#he's really gone dark at this point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strangerstilinski · 5 months ago

Text

smoke me out

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? [ 7.4k ]

𝗰𝘄: friends to lovers, dubcon bc they're high, reader with a vagina & breasts, drug use (weed), smoking & shotgunning, pathetic attempts at dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, and goofy eddie (always)

𝗮/𝗻: the stoner in me came out at the beginning, ngl. this is just a horny culmination of my need to shotgun with eddie and also to rub his sweaty body with my own. and yes, that one part is inspired by the gifs of the hoard scene featuring joe's tight little ass grinding away.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It's just you and Eddie today.

You're propped up against the headboard side by side, a nest of pillows providing you both with a cushion from the uncomfortable framework behind your bed. The muted sound of James Hetfield's voice floating through your stereo speakers over a heavy clash of drums and guitar has your head bobbing in time with the beat. Eddie has long-since gone from shredding on air guitar to intently staring at the way his own ringed fingers bend toward his palm every time the pitch shifts incrementally, mentally contemplating the chord changes by ear.

Despite the windows thrown open on either side of the room, your small apartment reeks of smoke and weed. The humid Indiana summer air filtering through the curtains is not nearly strong enough to properly air out the cramped space. It's one of those wonderfully warm days — peak summertime. Not overly hot, but enough to have your skin prickling with heat beneath a tank top and cotton shorts.

Eddie is still lounging in a threadbare pair of checkered pajama pants and a cutoff tee, the top half of his hair tied back in a haphazard bun to lessen the weight of the thick curls sticking to his neck.

Eddie is prone to complaining when it's hot. Or when it's cold. And also when it's rainy. Or windy.

Point is, you're not sure why he's yet to complain about the lack of air conditioning in your apartment, but Eddie seems content as ever. It could have something to do with the little glass pipe the two of you have been passing back and forth all afternoon. The bowl on the end had been packed tight, more than enough weed to have both of you thoroughly stoned, well before it's even finished.

The ceiling fan is stirring up the faintest breeze. You've burned yourself thrice on a rogue, billowing flame while trying to light up. The circulating air keeps pushing an errant dark curl down over Eddie's face every time he dips his head to take a hit.. You've combed it back for him four times, already—God forbid he set his hair on fire. Again. You're not sure he's even noticed the way your hand lingers on that smooth strip of skin behind his ear just a little longer each time.

But you can't help it, not with the way everything's gone a little foggy at the edges. Your eyes seem to process your surroundings in near slow-motion, all while the world shines with a barely-perceptible gleam. The last twenty minutes the two of you have spent smoking have done wonders to soften the world around you. Your head is full of air in that familiarly pleasant way that leaves you feeling a bit like you might float away at any second. Like a balloon in the sky. And with the added bonus of Eddie by your side, you're entirely relaxed. Contented.

Weak beneath the lazy weight of your high pressing in on you, you suddenly flop your weight down sideways across the bed, your head landing over Eddie's thighs. You blink slow up at him, hazy gaze focusing on the underside of Eddie's face while he brings his bony knees up from the mattress to cage you a little closer to his chest. The angle would be outrageous were you looking up at anyone else, you're sure, but Eddie..

He's so pretty.

All rogue-ish boy. Unkempt and wild, but still entirely beautiful.

You can't help the way your hand finds its way up, up, up. Your fingertips dancing across the barely-there five o'clock shadow on the edge of his jaw. You trace the hard line all the way from his chin to his ear, his stubble scratchy and wholly soothing when you lightly scrape your nails against the grain of it.

Eddie, on the other hand, has found himself entirely focused on the way gravity has moved your breasts in your new position below him. The awkward angle has carried them up and out, bra-less and soft and hypnotizing. They shift just a little every time your hand moves across his face. The tank top you've chosen to wear today is thin, indecently so, in his opinion. His brown eyes have been glued to the obvious outline of your nipples beneath the fabric since the moment you'd greeted him at the door, and his ogling has only gotten less subtle as his high settled in. He risks another longing glance down past your collar bones, reddened eyes dragging over the shape of your puffy nipples hidden underneath.

You're thumbing softly at the coarse hairs just under his chin when Eddie gives in to impulse and purses his lips to blow a cool breath of air over your neck and chest. You can't help but giggle as your skin reacts, goosebumps spreading down your arms, and unbeknownst to you, your nipples tightening into semi-hard peaks beneath your top.

They're not the only things that are suddenly semi-hard.

Eddie smacks his lips and swallows the drool that he's embarrassed to admit has pooled beneath his tongue. His ring-clad knuckles brush the side of your breast as he reaches to take the forgotten bowl from the blankets.

He attempts to gather himself as he takes another hit. He holds it for a count of five and then exhales a cloud of smoke whilst urging himself to imagine something utterly repulsive.. His uncle in the shower, roadkill, the way his balls itch uncomfortably after he plays a gig at The Hideout in too-tight jeans — anything that might keep him from popping an unwanted boner while you've got your pretty, unassuming head resting in his lap.

Your fingers are now trailing lightly over the light freckles dotting the bridge of Eddie's nose. His skin is a little pink from yesterday's sun, despite the number of times you'd physically dragged him from Steve's pool to apply sunscreen to his steadily-reddening cheeks. The previous day outside has Eddie's barely-there freckles appearing far more visible than usual, speckled along the round tip of his nose, his cheeks, even the crinkles around his eyes. You think they make him look even more handsome, boyish perhaps, but handsome all the same.

Through the warm fog in your brain, you find yourself smiling up at him. A dopey grin on your face as you poke at the soft apples of his cheeks — Like he's your own personal plaything. Your heart ticks excitedly when the corner of Eddie's lips quirk up at you in response, his pupils blown wide, surrounded by a thin ring of molten chocolate. His teeth flash with his sweet little chuckle of amusement, cheeks dimpling beneath the sparsest area of his stubble.

“You've got freckles,” You comment quietly. “They're cute.” You smack your lips once, mouth dry with dehydration, “I like 'em.. 'nd your stubble, too. Feels nice.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, stoned and more than a bit flattered under the weight of your attention. His chest puffs up a little proudly, his words flowing without any real thought behind them, “Made it all myself.. 'S hard work.. But, uh, y'know. Someone's gotta do it.”

He slips his lighter between two of his fingers and holds the bowl off to the side so that he can drag the fingers of his free hand softly, delicately, over your hair where it's fanned out over his lap. He doesn't want to mess it up, especially doesn't want one of his rings to get caught and pull. But it looks so soft, and through the haze, he can't fight the impulse to simply.. touch. So gently.

His attention seems intently focused on the careful motions of his fingers along your hair, and you take advantage of his distraction by finally allowing your gaze to drop to his mouth. Eddie keeps slowly rolling and biting his lips between his teeth. Canines dig into the flesh before he's scrunching his nose and pursing his lips, only to scrape his teeth over them again in a never-ending loop. You doubt he's even aware he's doing it but it's beginning to make his lips swell, the skin darkening to a brighter shade of pink from the abuse.

All at once, your trance is broken when his tongue pokes out to wet his smoke-dry lips. Your mind flashes suddenly with an idea.

The absence of both the Hellfire crew and your other friends was truly a rarity. You hardly ever got to be alone with Eddie like this. You'd tried to ask him out once upon a time- No, not just once. Twice. Twice you'd asked him on a date — both of which had somehow ended in group excursions rather than romantic one-on-one time, how it had happened two separate times, you still weren't sure — and at this point you'd given up entirely. Because maybe it just wasn't meant to be. It was okay, really, you'd almost grown content in your longing.

But, the way Eddie's lips shone lightly after his tongue stroked over them.. It had your brain reeling with possibility. If you were ever going to get his mouth on yours in private, even just for a fleeting moment, it didn't seem possible that an opportunity so seamless would ever present itself again.

It was worth a shot.

“I want another hit.” You tell him, licking at your own lips as brown eyes refocus on your face.

“M'kay, well, you're prob'ly gonna need to sit up for that, sweets,” Eddie points out, entirely unaware of the way your tummy always swoops when the thoughtless pet name falls from his lips. “Unless you were really lookin' t'get a face full'a ash.. In which case, you can definitely keep layin-” A burst of air leaves his nose with a laugh of surprise, repeating his own words to himself with a sweetly boyish giggle, “Sounds like ass. Face full'a ass. Now, that I'd like-”

Normally you'd join in on the joke. Poke a little fun at him for saying such a thing. Freak. You'd say it fondly, with an eye roll to go with it, maybe you'd throw in a half-serious offer involving his face and your backside- But you don't say any of those things. You can't. You're in the middle making the not-so-carefully crafted scene in your head a reality — And, can't he see that? Why is he trying to distract you?

“Ash. Riiight, uh huh. Well,” You pause, feign innocence before your next words. “Maybe.. Maybe you could shotgun it to me n' that way I can stay right here?” You suggest cautiously, before adding as an afterthought, “If you want, I mean.”

Any amusement is immediately stripped from Eddie's expression. He spends a few achingly long seconds blinking down at you with heavy eyelids, gaze hooded and distant. His weed-hazy brain takes a moment to actually process your words, but then, just as suddenly as he'd zoned out, he's nodding and bringing the glass pipe back up to his lips, one hand cupped around the end to shield the flame from the path of the ceiling fan.

The lighter clicks and swishes quietly as he lights up. He lowers the bowl after a long second, ringed hand dipping beneath your head and guiding you oh-so gently to arch your neck upward, until he can lean down and press his mouth down softly against yours.

That first soft brush of his lips has your whole body thrumming. Butterflies begin a rampage in your stomach, so much so that you have to actively remind yourself to part your lips beneath his.

He presses down just a bit more, lips squishing solidly to your own parted ones and sending your heart racing dangerously, but then he's exhaling the smoke into your waiting mouth. You breathe it in as it comes, letting the warmth of it flow from his body and into your own.

He watches you intently as he moves to pull back and sit upright again. Watches the way you seal your mouth shut, lips rolling between your teeth while your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks. You allow the smoke to simply sit in your lungs for a long moment before relaxing your chest and exhaling through your nose, releasing the diluted cloud up into the air between you.

Eddie blinks down at you with heavy lids. There's a long moment of silence between you. It's a palpable thing — not quite awkward or tense, but brimming with an unexpected energy that neither one of you can quite decipher. It's charged. Something like static electricity, or the tether between two magnets of an opposite charge. It nearly tingles in the breadth of space between you.

Eddie feels it. He wonders if you feel it too.

“D'you want another hit?” He asks after a minute, his voice scratchy.

You merely nod your head, not trusting your own voice, and the movement has you refocusing suddenly on the soft press of his calloused fingers where they linger against the nape of your neck. You watch with bated breath as Eddie brings the glass pipe in his hand back to his lips again, letting his gentle grip fall from the top of your spine for just a moment so that he can flick the flame of the lighter over the tiny pocket at the end of the pipe once again.

Eddie drops the items in his hands to your bedside table carelessly once he's gotten a good lungful of smoke. He leans down in a faster movement this time than he had done before, his hand dipping back beneath your head in a flash to bring your mouths together again.

His lips are dry against your own, but so soft. You're not sure if it's the high or simply Eddie, but the barely-there scratch of stubble over his upper lip is delicious. It feels so good it makes you a little lightheaded.

Your mouth slips open, inhaling as he exhales. You feel the warmth of the smoke entering your mouth, taste the bitterness of it on your tongue as the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

You're preparing to let your craned neck fall back to his lap, to close your lips in an effort to keep the smoke inside of your lungs — but then Eddie is tightening his grip on the back of your head incrementally, and instead of pulling back, he slots your lips together more firmly. Your heart skips in surprise and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. Your brain seems to white out for a moment, unable to focus on anything that isn't Eddie's soft lips moving tentatively against your own.

A thin cloud of smoke escapes into the air around you as your mouths begin to move together in synchrony. You can't hold back a soft gasp of surprise when Eddie's tongue swipes warmly across the seam of your lips. Your heart pounds, your mouth opening beneath his again without hesitation.

The kiss that follows is a frenzied rush of lips and teeth and tongue. Hunger blossoms in the pit of your stomach. But it somehow manages to feel so languid, so sensual beneath the relaxed fogginess of your high.

Your back arches, shoulders lifting from Eddie's thigh to meet him more than halfway. The movement prompts his hands to find your hips and Eddie is tugging you upright in a flash. Suddenly you're wedged between his legs, practically in his lap. Your knees curling around his waist as he leans farther into your space, chasing your warmth until barely any space exists between you.

Your hands slide idly along his body in a slow trail. Each scrape against your palms feels divine. Every inch of him feels like silk under your fingers. The smooth, worn cotton of his tshirt. The tight ringlets of curls at the nape of his neck, a little damp with sweat. The soft give of warm muscle beneath your eager hands on his chest, his arms, his hips. You attempt to memorize every inch of him, your limbs seemingly moving of their own accord, touch-hungry and weightless all at once.

He's so warm and- God, you want to be inside of him. You think you might want to bury yourself beneath his skin and make a home there. He smells like heaven, like sweat and weed and masculine body wash. Your fingertips drag leisurely along the length of his inked arms, inching slow back toward his neck like you have all the time in the world to explore every inch of his body.

Your touch is scorching across his skin, overwhelming and seemingly everywhere at once but simultaneously not enough. It's like all of his wildest dreams have come to life, and Eddie can't fucking believe that this is happening. That you're practically in his lap, your tongue in his mouth, legs draped around his waist, hands tucked beneath the gaping sleeves of his muscle tee to roam freely and grope at the exposed skin of his hips.

Eddie's head cranes just a bit to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, licking his way deeper. His own arms curl around your waist, tightening at the curve of your spine to tug your body flush against his. The action has a needy noise pushing its way into his mouth as your tongues explore one another with warm, wet licks. He groans at a particularly slow curl of your tongue, he swears he feels it in his fucking balls.

He's so turned on he thinks his dick might explode. Eddie changes your position in another quick movement, holding you flush to his chest before he's directing you to lie back against the mattress and slotting himself right there between your thighs.

Despite the way your head has gone a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. All you can do is slide your hands from Eddie's shoulders and up into his hair. Tingles shoot from your fingertips as they slide into his frizzy curls, yanking some of them free from his bun just to feel the way they tangle around your fingers. A hot flush of arousal pulses in your cunt at the satisfied noise that Eddie lets out when you tug lightly, and that noise alone has you suddenly frantic.

You can't get enough of him; his sounds, his taste, the press of his warm body between your thighs.

The hand he isn't using to support himself against the mattress rubs along your waist of its own accord, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush featherlight over your skin. You swear sparks erupt in his wake.

You pull back just enough to murmur his name desperately against his lips, but the syllables are barely out before you're licking into his mouth again with unbridled hunger. Eddie's groan meets your ears in response to your weak plea — what you're begging for, you're not quite sure, but then his hips drop against yours with a slow roll and that-

Oh, that is exactly what you needed.

You can't help the soft whimper that falls into his mouth. The warm line of his half-hard cock pressing against your cunt through the thin barrier of your pajama bottoms has you dizzy. Eddie grinds hips against yours in another slow roll, clothed erection pressing soft into your cunt and prompting the seam on your shorts to nudge at your clit. You both groan in sync, parted lips barely brushing through the breathless sounds.

You also can't help the way you lift your hips in time with each grind of his length against you. The warm weight of his balls squishes against the fabric of your shorts every time his pelvis drags over your own. The thin cotton feels far too thick of a barrier currently between you and his cock.

Ringed fingers sneak up a little farther beneath your shirt, his hand tightening over your naked breast, and you keen at the feeling. He alternates between brushing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple and covering the area with his palm to give it a soft squeeze. His lips fall slack against your own, too busy focussing on the way his fingers release and then grope again and again, the kind of distracted intrigue that could only be a result of his high.

A soft whine falls from your lips after a minute of putting up with his lazy fondling. You tug at the hair between your fingers again and nip encouragingly at his lips in a silent plea for a kiss. His mouth finally resumes moving against your own, and you gratefully allow him to direct the kiss. You give him full control of the pace, which turns out to be a give and take of desperate licks into your mouth followed by gentle caresses of his spit-slick lips against your own. Lips smack each time you part, tongues sliding together wetly, heaving breaths rush in and out of your noses as you both attempt to pull as much oxygen in as humanly possible in an effort to not break apart.

Your fingers find the knob of his spine, and you tug on the collar at the back of his shirt in silent question. Eddie answers by pushing back up on his knees to yank the fabric over his head in a quick movement. His tattooed chest heaves with slightly labored breaths and you watch him with rapt attention, your eyes drawn to the tiny patch of hair nestled between his pecs and lightly dusted around his nipples. Then your focus drops to the thicker trail that leads down into the waistband of his pants. The pale skin beneath the hair glistens with sweat, and good God you want to taste it-

But you're only granted a few seconds to ogle his torso before Eddie is dipping back down to catch your lips with his, your mouths immediately separating just enough that he can strip you of your own top.

As soon as your naked chest is exposed to him, Eddie is dragging his lips down your body in a slow trail. He pauses for a moment to kiss a spot just below your ear, his voice raspy when he speaks, “You good? This alright?” He checks quietly.

You reach up to tangle a hand in his hair again, a breathless sigh leaving your lips as you feel the warmth of his mouth pressing against your neck, “Good, yeah. Very, very alright.”

Eddie wastes no time, his lips trailing lower. He leaves a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses to your exposed breasts, relishing in the way you react to his mouth, the way your spine arches up from the mattress at the attention.

“Jesus H. Christ. 's incredible,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurred against your chest as he bites and sucks at the skin on the side of your breast. His head has gone hazy with lust, his fingers slipping beneath your body to grab a desperate fistful of your ass, “Hand to God. I swear, I've never fuckin' seen more perfect-”

You interrupt the filth spewing from his mouth with an entirely unintentional moan, slightly overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. His praise in your ears. The feeling of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass. The prominent bulge in his bottoms dragging against you.

Eddie curses under his breath, taking your nipple into his mouth and biting down softly before immediately soothing his tongue over it in apology.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. Sweetly faded and hazy at the edges, but somehow, each touch and sound between the two of you feels heightened — Magnified and all that more intense. As if your high has somehow managed to mute everything on earth except for Eddie.

You release his hair in favor of sliding your hands down his back to grope the globes of his ass over his pajama bottoms while his hips continue to rock forward in a dizzying rhythm. A knead to the flesh there has Eddie whining sinfully against your tongue and your pussy fucking throbs in response.

"Baby," Eddie pants into your mouth, his voice nearly cracking with need, "Take 'em off, please- Baby? c'n we-?"

He doesn't finish the question but you nod, nose brushing against his as your hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants. Your fingers are very nearly trembling while you shove the fabric down below the curve of his ass.

You feel the moment that his cock springs free and you immediately have to crane your neck down to take a peek — The urge to see him is too strong. And God is it a glorious sight.

Flushed red at the tip and achingly hard— Jesus it's thick, gloriously thick. His pubes are dark and untamed around the base, hiding just how big he truly is. It's the most gorgeous cock you've ever fucking seen and it's bumping softly against the crotch of your shorts, wetting the fabric with smeared pre-cum that Eddie's fucking leaked over the head. He's wet with need, same as you, and the thought makes you feel fucking insane.

Which means you ogle perhaps longer than you should.

A needy grumble rises in Eddie's throat that has you snapping out of it suddenly and bringing a hand up into the narrow space between your faces. It takes a moment with the dryness of smoke lingering on your tongue, but you manage to gather enough spit to lick a wet stripe up your palm and fingers, and then you're reaching down to curl your fingers around him.

Half-naked is practically Eddie's default state when he's stoned or drunk, you've drooled over just the outline of him in his underwear more times than you can count, but you're still somehow surprised by the sheer size of him in your hand. The weight of him. Long and curved just a little to the right — so silky and so soft under the slippery glide of your fist. You work your hand slow over him, rewarded with a beautiful little groan of thanks from the man above you, the sound of it guttural as you begin to jerk him with slick strokes.

“Ohhh my god, that- that's, j-jesus-” His voice fucking cracks.

Eddie's hips jump as he fucks into your fist. His eyes roll back, a little delirious just from the sight of your smaller hand wrapped around him. You switch from long strokes in favor of shorter ones where you can focus your attention on his tip, your thumb swiping back and forth over the head of his cock with each flick of your wrist. Eddie doesn't even recognize the sounds leaving his mouth. The combination of his high and the wet glide of your hand is too maddening to care.

You make your own small noise of amazement that has Eddie coming back to himself suddenly. He yanks your shorts down your thighs with an impatient huff, pulling away from you just long enough to discard the last of both of your clothing before he's caging you back against the mattress once again. And then his lips are making their way to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly between these oh-so pretty little groans against your throat, his hips bucking restlessly into your own all the while.

You give an eager cant of your hips, feet pressing into the mattress until the tip of Eddie's cock brushes the seam of your cunt. Eddie makes another sweet little noise of surprise that has you draping an arm around his neck, your face pressing into his shoulder as you repeat the movement with intention.

You want him so bad your pussy fucking aches.

“Ed, can we, please?” You whisper desperately into his skin.

The question is barely out before he's nodding against your throat, bracing his knees and lining himself up with your hole. His hips push forward until just the tip of his cock presses into the wet heat of your cunt, but good lord-

He's so big. It feels a bit like he's splitting you right down the middle, but it's so good. He rocks his hips forward slowly, each little push stretching you wider than you thought possible. Every time you think he can't possibly have more to give you, he slips in a little deeper. He reaches so far inside of you that your eyes roll back, a long, drawn-out moan tearing past your lips at the slow stretch, the dull fullness behind your navel that you can nearly feel in your throat.

“Oh, fuck.” You whine breathlessly, hands scrambling for purchase along his skin. Your nails bite into the sweat-slick muscles of his back before slipping lower still. You find the dimples at the base of his spine, nails raking over the pale white skin of his hips and ass. Your whole body goes lax underneath him as the wiry bush of his pubes finally meets your own.

The noise Eddie releases into the curve of your shoulder borders on a whimper, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks his hips forward again and again. His weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, his cock grinding desperately against the absolute deepest parts of you. He gasps with each nudge of your cervix against the head of his cock, practically humping you through the haze of his high as he tries to give you time to adjust to his size.

“Y'good?” Eddie pants into your neck, words slurred together with need. He feels half a second from fucking begging when your legs spread further, your thighs falling back toward the mattress and allowing him even deeper and holy fucking shit. “Ohh, c'n I move?” He’s all but whining now, “Please. God, please can I-”

“Uh huh, 'm good, 'm good, I-” Your assurances cut off with a wail when he begins to pull back and drive in again with a sharp snap of his hips. Your fingers tighten where his hairy thighs meet his ass, nails biting into taut muscle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Ohmygod.” You whine, eyes glazing over with the heat that pools behind your navel with each thrust.

“Y'feel so good.” Eddie mumbles, slack mouth pressed to the sensitive spot below your ear.

He pushes up on his elbows, but only enough that you can gape up at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed with just how fucking good he feels.

“Fuucck, y're pretty,” Eddie groans between deep thrusts, his words drawing a moan from your lips. He brings one hand to your cheek, thumb pushing into the plush cushion of your swollen lips before he's covering them with his own in a messy kiss, “Y're so hot. So. fucking. perfect.”

His words are spoken quietly against your lips between thrusts, his nose squishing your own in close proximity, and you draw him back down to your mouth in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing.

The pace Eddie has set is intoxicating, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward to fill you up again with deep thrusts. Your moans are loud, wanton and uncontrollable under the haze of your high, only somewhat muffled by Eddie's mouth covering yours.

In a frenzy, you find yourself kissing away the sweat beading on his upper lip. You lave your tongue softly over the light prickle of stubble at his cupid’s bow, but you're only granted a moment to relish in the scratch of it before Eddie is nosing at your cheek and urging you back into a scorching, albeit distracted, kiss. His fingers wrap around your upper thigh to hitch your leg a little higher on his hip, rocking his hips forward again and managing to hit impossibly deeper inside of you. He drives into that spongey spot behind your navel and you writhe-

“Oh-” You gasp into his mouth in surprise, head gone fuzzy as he continues fucking your at the new angle, “Eddie! I, fuck-”

He responds with a groan. His lips leave yours to forge a trail of biting kisses over your skin. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could kiss every inch of your skin and still keep fucking you. You're weak to do anything but lie there and take it and it makes Eddie feel dizzy with power. Your arms curl around his shoulders again, head thrown back against the bed in ecstasy.

Eddie's mouth is seemingly everywhere, lips sucking at the underside of your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbones and throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. Each new sensation sends another spark of arousal down your spine, sends your brain farther into the clouds.

It’s almost too much. It has you tightening your thighs around his hips and rolling sideways over the bed to switch positions, his cock slipping free as you find yourself straddling his waist with only a slight wobble from the momentum. Eddie makes a quiet noise of surprise and petulance, but it melts into a grateful, high-keening moan when you sink back down onto him. Your hips press flush to his as you set a new, slower rhythm of your own making.

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie whines in amazement, hands tracing over the curve of your waist and breasts as you rock back and forth onto him, “Shit. You look so good like this.” His praise comes out through heaving breaths.

You rest one hand supportively over the sparse hair at the center of his chest, the fingers of your other hand trailing up the skin of his arm until you can tangle your hands together against the mattress. You grind your hips down harder, deeper, and Eddie groans, his hips bucking up unconsciously to meet you halfway.

Your forearms fall on either side of his head. Your weight pressing down against his chest has Eddie immediately fisting your ass and thighs in a bruising grip to help guide your movements. You lean down to bury your face in his neck as you slide back and forth along his length in a slow rhythm, your legs already aching with exertion even with the help of his strong arms.

The loud slapping of skin meeting skin every time the backs of your thighs meet his own rings loudly in your ears. Your staggered breathing falls against his lightly stubbled jaw, lips leaving distracted kisses in apology for the way your hot breath fans out against his already sweaty neck.

“God, Eds,” You moan into his skin, sucking a mark against his throat while he uses his tight grip on your hips to fuck you down onto himself, “You feel. So f-fucking good-”

You let out a yelp as Eddie twists your bodies again with a grunt, and suddenly his body above yours once more, his hand on your shoulder as he sinks back inside of you.

“Need it faster. Harder.” He pants, “That okay?”

You nod, head rubbing against the mattress, “Yes. Please, yeah-”

Eddie trails his fingers down the back of your thigh and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s fucking into you in quick, punishing thrusts. Your moans only increase in volume at the change of pace, your whole body seemingly flushed with heat. Your hands scrape desperately over Eddie's back as he pounds into you, nails cutting into pale skin.

“Shit,” Eddie groans, his forehead dropping down against yours in an unexpectedly tender movement, though it does little to take away from the sound of your bedframe creaking, the wet squelch every time he drives back into you. “God, 're you close?” He asks desperately.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm immediately, brain hazy and muscles tensing with each hard thrust that brings you closer and closer to your peak.

Eddie's nose rubs soft along your cheekbone as he nods, joining your mouths in a kiss that's more breath and tongue than anything else. You struggle to focus on moving your mouth against his as your orgasm begins to creep into the corners of your vision. Eddie's weight drops down onto one elbow to allow him the stability to reach in between you. His hand settles over your pelvis, his fingers swiping messy over your clit as his quick thrusts grow shakier.

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against your lips, “C'mon, I really-” He's cut off by the groan that rumbles up his throat when you pulse around him, the sound entirely animalistic. “Goddd. N-need you t' fuckin' cum, baby, please.”

His voice has gone husky with arousal and exertion, the sound has your eyes rolling back. It only takes a handful more thrusts like that, with the help of his fingertips tracing light circles over your clit. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, legs clamping around his hips. You whine brokenly in his mouth, a sharp gasp immediately following as you scrape your fingers down his shoulders, your whole body shaking as you come undone around him.

The increased tightness of your muscles spurs on Eddie’s own orgasm within a few thrusts, and then he's following you over the edge. He buries his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a whine, hips stuttering twice before burying deep. His weight crushes you to the mattress, your back arching at the warmth of his release filling you. Your eyes water with the strength of your orgasm, Eddie's hips unconsciously grinding into your own as he rides out his own, whimpering into your ear with the aftershocks.

You both remain unmoving for a long minute, sweaty chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath and come back to yourself. You card gently through Eddie's sweaty hair, his curls having long since broken free from the hair tie that had once held them back from his face. You fingers trail thoughtlessly through the damp tresses while Eddie's hot breath fans out over your neck. His dick twitches inside you when your fingertips scrape softly against his scalp and you struggle to bite back a quiet laugh of amusement. Your muscles tense even with the smothered laugh, and Eddie groans as your cunt pulses around him.

He huffs when he catches the look on your face, entirely dramatic as he begins to roll away, but he only maintains that feigned annoyance for about half a second before he's cackling madly and dragging you into his chest. He nips sharply at your shoulder as he tugs you into his sweaty chest and buries his face in your hair, fingers beginning to trace soft shapes over the skin of your hip.

“You feelin' okay?” He murmurs after a moment.

“Yeah,” You confirm with a sigh, already relaxing into his touch. Your brain is pleasantly dulled from the combination of the lingering high and your orgasm. “Yeah, 'm great.”

“Oh, same, yeah. Super great. I just, uh-” Eddie pauses and you find yourself focussing on the gentle caress of his fingers along your skin, “I wanted to check, y'know.. Make sure you weren't havin' any.. I dunno, just, regrets-”

You're readjusting in a flash so that you can look at him directly, your head settling onto his bicep as your eyes flick between his, “I don't. Regret it, I mean.”

It feels much too serious of a conversation to be having considering how deliriously high you currently feel, the previous strenuous activity did little to clear your head, but you mean it with every fiber of your being. You've been hung up on Eddie for what feels like forever now, the thought of him outright regretting the events of the last hour- It has you feeling sick, stomach sinking and twisting and souring all at once.

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows, “Just, I mean.. Y're real stoned and- Shit. I, fuck. I probably shouldn't've-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off, feeling desperate with the need to reassure him, “You smoked just as much as I did—probably more. I-I wanted this. I wanted it, like, really bad. Unless..” Your heart drops, “Do.. Do you regret-?”

“No!” Eddie disagrees immediately, and vehemently — With urgency to correct you. “No. No, sweetheart, I do not regret it. Could never regret you. I mean, that was- Shit, I've been wanting to do that since-”

Your hand finds the warmth of his chest, fingers scraping at the small tattoo there, “You have?”

Eddie nods his head against the blankets, sweaty curls sticking up every which way around his head like a messy halo, “Yeah.”

“Does that mean.. I mean, would you maybe wanna do it again sometime? But, like, when we're not high as all hell?”

Eddie's dimpled grin has an embarrassingly wild burst of butterflies erupting inside of you, “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

You lay like that for a while, pressed together despite the heat. His fingers wander over your palms, tracing the lines there while you watch the way his rings shift. Your naked bodies separated only by a thin layer of sweat. The ceiling fan pushing light waves of blessedly cool air over your skin.

After a few minutes Eddie suddenly tears himself out of your grip, and he does it so abruptly that your brain is hardly able to comprehend the loss of him. He lets out a quiet yelp of distress and nearly collapses face-first into the blankets in a mad scramble toward your legs. He manhandles you until you're sprawled on your back, pushing your thighs apart before flopping entirely ungracefully onto his belly in the narrow space he's made between them.

As you push up onto your elbows to peer down at him, Eddie is simply stroking his fingers soft up and down the length of your cum-soaked folds. His eyes are alight with wonder while he watches his own spend begin to leak out. One of his thumbs catches it as it falls, and he pulls his hand back for just a moment to get a better look at the pearlescent mixture of your combined cum.

“What're you doing?” You giggle after a long moment of simply watching him.

Eddie's head snaps up with such surprise it looks as if he might've forgotten you were even there, if such a thing were possible.

“Just, uh.. Admiring my handiwork.” He grins like he's all-too pleased with himself, dimples poking into his cheeks.

“It's our handiwork, actually,” You correct playfully, “Half of that's mine, and- No, wait. Actually, 's all mine now.” You tell him triumphantly.

His eyes narrow in confusion and you redirect your gaze pointedly. His attention follows your own, eyes flicking briefly toward his own hand, where the cum has begun to drip slow down his thumb toward the meat of his palm.

“What, this?” He questions in amusement.

“Yes that.” You tell him with a frown, “'s mine.” You have to bite back an honest-to-god cackle at the entirely contrived look of betrayal on his face. “Put it back.” You challenge.

Eddie's eyes roll in irritation as he repeats your words mockingly, his voice thrown high in an exceptionally poor imitation of your own, but he does dutifully drop his hand down between your thighs again to attempt to push the cum back inside you.

He looks pleased as punch once he's done. He looks at your cunt with a dopey grin on his face, cheeks still pink with exertion and hair wild.

“Don't miss me too much, pretty. A'right? I'll be seein' you again real soon.” Eddie murmurs softly, eyes never once leaving your cunt. He punctates his words by pressing a gentle kiss to your mound, just a hair's breadth from your clit.

And then that dumb, dazed smile takes over his face again.

You squint down at him, “Was.. Were you talking to me or my-”

“Was talkin' to this pretty pussy.” Eddie says matter of factly, stroking his hand over the coarse hairs between your thighs in the way one might pet an animal.

“Okay.” You manage, laughter preventing you from saying anything else.

Eddie tugs a large chunk of loose curls across his face and lays his cheek to your upper thigh. He stays like that for a moment, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, big brown eyes blown about as wide as he can manage through his high.

“..Do you still wanna fuck me?”

He pouts. It's ridiculous. It's adorable.

You can't pretend to mull it over for more than a few seconds, your cheeks ache with the need to smile. He makes you so happy you feel borderline deranged.

Your lips quirk up even as you sigh dramatically, “Regrettably? Yes.”

He fucking cheers.

He drums his hands enthusiastically against your thighs and yells so loud in victory that all you can do is laugh and cover your ears until he's finished.

You don't regret it, not a goddamn bit.

#eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #*

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 9 months ago

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Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

#the incredibles #pixar #disney #mr incredible #elastigirl #bob parr #helen parr #edna mode #syndrome #buddy pine #kronos #kronos unveiled #cinema

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pseudowho · 11 months ago

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Stoic

When Gojo assumes Nanami Kento's lack of PDA for the reader shows a lack of desire for her, a tipsy Kento is quick to correct him.

Warnings: 18+ drabble, Kento goes on a smutty rant

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'A quick drink' after work had soon turned into two, three, four. Shoko took full advantage of the rooftop bar's balcony, smoking and idly chatting; Higuruma and Atsuya gossipped and quipped, snorting into their drinks; Satoru observed Kento and you keenly behind his dark lens; you stood, excusing yourself to the bathroom as Kento gave you a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Satoru interrupted loudly when you were gone, his pot boiling over, "I just-- I just don't get it, Nanami." All eyes were on Satoru and Kento now-- Kento, with one thin eyebrow raised in quiet disdain at Satoru, and Satoru, with his elbows planted forward on his knees in challenge.

A few moments of silence. Kento huffed, "Should I be apologising for someth--"

"--you've been together for years," Satoru interrupted, "and I'm just not convinced. She could be-- she could be a coat rack for all the affection you show her, you're supposed to not be able to keep your hands off her--"

"--you want me to grope my fiancée in public, am I correct--"

"--well maybe, anything to show that you love her--"

Kento laughed out loud, deep and humourless, continuing to chuckle into his glass, scoffing to himself; "Love her," he rumbled, swirling his whiskey, amber eyes flickering and carnal in the firelight.

Shoko had turned, smirking, to watch the scene. Atsuya leaned back, scowling, chewing on a toothpick with crossed arms. Hiromi leaned, glimmer-eyed, into the drama, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clasping his wineglass. He picked up the bottle, slowly beginning to pour another glass.

"I don't love her," Kento spat, downing his glass of whiskey in one smooth swallow, hissing and slamming the glass down on the table, "I worship her. I'm obsessed with her."

Satoru was silent, mulish, as Kento continued.

"I would walk through rains of bullets for her," he mused aloud, "I would cut off fingers with blunt knives--"

"Nanami, alright, I'm sorry--"

"Any second I'm not with her," Kento continued, his voice quieter, darker, the group leaning into him, "is a second wasted. I don't know what point there was in the years I spent without her-- probably just there to build me into even a semblance of the man she deserves--"

"--why are we doing this--"

"-- and when I'm not thinking about talking to her, watching her, being near her, holding her, or-- fuck, just having her look at me goes bone-deep...I spend at least eighty-percent of my time thinking about different ways to make her cum--"

Satoru was blushing now, his face in his hands, while the others leaned into Kento's mild breakdown with awe, "--fucking hell Nanami, I didn't mean--"

"I almost died last week, at work," Kento mused, as a laughing Hiromi slid the glass of wine down the table to Kento, which he caught seamlessly, "because I was too busy thinking about how her mouth had felt around my cock the night before, because I was pondering the many applications for my tie, because I was thinking about how incredible she felt underneath me--"

Atsuya and Shoko whispered together, Hiromi now giggling to himself unashamedly; "Oh he's really going for it--" "I know I know, shhh, let him finish--"

"--and I've been sat here with her all evening, resisting the urge to strip her, tie her wrists together and have her ride me until I go fucking blind, all because of social-fucking-propriety, just for some long streak of jizz like you to say I clearly don't love her--"

Satoru had shrunk in on himself now, his soul quietly leaving his body, mortified and put to rights as Kento tsked, swirling his wine before downing that, too. He accepted the bottle Hiromi slid towards him in approval.

"...it really just is rather rude and presumptuous of you, isn't it, Gojo?"

The group sat in stunned silence as you returned, sitting beside Kento and laying a hand on his crossed knees. You felt the bizarre tension; Hiromi unable to conceal a blush as he looked at you, Shoko giving you a knowing smile around her cigarette, Atsuya unable to make eye contact. You smiled uncertainly.

"...what did I miss?"

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Still waters run deep 💀💀💀

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hwallazia · 27 days ago

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XMAS DINNER GOES WRONG – 정우영

⋆ synopsis. it seems like your husband can’t keep it in his pants, not even on a fucking christmas dinner with his family. but, as the lovely wifey you are, you gotta give him some relief, right?

pairing. husband! jung wooyoung & fem! reader.

wc. 3,2k

warnings. smut (mdni!), suggestive language, cussing, almost!! getting caught by wooyoung’s mom (oops), pet names (love, babe, my wife, pretty girl & more), nipple play, wooyoung sucks your entire skin (neck, collarbone, tits and the list can continue…), teasing, wooyoung tears your panties to shreds heh, not dirty—NASTY TALK, begging, yn at some point says “stop” but it’s bc she’s far too blissed out; not bc she actually wanted him to stop, this is alllll consensual!!, unprotected sex, praise ofc, squirting, gut-wrenching fluff in the end ‘cause love him too much.

nic’s notes ⋆ first ff of the xmas event yes sir !! i felt some shit writing this istg (๑/////๑ " )

you know holidays, right?

the perfect opportunity for the entire family to gather and celebrate achievements, blessings, and thousands and thousands of other things. cousins, nephews, aunts, uncles, and even great-grandparents were reunited in that cold and windy winter night. an entire feast was splayed on the table for everyone’s delightfulness, different kinds of foods and smells mixing and creating a delicious, toe-curling experience for anyone’s nostrils.

the hours you had spent shopping for every ingredient for each dish, cutting the vegetables, cooking everything to the exact, perfect point and term really paid off once your and your husband’s family were brought together at the large, dark oak table to celebrate your very first holiday — both families now joined together as one.

nothing could go wrong. the chatting flew as calm and joyful as spring water, sharing experiences and old memories pleasingly, smiles spread like the most enchanting disease—as well as the wholesome ambience, and everything was accompanied by a delightful meal, the well-deserved five star bonus of the evening.

so, if everything was meant to go perfectly, then why the hell was your husband staring at you with the most explicit, sluttiest “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen?

wooyoung sat in front of you, his two cousins sitting each on his sides. his plate was rather full, and that had an explanation: he was far too gone and busy burying heart-shaped daggers into your eyes while his hand cupped his cheek, head tilting to his right — his tongue glided over his dry bottom lip every now and then. you’d bet that none of his thoughts were in the bible. ‘cause fuck, even his younger brother would guess that something’s odd about him. that that’s not the usual behavior of his dear older brother.

“yn? darling?” the voice of wooyoung’s mother dragged out quickly of your insulation bubble. her tilted head clearly showed that she had been trying to talk to you for a while. a soft, warming hue of red struck your cheekbones.

as you gyrated your head to meet her worried gaze, you replied. “yes! mrs. jung, ‘m sorry. what were you saying?”

“are you doing fine, sweetie? you were gone for a bit.” she stared at you intently, genuinely worried about her daughter in-law. oh that woman was almost a fallen angel—if not one. if only she knew it was his own son who was to blame—the very last person she’d suspect, and oh, how deliciously ironic that was.

the figure of your husband’s shit-eating grin could be seen out of the corner of your eye—a sight that ignited a fiery rage within you, yet one you couldn’t help but savor, lingering on the view as long as possible before responding to your sweet mother-in-law. “oh, it was nothing. i’m prolly just zoning out because of how tired i am. y’ know, spending the entire day in the kitchen was exhausting.” the cherry on top of the excuse was the little, innocent giggle you emitted by the end. the woman gave you the most pitiful, yet endearing look. she lifted her arm, indicating with her open palm the white stairs, the reflection of the christmas-decorated banister lighting up her eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. you should go rest, it’s pretty late after all.” her gesture softened your heart, chest clenching a bit.

this woman was going to be the death of you! … uhm, never mind. first place is taken by wooyoung, who seems quite excited with the idea of going upstairs with you, by the way. take a guess at what his mind is scheming.

you shook your hands in front of your chest, quickly denying the opportunity. “thank you really, but i’m okay. i’ll just go wash my face.” you excused yourself, hovering your leg over the other and getting yourself up. “maybe that way i can wake up completely.” ending with a little giggle, you started walking towards the staircase when suddenly, the voice of your dear husband rang inside your ears.

“excuse me. i’ll go help my wife.” his foxy eyes curved into crescent moons, and his lips stretched wide, forming an upward line. oh fuck, you were done for.

“oh yes, i was about to ask you to do the same. please, son.” she stated, nodding approvingly. oh what a gentleman she had raised.

you resumed your steps quickly, arriving to the second floor in less than you expected. you turned your head, only to be met with an empty corridor. thank goodness he hadn’t gotten there yet.

or so you thought. ‘cause when you refocused your attention to your front, a pair of arms grabbed you by your waist and swung you around the air in a swift motion as he dragged you to an empty room. the last sound heard in the corridor was the slam of a closing door.

your breathless body was pinned against a cold wall, trapped between two quite familiar, tanned arms. simultaneously, your disoriented irises tried to adjust to the darkness of the room and focus on the feverish, hungry eyes standing in front of you.

“wh… what the fuck was that.” you muttered as the remains of your breath flew away. wooyoung seemed enchanted by your current state though.

“heeey, don’t curse at me like that.” his gentle, cocky voice penetrated your mind like a bullet. knuckles crept up the sides of your exposed arms, providing soothing strokes — goosebumps prickled to life in response. he opened his warm palms and reached to your also bare shoulder, massaging them. “after all, ’m jus’ here to help you.” he pulled his secret weapon and started making out with your neck, licking your flesh like a starving man and spreading wet kisses all over it.

“help me? how are you helping me like this?” you uttered as your breath hitched, head leaning to the side at the right angle to give him enough space.

wooyoung sucked that sensitive spot that always made your eyes roll to the very back of your head, dragging a whine out of you successfully. his chuckle and victorious smirk didn’t go unseen by your already blissed-out self. he leaned back a little to admire you. just for a bit, palms not leaving their place. “you’ll know when we’re done.” his hands moved in a swift motion, arms wrapping around your thighs and shoulders, lifting you effortlessly in a princess carry. “for now, just shut up and enjoy it, hm?”

“w-wooyoung—you know we can’t do this now— angh!” your anxious, flustered self made a futile attempt to reason with wooyoung, hoping he’d remember that both your families were gathered downstairs for a fucking christmas dinner—while he, entirely unbothered, seemed more than eager to spend the evening thoroughly ruining you in the bed just one floor above. and that was clearly shown when he threw you to the bed as if you were the lightest feather and immediately crawled to you.

“c’mon, love. i just wanna help you stay awake” his gravelly voice purred gift next to your ear as his taunting hands played with the sides of your dress, fingertips aching and itching to rip it off you.

he had you underneath him, completely flustered and nervous. he knew you were really anxious about the dinner—you’d spent a whole hour straight ranting about how nerve-wracking the preparations were, only to end up feeling physically ill from the overwhelming surge of dopamine flooding your system. but your reddened cheeks were smiling at him and your plump lips were whispering nasty things to him. holy fuck, how couldn’t he be tempted?

he needed to be balls deep in you. now.

his skillful tongue found home in your neck and collarbone, sucking cute love bites all over. but, your body was still tense, too uneasy at the thought of the possible scenario of someone entering the room and catching the two of you in such a compromising position.

“b-babe, please—hmph”

in a sultry tone, he muttered, “already begging. so fucking cute.” a smirk was drawn on his lips before his hands reached to your cleavage and popped your tits out of your low-cut dress. “y’ want me to fuck you? ‘s that what it is?”

before you could even think of an answer, he dived right into your breasts, licking your sensitive nipples as though they were his favorite toy — because they absolutely were.

god, the incessant thoughts that ran through your head and his tongue lapping around your buds were too much. everything was starting to be too much, and he hadn’t even taken your clothes off. with heightened sensitivity, your lips fell open and a beautiful, sweet melody of your moans and whimpers escaped through them — a delightful melody for your husband’s ears.

impatient hands stripped you of your glittery dress, leaving you with nothing but your black, thin panties. wooyoung took a moment for himself — well, more accurately for you, to admire and revel in your beauty as he should. a rush of blood surged to his cock, making it throb even harder than before. he was no more than a man, overwhelmed by desire. “you’re fucking irresistible, y’ know that?” he started down to where your and his crotch connected, brows furrowing when he saw your clothed pussy. “i think it’s time for this to go.”

a sharp rrrrrip! bounced through the walls and brought your attention. “woo did you just—?!” you followed the movement of his hands, which discarded the shreds of black fabric to the floor. “that was my—! hahh” and his thumb flew right to your already swollen clit, stimulating it with circling motions.

“why’re you whining when you know i’ll buy you ten more pairs,” he whispered as he soaked in the unsteady shiftiness of your body — and for that, he posed a strong yet harmless grip on your waist. his fat thumb worked nonstop over your bud, sending sparks right to it. your body jolted upward at the feeling of his middle and index fingers tracing soft lines up your pink folds. the sight of your walls clenching and relaxing around nothing spun him. “ooh, what a greedy wifey i got.” he chuckled under his breath, gaze stuck to his home — and i mean your cunt. “sooo desperate for my fingers, huh?”

at this point, any sense or unsteady thought had already vanished away, completely replaced by a selfish state of mind. you wanted him to finger you, fuck you, drive you insane. and you wanted it right fucking now. and so you mewled, “god, please just do something.”

“got the name wrong, darling.” and with that, he pushed two fingers at once inside your fluttering walls, tugging a satisfied moan out of you. “it’s wooyoung. or hubby” he giggled. he fucking giggled as he rammed those fingers mercilessly, shooting stars and fireworks filling your vision.

“w-wait stop— baby, please— fffuck!” stuttering words and incoherent gibberish spilled from your swollen lips, too red and slick from how often and harshly you’d bitten them; eyes welling up with tears from the intense pleasure overload.

“stop?” a chuckle rumbled through his chest. “fine then” he withdrew his long phalanges, leaving you empty. completely fucking empty, with velvety and throbbing walls already missing him. you cried as you felt the void of your pulsating pussy, but before you could coax a desperate “please” from your lips, wooyoung grabbed you by the waist. you gasped, as he manhandled you, positioning you on top, naked folds grazing his clothed sex.

you pouted and wooyoung laughed. he was finding this shit way too funny. “since you so nicely begged me to stop, then put your back into it, mm?” a loud smack! reverberated through the walls as his heavy palm landed on the flesh of your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”

and did he have to tell you twice. desperate, shuddering hands worked on his dress pants, quickly undoing his belt and zipping it down just enough to uncover his rock-hard bulge. you grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled it down as well, his cock springing finally free. with a smooth movement, you took his member and positioned it below you. and just before you sit down on him completely, someone knocked on the fucking door.

the surprise caused you to jolt and lose control, sinking in a faster and sloppier motion than you intended — a loud cry resonating through the thin walls the moment his tip kissed your cervix perfectly. with eyes wide open, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for being so fucking noisy and sensitive and—

“yn? are you in here?” the muffled voice of wooyoung’s mother echoed from the other side of the door.

shit shit shit.

“y-yes, ma’am! i… ’m kinda busy over in here—ugh!” you tried to speak as loud and clear as you could, but wooyoung seemed to be unbothered by your efforts since he grabbed your hips and started swaying your core up and down his girth. up, down, up, down.

you stared at your husband with glaring eyes, stabbing knives into his. fuck, did this man even care about being heard by his own mother? now, with all doubts gone, you’re certain you’ve married a freak.

“are you okay, sweetie? what’s going on over there?”

and you swear you heard the door creaking open, so you exclaimed. “no! everything’s fine!” you yelped, your voice higher-pitched than you intended. “please don’t come in.”

wooyoung chuckled underneath you, soaking in the sight of your nervous self trying to mute your cries as your tits bounced right on his face. he could die right there and then and he’d be happy. “what’s wrong, baby? can’t take it?” he whispered as he gazed directly into your tightly scrunched eyes, your partially open mouth releasing nothing more but silent cries and pleas.

“fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you hushed soundlessly, yet willingly bouncing up and down his length. the low, manly giggle he uttered spun you. fuck, he had you wrapped up around his finger.

“oookay? uhm, do you know where my son is? is he there with you?”

he grinned. that shit-eating grin you hated so damn much appeared all across his face. “c’mon pretty, tell her the truth. tell her how good i’m fucking you, how good you’re taking my cock, hm?” he growled into your ear, his voice low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. the sound was intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and turning your mind into mush.

your throbbing walls clenched around him subconsciously, his head rocking back in reaction. “he’s… he’s here with me, h-helping me like he said he would.”

wooyoung seemed utterly satisfied by your answer, his grin only spreading wider. “that’s my wife. so beautiful.”

“perfect then! i’ll see you in a bit then.” after those words, no other sound was heard — other than the wet clapping of your flesh against his hips.

“‘s she gone?” your half-lidded eyes stared down at your husband, who was hugging you by the waist, face deeply buried in your bobbing, soft tits. your hands flew to the back of his head, cupping his neck whilst caressing his raven hair fondly. at your words, his head lifted, and took a glance at your divine expression.

“baby, i didn’t care, not even a second, if she was hearing or not.” his intoxicating, dark irises sent love letters to yours, utterly drunk in love. “i jus’ wanna cum inside your sweet pussy.”

skillful fingers crept to your hardened, overstimulated nipples and all the way down where your bodies collided, positioning right on your clit. his left hand stroked your firm nipple and played with one breast, letting wooyoung’s tongue take care of the other whilst his right hand shifted rapidly over your bundle of nerves.

he fell in love with you again as he saw your back arching into a perfect crescent moon. “good girl.” your loud whines and moans only encouraged him to keep going. “so responsive to me.” he exhaled breathlessly. “fuck, are you about to cum, baby?”

“y-yeah, fuck— woo, i-i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fucking cum” you yelped as your bounces became sloppier, more desperate and more reckless. wooyoung motivated you by whispering sweet things and heart-melting praises right into your ear.

“cum, baby. cum for me, milk me dry.” and with one last bounce, you sprayed your juices all over him, soaking his pants and white shirt even more.

exasperated grunts and exhales left your husband’s mouth at the sensation of your folds clamping down on him — you definitely understood the assignment of milking him dry. ‘cause your pussy received the hot ropes of cum that his dick spurted out with great pleasure, sucking the life out of his poor, now softened length.

you crumbled down on him, your weakened core landing on top of him with his dick still inside you. your head found home in the crook of his neck as his hand reached to your back, wrapping your waist safely whilst the other provided soothing ministrations to your face. with your last ounce of strength, you pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, an even warming sensation drowning the both of you.

“fuck” was all you could mutter. “how’re we going to get back there, they’re waiting for us.”

wooyoung hummed thoughtfully, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and brushing against your skin. “we could pretend we fell asleep. with that, they shouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“hey that’s actually a great id—“

the door creaked open and your bodies jerked softly. the both of you knew exactly what to do, so your eyes flew shut. wooyoung even started snoring quietly to add a spec of realism to the scene.

the sound of your mothers’ voice echoed through your ears. “she said wooyoung was helping… her” wooyoung’s mom immediately lowered her voice as she took in the scene. an almost soundless aww escaped your mom’s lips.

“well sure he was helping her.” your mother sighed at the wholesome moment she had the luck of appreciating.

“i think he was massaging her. ‘cause when i knocked on the door, i could hear like— muffled sounds, that seemed like moans.” she stated, and you froze in place — well, not like you could move an inch. “at first i was confused, but then she clarified that wooyoung-ah was helping her “like he said he would”” she remarked your words as if she had studied them.

“oh i see.” your mother spoke. “i think we should let them sleep. my poor yn had a long day.”

and with that, the door shut closed with a soft click.

wooyoung giggled under the covers as your face burned from the embarrassment.

“massaging? well, that’s a way to put it.”

“wooyoung, babe, as much as i love you, please shut the fuck up.”

he laughed wholeheartedly, a gut-wrenching sound that never fails to make you smile. “you embarrassed, my love?”

you slapped your open palm against his exposed chest as you whined. “stoppp.”

his small, soft giggle buzzed inside your eardrums before he left on the top of your head a kiss full of fondness and affection. “cutie.”

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #☃︎ | nic’s xmas.#ateez #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic

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thecoochiefairy · 2 months ago

Text

mouthy. onyankapon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 blackfem!reader, drabble, onyankapon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon,dominant!onyankapon, angry sex, drunk sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ link. link. link. link.

sorry y’all, i been celibate and just want the testosterone of a black man. i beg.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: you come back from the club, mouthy, tipsy and blabbering to your boyfriend. all that talking has onyakanpon give you just what you’re asking for.

STRAWBERRY FLAVORED MARGARITAS ALWAYS MADE YOU HORNY. You made the terrible decision of making that your choice of drink when agreeing to a girls night out, knowing where you really wanted to be— in bed, cuddled up to your man. But you missed your friends, and Onyankapon missed you even more.

Although you were always together, his weekend routine felt incomplete without you. He had already gone to the gym, got something to eat, and took Cupcake—your American Bully—out for a run. The minute he left you to walk out the house in that fuschia dress, he knew you’d be trouble. The gold jewelry accents as your dark hair fell in crimped waves, the scent of Miss Dior along your throat that he couldn’t pull away from, skimpy heels combating the entire look together—he would have broken someone’s neck behind you.

As you stumbled into the women’s bathroom, the dark red lights added onto the energy you felt of the song playing within the club—PHAT by Dababy—buzzing your entire body as you wanted to shake ass with your girls. But first, you had to have a little fun.

You leaned yourself into the full body mirror of the bathroom, bending down as you arched your back into the camera, taking salacious pictures of yourself. They were faceless, only showing the curves of your body in the dress. You sent them to Onyankapon, a small, tipsy grin along your face.

mama <3 :

don’t i look pretty?

He was now within the mirror, clippers in his hand as he faded the sides of his head, beard trimmed down as well. You weren’t there to protest the cut, loving when his facial hair was more full, whether it was in between your fingers or deep in your—

Back to the point, LARGER THAN LIFE by Brent Faiyaz was his current choice of album. He glances down at his phone as he sees the message, eyebrows furrowing. The sight of you under red lighting, filthily posing for the picture. It made him more irritated than anything.

my ony <3 :

my pretty ass baby. drink some water.

The message back makes you feel a bit deflated. You wanted more. Your mischievous eyes glance around, seeing you were still alone in the bathroom. With that, you latch your fingers onto the top of your dress, pulling down the fabric to have your breasts spill out, nipples hardening from the air. You snap the picture, holding one of your tits in your palm, your brown lined Cupid’s bow lips also within the photo. You press send, sitting along the countertop of the bathroom, awaiting for a response.

Your phone buzzes after five minutes. You look down, seeing only a couple of words.

my ony <3:

yeah, aight.

You can’t help the grin that spreads along your face. With that, you notice that your phone battery is lower than expected, and you know your friends aren’t ready to go home. You sigh, shutting off your phone in risk of it dying, heading back to the section to try to shake off some of this inebriety.

Onyankapon goes to text you again, but this time it doesn’t seem to go through. It was in your habit for your phone to die, but tonight wasn’t the time. He even went as far as calling you. Straight to voicemail. Of course, your friends weren’t answering either. His eye could’ve twitched.

Getting your key into the door was your current mission hours later. Your phone was buzzing from the amount of missed phone calls as you turned it back on, a giggle stifling from your lips as you continuously shuffled your keys around, desperately trying to find the oversized Hello Kitty one. Your feet ached, heels high and tall as your ankles trembled, wanting nothing more than to be barefoot.

When your eyes finally register the pink key—assuming you’d touched it a thousand times—you lean against the door as you swing it open, holding yourself up by the bottom of your feet. They felt extremely heavy. You step inside, slowly pushing the door to close, locking it behind you. The LED lights in your condo were a dark purple, blaring to the low beat of the music playing around the walls, PARTYNEXTDOOR accompanying your ears. He’d probably fallen asleep.

Despite all the noise you’d been making, you try to tip-toe with your heels, realizing that your mission was successful. That’s until you turn your head towards the kitchen, anyways.

You freeze momentarily in your steps, eyes widening. You knew he’d be angry, but you wanted to make a sneaky escape into bed next to him— Alas, your plan had failed miserably and you turned to face him with an innocent smile.

“Ony, baby—Why are you awake?”

The room seemed to shrink in size because of his imposing figure. It didn't matter how many tattoos covered his muscular body—you would always remember his face card. Strident jawline, dark eyes that gave him the expression of annoyance or solemnity, but the tattoos that decorated his cheek made him stand out amongst men. His brown complexion shimmered under the light, as if he had oil on his skin.

He just blinks at you, brows furrowing with obvious irritation. You were supposed to be home at ten. It was now two in the morning. He crosses his arms as you could see a vein straining on his neck, also glancing over the lipstick printed ink of your mouth tatted along his throat. He was pissed.

“And where the fuck has your ass been?”

His silky black durag has a knot tied within the back of his head, shirtless, upper body exposed as his black sweatpants hang on his hips. He’d just woken up after dozing off.

You pout slightly, not liking his attitude. “The girls wanted to be outside longer. I wasn’t driving, so I couldn't tell them no.”

“The girls know you got a crazy ass nigga at home. You could’ve at least picked up my fuckin’ calls.”

“My phone was in my purse,” you try to defend, now walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Did I wake you?”

Despite his annoyed demeanor, his arms make their way to your waist. He’s gentle, but you could pick up the way his fingers dug into your skin.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“Cupcake likes to cuddle,” you refer to the large dog, “Don’t be mean to her. She loves you just as much as I do,” you rub his beard, scratching it affectionately.

He grunts lowly, “Gimme’ your mouth,” you standing on your heels as you give him a peck on the lips.

You then groan, leaning down as you rub your ankle, “My foot hurts,” you pout, “Ugly bitch at the club stepped on my toes!”

He couldn’t help but soften up at your comments, a gentle hand rubbing at the back of your neck soothingly.

“She stepped on your shit on purpose?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“She gon’ say ‘bitch, move’ when she was all in my way. I didn’t move, so she stepped on my heel. Should’ve busted her fuckin’ head open,” you talk shit about the random girl in the club, “Baby, my feet hurt…” you repeat more softly.

“You gonna go back and fight her?” He poked fun, now lifting you up by your thighs to release the tension off your feet. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, yelping, ‘wee!’ as He carries you to the living room, setting you down on the couch.

“Lemme’ see. I’ll ice your little ass foot.”

“Can you rub it? With the ice? Think they’re red,” you request, carelessly throwing the shoes in opposite directions, feeling the bottom of your feet throbbing even more.

He hums, “Hollon’, baby,” disappearing into the kitchen as you wait on the couch. Cupcake comes running into the living room, jumping on you immediately. You giggle, hugging her head as she snuggles up against you, having the zoomies as she takes back off into her kennel.

Ony returned with a bag of ice, leaning down in front of you, placing the ball of your hurting foot in his lap.

“You really couldn’t leave early?”

You shake your head, “They wanted to hit up the after hours. I said nooo, my man wants me home. They said your man lame, you’ grown! I said, I am! But I miss my man! But ooh, baby, they had lemon drop shots for two dollars! Maybe that’s why I’m so drunk…” you ramble.

He listened attentively to your rambling, tilting his head to the side. He had a small smile on his face, his expression gentle at your drunken blabbering. He loved listening to you talk, even if you were saying nonsense.

“And you bought ‘em? You know you’ a light weight. You can’t handle your liquor, baby.”

“I had water too!” You protest, “But it was too late. I’m not like—super drunk, but because I’m home now, I can just…float,” you say with a hum, tilting your head, “….You’ happy to see me now?”

“Happy as fuck. I was about to go down to that club and shoot that shit up about you. Tryna’ get fucked up in that pretty ass dress, too. I got your pictures.”

Your slender eyes blink at him, glimmering under the light, “I’m pretty?” You knew the answer, but your floaty mind wanted to hear it anyway.

“Don’t be playin’ stupid with me.”

You lean forward, poking your lips out as you sigh, “You’re so sweet. Gimme’ a kiss.”

He leans forward, placing another soft, slow, kiss on your lips. He pulled back to look at your face, his large hands cupping your jaw, his brown eyes scanning your expression.

“‘Love your non-listening ass. Even when you come home later then I tell you to.”

Your demeanor changes, not liking how he worded that sentence. A reminder, your system was sugar-rushed off of several lemon drops.

“Tell me?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Tell? Don’t be funny, lil’ boy. You ain’t my damn daddy.”

"Lil’ boy?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, “You’ talking shit?"

“Big shit, actually,” you roll your eyes, pushing away the ice he holds, “I don’t wanna talk to you no more.”

"Yeah? You don't wanna talk to me? Let your fuckin’ feet hurt then.”

“That’s fine!”

He becomes slightly agitated from your childish responses, gripping your ankle in his hold to keep you down, “Chill out. You’re still tipsy.”

“And? I don’t give a fuck about my feet, you, or my mouth. Come shut me the fuck up then, bitch-ass-nigga.”

It’s like you won’t stop talking. Your mouth fires off curses as you attempt to stand from the sofa, wanting to just get out of your clothes. He hears that trigger word, bitch, a word he asked that you never called him. It was the ultimate disrespect.

He stares you down for a moment. His gaze was intense, intimidating. But there's now a glint of amusement in his eyes, and a humorless chuckle follows.

You go to walk away, but he’s faster.

He clutches you by the back of your neck as he twists you around, gripping you up as he kisses you, opening up your mouth as he sloppily puts his tongue in. You’re stunned for a moment, hands gripping for his skin, but it’s the alcohol that has the kiss throb in between your legs—You’re spent.

He pulls back, his hand still on the back of your neck as he presses a kiss under your jaw, before grunting against your ear, “Big ass fuckin’ mouth,” he sharply gruffs, “Come suck some dick. Finna’ shut you the fuck up.”

His voice is assertive, deep in your ear. You can’t help but be a little excited—Maybe you’d wanted this type of reaction from him the entire time. You’re kneeling yourself down without having to be guided, tugging for his black sweats, watching as his dick springs from beneath the material. His tip is a dark pink, veins prominent as it slaps along his belly button. Your mouth waters at the sight.

You wrap your fingers around the base, staring up with your dark lashes, cheeks warm and red as you dig your teeth into your lip, “Want my mouth on you, baby?”

Your inner thighs throb again as he lightly smacks your cheek, gripping your jaw open to separate your lips, “You fuckin’ heard me. Don’t play right now.”

He watches as you take him fully into your mouth, throat humming as you swirl your tongue around his tip, eyes closing as you nod your head back and forth. He reaches back, tangling his fingers through your hair as he guides your movements, dark eyes watching each time you take him deeper.

“Make that shit sloppy as fuck,” he grunts.

You open your mouth wider at that, eyes dropping low as you nod your head back and forth, tip dragging along the roof of your mouth, sliding deeper in your throat. Your saliva begins to increase, jaw aching each time his balls slap along your bruising lips, yet you moan in pleasure, wanting more—needing more.

Your eyes are practically stars to him. They glimmer under the lights of the living room, music strumming in his ears as you hollow your cheeks, back arching, ass poking out of your dress as you lean forward to be as close to him as possible. You watch him like a movie, his equally dark baby pink lips halfway open, head falling back as he groans, tightening his fist along your hair.

“Oh shit,” his low voice moans, “Suck my fuckin’ dick just like that, baby. Need my shit messy.”

He knows how much you like him praising you on, your lips firmly wrapping around his tip, molding your mouth around it as you slovenly suck, the sound echoing along the room. Your jaw burns even more. But the sight of his large hands encapsulating your curls, inked abdomen tightening as he watches your every move, your saliva warm from how hard he’s thrusting in your mouth, it’s like a drug. An addiction. He slows down, holding your hair with both fists, pulling himself out of your mouth as you stick your tongue out, awaiting to catch him again. His tip slaps along your jaw, the giggle leaving your lips captured by your intoxication.

He feels your hot breath on his tip as he looks down at you, seeing your tongue hang out of your mouth, wet and glistening in the dim light. The sight alone sends a jolt straight to his already throbbing dick.

"You’ finna’ swallow every last drop I got for you."

His words were firm, almost demanding as he watched you take him back into your mouth. This time, he held onto your head aggressively, fucking your eager mouth at a slow pace, allowing you to savor the taste of him.

You drag saliva along the veins of his dick, pulling your mouth back as you hum, “Feel good, baby?“

“Feel good as fuck, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You’ tryna’ get fucked like a princess,” he grunts back to you, watching as your thumb runs over his tip, rolling your hand in a motion all the way down to the base of his length.

You circle your tongue back around his tip, sliding your lips around before pulling his length all the way to the back of your throat, the walls of your breath swelling as you gag, melting in his pleasure.

“Gonna nut, baby? Talk to me.”

"Finna’ nut all in that pretty ass mouth, baby,” he promises to you, and he does, his voice dropping to a low growl as he pushes you further, forcing you to take his entire length between your lips, the inside of your mouth becoming warm.

When he pulls back, his dick slides out slowly for you to lap up any leftover drops of cum that dribble out. He then tugs on your hair, bringing your face up to meet his.

You instantly stick your tongue out to show that you swallowed, giggling as you run your tongue against your lips, “Cleaned you up so good.”

You know he’s sensitive. You flick your eyes up as you kiss his tip, the giggles faltering off your lips like nothing as you tipsily moan, “Pretty ass dick, baby.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy.”

He grunts as he pulls you up by your hair, smashing your lips against his in a kiss. You’re encapsulated by his mouth, tongue thrusting in between your lips, the feeling making your eyes roll back, moaning as you open your mouth wider. You loved kissing him. His lips were full, nearly overlapping yours as you made out with him.

He pulls you back, fingers around your throat as he commands, “Get on the sofa. Spread your legs.”

Ony’s already on his knees as you bend over the black velvet furniture. You spread your legs as you arch slightly, face hiding within your shoulder, eyes turning back to meet his. He’s trailing kisses along your thighs—it’s torturous at this point. Your pussy throbs as he’s blowing his breath against your core.

He spanks the skin of your ass as he growls, “Nasty ass.”

He’s already down there, his lips wrapping around your clit, bottom lip dropping lower to rub against the entirety of you, tongue swirling to spread you open. You reach your palms behind, spreading yourself for him, forehead kneeling against the furniture as you breathily whine, “Yeah, baby. Always love when you eat my pussy.”

“Watch that fuckin’ mouth,” he warns in between your flesh.

He’s eating you like desert—Licking you from bottom to top. His hands find their way to your hips, pinning you down to the couch as he shakes his head from side to side, deepening his tongue against your folds. He halts as he comes up, pulling your face towards his as he grips your chin, commanding, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth,” the moment he says it, your tongue sticking out as you drop saliva in between his lips. He accepts it, going back down as he coats it along your pussy, the feeling making your thighs tremble. He’s rough. And sloppy. Just how you liked it.

Latching back against the sticky walls of your pussy, you become more wet as he French kisses the throb of your clit, head swaying up and down as he flattens his tongue against the overall of you.

He’s lapping you up like a thirsty man. His tongue is thick and heavy against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. His tongue continues its assault on your pussy, licking you in circles until you start squirming underneath him, desperately trying to hold your mouth.

His hands leave your hips, moving to grip your ass to expose more of your dripping entrance to him. Without warning, he buries his tongue deep inside of you, his lips sealed tight against your wetness as he starts fucking you with his mouth.

“Pussy tight as fuck, baby. Even on my tongue,” he grunts.

“Come fuck me, Ony,” you pout, “I’m so fuckin’ horny,” you almost cry at the pressure between your legs.

He doesn’t talk shit like you expect him to. Instead, he pulls his mouth away from you, your body lightly jumping as you feel his tip sloshing around your opening, patting against it, kissing the outside of your walls.

“This’ what you want, huh?”

He brings his hand around the front of you, palm clutching around your throat to pull you up closer to him. You try to nod your head, pushing your hips back to relieve the friction. You thought you were going to faint.

Your mind is still buzzing. Every inch slowly sinks into you, an ache itching in the depths of your walls, making your hips tremble as you gasp lightly. You push your body forward to escape, which only makes Ony grip you back, rolling his hips forward as he tsks, “Nuh-Uh, don’t do that,” making your eyes flutter shut as you whine, “Ooh, fuck. Daddy.”

Your whining makes him grunt, spanking you in response to your mouth, sensitivity spiked as you whimper. He smacks his lips, “Cut that shit out. You’ crying for my dick, take all of it.”

The heaviness of your ass drops against his abdomen, air spurring in between your hips, the suction making you quiver in response.

You turn your head, jaw dropping lightly as you suck in a breath, moving your body to adjust. You lift your hips as you watch yourself, eyes flicking up to meet him as you slide back down, listening to the skin connect, stomach cramping as you shudder out another whine.

“Gonna take all of it,” you desperately gasp, digging your fingers into the material of the couch, beginning to swirl your hips around as you fuck yourself, walls gushing at your eagerness. Each time you come up, his tip coats with more of your cream, moans progressively losing sense behind them each time your ass claps against his hips.

"Needy ass fuckin’ girl," he grumbles, gripping onto your waist tightly. "I be’ spoiling you too much.”

His right hand reaches onto the left side of your waist to get a good grip on you, dropping you up and down to watch your bodies move in sync, matching your rhythm as he starts fucking you harder. With every thrust, he slams into you, filling you completely, making you gasp out loud. He leans down, whispering in your ear, "Pussy wet as fuck. You hear my pussy? She’ talking. Just as loud as your fuckin’ mouth.”

You do listen, skin slapping against each others, your pussy squelching and sloshing as he now has a hold along the back of your dress, using that to tug you down, the air secretion igniting loud sounds with it. Your cheeks are red, something that usually happened when you became shy, turning your head back towards the wall as you moaned.

"Don’t be all shy now. Look at me. Need to see your face while you creamin’ on my shit like that.”

The command is sharp, leaving no room for refusal. He feels you tense under him, your inner walls trembling around his dick. He keeps pounding into you, your juices flowing down his shaft and onto his balls.

When you don't obey immediately, he spanks your ass to make you shriek, hard enough to leave a bruises before demanding again, "Look at me."

You instead kneel your head against the sofa. It’s not long before he becomes impatient, and he pulls you to stand flat on your feet. He keeps your back perfectly arched, rubbing his tip along your folds as he’s already sinking back in, making you lightly groan. He then takes your arms, palms tight around your wrists as he pulls them back and raises them slightly above your body, thrusting his hips forward, skin loudly echoing together as he gives you mean—almost enough to bully you—thrusts.

The moans you give are shocking, standing on your toes to escape from him, pussy tightening as the back of your thighs sting, friction against his hips, arousal dripping against his balls and abdomen.

“Agh—fuck—baby, ooohshit. Oohshit, Ony,” you’re rambling to him, unable to move as you’re trapped in this position.

"Shut the fuck up. I ain't wanna hear none of that noise."

He goes back to pounding you, ignoring your high pitched squeals, the arch of your back deepening as you want to jump out of your skin.

"Quit fuckin’ running. Take this fuckin’ dick. You’ wanna be grown, be fuckin’ grown, big girl,” he talks, skin harshly meeting with his, his dick painted with your arousal, ignoring the way you messily sob, a darkness in your vision as your eyes are staring into the back of your head.

“Ooohh, daddy. Ony—baby. Fuckin’ me so good, baby. Fuckin’ love you. Oh my god, love you, babyy.”

“You’ need more? You’ still talking?”

You feel defeated, senseless as he continues to fuck you, uncaring if he’s mean about it.

Yet turn your head, erotically giggling in between your manic episode, unable to stop your mouth from talking.

“This your pussy, Ony. You’ hear her? She missed you so much,” you whimper, wanting him to forgive you from your insults earlier in the night.

“I don’t wanna hear all that."

He picks up the pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You sing to him, gasping and whining pathetically. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, drowning out everything else. He feels you tighten around him, your walls clenching down on his length.

"You' gonna cum? Or you' just gonna keep talking?"

“Baby…” you softly cry, “Ony, keep talking to me, baby…be nice…” you whimper, missing that side of him.

You’re sorry for coming home late. You’re sorry for talking shit. You’re just sorry. But this punishment feels all too good.

"You' sorry now?"

His tone is mocking—he knows he's got you right where he wants you.

"Keep talking. Mean it.”

He continues to fuck you mercilessly, his words cutting through the pleasure like a knife.

“Sosorry, baby. Sosorry, Daddy. Fuck me harder. Wanna cum all over your dick. Fuckkk, cum in me. Don’t stop,” your eyes well with tears, digging your teeth into your lip.

He releases your hands, his fingers stretching around your throat as he pulls your back to meet his chest, mouth along your ear as you stand back on your tip-toes, taking everything he gives you.

You messily moan as you lean back against his shoulder, using the strength you have in your hips as you circle your ass around, wanting to match his rhythm, jumping as you feel him spank you again. You were in a lustful haze.

“Look at you’ taking my dick, baby. You love it?”

“I love it,” you whine back, face warm as you take his other hand to put it in front of you, putting it in between your legs as you want him to rub your clit. Sometimes you were bold. Sometimes you weren’t.

You can hear the arrogance in his chuckle along your ear, his fingers rubbing in circles against your clit as he grunts, “Cute ass,” which makes you whimper, putting your head down to hide your warm face.

Your mind falls back into the fuzziness of before, the intimacy of it all making you feel drunk again, your legs feeling numb as he fucks your brains away. You feel yourself wanting to go limp, hooking an arm around yourself to hold his head from behind, his lips latching along your throat.

You’re whining, “Babby,” gasping in between, warning him, “I’m—I’m gonna cum…”

“You’ think I don’t know when my pussy about to cum? Look how tight you’ getting,” he grunts, spanking you again, your ass probably red by now.

You can’t stop the orgasm that comes, pathetic moans leaving your lips, your hand shaking as your brokenly whine into his mouth, body wanting to collapse as he grabs for your free hand, trapping it under his that clutches your throat you keep you in place.

You’re stuck in place again, creaming heavily on his dick, gushing and cumming in intense waves, pushing out the arousal as your eyes clutched shut, body trembling to ride out the wave.

“Ooh, that’s good as fuck, baby,” he grunts, “Cum just like that.”

You seem to sober up the minute your orgasm begins to subside, and your eyes are terribly heavy, just wanting to sleep. You feel a kiss along your neck as your legs come off the ground, being carried as your wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’ ready to cuddle?” Is all he asks.

Your eyes peek up despite how tired you are. You ask, “That’s it? Am I ready to cuddle? After you did all that?”

“Do you need it again?”

“No.”

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” he kisses your forehead, “Let’s go to sleep.”

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yanderenightmare · 2 months ago

Text

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

♡ TW: fear, prank, prank gone too far, dubcon-ish

♡ GN reader

“Haha, ‘Toru—nice try,” is all you say to the tall figure, having stood patiently in wait and perfectly positioned to do a jump scare with his silly store-bought Ghostface mask on.

You sigh and go back to your dealings, and he remains as if the gist isn’t up—ever-committed to the task as if you’re suddenly going to forget that it’s him. Like—of course, it’s him! Despite what the movies will have you believe, not a lot of guys have bodies like that.

If he was really committed to tricking you, he should have worn something baggier to hide his perfectly shredded chest. But no—he’s set on wearing his black muscle shirt—probably opting to make you both scared and horny at the same time.

You carry on with what you’d been doing—cleaning up the kitchen. “Oi, quit standing there already and come help me.”

He doesn’t. But that’s not unlike him—he’ll take any excuse not to do the dishes. And right now, the excuse is this dumb prank. But it’s your fault in any case—you’re the one that put him up to it by saying he’d never be able to get a rise out of you.

You sigh and scold yourself for being so short-sighted—should’ve kept my dumb mouth shut. Knowing him, he’s probably going to be this way all through October, the insufferable prick.

He still stands there. Silent. And still. Eerily unlike him. And almost, just almost, utterly unlike him.

But no—don’t be stupid! He’s the same height and the same build, for fuck’s sake! What are the odds of someone with the exact same measurements as your boyfriend breaking in right at the time he isn’t around in something so cliche and dumb as a Ghostface replica? No, it stinks of Satoru—it’s got his goofy antics written all over it.

You scoff again—a little winded this time, a little strained. You have to hand it to him—he is a little scary when he shuts up for this long.

“You can knock it off, Satoru. I know it’s you.” You face him again, hand on your hip, with a frown.

You sigh again when he still doesn’t answer, insisting on his stupid tactic of psyching you out. And you’re getting pissed that it’s actually almost working.

“Ugh, you’re so stupid.” You start stomping over—aiming to rip that dumb thing off his head and point your death glare directly in his insufferable blue eyes—those insufferable blue eyes you’re actually starting to hope are under there more than knowing without a doubt are there for sure.

“Tch—it’s insulting if you think some half-assed performance like this is gonna be enough to scare me. At least have the creativity to come up with something somewhat decent–”

You stop in your tracks halfway over. Hair is peaking out from under the mask. You hadn’t seen it from afar, matted against the black shirt he was wearing—but how could you? How could you when it’s not white hair?

You flinch backward. Stumbling. Assessing the dark, silken locks a second time before looking up at the mask again—that soulless white warped skull with pitch-black bottomless eyesockets.

You take another step back. Breath hitching in your throat when the figure takes a step as well—toward you.

Your heart flares. It’s not Satoru.

Eyes peeled, you feel the panic overthrow you in an instant—like a cold rush, reaching all the way into your bonemarrow, making it hard to move, hard to do much of anything without feeling vulnerable to what it might trigger.

But once the figure pulls his hand out from behind his back, brandishing a butcher’s knife that catches the light and glints in the air—you have no other choice but to run.

What a perfect fucking day to wear fuzzy fucking socks! Fucking October cold is going to be the reason you die—stabbed to death in your own house by some cringey Scream fanboy. No—this can’t be the end—not this way! Why isn’t Satoru home yet? Why can’t he ever be where you need him to be?

You make your way through the house—hoping to reach the door, but turning the corner has you slip and fall, and the intruder’s on you—knife raised, poised prettily in the air above your helpless body, clad in your tiny heart-print pj’s—like the perfect hot airhead in any slasher spoof.

You scream and squeeze your eyes shut, “No! No—please! Please! Satoru, help!”

And right as the knife is supposed to come down and puncture your chest, making it spurt out red until you finally bleed out, dead and gone, there’s a bang instead as two palms land flat on the floor on either side of your head.

Joined by a muffled voice, “Are yah scared yet?”

With your eyes wide open again, you look up at not one mask blocking out the ceiling light but two. And with all the pure alarm savaging your chest, you manage to let out a real horror-movie squeal—unlike a sound you’ve ever made before.

And then, of all things, there’s laughter—no, not laughter—straight cackling.

And—fortunately or unfortunately—you’re quite sure you recognize that sound.

The last one pulls off his mask, and you really can’t believe it—pretty porcelain face squished in amusement with tears of joy in the corner of his insufferable blue eyes.

That fucking bitch.

“You should have seen your face!” he chortles—downright heaves. But for all his handsome features, he truly must be the ugliest laugher there is. Or maybe it’s just that the bastard always laughs at your expense, and after one too many times, it’s left a bad taste in your mouth.

Still, you sigh, eyes closed in relief, “I hate you, ‘Toru. You took it way too far, you ass.”

“No, no, Satoru, help~” he ignores you and mocks in a high-pitched moan, showing not a sign of remorse—holding his hand over his stomach as he falls to the floor, struggling to leave room for breath between hooting and howling.

Your eyes go to the original perpetrator. “And you? You proud or what?”

The wearer pulls off its mask and is revealed to be none other than Satoru’s best friend—Geto.

Honestly, you should have fucking known...

“Sorry, hehe…”

You’re upset—you make that clear with your pout, giving him your best guilt-tripping look from where you rest beneath him.

But still, within, your heart eases at the sight of his kind face and that apologetic smile across it—ever thankful to see him and not the cold-blooded murderer you were convinced was going to kill you only a moment ago—even when pinned beneath him in a position that should be making Satoru jealous.

But your boyfriend couldn’t care less, it seems—too busy rolling on the floor and laughing out loud quite literally, even banging his fist against the wood. Prick.

“I’m gonna throw up–” you say as the nerves finally settle. “And when I’m done, I’m gonna kill you. Both of you.”

Geto seems to think that’s fair, still with that sheepish smile on his face, but Satoru is quick to interject—laughing fit over as he shakes his head, “Nuh-uh. You said if I manage to scare you once this Halloween, I’d get whatever I want.”

You swear he can be such a child sometimes.

Oh, who are you kidding? He’s always a child. It’s only surprising he’s managed to rope Geto into all this—a guy who’s usually so mature.

“I don’t remember saying that…” you sigh, laying the back of your hand atop your forehead, still calming your breaths and the pounding in your head—your body not yet caught up to the fact that it’s trepidation over impending death was all just some silly joke played on you by two idiots.

You can’t believe him—you can’t believe either of them.

“Fucking shit, Geto—I thought I was gonna die.”

He still hasn’t gotten off you—the look of worry on his face tells you he’s probably just wanting to stay close to make you feel safe. You appreciate it, though it’s a little awkward lying beneath him like this—it’s not exactly a position you share with just anyone…

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would work,” he says—eyes slim like always, in that charming way. “I always thought you were smarter than to fall for something this stupid.”

You pull a frown at that—taking it all back. He’s as childish and dumb as Satoru is. He’s just better at hiding it.

“Oh, shut up—as if you wouldn’t scream if someone chased you down with a knife,” you grumble. “Now get off, you prick.”

You begin to lift yourself onto your elbows, yet despite the clear intention of getting up, Geto doesn’t budge to make it happen.

No, instead, he leans further in—fine-kempt raven hair slipping off his shoulders, falling with the same grace as a veil.

“I was told there’d be a prize for the one that got you to crack, and seeing as I’m the one that made that happen—I want it.”

You have to blink—blanched at the sudden demand.

Satoru, as well, a little stunned—looks wide-eyed at the two of you, upside down where he lies flat on his back, long limbs stretched out like a starfish.

“You what now?” both of you ask in unison.

Geto chuckles before repeating, “My prize. I want it. It’s only fair,” as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Satoru rolls over onto his stomach to view you both the right way, pursing his lips in thought. “Hmm…” Hand on his chin as if it’s really something to deliberate when the dumbass very well knows what the two of you had bet on and how it very much isn’t a reward you can give to just anyone.

Yet, despite that. “Okay,” he agrees—as if it’s even up to him.

“Hold on now, wait a minute.” You intervene in the almost business-esque dealing they’d somehow held without you. "Not happening.”

“Why not?” they both ask, looking at you.

And you can’t keep from gaping. The nerve.

Spluttering as you explain, “Because it’s—well, because it was a bet between me and my dumbass boyfriend, and it was very clear what the prize was gonna be, come winner or loser—so, sorry to break it to you, but there is no prize.”

But that doesn’t seem to deter Geto. “Oh, I think there is…” he all but purrs as he leans down further.

“Satoru already agreed. And you’re already on your back beneath me.”

His smile isn’t all so friendly anymore, and still… you can’t help but blush being caught beneath it, holding your breath with fear a little different from the one before but no different in how it makes your heart pound.

“So, if neither of you mind…" he grins slyly. "I think I’ll just take it.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

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