Smut prompt 16 list 1 ( sunscreen one) with William nylander 😮💨
list no.1, smut prompt no.16: the classic “oh, let me help you put some sunscreen on” but then the little massage turns into something more
SMUT 18+
sweden is unbearably hot. like, so hot you can’t even think straight.
the air smells like salt and sunscreen. warm pine from the trees lining the property mixes with the faint breeze rolling in off the water, and somewhere nearby, music drifts low from someone’s speaker down the shoreline. It’s one of those impossibly slow summer afternoons where the sun never seems to move properly across the sky—just hangs there, golden and lazy, stretching the day out forever.
you’re laid out across one of the lounge chairs on the patio, sunglasses pushed up into your hair, bikini straps untied so you don’t end up with awkward tan lines later. heat sinks into your skin in a way that makes you feel boneless and sleepy.
behind you, the screen door slides open.
you hear willy before you see him—the scrape of sandals against the wooden deck, the quiet pop of a drink can opening.
“hm,” he hums after a second, voice thick with amusement. “this what we’re doing all day?”
you peek one eye open just in time to see your boyfriend stop beside your chair, shirt already abandoned somewhere inside, damp blond hair pushed back from swimming in the lake earlier. sunlight catches against the gold chain resting against his hair littered chest, and he looks unfairly good standing there with that smug little smile tugging at his mouth.
“you complaining?” you mumble.
“not at all.” willy’s gaze drags slowly over you, completely unashamed. “just trying to figure out how long you’ve been cooking out here.”
you snort softly, settling deeper against the towel. “like twenty minutes.”
“bullshit.”
a laugh slips out of you at the immediate response. he reaches down before you can answer, fingers brushing lightly across the warm skin of your lower back, testing the heat there.
“jesus,” he grunts quietly, hand lingering. “you’re already hot.”
you turn your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “I have sunscreen on.”
william just hums again, and crouches beside the chair anyway, forearms resting against the edge as his fingers trail lazily along your spine. it’s absentminded at first—light touches, teasing circles—but you know him well enough to catch the look in his eyes immediately. the one that always means trouble.
“I could help you reapply,” he offers casually.
you smile despite yourself. “pretty sure you’re just looking for an excuse to touch me.”
“yeah,” he says easily. “obviously.”
the sheer honesty of it makes your stomach flip in the stupid, familiar way it always does when it comes to william and his usual blatant cheekiness.
before you can answer, he reaches for the sunscreen bottle beside your chair, giving it a small shake.
“c’mon,” he murmurs, already grinning. “be nice to me. i’ll massage it in properly.”
you narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, trying very hard to look unimpressed. which ultimately doesn’t work.
willy just waits.
the stupid thing is—he knows exactly how this ends. knows you well enough to recognize the moment your resistance starts slipping, the tiny twitch at the corner of your mouth that gives you away every single time.
“you’re impossible,” you mutter after a beat.
his grin widens instantly. “but you’re still saying yes.”
before you can argue, he squeezes some sunscreen into his palm from the bottle you’d left beside the lounger, rubbing his hands together slowly. the scent of coconut fills the warm air as he shifts closer beside the chair.
then his hands land on you. warm, and slow.
you inhale softly despite yourself as he spreads the lotion across your shoulders, working carefully over skin already heated from the sun. his touch starts innocent enough—methodical, teasingly thorough—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it never really does with him.
because willy likes dragging things out.
his thumbs press into the tension gathered between your shoulders, slow circles that make your eyes flutter shut almost immediately. a quiet sound leaves you before you can stop it, somewhere between a sigh and a hum, and you hear his soft laugh right behind you.
“that feel good?” he asks, even though he’s smirking like he already knows the answer.
“don’t start.”
“i’m just wondering.”
you just hum as his hands slide lower. not too low—not yet—but still enough to make your stomach tighten with anticipation.
“you missed a spot,” willy says after a moment, shifting his weight as he leans in closer. his forearm brushing the back of your thigh while he works sunscreen carefully along your sides. every touch feels deliberate now. lazy—testing you.
you crack an eye open. “where?”
his fingers trace slowly along the curve of your waist, and when you does, you can feel it sting a little bit from the sun, proving his point. “here.”
your breath catches embarrassingly fast.
the smile in his voice is immediate. “sensitive today?”
“it’s hot out,” you mumble weakly.
he snickers, “sure.”
you can practically feel his amusement against your skin now. he keeps going anyway, palms gliding down your back in slow motions that are far less helpful than they are distracting. the sunlight, the heat, the steady sound of water from the water—it all starts blurring together until the only thing you can really focus on is him.
and he fucking knows it.
“relax,” willy mumbles softly near your ear. “you’re all tense.” one of his hands settles briefly at your lower back, fingers flexing there purpose before sliding just below the band of your bikini bottoms. then slips around until he’s at the side ties, tugging at them until the loosen completely.
you wither pathetically, making him chuckle deeply. “you gunna let me touch you baby?” he murmurs, half tranced on the way you’re already wiggling against the seat, half undone bottoms slipping away dangerously.
all earlier acts of playing hard to get, and general nonchalance, all but flies out the window. because your sexy man just rubbed you down and is now offering to rub you in other ways—and yeah, obviously you’re gunna fall for that.
“please,” you huff, half from the heat and half from anticipation. “need you.”
that’s all it takes from willy to grab the flesh of your hips and man handle you around so you’re on your back, facing him. next, he pulls the tiny triangle away, exposing your pussy.
“fuck,” he curses, tucking the loose material under the curve of your ass, keeping your lower half exposed. and when he drops to his knees in front of you, you almost feel like sobbing out. because in the snap of your fingers, you’re throbbing for it.
through a hitched breathe, you plead his name. you can barley hear it over the blood pumping in your ears, but it doesn’t even matter. because willy is then answering your prayers by spreading your folds with his thumb and forefinger, allowing the humidity and salty air to wash over you. netting your slick entrance and pulsating clit.
“fuck you’re already soaked,” he notes, thumb rimming your hole, collecting your drooling arousal, and slowly beginning to spread it. willy’s eyes flick up to your face, “all this from me?”
despite yourself, you manage to at least save yourself from total embarrassment. “from a massage,” you correct, cheeky, only to immediately crumble when he starts massage your slick against your needy bundle of nerves.
“oh shit,” you gasp, back arching off the bed.
he snickers from between your legs, delivering three more full, precise circles over that sensitive spot, and then lets his fingers trail back down to your entrance. which clenches around the pads of his fingers, as if trying to pull him in.
“done being a brat?”
your eyes meet again, and willy raises a brow, as if urging you to answer. but all you can manage though is a shake of your head, hips lifting on their own accord.
“use your words.”
swallowing, you try again. “yes.”
“good,” willy says, “now take out your tits baby.”
and because you’re desperate and sweaty and so ready to get your rocks off, your hands instantly dart up to your bikini top. pulling the barley there triangles to the sides, exposing your puckered, neglected nipples. not caring about how you’re not even properly secluded.
willy doesn’t need to tell you to play with them because you’re already ahead of him—switching between rolling the peaks with your thumb and middle finger, and squeezing the entirety of the mound in your palm.
he curses again at the sight, low and syrupy like the heat all around you, and then slips two of his fingers inside on your creamy walls, easing them deeper and deeper until he’s knuckle deep.
“oh my god,” you whimper, walls fluttering around his digits, “please.”
you don’t even know what your begging for, not when your head is so clouded with arousal and likely battling some sort of heat stroke. you just know that you need more—more pleasure, more movement, more him.
“want me to make you cum?” willy prompts between lazy yet affective thrusts of his wrist, fingers perfectly massaging up and down your walls.
with your bottom lip held between your teeth, you nod for what feels like the umpteenth time, followed by another moan laced response. “yes. oh god—“
he suddenly speeds up, skillfully and knowing just the right angles and timing and precision to start bringing you to that teetering edge.
the sound of your arousal is almost unfair, vivid squelches each time willy dives his fingers into your weepy entrance, only to pull them back out—glistening—just to repeat it all over again.
you’re withering and panting, sweat beading against your brow and pooling between your breasts. one of the hands that had been fondling your own tit falls to willy’s hand that’s pushing your thigh open, desperately clutching at his fingers when his fingers brush that oh so perfect spot inside you.
then, because apparently he wants to see you fucking float, willy switches his position. with one knee braced on the longer and a foot flat on the ground, he’s able to really plow into your pussy—palm against your clit, those same two fingers nestled deep inside you.
“you’re so pretty like this,” he grunts, and when you manage to flutter your tightly clenched eyes open, you can see he’s hard underneath his shorts. which shouldn’t be so erotic, but it is.
with tight, almost jerk like movements against your slicked up folds, willy continues to deliver you outstanding pleasure, and your pussy responds to that with so much sticky arousal that it’s drenching his hand—dripping off his fingers and soaking the bed beneath your hips. mixing with sun cream and sweat like a dirty, sun drenched dream.
you’re a moaning mess, naturally.
and when he tells you to cum for him, you can only do just that, with a shout that can probably be heard from across the water, making an even bigger mess that seeps through the canvas material of the lounge chair—which will definitely need a hosing down after this.
you’re still shivering and on a high when you meet willy’s gaze again, and you find him smirking down at you like he just witnessed the painting of the mona lisa rather than you climaxing—making you roll your eyes despite the smirk growing on your face.
then when he brings those two fingers up to his mouth, slips them between his lips and sucks your cum and sunscreen off them, you’re smirking for an entirely different reason.
