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anothers-trash-my-treasure · 3 years

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Stoners

Stoner Snaf <3 So this one's kinda weird, I based it around the Watch Me from fictober so if you haven't already read that, I suggest reading it first! It's also set in a post COVID world because I need something to look forward to. Disclaimer; I wrote this while very high last night and didn't really edit it so it's probably a mess.

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex (don't do this), recreational drug use, if you squint there's some kinky undertones but nothing too crazy.

Word Count: 4.4K (i haven't written something this long is forever omf)

Tags: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix

Enjoy and happy 4:20

Ever since the pandemic, you hadn’t been able to do crowds. Not like you used to anyways. It killed you a little bit because all the things you missed doing so much involved crowds; concerts, clubbing, festivals, travelling. Getting back into the swing of things took time. The feeling of being surrounded by people you don’t know set every one of your nerves on fire in the worst way. It felt so...

Uncomfortable.

This is probably why you didn’t last more than a half-hour at some seedy dive bar your friends had dragged you out to for the night. They begged you to go out with them, if even only for a drink or two. It had been so long since the whole group had a proper outing, it was nice to have the gang out for a night. Until some dickhead grabbed your ass and whispered some unwanted filth in your ear, his breath hot and unpleasant on your skin. After that, you were quick to grab your bag and say goodbye to your friends. You knew they were disappointed, but you could still feel the strangers breathe on your skin like it had been singed.

You welcomed the cool air of the night, feeling it immediately cool your skin. You hadn’t realized how warm it was inside but now that you were out in the open, you felt better. The burning on your neck had settled, more of an afterthought now. Your brain still felt overwhelmed, and you knew exactly how to remedy that.

Sitting down at one of the picnic table benches nearby, you began to sift through your bag when a voice rang out through the quiet streets.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,”

You’d know that slow drawl anywhere, you’d go so far as to say it near haunted your dreams.

“Merriell Shelton,” you beam up at him as he walks closer to you, nodding at his friends to continue without him, “I haven’t seen you since-”

“That last party.” He nods, smiling at you in the way where you’re not quite sure if he’s flirting with you or if he’s just that naturally gorgeous, “when I taught ya’ how to smoke.”

An excited smile bubbles onto your face and you shake your head at him, “Oh, you’d be so proud of me. I’ve grown so much since then.”

You resume digging through your bag to find your various forms of weed paraphernalia you carry with you. The pandemic had not been kind to you, and some days it felt like the only thing keeping your head above water was your bedtime joint. It wasn’t something you were terribly proud of, but it helped your anxiety and that was good enough for you lately.

He barks out a laugh at your response and you can’t help the pride the swells up inside of you knowing that you made him laugh like that. He comes to sit on the bench, placing himself close enough that it wasn’t weird, but far away enough so that he wasn’t directly in your space.

“What, you some kinda stoner or something now?” he asks as you layout your joints and pipes. He whistles, a mix between being impressed and mocking, when you pull out your vape too, “Damn, you got a bong in there too?”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, “No, that stays at home.” you say with a wink, “So, how have you been?” you ask, starting to put everything but your joints back in your bag.

He blows out through his lips and laughs a little, running a hand through his hair, “Been better lately, that’s all that matters, I s’pose.” He watched, something like a weird form of pride in his eyes as you pull out a joint and light it carefully. You certainly can’t complain, you forgot how great it felt to have his eyes on you.

You hum knowingly, “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway,” you hold the joint up hesitantly.

“I don’t usually share my joints anymore, but if you’ve got your shots...” you shrug, your sentence tapering off. It’s a weird world you live in now, no one quite knows what’s socially acceptable anymore.

He smirks at you, amused, taking the joint from your fingers, “I’ve got my shots alright,”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he brings it up to his lips and takes his hit. He’s not even doing anything out of the ordinary, but he looks like he’s up to no good in every way. It’s like he’s just taking you in as if comparing you to the girl he met years ago.

“You changed,” he comments on an exhale, passing it back.

You nod, laughing softly, “Turns out I get really impulsive when I’m alone,”

He scoffs, “tell me about it,” and then he’s shrugging off his hoodie to reveal a handful of new tattoos covering his skin, “Buddy of mine is an artist,”

You gasp, ‘ooo’ing at some of the more complex pieces. Without thinking your hand darts out to let your fingers drag against his forearm, following the linework of the ink. His muscle twitches beneath your fingers involuntarily and you’re reminded of how long you’ve gone without intimate touches like this. You wonder if it’s the same for him. Did he long to be touched so innocently like this too?

“They’re wonderful,” you say, pulling your hand away, still admiring from a distance.

“Yea, I like ‘em.” He shrugs, nodding at you to take the last pulls from the joint, it’s your weed after all, “You get any?”

You shook your head, “No, surprisingly enough every time I finally convinced myself to book an appointment, shops got shut down again.” You said, only kind of bitterly.

He laughs and you scowl at him, “Aw, baby, don’t be like that,” he laughs, swatting at you half-heartedly, “Look, I betcha I can get you a discount at my buddy’s shop.”

You eye him suspiciously, “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”

He puts a hand to his chest with a lazy smirk, “On god,”

You bite your lip to suppress a smile, shaking your head lightly, “Okay fine but that just means you’ll get to see a whole lot more of me,”

His smirk turns darker, into something more playfully suggestive, “I have no problem with that,”

A silence fills the space between you as you both take each other in. You had really only hung out with him that one night and nothing had really happened. You just sat and talked really. You talked for a while. You talked so long you didn’t realize the party had ended until your friend came to get you. You exchanged numbers and then just a few weeks after, you were instructed to start isolating. You’d kept up a steady social media friendship since then, but you had missed actually talking to him. He wasn’t much of a texter. The silence only lasts a moment, but it feels thick with tension.

“You look good by the way,” he comments, leaning ever so slightly closer to you, “I meant to say that earlier but then you made me strip for ya-”

“Whoawhoawhoa!!” you sputter through a laugh, “I did not make you do anything, you did that yourself.”

He shakes his head at you, “Nah, that doesn’t sound like me.”

You're giggling at this point, “You’re ridiculous.”

He beams at you, clearly pleased with himself for the moment. It settles for a second as he looks at you, eyes softening a bit before he glances down, nudging your knee with his a bit, “I missed you,” He cringes a bit, “I know it’s weird to say but, I did.”

Your nodding before you can even think to play it even a little bit cool, “No, I get it,” you assure him, smiling softly, “I missed you too, actually.”

He hums, smiling a rare soft smile at you before changing the subject, clearly wanting to shift the attention away from his moment of vulnerability, “So why aren’t you inside?” he asks.

“Oh,” you glance back at the bar behind you, having forgotten it was even there, “I was heading out, I wasn’t really in the mood for dive bars tonight.”

He nods, “The crowds right?” you nod and he’s talking again before you can ask him how he knows that, “I get it, sometimes being so close to that many people again makes me wanna crawl out my skin.” he chuckles.

You nod, a weight lifting off your shoulders to know you’re not alone, “Exactly, it’s not something I’ve gotten used to yet.”

“Well, can I walk you home?” he offers with a smile, “I’m in no rush to head in there,”

You smile and nod, “I’d like that,”

Somehow he had ended up on your couch. You weren’t entirely sure when walking you home had turned to him being on your couch, but you certainly weren’t complaining. You were both pleasantly high, talking anything from movie theories to possible dystopian futures and alien invasions.

“Look, I’m jus’ sayin’ that if I was an alien, I wouldn’t wanna fuck a human, are you kidding?” he reasons, eyes squinted as if he’s offended and your laughing so hard you have tears in your eyes, “Nah, I’m goin’ for a much cooler species.”

He watches you as you fight back giggles at his ridiculousness, a lazy, grin settled on his face. He reaches for his jacket that’s slung across the arm of the couch, reaching into his pocket to pull out his own stash and you gasp, mocking offence.

“You had your own weed all this time and you’ve been smoking mine?”

He rolls his eyes, settling the joint between his lips and lighting it. He inhales slowly, watching the tip as it sparks to life, eyes flicking back to you as he exhales, “I was gonna share,”

He holds out the joint for you, however as soon as you go to steal it he holds it back, just out of your reach, “what’s the magic word?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” you ask through a laugh, straining forward further in an effort to reach it but you’re hindered from the way you’re sitting. You make grabby hands at it instead.

“Ya want it or not?” he asks, eyebrows raised expectantly. There’s a tension between the two of you, still mostly playful but turning ever the more thick as the moments pass by.

You huff, getting comfy again in your spot, keeping your hand stretched out lazily, “Please,”

As soon as the word leaves your lips you can see his eyes get darker, that infuriating smirk only stretching across his face and you’re so mad that that’s all it takes for the playfulness between you to shatter into pure sexual tension.

Without a word he hands you the joint, enjoying the way you quickly bring it into your mouth for a deep drag to calm your rising nerves. It’s infuriating, how good he looks like this. All calm and relaxed on your couch in the low living room light, curls messy and looking at you through hooded eyelids. You want him. Just his eyes on you like this has a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

You try to play it cool though, taking another slow drag and enjoying the way the smoke rises up around you. His eyes zero in on your lips, watching with a peaked interest as they wrap around the filter, watching the way the smoke escapes them. Neither of you say a word for a while. Just sitting in a comfortable quiet, a forgotten Spotify playlist playing in the background as you pass the joint back and forth.

He didn’t make his move until the final few hits of it. He shifts to sit straighter on your couch, a little more proper. What left his mouth was anything but.

“C’mere,” he says lowly, cocking his head to the side and gesturing to his lap, “gotta nice seat for ya,”

You don’t hesitate to comply, your high erasing any ideas of playing hard to get. You maneuver yourself as gracefully as you can, swinging a leg over his and settling there, straddling him comfortably with his hands on your hips. Once you're settled he raises the joint to his lips, taking in the last drag, eyes glimmering in the low light of the room. He holds it for a second, one hand moves upwards to cup the back of your neck and pulls you in closer.

Your lips are so close, the tension crackling between you like electricity. He tilts his head ever so slightly, lips parting to exhale the smoke into your mouth. You inhale on impulse and your mind goes blank as your lips brush ever so slightly together. You knew people said shotgun kisses were hot, but you had never truly believed them until now.

You know you should pull away to exhale, but you can still feel his lips brushing against yours and your mind is dizzy from the weed and from him and you can’t take it anymore. You close the distance the rest of the way, kissing him slowly through your exhale, smoke slipping through your lips as he returns the motion.

You kiss him like that for a while, enjoying his hands on your waist and the feeling of his chest beneath your hands. You were quickly realizing that Merriell was his own kind of drug. You’d only had a little taste of him and yet you found yourself craving more. His fingers flex against your body and you can’t help to low noise that slips out of your throat. It only spurs him on, emitting a growling sound of his own as he tugs you closer, dragging you against his growing erection. Your hand slides into his hair in response, feeling like you’re so high on weed and him that you might just fly away.

“Is this okay?” he asks against your lips, letting his forehead press against yours while he waits for your response.

You hum your affirmative, nodding your head quickly while diving back into for another kiss, this one much more ravenous than the last. God, you felt like you were starving for him. You couldn’t get enough at the way his tongue slid against yours, the feeling of his hands gliding up and down your body. They continue down the curve on your spine, settling once they reach the globes of your ass.

“You don’t know how many times I thought ‘bout this,” he mumbles, pulling away to stare at you teasingly through hooded eyelids. His accent, already a slow drawl, comes out much thicker when he’s high like this. It washes over you like honey. He smirks at you and before you can begin to wonder what he’s up to he brings one of his hands down in a sound smack against your right ass cheek.

You gasp at the feeling, dulled by the layer of your jeans but rippling throughout your sensitive skin nonetheless. You laugh lowly against his cheek, “likewise,”

He bites his lip on a grin, capturing your lips in a single, filthy kiss as if he knows exactly what it’ll do to you. Your hands wander up under his t-shirt, nails digging in sightly, just as a preview, returning the favour.

Like a switch, he’s on you a little more urgently and things begin to move faster. His hands tug on your shirt impatiently and you obediently part to take it off, shucking your bra off as well, and feeling pleased when he follows your lead. Your hands explore each other's bodies, every inch of new skin. It’s not long before he switches positions, standing up and dropping you back on the couch so that this time you’re laying on it properly. Without wasting a moment, you wiggle your jeans off, tossing them somewhere over the coffee table and taking in the way his eyes darken further at the sight of you.

He crawls his hips between your legs, capturing your lips in a messy kiss before starting to trail them down your body. Your high has your skin feeling so sensitive, every soft brush of his lips feeling like a shock of electricity through your body. He spends time on your breasts, marking and kneading them with his hands, enjoying how responsive you are beneath his ministrations. Though he doesn’t spend long there, clearly more interested in another prize.

He settles, this time his shoulders keeping your legs spread. He presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, lets his fingers dust over your panty-covered pussy. Your muscles twitch at the feeling, and you feel your cunt clench around nothing. He looks good there, tattoos cover his skin and you long to be able to leave something that permanent on him. Fuck, you want him so bad.

He grins at you, knowing exactly how impatient you must be feeling. And that bastard uses it to his advantage. Sucking marks into your thigh just to watch your squirm. Eventually, he pulls your panties to the side, letting his fingers slide through your folds. He whistles lowly between his teeth.

“Mmm, baby, you this wet for me already?”

The whimper that leaves your lips is pitiful, your hips twitching in an attempt to get the pressure where you need it. He chuckles under his breath, eyes darting between your heat and your face, “Look at you,” he near coos, letting his thumb trace circles around your clit, watching as your mouth drops on a silent moan, “You want it so bad, don’t cha? Sweet thing...”

“Are you gonna be an asshole like this all night?” you ask, breathless but trying to redeem some of your dignity through what little wit you have left.

He laughs, sinking a finger into your heat just to watch the pleasure ripple across your face, “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

And he’s right of course. You do love it, love the way he comments on how wet you are for him, almost mocking. Love the way he’s taking his time to find the most sensitive parts of your body and using them to his advantage. You let out a breathy moan as his finger brushes your G-spot.

The sound must do something to him because within a second he's attaching his mouth to your pussy with a growl, not even bothering to remove your panties before doing so. The heat of his tongue on your clit as his finger works that sweet spot inside of you turns your breathy moan into one much louder.

He’s good with his mouth because of course, he is. Within moments you feel like you're right on edge. And the smug bastard knows it too if the amused glint in his eyes is anything to go by. Your one hand twists in his curls, encouraging his movements while your other works at your nipple.

“God,” you whine, tugging at his hair as you feel heat wind up your spine. You swear you’ve never felt this good. It only takes another flick of his tongue against your click before your orgasm rips through you, thighs attempting to squeeze around his head, stopped by his free hand holding your one leg open so he can work you through it. Your body twitches in its aftershocks, mewling pathetically when the simulation starts to ride that edge between pain and pleasure.

“It’s just Merriell, actually,” he supplies when he pulls away with a smirk.

“I fucking hate you,” you breathe out, pulling him up your body so you can kiss him again, despite your words. He laughs, moaning softly against your lips when your hand finds the bulge in his jeans.

He kisses you for a while, letting you paw at him for a bit before he pulls away to work them off his body. There’s no real rush, the high allowing you to take it slow and enjoy the moment as opposed to the frenzied fucking drinking tends to lead you to.

You whine and he laughs at you, low and cocky as he leans down for another wet kiss, “You hurtin’ that bad for it, baby?”

You beam up at him from your place on the couch, feeling comfy and sexy with the way his eyes trail across your skin, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. You shrug, watching with interest as he rids himself of his briefs, admiring his cock as he awaits your response.

“It’s been a while,” You say, distracted as you anticipate the stretch required for your body to accommodate him, ‘I’m excited, sue me.”

His hands use your hips to drag you closer to him, lifting one leg onto his shoulder while letting the other wrap around his body. He leans down to kiss you and you only have half a second to wonder the last time your legs were stretched like this before the feeling of his cock at your entrance steals the breath from your lungs.

Your mouth drops open, a moan caught in your throat as he slowly sinks into you. Your eyes roll back, shamelessly enjoying the stretch as he sinks, inch by slow, pleasurable inch. He continues the slowness, but you’re not sure he’s doing so on purpose.

When your eyes focus again you see the definition of bliss on his face as he thrusts slowly in and out of you, moaning lowly in his throat.

“Fuck,” he says, drawing the word out through gritted teeth, “that’s it, takin’ me so good.”

His thrusts begin to pick up, still fucking you slowly but with more force behind them. Each sharp movement of his hips as the tip of his cock dragging sweetly against the deepest parts of you, and it feels so fucking good. In the moment, it’s intense. He’s folded over you, holding your leg against your chest so he can suck and bite at your neck as he fucks you. You can’t help the filthy moans you let loose in his ear, one hand fisted in his hair while the other digs your nails into the smooth skin of his back.

“Merriell,” you gasp, feeling distinctly insane with the pleasure you're feeling. Your head drops back onto the couch, body jolting with each thrust of his hips. It’s good, god, it’s so good. But the need that burns through your veins makes you impatient, “Let me ride you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, but it’s a suggestion he is clearly open to acting upon. He quickly pulls out, sitting back in his original position and pulling you on top of him.

“Be my gu-” he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead tapering off into a moan as you waste no time in sinking down on to him again, “Christ,”

You waste no time. Quickly stabling yourself with your hands on his shoulder and maneuvering yourself up and down on his cock. Now it’s your turn to watch him. Watch him as his eyes roll back and his hands grip your hips with a vice-like grip. That smirk never strays from his face though, clearly enjoying himself.

“You look so pretty like this,” he talks, bringing a hand down on your ass again, loving the way it spurs you on, “talk to me baby, tell me how it feels.”

You moan, loud and borderline pornographic, “You feel so good,” you breathe, biting harshly down on his lip, savouring the growl that vibrates through the both of you, “Oh, fuck, Merriell, you feel so good,” You emphasize your words with a particularly good roll of your hips.

You can tell he’s getting close by the way his hips start to snap upwards to meet yours and the way his brows furrow in concentration, “Fuck, baby girl,” he groans, unaware at the way the nickname makes you melt, “tell me you’re getting close. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

You nod immediately, pulling on his hair so you can capture his lips harshly, letting him bite your lip and pull your hips frantically against his own, “yes,” you whimper, “yes, yes, fuck imgonnacum,” you rush out, feeling like every touch he’d ever laid on you compiling into this one moment. It’s completely overwhelming and for a moment, you blackout.

When you come to he's kissing at your neck, hands massaging and pull at your ass, helping you ride of the aftershocks of your orgasm. His sounds have turns high and desperate against your neck, hands gripping at your skin so hard you think you’ll have bruises tomorrow. He needs you to keep going. Give him something.

The small, dare you say whimpery, “Oh baby, please,” has you moving quickly, almost as desperate to make him finish as he is to finish.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve lifted yourself off of him and onto your knees in front of him, quickly enveloping his entire length into the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby,” He moans urgently, both hands coming to tangle in your hair as you work your mouth over his cock, eyes trained on his face, “Fuck, I can’t-”

You hum, encouraging and within seconds you feel him reach his climax. His head thrown back, hips twitch upwards into the welcoming heat of your mouth, a low long moan pulled from his throat. He lets you bring him down, continuing to suck and lick softly at his spent cock, eyes lazily following your every movement.

When he finally pulls you up off the floor it’s to kiss you, lazy and heated. You collapse basically on top of him as you kiss, unbothered by the smallness of the couch and the cold air that bites at your cooling skin. He makes a noise in his throat when you pull away, watching in amusement as his eyes barely open to look at you.

“‘M so fuckin’ high.”

It pulls a laugh from you, bubbling up from your chest. He smiles, bright, relaxed and dazzling, “Hope you weren’t plannin’ on kickin’ me out because ‘m not movin’ for a while,”.

You rest your head on his chest, letting yourself sink into the moment with him, your own high coming back to you as you bask in the post-sex haze.

“You're still gonna get me discounted tattoos though right?"

#merriell shelton #snafu shelton #stoner!snaf #merriell shelton x reader #snafu shelton x reader #snafu x reader #smut

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anothers-trash-my-treasure · 2 years

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Afterblunts

Happy Valentines Day! Visiting once more with our main man Stoner!Snaf (I will eventually write other characters but today is not that day I'm sorry I love him very much). Can be read as a continuation of Watch Me and Stoners but could be read as a stand-alone as well. Enjoy!

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Female Reader

Warnings: This is....filthy. 18+ Minors DNI. Unprotected sex (don't be dumb wrap it up), Recreational drug use (smoke responsibly), Cockwarming, dirty talk, Merriell being a sex god you know how it goes.

Word Count: 2.7K

Tags: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix @sherlollydramoine @itswormtrain @gloriousangelsdarkworld (I'm sorry I'm awful for keeping updated tag lists so pls lmk if you want to be added or taken off)

“How haven’t we done this before?”

His voice carries over your senses, not quite pulling you out of the absolute bliss you’re feeling but loud enough that his voice cuts through your stream of consciousness like a hot knife through butter. Your body is humming. That’s the best way to describe it. You feel like you’re floating, with the way the weed is giving you a major body high and his cock nudged right up against your sweet spot, you’re suspended in pleasure. Not moving. Not yet.

Your brain slowly, like molasses, tunes back to the present moment; Merriell beneath you, a lit, but dwindling, joint in his hand, the warm, dim lighting of the room reflecting deliciously off his tanned skin. He’s looking up at you, eyes glazed and running slowly from where he’s attached to you all the way up to your eyes. His free hand rubs your thigh absentmindedly. He’s not trying to persuade you into moving or to settle you down, it just feels nice. You’d say it was intimate but the way he’s looking at you is nothing less than primal.

“Beats me,” you respond breathlessly after taking a moment to let your brain process his words, “But we are definitely doing it again.”

He hums in agreement and shifts beneath you, the cocky smirk on his face telling you he knows exactly what the small movement does to you. You’ve been sitting like this for so long you almost don’t remember how you got here in the first place; Him nestled inside of you, just smoking and kissing, letting your desire for each other grow through your shared patience.

Nails of his free hand dig into the skin on your thigh momentarily and you’re able to read through the lines, knowing he’s feeling that pull in the pit of his stomach too.

“C’mere,” He mumbles, moving his hand to your wrist and tugging, “gimme a kiss,”

As you bend at the hips to bring your face closer to his you admire the slow grin that spreads across his face. The slight shifting on your weight that’s required from the movement sends shivers up your spine, feeling the tip of his cock shift the slightest bit against that spot inside of you. Your lips meld together in practised ease and suddenly you’re floating again. Your senses are completely filled with him, his lips, soft and warm against yours, his free hand now tracing patterns down your spine. It moves, lower and lower until he settles on the swell of your ass. His fingers flex, gripping the flesh there as a sort of lifeline.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breathe, head rolling back onto the armrest behind him, “Gotta start movin’ soon baby, I’m losin’ my damn mind down here.”

You place a soft kiss on his chin before you straighten back up, suppressing a whine so you can tease him a little, “Really? I could sit here all day,” you taunt, grinding your hips down just a little to watch his eyes flutter and feel his fingers gripping your waist.

“Darlin’ don’t tease,” He groans, his back arching just a little and you grin. It’s the first time you’ve seen him lose his composure, even the slightest bit, in these games you play.

Your eyes flick back to the joint that still sits balanced between his fingers, half-forgotten and gone out, “Give me a hit of that and I’ll consider.”

It takes a moment for the request to reach his brain, but a second later he’s handing you the joint. His other hand fumbles clumsily for the lighter on the side table above his head, “you’ll need the light…”

As he fumbles, he twists his upper body, trying to see what he’s doing, not realizing that the shifting would drive him a fraction deeper inside of you.

“Shit,” you gasp, bracing yourself on his chest as the simple movement rips pleasure through your veins.

He’s similarly affected, although the smirk that graces his face as he finally hands you the obnoxiously lime green lighter is insufferable, “‘Could sit here all day’ my ass,” he chirps, hands returning to their place on your thighs.

You ignore him in favour of re-lighting the joint, taking a lungful of the substance and letting it out a few moments later, savouring the burn in your chest and throat. Your head rolls back, letting these new hits wash over you, enjoying the way they elevate every vibration your body produces and receives. He’s watching you, both hands rubbing soothing circles on your thighs as he admires your form above him. He thinks, distantly, about when he first met you. If someone had told him then that in a few years time, the shy girl who always caught his eye in your shared classes would be cockwarming him while smoking a joint she rolled for him, he wouldn’t have believed a single word of it.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you bring the joint up to his lips, allowing him the last hit. He inhales deeply, dark eyes fixed on yours as you put it out in the ashtray above his head. He looks good beneath you, smoke falling from his plump lips, letting it flow into the crevice between your breasts before he mouths at one sloppily. His hands move up to your hips resting there for a second before taking you by surprise and tugging them forward.

The sound you let out is high, breathy and desperate, the movement satisfying enough to light your nerves on fire. Your jaw drops, face crumpling in pleasure and he half huffs, half whines as he watches it wash over you.

“I’m done waitin’,” he breathes, but it's futile because you’re already moving, grinding backwards to chase that pleasure.

As you grind your hips back and forth, his roll upwards, synching your movements so that every time you grind forward, he’s pushing impossibly deeper inside of you.

“Oh, Goddamn,” he groans, jaw dropping and his eyes rolling back a little, “Keep goin’, slow,” his hands guiding your movements, his knuckles white, “Like that,”

“Merry,” you whine, your entire body is screaming for more, “You said you were done teasing.” You pout.

He chokes out a laugh, pulling you down so you’re chest to chest, breath hot against the sensitive skin below your ear, “No,” he rumbles, low and deep in his chest, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth, “I said I was done waitin’,”

You groan, half out of frustration and half because your clit is dragging against his pelvis between your bodies. His mouth now leaves wet kisses all down the side of your neck, sucking at your most sensitive spots and you know you’ll have to take a toothbrush to the hickies left there later. Regardless, you can’t deny that the feeling of his lips against your neck paired with the slow rolling of your hips is euphoric. He thrusts into you like he’s trying to savour the feeling of being inside of you. You turn, catching his mouth against yours and whining into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue.

“Please,” you breathe between kisses, nearly delirious, “Merriell, please.”

They’re the only words running through your brain, foggy with weed and the need for him to fuck you like you know he can.

“Imma take care of you baby,” He promises, “Jus’ let yourself feel it.”

Your hands move, one moving to grip the back of his neck and the other bracing yourself against the couch arm. Your head drops to his chest and you arch your back, using the hand against the couch as leverage to push back harder against him.

“Yea,” he gasps, voice rough and encouraging next to your ear, “fuck, like that.” One hand stays on your hip, while the other travels back down to your ass, digging his fingers in hard to assist your movements.

You’re reaching the peak of your high, your brain dazed but your body desperate. Sounds tumble from your lips, pants, whines, half-formed words and sentences that quickly get erased by his name. He responds to each one in kind, breathing encouragement in your ear.

“Atta girl, keep goin’,'' Accompanied by a slap to your rear.

And,

“Fuck, you feel so good.” With a tug of your hair, a sloppy kiss on your neck.

And, finally,

“Get on your back.”

It’s hardly a request, as before you can even move to get off of him he’s wrapping his arms around your back, taking the initiative to move you himself. He flips you over seamlessly, your head now resting on the opposite end of the couch, him on top of you. He has you spread out now, one hand on your thigh, the other behind your kneecap on the opposite leg.

You watch, as he begins to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace, your jaw dropping on a moan at the obscene sight before you.

“You like watching, huh?” He asks, although it’s not really a question, “Like seeing tha’ it’s my cock that makes you feel this good.” His sinful words never fail to send blush to your cheeks while yours fail you entirely.

He continues his pace, hooking your leg the side of the couch so he can free his hand, dragging it down your inner thigh to run his fingers through your slit, feeling your wetness, “Shit, baby, I like watchin’ too, goddamn, look at that.” He groans, absolutely defeated at the sight of you taking him in deep.

His thrusts pick up, the scene before him twisting hot in the pit of his stomach, driving him towards his release. His thumb begins to work circles on your clit, never one to leave you behind, “Tell me how it feels baby, talk to me,” he begs requests.

It takes all your brainpower to get your mouth working again, babbling your praise and pleads to him, “So good,” you sob, fingers gripping the couch arm behind your head and sheets you had laid down on the sofa beneath you (hindsight was a blessing), “Merriell, I can’t-“ You whine, your words failing you.

“So fucked out, ya can’t even think,” he groans, hips working faster and harder, head dropping back onto his shoulders as he tries desperately to hold off for you, “Tell me ya close.”

“M’gonna,” you confirm, nails scratching at his arms and shoulders now to bring him closer to you.

He nods, letting you drag him closer so he can tangle a hand in your roots, pulling your hair hard as he feels you start to come down around him, “That’s it, baby, let go.” He groans.

Your hands find purchase in his curls and you bury your face in his neck as you start to come, legs clenching around his waist. He’s lost in you. Lost in your desperate noises against his neck, in the flutter of your pussy around him, lost as his own release mimics the intensity of yours. Your heels dig into his ass, encouraging him to keep going. A punched out moan rips from his throat and he thrusts into you hard one last time, staying and grinding there as he rides out his own high.

He lets his full weight fall onto you briefly, but you don’t mind. In your hazy, fucked out state he feels like a warm, weighted blanket on top of you. It feels good, everything feels good right now and as soon as he moves to pull out of you, you mourn the loss. You must whine a little, because he chuckles against your cheek, “Relax, baby, m’ not goin far.”

He manoeuvres your body so that he’s between your body and the back of the couch, keeping you close to him as you both begin to come down. Your head moves to the side, rubbing your noses together briefly before tilting your head up to kiss him slowly, sensually. He returns the motion, soft noises falling into your mouth, both your bodies still buzzing with aftershocks. Despite the satisfaction that replaces the desperation of the last hour or so, you find yourself still craving him. You begin to touch him, innocently enough that it doesn’t immediately get his attention. Your one hand keeps him close, resting on the nape of his neck while the other runs over his shoulders, stroking down his biceps and forearm to his wrist. He pulls away from your lips, confusion melting into disbelief and once again into smug desire as you pull his hand towards your soaked pussy.

“Ya want more?” He asks, a slow grin spreading across his face when you whine and nod, once again turning your face into his neck, “Insatiable thing,” he tuts, fingers running through your mixed arousal as it seeps out of you onto the sheets below, “Stuffed full of my cum and still wants more.”

He sinks two fingers into you, watching with dark eyes as you arch your back upwards at the feeling, a low whine tumbling from your lips, fingernails scraping at the back of his neck. It wasn’t often that he got you like this. So needy with an unquenchable thirst for him and the things he can do to you. His fingers move slowly, switching between twisting with each thrust into your soaked core and petting your G-spot with an expert, slow, wiggle inside you.

“I love your fingers,” you say, soft and small against his jaw.

He hums into your hair, tilting your chin back up with his free hand. “I know ya do, darlin’” He purrs, kissing you softly as his fingers play with your G-spot, enjoying the way you gasp in his mouth, “tell me whatcha want.”

“This.” You confirm, “Keep going.”

He huffs a laugh against your lips, vaguely amused at how much he can do for you using only two fingers, but keeps his pace nonetheless. You control his movements, anything you ask and he’ll give it to you. That doesn’t mean, however, that he’ll keep his mouth shut while he does it. Not that you’re complaining, though.

“You’re so wet, baby,” He nearly hisses against your ear, “Love feelin’ you, feelin’ you clenching around me, feelin’ how good I make you feel, lemme hear it.” You respond in kind with a moan, pulled deep from your chest, a hand now twisted in his hair. He adds his thumb to the mix before you even attempt to ask, stroking your clit just right, “I know you’re close, I can feel it, baby, let go.”

Your body is unable to disobey him and you cum hard around his fingers, muffling your moans into his neck as he works you ruthlessly through it. He talks you through it, tells you how good you look, coming undone so prettily for him.

“Fuck, I gotta taste you.” He huffs, taking his fingers out of you and moving quickly to lay between your legs. You can hardly follow his movements until you feel his tongue stroking and thrusting into you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, fingers curling in his hair to encourage him. His eyes never leave yours as he quickly builds you up to a third orgasm. He hums gleefully against you when you cum against his tongue, head rolling back on a whine, hips leaving the couch for a brief moment.

He takes mercy on you, giving you a second to catch your breath as he squeezes himself back down next to you. He kisses your neck softly as you come back to yourself.

“Ohmygod, that was amazing.” you breathe and he laughs, loudly, brightly, kissing you with the intent of making you feel his feelings for you through your body and head high.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbles, kissing you again, “God, woman, I love when you get like that.”

You hum, murmuring your thank you against his lips. When he starts to pull away a few moments later you go to stop him, not quite ready to let the comfort of him next to you go yet. He shakes his head, kissing you again, “‘m just getting more weed, be back in a jiff.”

Your heart swells as you watch him walk away, letting your eyes linger on his cute little butt, knowing he’ll come back in sweats, a spare pair in his other hand for you. Here you had yourself a man rolling you a joint after mind-blowing sex.

So, you thought, This is love.

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