neck, shuddering breaths following.

He pulls away to look at you. His face is flushed and he looks completely fucked out and you’re willing to bet the bed below is soaked with his slick.

"Let Alpha and I do all the work Sweetheart."

Dazedly you nod, panting and whimpering at the feel of being fully seated on your husband’s dicks.

Shouta’s hands rest firmly on your hips warm and centering and next thing you know Hizashi’s hands rest possessively on top of his. His clasps Shouta’s hand tightly to your waist and together they hold you still as they thrust into you.

They start slow at first, holding you still as they fuck up into the the gooey mess that is your pussy. You moan as you scramble to hold onto something and end up clutching at Shouta’s shoulders.

“Oh look at you two, so pretty holding each other like that.”

Gods that man’s voice was going to be the death of you. His voice muddies your senses and pushes you closer to the edge. It blanketed you like a lover and made you want to do whatever it said.

“Oh look at that Sho, she’s finally gone cock drunk. Our little mate’s gonna sit here and take our cocks until we nut in her sweet little cunt. Isn’t that right Y/N?”

You nod sluggishly, face buried in Shouta’s mating mark. “Yes Alpha- uhf! L-lemme take it- oh! Nut in me, I’ve been g-ah! Good! So good for you Alpha! Tell him Sho, please tell Alpha I’ve been good!”

You deliriously babble as the two men stroke speed up.

These two men are your everything in that moment. Their dicks fill your pussy. Your senses are filled with Shouta’s scent and blanketed by Hizashi’s voice. It’s like they’re all encompassing and you want to fall further into the feeling.

Beside you you can hear Shouta swearing, clearly overtaken by you pleas.

“Fuck Alpha-‘Zashi, gonn come. C-can't hold on anymore. Feels so damn good when her pussy pushes out knots together, Alpha!”

It was too much for Shouta too. The wet heat of you squeezing him. Wedging his dick against Hizashi’s. The press of your Alpha’s bigger knot hot against his own in their mate. It was too much. He just needed a little extra pushe and he could… He could…

A whine escaped him, and he buried his own face in your mating mark. His hips never stopped moving and his hands held you tighter, inhaling your scent. He’s on the precipice and he just needs something.

“C’mon Omega. Pop that fat Omega knot and breed our pretty little wife. Help Alpha stuff pussy full, Omega.”

That’s it, that pushes Shouta over the edge. He come so hard, his vision whites out as he wails his release.

In front of him you aren’t much better. He and Hizashi came at the same time and the feeling of their hot sticky come filling your pussy, has you moaning. Their knots expand fully and you sob in relief as the thing you’ve been craving all night is given to you.

The hot heavy press of their knots makes you keen and fall into the waiting arms of your fellow Omega.

“S-Shouta, Alpha-so good. Knot my pussy so good, thank you” You whimper deliriously into pale skin.

Behind, a big warm hand rubs soothingly at your back. “There’s our girl. Look at you, taking it so well. So pretty split on our knots.” You’re vaguely aware of his other hand squeezing Shouta’s where it rests on your hip and whispering his praises too. “And you Baby boy? So fucking gorgeous fucking our mate. Such a good Omega. Your cute little knot feels so good against me.

Shouta keens on your shoulder and you drift off with one thought in mind.

My mates are amazing.

Fellow Agents of Seasoned Chaos:@pervysenpaix , @plussizeficchick, @xogabbiexo, @luna-indigoduh ,@namjoonswifeyy, @tenyaiidasslut, @riozakii, @thicksimpx, @blkchxrryblyss, @bookwormsenpai

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 5 months ago

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#mentalhelathawareness #anxiety problems #anxiety help

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my-mental-stability-is-destroyed · 5 months ago

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I read this all and I was not disappointed

Yandere Monoma x Reader (smut)

Summary: I’m ashamed of this lmfao. No body asked for this I’m simply posting it. You’re in your senior year, you have a special kink that only Monoma can fulfill. I didn’t proof read lmfao. An absolute mess Let’s gooo.

Warnings: Smut, squirting, kinda intense sex, boundary pushing, but consensual.

You didn’t know monoma well, you remember he was kind of weird about your class, he honestly seemed kind of nuts. You found him attractive, but you felt that way about most of your school mates. But weirdly enough, he had a particular vibe that fit a specific kink you had. You, were a woman of unique appetites. An appetite for men who are bat shit insane.

One afternoon, both of your classes had spent the final year of school’s New Years eve together, you watched as a certain blonde boy with grey eyes monologued about your classes being inferior to his, amused and slightly put off by his demeanor, before he’s swiftly chopped by class B’s rep.

As your eyes are focused on him, behind you are mumbles from your classmates.

“Their class rep is always tending to monoma, are they dating?”

“Nah That guy is insane, I can’t imagine him being in a relationship,”

You nodded in agreement, you couldn’t imagine him in a committed relationship either. But you could imagine him fucking you into your head board, rocking it against the wall as he bottomed out inside of you, disgusting noises filling the roo- “are you okay, y/n?” Yaoyarozu asked, snapping you out of your daydream. You gasp in surprise, ripping your gaze away from monoma, mid lip bite to look at your friend. “What? Yeah,” you assure her. “You sure?” She seems genuinely concerned, completely unaware of what you were doing.

You nod your head quickly, clearing your throat and coming back to reality.

Later that night you make your way to monoma’s room, you breathe in slowly before knocking as quietly as you could do you wouldn’t alert his dorm mates. A short time passes and your heart races. Was this stupid? What if he thinks you’re creepy for what you’re going to ask him? But before you can turn and press the undo button, Monoma opens the door. He’s wearing a black hoodie and sweat pants, he has an earbud in and you can see behind him his desk light on with text books and notes.

He seems surprised to see you standing in his doorway, unsure of what you could want. “Y/n?” He asks. “Monoma,” you say, nervousness catching in your throat.

He blinks, waiting for you to respond.

You breathe a sigh harshly out, and caress your wrist to comfort yourself. “This is kind of embarrassing but we’re both adults here...” your question trailed off and he raised an eyebrow.

You gulp and continue. “ you have a...vibe... that I find... hot,” you stop and search through his eyes for consent to continue. He smirks, wide, uncrossing his arms and holding his hands on both sides of the door frames, his arms feel like wings cornering you.

You nervously smile. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in some... friendly... coitus...” you chuckle, knowing that was a weird way to ask that question.

Monoma’s smirk transforms from a narcissistic shit eating grin to a devious, snickering sneer. His eyes darken as he reaches his hand out and time seems to slow. For a moment you’re not sure what he’ll do, as he reaches a finger out to touch your skin, goosebumps erupt in you. He lifts your chin with a single finger, gently. You swallow hard and he forces you to make eye contact with him. Monoma leans in close and whispers “I’m flattered, lamb” he mingles the hand that was holding you chin up to your jaw, the hand that was cradling you in makes its way to your waist.

He guides you back to the wall across from his open door in the hallway of the dorms. Monoma pushes you up the wall to wrap your legs around his waist. He kisses you deeply, eagerly shoving his tongue into your mouth. He wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes lightly, coaxing a moan out of you which vibrates into his mouth.

This must’ve pleased Monoma because he groans and pulls out of the kiss. He takes a moment to look you up and down, which allows you a second to breathe. You look up at him with big doe like eyes, asking for mercy, but craving for him to continue. You look down at your clothes which are, by now, wrinkled and messy, but before you could attempt to fix them, Monoma grabs your wrist and brings you into his room.

He guides you to the bed and gestures for you to lay down. You lay awkwardly, unsure of where to put your arms, you settle with resting them over your stomach, insecure of how you might look from this angle. You look up at him, nervously, biting your lip as if to plead for him to go faster in order for you to no longer feel so uncomfortable. He smirks at your nervousness, seeming to enjoy it. He stands tall above you, gently caressing your skin. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you? I’ve noticed you too, you know. You look so delicious in your Hero’s outfit,” he licks his lips as he slowly and gently unbuttons your shirt.

“I wanna hear what it is about me that drew your gaze,” His voice is a low rumble as he lowers himself on top of you. Monoma begins to kiss up your jawline and you begin to notice that he smells of burgundy and leather. “Go on,” he coos, biting your ear gently.

‘God this is so embarrassing’ you think, covering your mouth with your hand. Muffled, you answer “R-respectfully, your whole villian-esque manic thing, is sexy to me.... I want you to be like that... in bed,” you cover your whole face when you finish that sentence. You feel him smile against your neck, and then he gives a little nibble. “That can be arranged, Lamb,” he snickers, guiding his fingers from your jawline, down your throat, over your breasts, lifting up your skirt, and gently caresses your lower region, making you shudder.

Neito lightly traces the outside of your panties, carefully watching the quickness of your chest raising and lowering. He nudges open your thighs, wider, displaying your groin in full view. He bites his lip and shoots you a look, clearly enjoying your submission to him. You cover your face again, nervously.

He makes direct eye contact with you as he enters a digit into your heat. Monoma moans as his fingers are sucked in by your body. “Oh wow, lamb,” he grins “I’m addicted immediately, you feel so warm and wet, your pussy muscles are constricting around me I feel like my fingers being eaten,” He laughs. “Monoma! That’s obscene!” You slap his shoulder playfully, covering your face with your free hand. He smiles sweetly and kisses your cheek “no no y/n, it’s not! Here, listen,” he begins to fuck you with his fingers, creating wet, squishing and slapping noises and you begin to realize you’re going to release liquid everywhere if he keeps this up. “M-mo-“ you moan out, push on his chest in protest.

He moans. “Yes, lamb, go ahead, scream my name,” he thrusts his finger faster, curling up in a circular motion, hitting your spot just right that you raise your hips up. “Monoma-wait!” He was moving so fast, at an inhuman speed, it was too much for you to handle, and before you could stop yourself, Monoma removes his hand and you squirt all over his bed.

Appalled, you gasp, and slam your thighs together. “I-I’m so sorry,” you’re mortified, but monoma’s already licking his hand and finger, moaning as he does. “Monoma...” you protest, rubbing your thighs together, unable to hide how wet you are from this treatment.

You look down and notice Monoma palming his thick, throbbing erection through his sweatpants. You moan in anticipation. He pulls his sweatpants down and his cock springs up, it’s longer than it is thick, and veiny. He leans down and kisses you, deeply before pushing his cock into your cunt. You grip his hoodie as a stress ball as Monoma pushes his cock balls deep into you and stops. “Ahh!” You squeal, “Mo-m—ah!” He sighs into your ear, “good girl, y/n, this pussy of yours is like a drug to me I just can’t help myself, lamb,” he begins to slowly thrust in and out, and he moans loudly, sitting straight up, holding your legs open.

He starts thrusting faster, and faster; Monoma above you blubbering rapidly, pounding your pussy like he wasn’t human.

The feeling was unreal, his huge cock stretching your pussy with every thrust in, and providing sweet pleasure on every pull out. He’s above you, those maniacal, crazed eyes, smiling with that famous, unstable grin.

“Y/n, your cunt is squelching on my dick, you’re so wet, Y/N, I suppose it’s only natural,” he’s like a tower above you while fucking into your slit, his hands on your knees, securing that his prey can’t deny him his meal.

He leans down suddenly, licking up your neck to your ear, sending chills up your spine. You gasp and he whispers “because you want me, don’t you, y/n? You’ve wanted me for so long haven’t you? Admit it, y/n, you’ve watched me for years. You’ve fucked this pussy—“ he slows down and fucks you slower, the sound of skip slapping and juices gushing louder than you were comfortable with. “—while thinking about ol’ neito, don’t you? And now that you’ve got my cock in you, you’re high on ecstasy,” You’re shocked by his vulgarness, something about the way he curses is more offensive than if anyone else were to, and the dirty things, ten fold. “Monoma!” You protest, this was psychologically over stimulating, but that only turned you on more. He gently grips your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth, you oblige apprehensively. Monoma spits in your mouth, and you realize, he’s right, you are high on his cock, because you’re so horny that you moan, and swallow it.

“Good girl,” he smirks wide, fucking you harder as a reward. You feel yourself growing closer to your peak, you moan “monoma... monoma,” he laughs hysterically. “That’s it, my lamb, submit, submit to your true self. It’s only natural, it’s apart of our human nature, let out your hedonistic side for me, y/n,” he monologues, raising his arms up manically, going full villain, just like you asked.

You’re growing closer and closer as he pounds into you, when he reaches down and puts his fingers into your mouth. As you suck the salt off his digits, moaning wildly, you reach your release, squirting all over his dick. “Neito!” you give a muffled scream as he quickly covers your mouth to keep the rest of the dorm from hearing anymore than they already had.

You’re over stimulated from cumming, and monoma begins fucking you harder and faster, chasing his high with vigor. His eyes are completely glazed over, like he’s in a trance right before he comes inside.

After a few moments he plops down next to you. You breathe heavily and smile at him. “Exactly what I wanted, thank you... please let me wash your beddings though,” you run your fingers through his blonde hair.

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