summary: will needs help with his homework and all he can think to do is ask the girl who’s always on his mind
warnings: virgin will, dry humping
you sigh as you drop your bag on the kitchen table. will’s already sitting there, notebook open, pencil tapping like he’s been waiting all day.
"thanks again for doing this," he says, voice a little too eager. "i really suck at this stuff."
"yeah, i noticed." you flip open your old notebook to the notes he needs. "let’s just get through these problems."
he scoots his chair closer. way closer than necessary. his knee bumps yours under the table and stays there. you roll your eyes but don’t move away. ten minutes in and he’s already asking questions he should know the answers to.
"will, focus."
"i am focused," he mumbles, but his eyes keep flicking to your mouth, your chest, the strip of skin where your shirt rides up when you reach for a highlighter.
by the third problem his leg is pressed fully against yours. by the fifth he’s breathing harder. you’re trying to explain the quadratic formula when he shifts again and you feel it. hard, insistent, unmistakable and poking against your thigh through his sweats.
you freeze. "will."
"sorry," he whispers, face red. "i can’t help it. you’re just… really close."
you should push him away. instead you stay still, letting the heat of him press against you. he rocks forward once, tentative, like he’s testing if you’ll stop him. when you don’t, he does it again—slow, grinding, desperate.
"fuck," he breathes. "that feels… really good."
you keep your voice flat. "i’m supposed to be helping you."
"i know." another slow thrust of his hips. the cotton of his sweats drags over the thin fabric of your shorts, creating just enough friction to make your clit throb. "just… one more minute. please."
you don’t answer. you let him rut against your leg like the needy virgin he is, little gasps escaping every time the head of his cock catches. his hands stay planted on the table, knuckles white, like he’s terrified you’ll leave if he touches you.
"i’ve never… done this before," he admits, voice cracking. "with anyone."
you glance down. There’s already a wet spot blooming on the front of his jeans. "clearly."
he whimpers at the word, hips stuttering faster. "can i… can i keep going? just like this?"
you lean back in your chair, spreading your legs a fraction wider so he has better access. "finish the next problem and maybe I’ll let you come in your pants."
will nods frantically, pencil shaking in his hand as he tries to focus on the page while still grinding against you, cock leaking steadily now, every roll of his hips pushing him closer to the edge he’s never crossed with anyone else.
ok so i saw this on another blog but im changing it a but, imagine w me,,.. mack and will r together, but they dont have sex too often bc they're a very cutesy couple and enjoy spending their very very limited free time cudding rather than sex, but one day mack is just so horny but will's asleep so he turns to masturbating in the bathroom,
when they have "sex" it's mainly blowjobs and handjobs bc will is still getting comfortable w the idea of his penis in mack's butt (#catholicguilt), so mack doesnt have a ton of experience w things in his ass, well now he's experimenting and putting random stuff up his butt because he’s too scared to buy a sex toy and he knows will doesnt wont fuck him yet. so that night he shoves the end of a hairbrush up with ass with no lube and no prep because he doesn’t research and is suprised when it’s hurts, but lowk he kinda likes the hurt
YESSSS YES YESS YESSS
So Mack and Will are that couple. Like, disgustingly soft. They’re always touching, but its like fingers hooked in belt loops, ankles tangled under the table, Will’s face buried in Mack’s neck on the couch like he can’t get close enough.
And like free time for them is rare and sacred, so ninety percent of it is just them cuddling under a blanket, trading slow kisses and dumb little jokes until one of them falls asleep. Sex happens too, but it’s more careful than most people assume. Mostly hands and mouths. Will still gets that tight look sometimes when things start heading further, #CatholicGuilt, so actual fucking is off the table (for now). And Mack doesn’t push. He just takes what Will will give and curls up after like it’s enough because it is.
Except some nights it’s not.
Tonight Will’s out cold, face smushed into Mack’s pillow, one arm still thrown over the empty space on Mack's side of the bed where Mack was like five minutes ago. Mack’s been hard for like 30 mins, he's restless and aching, and every shift of the sheets makes it worse. He finally slips out of bed as quiet as he can and shuts himself in the bathroom, heart already pounding.
He leans back against the counter, palm dragging over the front of his sweats, and it feels good but it's not enough. He technically knows he could wake Will up and Will would be happy to help, but Mack also knows Will is exhausted and it works out bc he’s been getting curious. Like the kind of curious that makes him Google things at 2 a.m. and then slam the laptop shut when he hears literally any noise like someone might catch him.
He wants something inside him. Wants the stretch. But buying a toy feels huge and permanent and like admitting something, and Will’s not ready to be the one who puts it there, so Mack’s been… improvising.
There’s a plastic hairbrush on the counter with a rounded handle. It's not too thick, so he stares at it for a long second, then grabs it like he’s not about to do something stupid.
No lube. He doesn’t even think about it. Just shoves his sweats down, braces one foot on the edge of the toilet, and presses the smooth end against his hole. It’s dry and blunt and immediately too much. The burn is sharp, sudden, and his whole body jolts. He has to bite down on his own wrist to keep from making noise.
“Fuck—”
It hurts. It really hurts. But he doesn’t pull it out. He pushes a little further, slow, and the sting blooms into this heavy, throbbing heat that makes his cock twitch hard against his stomach. His thighs are already shaking. He works the handle in another inch, awkward angle, no prep, just him being stubborn and desperate, and the stretch is brutal and kind of perfect. Every tiny movement drags, raw and intense, and something low in his gut twists tight.
He starts stroking himself with his free hand with some spit, short and messy, while he rocks the hairbrush shallowly. The dual sensation is overwhelming, dry burn inside, slick friction outside, and his head drops forward, mouth open, breathing hard through his nose. It still hurts. Every time the curve of the handle catches it sparks bright and mean, but the pain is wrapping around the pleasure now, sharpening it, making everything feel ten times more. His knees almost buckle.
He’s so quiet it’s almost scary. Just these tiny sounds caught behind his teeth and the wet sound of his fist. His ass is clenching around the intrusion like it’s trying to push it out and pull it deeper at the same time. The burn is constant now, and he kind of loves it. Kind of wants more of it.
When he comes it’s sudden and messy, spilling over his knuckles and the edge of the counter, whole body locking up around the hairbrush still buried inside him. The orgasm punches through the pain and turns it molten for a few seconds, and he has to brace both hands on the sink so he doesn’t drop.
After, he just stands there breathing, legs trembling, the handle still inside him because taking it out feels like it’ll hurt worse. Eventually he eases it free with a wince, cleans up as best he can, and sneaks back to bed.
Will shifts when Mack slides under the covers, murmurs something soft and sleep-drunk, and pulls him in close without ever fully waking. Mack lets himself be held, face pressed to Will’s chest, the dull ache between his legs a secret pulse he can still feel.
He doesn’t say anything. Just closes his eyes and pretends the heat under his skin is only from Will’s arms.
first time writing just smut, kinda nervous 5.5k words
18+ content, smut: mndi !!!
The bass from the party vibrated through the soles of your shoes, a steady thrum that matched the nervous flutter in your stomach. You don’t know what he had done, what magic he had used to convince you to come to this party, but because of Will, you’re standing in the middle of a frat house with a beer in your hand.
Will had been pulled away by some “fraternity emergency” that you definitely didn’t want to know the details of. You watched the stream of people passing you in the kitchen. Laughing, shouting, stumbling…in the middle of it all you feel completely out of your element.
You were about five seconds away from locking yourself in the bathroom before you felt that shift in the atmosphere you’d come to know so well. You don’t even have to look up to know he’s coming back for you. You glance up, and sure enough he’s walking through the back door, immediately into the kitchen. He was still in full “frat boy” mode; hat backwards over his curls, smiling over his shoulder at someone who called his name, but all the while his eyes are already scanning the room for you.
When his eyes finally land on you his expression softens immediately. His smile becomes less performative, and he makes a beeline for you from across the room.
“Hey,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower register he normally uses when it’s just the two of you. He stops right in front of where you’re leaning up against the wall, and puts his arms on either side of your head as you smile up at him. He smells like crisp outside air and a faint trace of beer, but mostly just like him.
“Hey,” you reply. “Frat emergency?” you ask, teasing.
“Disaster at beer pong outside, had to make a ruling,” he says, unserious in that way only you understand.
“Mhm” you hum, moving your free hand to tuck his chain back underneath his shirt. You aren’t sure why, just something to do with your hands.
He leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “You look like you’re having the time of your life,” he says with a smirk.
“Oh absolutely,” you deadpan, despite another smile tugging at your lips. “This is right where I wanna be, remember? I’m thriving.”
He laughs, that quiet breathy sound that you feel more than you hear because he’s so close. “Right, well…how about we find a less crowded place to talk about how much you love these parties?” He doesn’t quite wait for an answer before grabbing your free hand and walking you towards the back door.
After you step through the already open sliding door, you end up on a tiny porch at the back of the house. A few people were mingling in the yard, huddled around a small fire someone had managed to keep going. The porch itself was deserted, leaving the two of you case in the warm flickering glow of the fire and the cool breeze of the night.
The air was crisp, and it smelled faintly of smoke and fallen autumn leaves, already you knew this was infinitely better than inside.
You walk towards the railing, setting your drink down. “Better?” Will asks, facing you as he leans back against the railing. “Mhm,” you answer simply, not giving him much to go on. Immediately he’s putting his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans and pulling you to stand in front of him, shortly followed by dragging you a bit closer so you’re standing between his legs, flush against him.
“Much better,” you say, resting your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers begin to play with the clasp of his chain at the back of his neck while his hands settle comfortably on your waist.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” you say lightly.
“Oh always,” he murmurs. “I know how much you just hate frats, and the parties, and the people in them—”
You swat his chest before he can say anything else. “Shut up,” you tell him, while he just laughs.
“You’re different,” you say, more seriously now.
“Oh am I?” he asks, still joking.
You give him a pointed look and the smirk fades off of his face before he leans up to kiss your temple before relaxing back against the railing again. “I want to be different for you, I don’t want to fall under that umbrella of ‘insufferable frat boys’ you hate,” he admits, his eyes flicking to your lips quickly before meeting yours again.
Your breath hitches. “Will you aren’t. You don’t have to be different, you already are,” you say softly, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?” he asks as he leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away. You don’t move away, instead you meet him halfway.
At first the kiss is soft, almost questioning even though it’s not the first time you’ve kissed him. They always start like this; a gentle press of his lips against yours, while he tastes a hint of your drink mixed with the mint of the gum you had earlier.
His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the kiss deepens. Nothing about it was rushed; Will doesn’t do rushed. He takes his time.
One of his hands slid slowly up your back to tangle his fingers in your hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head to the side to give him better access to your mouth. You sighed against him at the change of pace, your hips pressing gently against his as you wanted to just be closer. Your hands roamed his shoulders before settling against the back of his neck, holding him close.
The kiss grows more heated as your mouths move in sync. It becomes a slow, delicious burn that started at your lips but has now spread throughout your entire body, and all you’re thinking is closer, closer, closer.
He bites your bottom lip gently before soothing it with his tongue, and you part your lips for him without a second thought. He hums against you as the kiss deepens, tongues meeting in a slow rhythm. He tastes like home and safe and everything you’ve ever wanted but never known how to ask for. With him you don’t have to ask.
By now the sounds of the party have faded out behind you, replaced by the faint sound of the breeze in your ears and whatever sound Will is making against your mouth.
A second later, he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His face is flushed along his cheeks and his lips are swollen from working against yours. You move your hand to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his shirt.
“Wow,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. No matter how many times he kisses you like that, how many times he touches you, it will never feel less electric.
He opens his eyes and a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice gravely. He leaned in and captured your lips again, this time for a series of shorter, sweeter kisses, like he just couldn’t stop. “You know,” he murmurs against your lips between kisses, “I think this is a great spot.”
“It’s a porch,” you state, laughing softly.
“Exactly,” he grins. “The porch, way better than the party.” He kisses you again, pulling you deeper this time.
One of his hands slides down your back and settles in the back pocket of your jeans, while the other cups the side of your jaw, controlling the angle of your head. You gasped into his mouth, your hips rocking instinctively against his. He groans in response, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine.
“Wil,” you breathed, pulling back slightly. “People can see us.”
“Let them look,” he murmurs, his hand moving out of your pocket and back to your waist, a silent acknowledgment of your boundaries. He rests his cheek against your hair, your face now nestled against his collarbone. “Sorry,” he whispers.
“Don’t be,” you say, tilting your head up to look at him. “Can we maybe…do all this later? When we’re not on display?”
He smiles down at you, “Yeah,” he says, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “We can do that.”
His arms remain around your waist as you both stay leaning against the railing of the porch. “You ready to get out of here, head to yours?”
You nod, leaning into his side even further, “Yeah, let’s go.”
As he leads you back through the party, saying the occasional goodbye, his body stays firmly next to yours the entire time, like a silent promise of what’s to come when you finally get home.
The walk to your place was quiet, just the light rustle of the fall leaves and the occasional car passing by on the street.
By the time you were fumbling with your keys at your front door, your hands are shaking so badly you can't get the key in the lock. He chuckled, moving close enough that you can feel the vibration of his chest against your back. “Easy baby,” he mutters, making your neck heat up with embarrassment, or maybe anticipation, the lines were beginning to blur. “Let me,” he says, taking the key from your hands and unlocking the door.
He pushes the door open gently and you wander inside, kicking your shoes off. He follows suit, taking his shoes off by the door, followed by taking his hat off and quickly running his hands through his hair.
Will leans back against the door for a second, watching you as you bend to straighten one of your shoes by the entryway before setting your purse on the little table beside the door.
"What?" you ask without looking up.
He doesn’t answer, so you look over your shoulder to see him just looking at you, a faint smile on his face.
“What?” you repeat, laughing this time. A slow smile spreads across his face and he shrugs.
“Will.”
“Nothing! I just think you’re cute,” he says.
You roll your eyes immediately, even as your cheeks warm. “All I’ve done is take my shoes off.” He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you. You shake your head, smiling to yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”
He pushes himself off the door and wanders toward you, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. “You got all focused,” he says, stopping in front of you. “Thought it was cute.”
You let out a quiet laugh, looking down to hide your smile. “You’ve got a weird definition of cute.”
“No.” His voice softens as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve just got a very broad definition when it comes to you.”
Your heart stutters. “You flirt too much.”
“I’m standing in front of a pretty girl and you expect me to not flirt?”
He takes one slow step closer until there's barely any space between you. “I distinctly remember you asking if we could continue what we started on the porch when we got home. That seems more flirty than anything I’ve said.”
You feign confusion, “I don’t think that’s what I said.”
He smirks, “No?”
“No.”
“What’d you say then?” he asks, backing you up against the wall.
You pretend to think. “Don’t remember…” you mumble.
He smiles knowingly. “Liar.”
Before you can get another word in, his lips are on yours again. His body is a solid warm weight pinning you against the wall as you melt into his touch. His hands come up to frame your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he briefly pulls away.
“My girl,” he breathes, kissing up your jaw gently. You whine softly at the endearment, your hands digging into his broad shoulders. “Been thinking about this all night,” he says against your skin, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Love you,” he says.
“Love you too,” you reply instantly.
Then his mouth is on yours again.
Kissing Will now is drastically different than the one on the porch, it’s much more hungry now, demanding. He slants his mouth over yours, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, asking for entry, you granted it immediately, a soft moan escaping you as his tongue tangled with yours.
His hands left your face, roaming your sides, his thumbs hooking under the hem of the shirt you had on, his large hands swallowing your waist. He breaks the kiss, panting slightly, resting his forehead against yours.
“I need this off,” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt.
You lift your arms, and he pulls it over your head quickly in one motion, tossing it behind him, to be worried about later.
His eyes roam your torso, taking in the simple lace bra you had on. His gaze was hot and almost possessive, sending a wave of arousal between your thighs. “Fuck,” he breathes, his hands coming up to cup your chest. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of your breasts.
You gasp, your hands immediately going to his hair as his lips leave hot kisses over your skin. His head moved down, to capture one of your nipples through the lace. You gasped louder now, your head falling back with a soft thud against the wall. “Will,” you pant, your grip on his hair tightening.
He hums against you, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. He switched to your other breast, giving it the same attention, while one of his hands slid down your stomach to the button of your jeans.
You stop him.“Not yet,” you say, framing his face with your hands and pulling his face up to yours again. “In a minute,” you murmur, moving to place slow kisses along his neck. He sighs, tilting his head to give you better access to his skin. His hands move off of your body to brace himself on the wall behind you, positioning his hands on either side of your head.
Your hands slip underneath his shirt, nails scratching up his sides and across his lower back as you keep kissing his neck. You then start pushing the fabric of his shirt off his body, silently telling him you want it off all the way. Immediately he picks up on what you’re conveying, and he pulls away slightly, to pull his shirt over his head, throwing it behind him.
You can’t help but smile shyly, taking him in. His silver chain settled over his sternum. The lines of muscle on his chest, the ones that stretch across his shoulders. His arms nearly kill you, all lean muscle and freckles, veins faintly visible beneath his skin. They’re strong enough to throw you over his shoulder without a second thought, but more often than not they’re wrapped around you while you fall asleep.
“What?” he asks, catching the look on your face.
“Nothing,” you murmur. “Just...hi.”
He laughs softly, leaning in to steal one more quick kiss. “Hi baby.”
Your fingers trail lazily over his shoulders, down his arms, simply admiring him.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, the teasing from earlier gone now. His forehead rests against yours, his thumb brushing gently along your hip. “We don't have to do anything tonight, you know.”
Your heart softens at how quickly he checks in. “I know, but I want to.”
“I’m serious,” he says. You nod. “I am too, I want you.”
He searches your face for another second, making sure. You smile, your hands finding his again and giving them a reassuring squeeze.
“Yeah,” you say, reassuring him again. You lean forward to kiss him once, slow and unhurried. He exhales quietly against your lips, relief mixing with affection. “Okay,” he murmurs.
Another small smile crosses his face before his hand gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Come here,” he says softly. You kiss him again, lingering this time, and when you separate you rest your forehead against his for a moment.
“Can I?” he asks, his fingertips catching lightly on the waistband of your jeans without moving any farther.
Your stomach flips. You nod, then answer aloud anyway. “Yes. Please.”
Only then does he sink down in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as he waits one last beat, making sure you still look just as certain before he continues. He makes quick work of it, his knuckles rubbing against your skin as he unbuttons your jeans and slides the zipper down. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down together until they’re pooled around your ankles.
He looks up at you from his knees, his hands resting on your bare thighs, and the sight of him alone makes a heat pool between your legs.
“Will,” you breathe, your voice barely audible.
“Shh, baby, I got you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. “‘M gonna take care of you.”
He starts his slow, tortuous journey up your thighs, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He always takes his time, and at this point he knows exactly what to do to make you gasp.
By the time he finally reaches your center you’re a whimpering mess, your hands fisted in his hair. “So wet for me already, good girl,” he murmurs against your thigh, right next to where you need him the most.
“Please,” you beg, your hips bucking against his mouth, hovering right in front of where you need him. “Please, Will.”
He chuckles, that low, smug sound that makes you want to shove him away and kiss him at the same time. “So needy,” he teases, fondness laced in his voice that takes the sting out of his words.
As soon as you open your mouth to plead him again, his mouth is on you. He’s relentless, his tongue and lips working you with a skill that always leaves you breathless. Licking up your slit, making a mess with your arousal. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge, only to pull back at the last second, like some form of sweet torture. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
He slides a finger inside you, then another, curling them just right to hit the spot deep inside you that makes you see white.
“You like that?” he asks, knowing the answer but saying it anyway, his voice muffled against you.
“Yes,” you cry out, your back arching off the door. “Oh god, yes, don’t stop.”
He hums against you, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. He doubles his efforts now, as he can feel you getting close. His tongue and fingers are working in perfect harmony, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to crest, a wave so intense it leaves you shaking and crying out his name. He doesn’t stop, he works you through your orgasm until you’re a boneless, panting mess, slumped against the door.
When he pulls back he immediately stands up, face to face with you again, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with satisfaction.
“You’re so fucking hot when you come, you know that?” he says as his lips find yours in a deep kiss, the taste of you at the center of it all. You cling to him immediately, your legs feeling weaker due to the sensitivity between them.
Before your mind can form another thought he’s scooping you up bridal style and carrying you down the hall to your bedroom, kicking the bedroom door shut once you enter.
He lays you down on the bed, peppering kisses on your shoulder before sitting back, his eyes roaming over your body. He crawls to hover over you, before leaning down to kiss you again. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches behind you, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it, peeling it off your chest and tossing it aside.
Your bare skin is hot against his, and it feels like your senses are dialed up to a hundred. You don’t know what it is but you just want to be closer to him, feeling his skin on yours makes you want to never let go. He’s kissing you like you’re about to disappear, so you kiss him back just as hard, everything becoming sloppier as your mouths dance together.
Eventually he pulls away to take a breath, looking down at you again, fully laid out beneath him. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers.
You turn your head automatically, trying to hide your face. “I’m serious,” he says, grabbing your jaw and turning your head back to face him. You shut your eyes.
“Look at me,” he says gently.
You crack your eyes open and find him staring down at you, pupils dilated with want and with love. Your heart stutters at the look he’s giving you, your mind already jumbled up enough, you don’t have anything to say.
“Mmm, so pretty, baby,” he whispers as he dips his head again, this time attaching his lips to your chest. You whimper loudly as he buries his face in between your tits, before shifting slightly to wrap his lips around your nipple. He noses into the flesh of your tit while he sucks lightly on your skin, murmuring nonsense you can’t even make out, before moving to do the same on your other side. Your mouth falls open, but no sounds come out as Will continues to nip and suck at your skin.
He presses his hips against yours, and you can feel the proof of his arousal, hard against you through the fabric of his jeans.
His kisses shift, now moving down your stomach again, before he’s pulling away. Your brows furrow slightly at the stop of his actions, until you see him reach for the button of his jeans. You sat up immediately, your hands covering his to stop him.
“Let me,” you whispered, your fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. He watched as you fumbled with the button, then the zipper, his eyes dark with desire. You hook your thumbs through the waistband of his jeans and boxer, pulling down slightly.
Will stands up at the edge of the bed, kicking both pieces of clothes off of his body. Your breath hitches at the sight of him hard and ready for you before settling back over you on the bed, holding your face in his hands.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
You nod, your face flushed and your lips swollen.
“Words, sweetheart,” he says firmly, brushing your hair back from your forehead.
“I’m okay,” you say. You squirm a little, wanting all of him right this second, you hate that he’s making you wait. “Will—” you whine, your hips shifting underneath his.
“I know baby,” he murmurs, his voice smug. “I’ll give it to you, you just have to be patient.”
He leaned down, kissing you again, open mouthed and messy, making you moan against his lips.
The shift in his hips came quickly, and now you feel him completely against you, hard, warm, nestled right against your entrance, teasing you. He doesn’t push in, just rocks against you, letting his length slide through your slick, teasing you both. The slow friction is maddening. You whimper, your hips lifting off the bed, trying to take him in. “Ah,” he hisses, pulling back slightly. “What’d I say about patience?”
Then he reaches down between you, not to enter you but to take himself in his hand, guiding his cock to your clit, rubbing the head in slow circles. The sensation sends what feels like a shock through your body.
“Will, please,” you beg, hands fisting the sheets as your eyes go misty.
“Please what?” he asks. “Tell me what you want.”
You choke on a sob before you manage to answer. “You,” you cry, your back arching slightly. “I want you inside me.”
“Yeah?” he murmured, a smug, satisfied grin on his face. “You want me to fill you up?”
You could only nod, your words lost as he continued his sweet torture. He finally takes pity on you, positioning himself at your entrance, but he still doesn’t thrust in. He pushes in just the tip, a shallow, teasing entry that has you seeing stars.
“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his shoulders, anchoring yourself.
“I know baby, I know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ears before placing a delicate kiss on your temple. “Just breathe, you’re doing so good.”
Inch by inch he pushes in, his eyes never leaving yours. He watches your face for every flicker of pleasure that crosses it, making sure to commit it to memory. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans, “so tight for me.”
By the time he’s fully seated inside you, you’re a panting, whimpering mess, your body trembling with need. He starts to move, his hips setting a slow, deliberate rhythm. It’s not frantic or punishing; it’s slow and deep, a sensual, grinding rhythm that seems to touch every nerve ending in your body. Like each stroke was a deliberate act of worship, like he wants you to feel everything good.
He pulls almost all the way out nearly every time, leaving you feeling empty and desperate, before pushing back in, a slow, deep thrust that steals your breath. “You like that?” he asks, his voice a low, husky whisper. “You like how I’m stretching you? Filling you up?”
You can only moan in response, the sound obscene. Your hands stay tight on his shoulders as he picks up the pace slightly. “Good girl,” he breathes. He’s hitting you in all the right places, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every push.
He shifts his angle slightly, and with that he hits that spot deep inside you that makes you see white. “Oh god, there,” you gasp, your back arching off the bed.
“Yeah that’s it,” he moans. “Fuck, you feel perfect baby.”
Without breaking his pace, he leans down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth again, his tongue swirling around the peak until it was a tight, aching bead. As he does, the cool metal of his chain swings forward, dragging a line across your heated skin. The sensation is a shocking contrast to the warmth of his mouth, a teasing trail of cold that sent a shiver straight through you. You gasp, your hands flying from his shoulders to tangle in the chain itself at the back of his neck, and his curls. He grins against your skin, then turns his head to give the same attention to the other side of your chest, his hips never ceasing their rhythm.
The dual stimulation is almost too much, and you can feel the pressure building deep in your lower stomach, a wave of pleasure about to wash over you.
“Look at me,” he commands gently, reaching down to circle your clit with him thumb. “Wanna see you when you come, keep those pretty eyes on me.”
You force your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The look in his eyes, a mixture of raw desire and pure adoration, is your undoing. You shatter around him, your orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tidal wave. You cry out his name, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He doesn't stop, he works you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming a little harder and a little faster, drawing your pleasure out as long as he can.
Now he’s chasing his own release as you struggle to catch your breath, your muscles fluttering around him, making him groan. His movements becoming more desperate, more erratic.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he grunts, his hips bucking into you roughly. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside,” you pant, your legs wrapping around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper.
With a final groan a moment later, he buries himself inside you, his body tensing as he comes hard. You can feel him pulsing in you, making you moan again at the feeling of him spilling into you.
He collapses on top of you, heavy and spent. You both lay there for a moment, just catching your breath. You feel his hands slowly start to trace light lines up your sides, not to try and change the mood, but to remind you that he’s there. You return the favor by brushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead, and rubbing your hand lightly over his back.
Finally, he rolls off of you, pulling out. You let out a slight whimper, still sensitive. “You okay?” he asks immediately, gathering you in his arms and kissing your forehead gently. You just nod, snuggling into his side, a content sigh escaping your lips. You start feeling sleepy quickly, it feels like a warm, fuzzy blanket of exhaustion settling over you.
He finally shifts, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at you. His hair is a mess, falling into his eyes, and his face is flushed, a soft, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He looks beautiful.
“You’re so handsome,” you mumble, your eyes heavy as you look up at him.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he said as he leans down and presses a light kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, his voice a low whisper.
He starts to pull away and an involuntary whimper escapes your lips. You don't want him to move. You don't want to lose the warmth of his body, the comforting weight of him on top of you. Every nerve ending is still raw and sensitive, and the thought of the cold air hitting your skin is unbearable. At the same time you just want to be held. It was no secret you got clingy after sex, now was no exception.
He froze, his eyes searching yours. He saw the exhaustion, the sensitivity, the sleepy vulnerability you couldn’t hide. A soft, understanding look crosses his face, and he settles back over you, his body a warm, protective blanket. “Oh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m not going anywhere. I just need to clean you up, m’kay? You’ll be more comfortable.”
You shake your head, your face burying in the crook of his neck. “Don’t wanna move,” you mumble, your words slurred with sleep. He chuckles, a low, warm, affectionate sound that vibrates through his chest. “I know, but I’ll be quick, promise. And then I’ll come right back to hold you.”
He slowly pulls away from you, cold air hitting your body and a weird feeling of loneliness settles in your stomach at the lack of touch. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, a silent apology. “I know, I’m sorry. Just give me one minute.”
You watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he disappears into the bathroom. He’s back in less than a minute, a warm, damp washcloth in his hand. He’s gentle, as always, his touch infinitely tender as he cleans you up, his movements slow and careful,and his eyes are deep with that soft look that makes your heart ache.
"You did so good, baby. You feel good?" You barely have the energy to nod, but you manage it, as he keeps cleaning you up. When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and just looks at you for a moment, a soft smile on his face.
You’re still lying on your back, a sated mess, when suddenly he stands. Before you can even process what was happening, a mischievous, boyish grin spread across his face. He takes a moment to look at you, before reaching down and scooping you up off the bed and into his arms, peppering kisses all over whatever skin he can reach.
A surprised squeal escapes your lips as you’re engulfed in a tangle of limbs and blankets. Meanwhile he’s laughing, a deep sound that fills the room, as he rolls you both over until you are lying on top of him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.
“Will!” you laugh, trying to sound scandalized but failing miserably. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you under the covers,” he grins, his eyes sparkling. He then starts to manhandle you with a gentleness you think only he could ever provide, lifting you just enough to pull the thick comforter over both of you, creating a warm, cozy cocoon.
You settle back against his chest, your head tucked under his chin, his skin warm against yours. His laughter has now subsided, replaced by a contented sigh as he holds you close.
“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, a sleepy smile on your face.
“You love it,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “And I love you.”
Your heart does a little flip at his words, and then you settle. Warm and safe in his arms, nuzzling closer and draping your leg over his, your hand resting on his chest, fiddling with the metal of his chain and tracing circles over his heart.
“Night, Will. I love you too,” you murmur, your eyes already drifting closed.
“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers, his arms tightening around you. “Sweet dreams, I’ve got you. I love you most.”
And as you drift off to sleep, tangled in the sheets and in his arms, you know, with a certainty that thrills you; that you’re completely and utterly his.
requests are open 💕 How I'm looking at writing requests now is just whatever inspires me, whereas previously I was trying to do them in the order they were submitted. Now I'm going solely off of vibes :)
Ftm Mack who gets suuuper horny during his ovulation window ....
Fuuuuck ok walk w me walk w me,
so it’s not even subtle. One day he’s normal, chirping in the locker room, he's focused, he's fine. Then he starts ovulating and suddenly he’s restless as hell, his skin feels too hot, he's pressing his thighs together under the table during meetings, getting distracted mid-sentence because every little shift makes his clit throb. He’ll be on the bus with headphones in, staring out the window, and you can practically feel how wound up he is from three seats away.
Will clocks it immediately every time.
They get back to the hotel or their apartment and Mack barely makes it through the door before he’s yanking at Will’s shirt, and Will's already half-hard and Mack's dripping in his boxers, muttering “I need it, I need it right now” like he’s been holding it in all day. Will doesn’t even tease that much and just manhandles him onto the nearest flat surface, gets a hand between his legs, and finds him soaked.
Mack’s loud about it when he’s like this. Like hes making needy little noises every time Will’s fingers sink into him, hips rolling down like he’s trying to fuck himself on them. He’ll grab Will’s wrist and keep him there, grinding on them, already close after like thirty seconds because his body is just that desperate for it.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” Will mutters against his neck, two fingers curling hard against that spongy spot inside Mack. “This what you’ve been thinking about all practice? Sitting there with a soaked cunt just waiting for me to fill it?”
Mack can only nod, eyes glassy, already clenching around him. Will gets his cock out, pushes in slow just to feel how easy it is, how Mack’s body just opens for him, and Mack comes almost immediately, he's shaking and he's moaning into Will’s shoulder and he's still grinding down like he needs more even while he’s pulsing around him.
And he does need more. He always does when he's ovulating. Like one orgasm barely takes the edge off so Will ends up fucking him through two, three, sometimes more, Mack getting progressively more wrecked and clingy, legs locked around Will’s waist, begging for it deeper, harder, “please just keep going, don’t stop, I need it—”
By the time it’s over Mack is a complete mess: fucked-out, sticky, still twitching every time Will shifts inside him, and already looking like he might be ready for round four in another twenty minutes.
Basically I'm thinking ovulation Mack is genuinely dangerous 🤤
Hi! I'm Masha/Puppy (she/her, but gender is a social construct and I'm just a little puppygirl), I'm a hockey fan from Eastern Europe (now living in Canada!) looking for other friends who are equally obsessed with hockey and being gay.
Current fav ships/players:
7181 (Mack × Ben Kindel)
8781 (Ben Kindel × Sidney Crosby)
WillMack
Samisa
ChernyLuca
ChernyBrini
ChernySamisa
Cherny × literally anyone
Cherny
Bedmint
Beckett Senecke
Did I mention Igor Chernyshov
SidGeno
My main teams: 🦈 Sharks 🐧 Penguins
Boundaries: No kink shaming here, these just aren't my thing: Feet, Incest, Non-consensual content, Knife play
Everything else is usually fair game but kinda depends on the vibe. :)
My inbox is always open for gay hockey thoughts, ship talk, headcanons, funnies, and anything else u can think of 💖
You're on your back, watching as Will positions himself between your thighs. His cock is thick and heavy, resting against your stomach as he leans down to kiss you. You can already feel the heat radiating from him, making your pussy clench with anticipation.
"Relax, baby," Will murmurs against your lips, his voice low and confident.
"Look at you," he whispers, more to himself than to you. He runs the fat, swollen head of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness. The sight is obscene, his thick cock, flushed and angry-looking, resting against your soft, wet lips. His tip looks impossibly wide as he nudges it against your entrance, not pushing in, just letting you feel the sheer size of it. "Pretty sure you're gonna feel this for a week."
He presses forward, just enough to stretch your opening around the very tip before pulling back. He does it again and again, teasing you, watching your face as you gasp and wiggle your hips.
"Already struggling?" he teases, his grin widening as he watches your expression. "And I haven't even put it in yet. You sure you can handle this?"
You nod your head, unable to form words as he continues his maddening tease. He pushes the tip in, just past the tight ring of muscle and holds there. The stretch is intense, a burning pleasure that has your hands flying to his shoulders, digging your nails in.
"That's just the head, baby," he mocks, his voice a low rumble. "All stretched out and we've barely started." He pushes in another agonizing inch, his eyes glued to the sight of his thick cock disappearing into your tight pussy. "Fuck, gotta break you in all over again, huh?"
Each inch feels like more than you can handle, your body stretching to accommodate his impressive girth. Will is watching you intently, his expression a mixture of concentration and smug satisfaction as he sees how your body responds to him, how you're struggling to take all of him.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice low and soothing despite the teasing glint in his eyes. "Just breathe and take it. Take every inch like a good fucking girl."
Finally, he's buried to the hilt, his hips flush against yours which leaves you feeling impossibly full. Will stays still for a moment, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
"Told you you'd feel it," he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Now, be a good girl and show me how much you love being stretched out like this."
His first few thrusts are slow and shallow, just enough to make you whimper with need. You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he slides in and out, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
But it's when he pushes particularly deep that you notice it, a slight bulge in your lower stomach, visible each time he thrusts forward.
Will notices your gaze and follows it, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well now, what's this?" he teases, pressing his hand flat against your belly. "Looks like I'm hitting you pretty deep, isn't that right?"
You whimper in response, your face flushing with embarrassment and arousal. Will fucking loves this, loves how your body struggles to take his massive cock, how you can see the evidence of his size from the outside.
"Answer me," he demands, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. "Can you feel me in there? Can you feel how deep I'm fucking you?"
"Yes," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "You're so deep, Will. Feels so good."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through your body as he continues to fuck you deeply. Each thrust pushes the bulge in your stomach higher, more pronounced. You can feel his cock moving inside you, the thick head pressing against your inner walls with every powerful stroke.
"Watch," Will commands, his hand still pressing down on your stomach.
Your eyes flutter open, focusing on the visible evidence of his size. It's obscene, the way your stomach distends with each deep thrust, but also incredibly arousing. You can't stop the whimpers that escape your lips as Will picks up his pace, fucking you harder, deeper.
"See that?" he asks, pressing down harder on the bulge. "That's me, fucking you so deep you can see it from the outside. No one's ever fucked you like this, have they?"
You shake your head, your body trembling with pleasure. Will's cock feels impossibly thick, stretching you to your limits as he drives into you relentlessly.
"Such a good girl, taking all of me like this," Will praises, his voice rough with arousal. "Your pussy was made for my cock, wasn't it?"
"Yes," you moan, your hips rising to meet his thrusts despite the overwhelming sensations. "Just for you."
Will's response is a particularly deep thrust that makes you cry out, the sound catching in your throat. You can feel him impossibly deep, a heavy pressure against your cervix that sends a sharp jolt through your entire body.
"Come on," he urges, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his own release. "I need you to come for me. Show me how much you love being fucked like this."
His words, combined with the intense sensations of his cock stretching you so deliciously, push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you with overwhelming intensity, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure course through your body.
Will continues to thrust through your climax, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent and whimpering beneath him.
Only then does he allow himself his own release, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan. You can feel his cock pulsing as he comes, the bulge in your stomach more pronounced than ever.
"Perfect," Will murmurs as he collapses beside you, his hand still resting on your stomach. "My perfect girl, always taking me so well."
