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veronicaphoenix · 7 hours

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It’s okay if not because I don’t think you’ve written anything like it or similar before but for Into the Abyss of Bad Habits would you maybe consider writing reader who wants to try strapon sex with Noah because she sees how well he takes Oli and wants him to fall apart like that under her? 🫠 Especially since he’s a workaholic and a control freak, to see him just lose all sense of that. There is not a thought in his head. He melts actually melts into the mattress. I just know you would do it justice. Maybe Oli and reader are plotting together as a result of him disappearing into the studio for hours,days, at a time, kind of getting lost in it, ignoring them. Not everyone’s cup of tea though, I know. Feel free to ignore!

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Requested scene

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Oliver Sykes x Reader | Words: 2k

Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, sexual content (basically what's written in the request, it's not too descriptive, though), use of handscuffs, three people in love exploring the joys of sex, oliver being sort of a sex instructor 🤭, and fluff ✨

I felt apprehensive at my own idea as I approached the studio on the ground floor of our house, my hand tightly gripping Oliver as he led the way.

My heart raced in my chest, skittish at Noah’s reaction to my proposal.

He had been consumed by work again in recent days, secluding himself in the studio for hours on end, skipping meals, and feeling perpetually behind schedule, despite evidence to the contrary and his bandmates reminding him that they were good on time for their next releases. Noah’s self-imposed stress often found a way to take control of him, keeping him distant from both Oliver and me.

Considering that we hadn’t had much quality time the three of us together since a week, I had had enough time to entertain myself with different scenarios that still hadn’t unfolded in the intimacy of our bedroom.

At first, when the idea crossed my mind, I felt somewhat embarrassed and quickly dismissed it. However, it persisted, stubbornly refusing to vacate my thoughts. I missed Noah, and I couldn’t shake the image of Noah unraveling every time Oliver took him, how effortlessly Oliver managed to get him to surrender to him. And in a sudden, unexpected moment, a twinge of jealousy took over me. I knew I could cause that effect on him, too, elicit the same response, to make him come undone when he was with me, whether inside me or in the grasp of my mouth. But now I yearned to get the same level of surrender that Oliver achieved.

I was so mortified at my own thoughts and needs that Oliver noticed my distress as soon as he entered the kitchen a few days ago and found me frantically preparing tea in the kitchen.

It took him less than five minutes to coax me into telling him what was going through my head, the scenario I’d been picturing the past few days. His reaction? He took my hand, picked the car keys, and drove us to the nearest sex shop, taking advantage of Noah being lost in his music world, which ensured us that he wouldn’t notice our absence.

Today, it had been three hours since Noah had disappeared into the studio immediately after breakfast, his absence stretching until late morning. It was Saturday, for God’s sake, and instead of going out for a run and spend some time with Oliver and me in the garden, or in bed, he had decided to remain sequestered in his space, oblivious to the world outside. He hadn’t even finished the bite of the avocado sandwich he’d been devouring for breakfast by the time he stood up, left the plate in the sink, and strode out of the kitchen, leaving me an Oliver gaping at his back as he disappeared down the corridor.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself before I knocked on the studio door three hours later.

“He’s going to like the idea, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Oliver tried to reassure me.

“Too late for that,” I replied.

Oliver squeezed my hand, a hint of laughter escaping him as he didn’t wait for Noah to open the door. With determined strides, Oliver barged into the room, removing Noah’s headphones from his ears.

Noah’s immediate protest was cut short by the seriousness in Oliver’s gaze, which conveyed a message of “enough is enough.” Then, with a subtle eyebrow gesture, Oliver directed Noah’s attention towards me, standing a few steps behind him. Noah noticed my tight grip on Oliver’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, furrowing his brows.

“She wants to ask you something,” Oliver said.

“Propose, actually,” I corrected, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What is it?” He sat in his chair, relaxed yet attentive, hands hanging from the armrests and legs open and inviting. His attention was now fully on me, curiosity piqued.

I bit my lip.

“I want to fuck you the way Oliver does.”

After a brief moment of processing, Noah chuckled, his eyes flickering between me and Oliver.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve picked up a few things,” Oliver explained, “and we’re done waiting for you to come out of this mouse hole. So, get up from that chair, and let’s put some work into that rear, or it’s going to flatten out like a pancake.”

Noah’s expression shifted to one of disappointment and mild embarrassment. “Your jokes aren’t funny, dude,” he chided.

“Noah, please?” I interjected, extending my arm toward him, silently conveying what I wanted as I held his gaze. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he swiveled around in the chair, quickly saving his progress on Logic Pro before standing up. His fingers lightly brushed against my chin.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

I could barely contain my excitement, nearly letting out a squeal as we made our way out of the studio.

When we made it to the bedroom, Noah and Oliver took of their t-shirts. I wriggled to remove my jeans, keeping my t-shirt and tiny thong on. Oliver then retrieved the strap-on from the bag, and when Noah caught sight of it, his reaction surprised me.

Instead of shock or hesitation, he chuckled with amusement, pulling me close to him for a deep, passionate kiss. He pressed his body to mine as I stood on my tiptoes before letting a delicious friction ignite between us that got me wet and him, hard.

Unlacing his sweatpants, I pulled them down with his underwear. He climbed onto the bed without needing any direction from Oliver or me. Meanwhile, Oliver assisted me, pulling down my thong and securing the strap-on around my hips.

“How do you want me, baby?” Noah asked, eyes on me.

“Umm,” I glanced uncertainly at Oliver over my shoulder.

“Don’t be shy, come on. Tell him what you told me” he encouraged me.

“On your back?” I said, moving some hair behind my ear. “I want to see your face.”

“Missionary? Alright, missionary it is,” Noah agreed.

With a contented smile, he settled onto the bed, arranging himself among the pillow on our huge mattress. He relaxed, arms folded behind his head, dick hard. He watched me as Oliver inspected me, his hands still on my hips.

“I feel so weird…” I muttered, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Can you feel the weight?” Oliver asked. I nodded. “That’s how it feels to be a man.”

I rolled my eyes. With a playful slap to my ass, he directed me to get on the bed and position myself between Noah’s legs, which were now bent.

Noah clicked his tongue, gesturing toward my chest. “T-shirt and bra off, baby. If you’re going to be on top of me, I want those beautiful tits pressed against my chest.”

Oliver spared me the hassle by removing the last of my clothes. Moments later, he positioned himself at the foot of the bed, still standing, his bare chest pressed against my back as my hand found their place on Noah’s knees. Uncertainty gripped me as I pondered how to begin. It was pretty obvious, yes, but it was still something new to me. I hadn’t tried this with any of my past lovers.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll guide you through it,” Oliver whispered in my ear, his hands massaging my shoulders. As I glanced down at Noah’s growing erection and then at the smirk on his face, I felt a surge of nerves. I was damn nervous about this whole situation, and he seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the prospect of what I was about to do.

Oliver excused himself briefly, returning with a bottle of lube in hand. He applied some to my hand, instructing me to spread it on Noah, emphasizing how good it would feel if I caressed Noah’s perineum in the process, a sensitive area Noah apparently enjoyed. Following Oliver’s guidance, Noah emitted a low moan, his gaze fixed on me intently as I adjusted to this new task.

“Good,” Oliver said. “Guide it with your hands and start pushing in. When you feel ready to continue with your hips, use your hands to stimulate his dick. Meanwhile, I’ll tie his hands to the headboard,” he concluded, already moving to carry out his part of the plan.

“You had this all planned, didn’t you?” Noah began to remark, but his words faltered when I pressed forward with my hips.

My fingers encircled Noah’s erection, applying gentle pressure as I began to move and pump him in a steady rhythm. Oliver secured Noah’s wrists to the headboard before leaning in to grab his jaw and press a hungry kiss to his lips.

“Such a control freak,” he reprimanded him between clenched teeth while still holding his jaw between his fingers. Noah’s eyes had darkened and his cheeks flushed by the time Oliver had returned to stand behind me.

“Does it feel good?” I asked Noah, curious and anxious.

“It’s—ugh. Kitt—ah! Fuck.” His wrists pulled at the bindings. I bit my lip, power running through my veins as I kept thrusting into him and watched him abide to me. “It feels amazing…”

I attempted to go faster, but Oliver stilled my hips, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

“You don’t have rush, love. Find your rhythm, go at your own pace. He’s enjoying it either way. Just look at his face. He’s already melting. You’ve got him right where you wanted him, don’t you?” Oliver’s words were soothing, grounding me in the moment.

“Yes,” I replied softly, barely whispering. I had already lost myself to the cadence of my hips against Noah and in the harmony of seeing him slowly surrender blissfully to me. Spread out on the bed, hands bound, lips parted, his moans filling the room, he looked utterly beautiful.

“Keep going,” Oliver encouraged, his hands squeezing my breasts, and his fingers beginning to tease my nipples. My breath hitched. “Just like that. Good girl. You’re going to make him come in no time.”

In those minutes, I felt once again mesmerized at the connection I had with both, how marvelously well we worked together, how good we were for each other. My inexplicable connection with both Noah and Oliver was a harmonious blend of desire and intimacy that never failed to envelop us in its warmth. I felt fucking blessed.

“I want Noah to touch me, too,” I suddenly expressed.

“Alright,” Oliver replied. He was clearly enjoying the moment, guiding us through it all, witnessing how Noah was about to fall apart with me positioned between his legs.

It hadn’t been more than ten minutes of Noah being bound to the bed when Oliver released him. Despite his struggle to contain the pleasure, Noah motioned for me to lean on him. Maneuvering our bodies was a bit challenging given how they were connected and our size difference, but Noah managed to grasp my face in his hands and kiss me deeply.

With one hand still nestled between us, fingers wrapped around his thickness, I continued to stroke him, feeling the tension building within the body underneath mine until finally, I had him falling apart, his release coating both our stomachs, my mouth swallowing the wail his orgasm elicited.

It was dirty, the way I lay on top of him after, but as soon as the euphoria of seeing Noah succumb to ecstasy, totally melting into the mattress because of me, began to settle down, I returned to my knees.

Oliver helped me remove the toy, and quick as a cat I crawled back to Noah’s side while Oliver fetched wipes to clean us both.

As we cuddled in bed, Noah’s hand caressing my hair and his lips leaving feather-light kisses on my nose and cheeks, his voice filled the room with messages of reassurance, praise, and gratitude. Oliver joined us on the other side of Noah, still wearing his jeans and his erection evident against the fabric. Nevertheless, he looked just as elated as we did.

“That was fucking beautiful,” he said.