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pearlsmith25 · 2 years

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Cigars And Cigarillos Market Covering Developing Trends, Major Highlights With Global Analysis and Forecast By 2030

In contrast to cigarettes, cigars and cigarillos are rolled tobacco products coated in leaf tobacco. The three most common forms of cigars on the market are cigarillos, cigars, and small cigars. Among young adults who use tobacco products, cigar consumption is more prevalent. Also, these goods come in a variety of flavours, including chocolate, fruit/candy, and mint/menthol. Machine-made items that incorporate herbal and botanical infusion are cigars and cigarillos. Yet, it is possible to buy handmade cigars on the market.

Cigars and cigarillos are two types of tobacco products that are similar in some ways but also have some differences.

A cigar is a tightly rolled bundle of tobacco leaves that is ignited at one end and smoked. Cigars are typically larger and thicker than cigarettes, and they are often associated with a more leisurely, sophisticated smoking experience. Cigars can take anywhere from 30 minutes to several hours to smoke, depending on their size.

Cigarillos, on the other hand, are smaller versions of cigars. They are typically thinner and shorter than cigars, and they are designed to be smoked relatively quickly, often in 10 to 15 minutes. Cigarillos are often sold in packs and are more affordable than cigars.

Both cigars and cigarillos are made from fermented tobacco leaves and can be flavored with various additives, such as honey or vanilla. They are also associated with similar health risks, including an increased risk of cancer, heart disease, and other health problems.

Key companies covered as a part of this study includes British American Tobacco, Imperial Brands, Plc., Altadis S.A., Habanos S.A., Drew Estate LLC, Swisher International, Inc., Oettinger Davidoff AG., Swedish Match AB, and Trendsettah USA, Inc.

The market is segmented based on product type, flavor, distribution channel, and geography. In terms of product type, cigars account for the majority of the market share, followed by cigarillos. Flavored cigars and cigarillos are gaining popularity, particularly among younger consumers. Some of the popular flavors include vanilla, cherry, and chocolate.

The distribution channels for cigars and cigarillos include convenience stores, supermarkets, online channels, and specialty stores. In recent years, the online distribution channel has grown significantly, driven by the convenience of online shopping and the availability of a wider range of products.

The demand for cigars and cigarillos is influenced by various factors, including changing consumer preferences, income levels, marketing and advertising efforts, and government regulations. While demand for these tobacco products has declined in many developed countries due to increasing awareness of the health risks associated with tobacco use, demand is still strong in many parts of the world.

One of the factors driving demand for cigars and cigarillos is their association with luxury and prestige. Cigars in particular are often seen as a symbol of wealth and sophistication, and many consumers are willing to pay a premium for high-quality cigars. Additionally, the growing popularity of flavored cigars and cigarillos, particularly among younger consumers, has helped to boost demand.

Another factor driving demand for cigars and cigarillos is the expanding distribution channels for these products. In addition to traditional retail channels such as convenience stores and supermarkets, cigars and cigarillos are increasingly being sold online and through specialty stores. This increased availability and convenience of purchase is helping to boost demand for these products.

However, the demand for cigars and cigarillos is also influenced by government regulations, which can impact both production and consumption. In many countries, there are restrictions on the advertising and marketing of tobacco products, and taxes on these products are often higher than those on cigarettes. These regulations can make cigars and cigarillos less accessible and affordable, which can impact demand.

The global market for cigars and cigarillos is expected to continue to grow over the next few years, driven by various factors such as changing consumer preferences, expanding distribution channels, and increasing disposable incomes in emerging markets.

One of the key factors driving the growth of the cigars and cigarillos market is the increasing popularity of these products among younger consumers. Flavored cigars and cigarillos, in particular, are gaining popularity among millennials and Gen Z consumers who are looking for new and unique smoking experiences.

Another factor driving market growth is the expanding distribution channels for cigars and cigarillos. The rise of e-commerce and online shopping has made it easier for consumers to purchase these products, and many retailers are also expanding their product lines to include cigars and cigarillos.

In addition, the growth of the cigars and cigarillos market is being driven by increasing disposable incomes in emerging markets such as China, India, and Brazil. As more consumers in these markets are able to afford premium tobacco products, demand for cigars and cigarillos is expected to increase.

However, the growth of the cigars and cigarillos market is also being impacted by increasing health concerns and government regulations. The World Health Organization (WHO) and other organizations have raised concerns about the health risks associated with tobacco use, and many countries have implemented regulations aimed at reducing tobacco consumption.

#cigars #cigarillos

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lyrics724 · 2 years

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Ooh La La!

[Intro] Hey yeah yeah Hey yeah yeah (Ooo!) Hey yeah yeah [Verse 1] I’ve had a little liquor A bit of alcohol Now I feel a little bigger I got these spirits all around me Better call a vicar We cherry picking on the Mary Now we roll a Swisher I sample all the riches I got that liquor all up in me Now I can’t stand up I got these ladies getting down But now I can’t man up ‘Cause I’m…

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#SAFETY CLUB

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splathousefiction · 2 years

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Hell

I open my eyes to the warmth of the fire.

Twigs and newspaper collected in the dark and tossed within a barrel, with a match struck for rebirth. The glow radiates, and I feel my hands and feet. I cast my eyes down to see clothes I haven’t worn in over a decade. I still had the silver skull ring upon my finger. But the Black Sabbath shirt-ripped and tattered, more rags than dignity-and jeans had long since found a refuse pile to expire quietly in.

“Heya brother! Long time no see!”

I know that voice.

I close my eyes as my breath grows to a boulder in my throat. I’d hyperventilate if I wasn’t careful. I try to breathe through my nose, I try to pace myself.

“Hey, hey fucker! I’m talking to you!”

There comes a punch at my shoulder, but I keep my eyes cinched all the same. The voice gives a snort, and I hear the sound of crunched ice. My eyelids begin to scream in agony, and I open them at last. I look towards where I’d heard the noise, one I’d heard so many times nearly a decade ago.

There he stands. Shirtless, clad in off-off brand denim shorts he’d probably lifted. His flannel boxers peek over the waist, painted on by the sweat that pours over his back. As he stands, the ink on his skin grows in full within the firelight. Our area code. The shape of NC. A key along his hand. A nautical star. Not a single bit of coordination in any of it. As he turns to me, I see his face in full. The blunt in his lips cherries as he gives me a full smile.

“Well there you are. Was wondering when you’d get that stick out yer ass. I got miller?”

He busts the cap on his belt buckle. It pops off flawlessly, and he extends a sweat covered bottle to me. I know better than to take it.

But I do regardless.

I never get to drink with my friend anymore.

He eases himself beside me and winces as his ass meets the log we’re on. He leans back all of a second, and shoves a hand in his pocket. Out comes an amber colored, white topped bottle. He pops it off, then downs a pill with beer. I give it a glance before it disappears back into his jeans. The name on the label, it’s not his. I’d yelled at him countless times about it but can’t find the spark to do it now.

It wouldn’t be of any use anyway.

He takes another sip of his beer, and smacks his lips as he finishes the bottle. He tosses it behind him, and gives a giggle.

“Ya’ know, two fellas like us out here all alone, you know, hah, you know what folks would say?”

I don’t answer.

I just sit and watch the fire.

“They’d say we’re just two cowpoke out looking for a poke, ya’ know? No offense brother,” he says, and lets out a belly laugh as he slaps a hand on my shoulder. The hand rests there a minute, a beat of silence passing before he gives a sigh and hangs his head.

“Damn it man, what’s up? Some girl? Some dude? Is…is it your mom? Is she okay? What about your dad, is he-”

“Jay, dad’s been dead for three years,” I say.

He holds stock still for a second.

I finally decided to drink that beer. It tastes stale and warm, but it’s miller alright. I set my bottle down and snap my fingers. He takes the blunt from his mouth and passes it to me. When it hits, it tastes like his favorite strain. OG Purple Haze wrapped in a swisher.

But I don’t feel anything beyond that. Not the familiar grip of my brain, the shake of my spine that I did on long nights we had just like this.

“Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. I’m sorry man, I forgot. I mean I didn’t mean to, but-”

“Yeah,” I say as smoke curls from my nose. “Yeah I know man. It’s okay,”

The hand at my shoulder squeezes, then drops. I pass the blunt back to him, and he takes another drag.

We sat there for a moment, just the two of us and the flames.

“Hey man, if. If there’s anything you need, you know you can just tell me right? Like I always say man, what’s mine is yours and-”

“Jay,” I say, that wad in my throat tight, “Jay you can’t. You know why too. Don’t you?”

“Man look, I know I ain’t no fine society upstanding jackoff, but I-” he starts, a tinge of that old ire I loved so much pulling up front and center.

I close my eyes again, and say what comes to the forefront of my mind every time I have this dream.

“Jay. You’re dead. You’ve been dead a long time. I’d know. I was the one that made the call that night,”

I open my eyes.

I’m alone again.

Just me and the flames.

@@@

They say you never forget the first one.

I fucking hate that saying because it’s true.

I was twenty, maybe twenty one. I don’t remember a lot about that time. I spent most of that time high and drunk, shuffling from couch to couch. I had met him at a party one night, some big house joint some girl I was trying to impress was throwing. As to how I thought I’d impress a girl as a homeless addict was beyond me, but I pulled up with a few forties and tried regardless.

Jay saw right through that.

He was five foot five and clad in denim shorts, sandals and some boxers. Covered in just the most absolute dog shit tattoos I’d ever seen in my entire life. I’d find out in time that he’d been some kind of guinea pig for a tattoo parlor as an odd job one summer. But that night as I rolled up with forties and what I thought was my finest attire, Jay had already stolen the show. He spotted me mid-story with a few people around and had raised a beer.

“Hey, this dude came prepared! Come over man, lemme crack one!”

I don’t even remember the name of the girl that threw that party, or much about who was there. But Jay. I remember Jay. I remember how we talked until two in the morning about everything and anything. How he was “in transit” as he put it, a “stray” like me. When I was too wobbly to stand, Jay offered to let me crash at his place.

Which turned out to be a tent a block away, stowed behind an old copper mill. I thought what the hell and went for it. It was cold that night, but Jay offered me his only sleeping bag all the same. When I woke bleary eyed and hung over the next morning, I was alone.

Because the son of a bitch had already hustled us into some biscuits from the gas station. Enough for both of us to leave with a full belly. In between bites I watched him crunch a pill down. He swallowed it with a spare forty from the night before. I didn’t say anything then, though in time it’d grow to an instant way to start an argument between us. When I finally glanced at my watch and realized I had work, I thanked him. I asked him how I’d find him again. He threw up his hands, and said “oh man, haven’t you heard the song?”

“Which one?”

“Traiiiilers for salllle or rent!” he said with a flourish, “roooooms to let for fifty, cents!”

I knew the words immediately, and in a line or two was singing right there along with him. Jay busted out laughing and said “hey now, that’s that old shit, but it still rings true. I’m outdoors you know man, and-”

“Yeah, I’m kinda…squeaking by too,” I replied.

I hate telling people I was couch surfing. Folks just…They treated you differently when you told them that. Still fucking do.

“Yeah? Shit brother, you got a roof and food though right?” he replied.

“Oh, yeah. I’m staying with a friend, but-”

“Friends turn ill quick when they think you ain’t making it. Yeah, I know. Listen man, I’m here till the end of the season. Maybe not here here, but here all the same. You knock on some doors, say you’re looking for Jay. Folks will tell you where. Okay? You always got a spot with me,”

“I-” I paused. Not because I didn’t really know this guy, but because I wasn’t used to people just, like.

Offering like that.

“-thank you, that means a lot.”

“Always man. Anyways, you got work? Need a ride? I got this old lady, she’s real sweet man. She’d give you a lift,” he said, hands up with a smile.

I turned him down, but it wouldn’t be the last time Jay did that. Offered more than he had. Or had a means to make things happen. It wouldn’t be the last time we got drunk in front of a fire and passed out in his tent. It wasn’t the last song we sang together, the last laugh, the last joint, beer or hug. There was one kiss, but we were both drunk and never talked about it after. We were young and broke but we had each other, we always had that roof and food. It was enough, and there was never ever an end to any of it.

Until the night he overdosed.

I can’t type what happened that night here. I could but if I do, I’m just gonna start crying and won’t stop for an hour or so. It happened over a decade ago and every time I try to remember that night it’s like the stitches burst anew and the pain comes back fresh.

Twenty one.

He was twenty one. At age thirty two, I realize just how young that really is.

It was a lot of pain for a man so young, a lot of tribulation. But Jay left the world with me and the other strays we picked up smiling. He left a massive hole in the world of love, good feeling and endless, endless care for those around him.

We played Spirit In The Sky at his funeral, as per his request on threat he’d “haunt all of our sorry asses”.

I still remember and love him dearly. Even now.

I suppose it’s no surprise that he still visits me. When the nights are long and my mind is dark. My old friend comes knocking, and I sit there on that old log wrestling with telling him the truth or holding on to that moment with him just a bit longer. To hold his shoulders in my arms for a second more before the truth comes bubbling out, and he’s gone again.

Another spirit in the sky, a star twinkling bright with thousands of others.

Jay, on the off chance you’re reading this, I kept my promise. I made it, man. Just like you said I would. On my terms, just like you said. Free and independent as the wind that whipped through that tent of yours. I know you watched me do it. And I know you’re smiling.

They say you never forget your first, but in time more follows. You never forget them either. I could write eulogies for every single one of them, but I’d be here for hundreds of pages. I’m trying to give myself a limit to keep this nice and tidy. So. Here goes. I hope by the end it makes sense. I hope, in the end, maybe you can walk away from this knowing that all those memories-the good, the bad, those in between-it’s okay to hold on to them. It’s okay to remember them.

For death is quick, and grief ever long.

@@@

I want you to think of what your personal definition of Hell is.

Funny thing is, it’s different for everybody. Most folks will describe a lake of fire, old school biblical shit. Some folks will laugh and say “oh, I’m already there” and spin on their ankle, hands splayed at the world around them. Some folks will say that they don’t believe in Hell, and then go on into an hour-long lecture nobody asked for.

Whether they’re right or wrong, it doesn’t really make a damn. Nobody ever tells the truth anyways. Plus, that lake of fire aesthetic? It’s bullshit pulled from Dante.

No, Hell in the bible is described as an incredibly desolate and lonely prison. A place you’re cut off from humanity, from the light of god. You’re in a room with nothing but your own thoughts for all eternity. You’ve already died, so you don’t even get that as a reprieve.

Alone. That’s the abrahamic version of hell. In all the holy books and occult traditions I’ve read that described such a place, that’s the one that sticks with me the most. Because it’s familiar, intimately so.

In three years, I’ve watched as half of my family died. Nearly every six months.

I watched as my mother sat in a chair and cried every time my father’s name or memory was discussed. I watched as my grandfather lost his mind to dementia, thinking he was in Korea again. I watched as my grandmother’s eyes opened for just long enough for me to ask her if she was ready to go. I watched as my aunt was hooked up to machines just to breathe, battling an unseen enemy eating her from within.

Tonight, I got to hear the same tone in my mother’s voice as an ambulance was called for my other grandmother. I sit writing this awaiting news, good or ill.

Alone. Isolation as a form of punishment. The ever tightening noose of time about my neck as my family and friends joined the endless horizon of lights. Death hangs inevitable in the back of my thoughts and despite my inner and outer strength I’m powerless to stop it. Grief brings paranoia, and there comes a point you grow desperate enough to ask what the fuck it is you did that deserves so much weight.

What you did wrong.

The truth is though, nothing. You did absolutely nothing wrong. It just happens. Death comes regardless of if you’re ready, if you’re willing to meet it, if you feel the time is now or later. The only blessing is that it happens quickly. We’re here and gone in the time it takes for you to blink.

But grief and its multi tendriled means of gripping you stays. Like a parasite, it saps everything you have down to the last drop. Respite comes like a drop of water in a desert. Grief is bound to you through memory, sweet and bitter and summoned via a single name. You grow wary of even uttering it less you be onslaught in your own mind with such vivid detail that you might as well be there again.

Before that fire, with your best friend in the entire world.

Sure, you go through the stages. You get angry, you wail, you bargain. During my first grandmother’s funeral, I prostrated before a god I didn’t believe in quietly. As the priest sang Ave Maria, I glanced out a window. I begged and pleaded for an end. I said that I’d had enough within the confines of my skull, that I’d do anything if they took this weight from me.

Then came the next death and the realization that maybe I hadn’t suffered enough. Maybe, just maybe, if I could soldier this one out I’d be okay. That I and my family would be safe for a bit. So I did, and another followed. I stopped asking for a deal. I stopped asking for anything at all actually, and grew numb to feeling period as I accepted how insane that day in the cathedral had been. How nuts I’d been to even think that would work.

If there was a god in heaven at all, I thought, they were indifferent to the suffering of their creation or actively malicious. In either case, they were undeserving of my attention, my ardor or my bended knee. If this was to be my punishment then I would embrace it openly, with a devilish grin. Hurt me, I cried out to a deaf god, I’ll just turn the poison to medicine and welcome it all.

I was a fool.

I was a damned fool and it was a stupid way to combat the complex, ever present and naive longing I felt for those I could no longer speak with.

Especially since they came visiting so often.

@@@

I open my eyes to a Carolina sunset. Blood orange and beautiful as it hangs over the tree line, the sun radiant as it bellows heat onto my body. I look down, and I’m clad in the same boring clothes I wear every single day now. I turn my hands over, and see the calluses upon them from years of weight lifting. The boots on my feet, I’d bought them just this year. I stand there and turn my palms over as a familiar voice calls out to me.

“Hey, there you are. Do I look okay man? I mean, I’m gonna be meeting your family, and I just. I don’t want ‘em to think I’m like a, like a bum you know?”

I cast my eyes up, and there’s Jay. He’s wearing a polo from the eighties and some khakis, both once again probably lifted from the thrift store. I’d wondered if they noticed he did that before, or if they’d just let him do it. I fight back the urge to say anything at all. I fail, and instead smile as I say “Dude, they know you’re a bum,”

“I mean yeah, but there’s a difference between a bum and a stray!” He says as his brows knit together, his arms crossing and he looks at me.

“Oh yeah? What would that be?” I say with a smirk.

Then it’s his turn to laugh as he jabs a finger towards me.

“Upward mobility, brother! Me and you, we’re going places. We got that, whataya call it, like Ross says? Hustler mindset, man! Imagine if you will,” he says as he pulls his cupped hand to his mouth, “Imagine a lavish lifestyle you’re due. You too could be here on-”

“Lifestyles of the rich and famous!” I finish, busting into a laugh.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t be talking to him.

This is grief. Grief manifesting before me, but I don’t care.

Jay laughs, and slaps his knee. “Hell yeah brother! But hey-I look okay?”

“Yeah dude, you look okay,” I say. Jay snorts, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

“Smells good over yonder. You coming?” he says with a tilt of his head. Past him, there’s a path through some thick evergreens. It’s one I recognize, one I still take on occasion.

Usually every july. About the middle of the month.

“Yeah, guess I am. Whose all there?” I say. Jay just smiles, and turns on his heel.

“Oh, you’ll know ‘em. No worries. Good folks man. Family and all. I mean, your folks mostly, but technically family to m-” he says, but I stop him with a laugh as I pass by his foot falls.

“They’re your family too Jay. Always were. C’mon. I smell barbeque,” I say.

I don’t have to tell him twice, and in a few yards the smell becomes overwhelming. It’s matched only by the pungent smell of cigarettes and talking, both growing in volume the closer we get to the clearing. The first person I spot is my great grandmother. Tiny elf of a woman that she was, she sits there as my grandmother smokes a cigarette. My great grandmother is the first to see me though. Realization washes over her face as she raises her cane in welcome, and my grandmother-Katarina, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady-turns. She smiles and waves me over. My aunt sits there, waving the smoke from my grandmother away.

I stop and give them all a hug. Great Grandma stuffs a dollar in my pocket and reminds me to go to the cinema with my friend later. Katarina rolls her eyes and stuffs a twenty in alongside it, “so we can actually go”. Jay keeps on walking, and I follow right behind him.

The smell of brown sugar, hot sauce and more grows palpable enough to make my mouth water as I spy my uncle talking to my grandfather. The two are sharing a beer (with glances over their shoulder in case my still living grandmother were to miraculously show up and scold them both). As I grow closer, my bean pole, bookie uncle looks up. His face screws as he stares at me for a long moment.

“Is that-” says my uncle.

“Jackie! You still keeping the trails clear?” says my grandfather.

I assure him that I am. My uncle, still shocked to see me, remarks that I’d grown up. I remind him that he hasn’t seen me since I was eight, and keep following behind Jay. He comes to the edge of a terraced drop off, and jerks a thumb down the hill.

“Uh, hey man. Like, I could lead, but if you’d do the honors I’d-”

“Jay, who’s down there?” I say.

He stops his nervous twitching for a moment, and I watch a warm smile cross his face.

“Oh c’mon man. You know,” he says.

I smirk, and feel my heart sink. I hide it with a joke though, like always.

“You’re so intimidated by him, aren’t you?” I say.

For once, Jay falls silent. His lips turn to a thin line, and he gives a slow shake of his head. “Nah man, I just-I don’t think I can go down there. ‘Sides,” he says, his mouth turning back into a grin, “I’m gonna go see if I can scam your uncle. He says he’s got a line on the Raiders!”

“Heh. Yeah, okay man. See you round the bend okay?” I replied.

Jay gives a nod, and shoves a hand in his pocket. The joint is in his mouth as I turn to face the clearing, trees parted enough for just one person.

I step forward and the smell of cooked pork, with its sweet tones fills my nose immediately. The fire is massive, but dwarfed by the man that sits at the side of it turning the pig. A pack of marlboros sits perched in his front pocket, and he absently thumbs it for a light. He holds the cigarette to the fire for a moment, then places it between his lips in such a fluid, practiced motion. Liked I’d seen countless times before.

He doesn’t stir as I come closer, and say “Smells good pops,”

“Mmmhmm, been cooking for a while. Got a lot of folks to feed,” he says. The bass of his voice washes over my brain. The memories stir, and I feel my jaw clench. I swallow hard, and lift my head towards him.

“Yeah. Seems a lot more has been coming lately,” I say.

Pops nods, and says “Family reunions get like that son. Question is though-why are you here?”

He turns to face me, the firelight bright as the horizon beyond the glen. For a second I stand there, and I just stare at him. Stare at the crags on his face, the ragged beard my own face had begun to imitate these last few years. I give a shrug, and just smile.

“Guess I missed y’all is all. Felt like talking. Needed to I guess,”

My father smiles, and gives a nod. He keeps turning the pig, and eventually it’s time to take it off the spit. We dress the meat together just as we’d done countless times. We start carrying fixed plates away from the pit, and I see my family gathered round a table. We pass out plates, but we’re missing one.

Oh. Oh, okay. Not yet. Right.

Pops wipes his brow, and we both sit down. He’s about to split a roll when my grandmother calls from down the table.

“Son, are we forgetting something?” she says. Pops holds back a curse, and puts his knife down. He holds a frown, until he turns to me.

“Jack, do you wanna ask grace?”

I clasp my hands over the empty space before me. I take a deep breath, and I begin to pray.

I didn’t expect an answer. Not this time.

I’d been given it right here already, at this dinner table.

@@@

I open my eyes again. It’s four Am. My cats are licking my hands. I get up and check their water, their food. They’re fine.

It dawned on me that they were doing that just to make sure I was okay.

I smile, and pet their heads.

When their time comes, I’m gonna be fucking inconsolable. But I push the thought aside, and settle back into bed.

Except I can’t quite rid myself of the taste of barbeque.

@@@

As I sit here writing this, I’m on beer four of six. Chances are likely I’ll kill this six pack before the clock strikes three AM. My phone has been silent the entire night aside from a brief exchange with my mom.

No news is good news I guess.

Death is quick, but grief is long. It brings fear, apprehension and a diseased anxiety that makes every emergency call-despite logic, despite common sense and all the medical advances in the world-taunt you with the worst case scenarios right away. My heart swells with hope and falls ever down into the pit of what if with every keystroke.

But, there’s also the realization that were that to happen.

It wouldn’t be the end.

It wouldn’t be the last time my grandmother told me she loved me. That she commented on how strong I was, how she could always depend on me.

Grief, and the act of grieving, isn’t a single ongoing emotion. It is a lifelong struggle and joy, to embrace the depths of sadness with a loss alongside the claps on the shoulder we recall fondly. Be it that our mind projects these visions to us due to neurons firing or a genuine and real world beyond this, I care not to learn the answer.

For I am grieving. Ever, always grieving.

But as I’ve come to learn, I am never alone. Never truly within that dank prison in the bowels of the earth. Be they here still with me or awaiting me at that verdant glen, the people who have affected my life are never truly gone. Through thought, memory and dreams they remain alive and vibrant. If that is the working of a godhead or simply psychosis, if it helps me heal.

Well.

I’m okay with that.

I’m at peace with that.

It’s not hell, at least.

Death is quick, grief is long. But it’s not forever like hell is. It has its respites, its moments of ecstasy. What’s more though-as we process it, as we work vigilantly through it.

We realize in the end we’re going to be okay.

Here, there.

Wherever our travels take us, regardless of the number of campfires that pass.

#splathousefic #splathousefiction #grief #trauma #death

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prosshi · 4 years

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I don’t know anything about you, idk why you thought I implied that you consumed that content at all, I was just replying to your comment on my ask. I didn’t assume that you’re against tags, I was just speaking generally that some people are gonna be uncomfortable with lolishota content no matter what. I’m not gonna bother reading the rest of your response because I thought the distinction between sexualities and pedophilia were apparent enough to draw the comparison between porn consumption because you can be any sexuality and be a pedophile because they’re not the same thing.

Hm... Yeah, I don’t know where I got that implication /s

Like... Do you not read you own posts or are you trying to be purposefully manipulative? I can’t tell anymore.

This ended up super long so I’m putting it under a read more:

You were the one who brought up that comparison, and you’re mad that I pointed out that it doesn’t even work. That sentence after the highlighted section is what academics like to call the “no offense” argument. Because you’re doing the equivalent of saying “wow, you’re ugly... No offense though :)” Basically it’s bullshit.

“I thought the distinction between sexualities and pedophilia were apparent enough to draw the comparison between porn consumption because you can be any sexuality and be a pedophile because they’re not the same thing”

Uuuugh... Okay, I’m really starting to question if you’re being purposefully manipulative or if you literally just don’t know what words mean... Comparing two things is still comparing two things, even if they are extremely different. For example, if a TERF says “TRAs are basically just fascists for forcing people to go along with their delusions!” they are still comparing trans people to fascists. Even though we all know that there is a huge difference between a trans person just wanting equal rights and a fascist. That’s still a comparison. Also! What I just did was a comparison! To my knowledge you are in no way a TERF and are nothing like a TERF, however I just used a TERF as an example, thus drawing a comparison. And if that comparison bothers you at all, then congrats! Maybe you can somewhat understand why I, a queer CSA survivor, got fucking pissed at your comparison.

You’re basically just amazingly hypocritical. You made a comparison, got mad at me for pointing out that your comparison didn’t work, tried to act offended by your own comparison, got mad that I pointed out your hypocrisy, and now have admitted you didn’t even read my response. And here I was pulling quotes from research papers in case you actually tried to make an argument... Once again I have wasted my time because the bar is just so low...

“I didn’t assume that you’re against tags” okay, I think I understand the problem here. You don’t understand that words change meaning depending on the context.

In this paragraph you use the word “you” both directly and generally. “You don’t have to lecture me” and “You can’t really explain” are both written as if they’re directed at me personally, since you’re directing this ask at me. Because those are in the same paragraph as “Alternatively you can tag your stuff” it makes it seem like a direct accusation that that is something I don’t do.

In the future I would suggest choosing different words that communicate that you’re switching to speaking generally. I would recommend “Alternatively people can tag their stuff” instead.

What was that about not reading the response? Did you actually not read it or could you not think of a good response and wanted to pretend you didn’t see it?

But ah yes, you’re right. I read that as saying that you understand why survivors would have rape fantasies.

I guess I’m just hopelessly naive and thought that you were showing compassion towards people who use dark fiction as a way of processing trauma./s

Yeah, dark fiction can be triggering. That’s why people encourage tag usage? Like I said before, the problem is that people purposefully go into those tags and harass people for even making that problem. The problem is that people send death threats instead of just asking someone to tag something or black listing the tag.

I don’t even have anything more to say to that. I’m just... SO fucking tired... I have PTSD and I’m so tired of people using triggers as an excuse for harassment. Anything can be a trigger. There is a children’s cartoon that’s a trigger for me because one of my groomers used to send me porn of that cartoon. That doesn’t mean I get to blame the creators of that show, or the artists who made that stuff, or send death threats to anyone who rbs posts with that show. All I can do is blacklist that show and ask people to tag it.

At this point I just hope you don’t understand what you’re talking about at all. Because if you do that would mean you think that finding something disturbing/gross is enough of a reason to suicide bait teenagers. Like, that’s the context here. People aren’t just seeing loli/shota and thinking “Ew gross I’m gonna blacklist that” they’re seeing it and organizing harassment campaigns that ruins people’s lives. People aren’t seeing untagged rape fics and send the author an angry message asking them to tag it, they are going into the dubcon/noncon tags and then harassing the author until they attempt suicide and then celebrating that suicide attempt. Even if the author is a minor.

So yeah, either you don’t know what you’re talking about, or you’re an absolutely horrible person who’s using “thinking it’s gross” as a euphemism for “suicide baiting”

#cherry-swisher #long post #pro ship #responses and stuff #anti anti #abuse cw #grooming cw #lol i just realized i forgot to post this #its been sitting in my drafts for like two days #transphobia mention cw

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daddy-zues · 5 years

Text

Good weekend with my babygirl @babiikittiiprincess. They brought back cherry 🍒 dynamite 🧨. I was super excited.

#weedsmokers #stoner #fwm #swishers #cherry #dynamite #loveweed #420everyday

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sageworld · 3 years

Text

melting • fezco

you stepped into the conviene store for the first time, cute white shorts, matching mushroom crop top and blouse with a soft pink base. fez watched as your unfamiliar curls bounced with every step. you looked like a fucking angel.

he watched you pour yourself a cherry slushy, picking up some sour watermelon gummies to pair. “anything else?” fez’s eyes soft & his voice gentle. “a pack of cherry swishers please.” you request. “of course.” he turns and grabs them from the shelf. while he’s doing so you pull your card from your phone case. “nah you good.” he sits the swishers down. “what? are you sure?” you ask. “yeah, think of it as even since your slushes melting.” he smiles. “are you sure? i can totally pay.” you press it. “nah but do you think i could get your number?”

“sure.” you smile & hand him your unlocked phone. he types in his number before handing it back. “maybe we can go catch a movie or something.” he offers. “i’d like that.” you smile, “i’m y/n.” and hold your hand out. “pretty name, fez.” he shakes your hand. “okay well fez, i’ll see you tonight?” you bite your lip. “yeah you will, i’ll text you, y/n.”

#fezco edit #fezco x reader #fez imagine #fezco smut #elliot euphoria #euphoria imagines #euphoria season 2 #euphoria smut #kat euphoria #maddy perez imagine #maddy perez smut #maddy perez #nate jacob x imagine #nate jacobs x plus size reader #nate jacobs smut #cassie howard smut #cassie howard

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zeeroweenies · 3 years

Note

So about that Jean ask 😭 I was thinkin maybe you and Eren are getting stoned and then some 18+ things happen when Jean walks in but he can’t do anything but sit there and watch 😳

sour candy

DESC ❁ eren only has one type: girls who have boyfriends. unfortunately for jean, this time around that girl just so happens to be you.

MATCHUP ❁ jean x reader x eren

CW ❁ 18+ smut, drugs mentioned, breeding kink, cheating, hair pulling, humiliation-ish, corruption, cuckolding(?), overstim, masturbation, squirting, cum play, mouth spitting, eren’s a homewrecker

Okay so I changed the actual smoking part cause it didn’t make sense with what I was going for😭 (i’m sorry) I hope you still like it!

twitterhub event

The fluorescent lighting of the cooler reflects Jean’s frantic expression off of the shiny glass as he scours the rows of carbonated drinks and a case of beer. He remembered you asked him to get you a soda, cherry Pepsi to be exact, alcohol was never really your thing.

Jean’s quick on his feet to make his way to front of the store with the six pack and Pepsi in his hand, remembering to grab you a pack of Sour Patch candies while flying past the aisles of junk food to the checkout counter where tall colorful glass bongs and other paraphernalia sat behind the store clerk.

Thankfully there wasn’t a line in the shabby little store, he could get the what he needed and get out with ease. Setting his items on the counter, Jean’s eyes flit behind the clerk to the array of cigar brands that sat on the shelf.

“Let me get uhhh...let me get a Swisher, orange pack” he nods to the peach flavored blunts behind him, hastily pulling out his wallet to pay for all of his things.

He was grateful that the store clerk didn’t bother to card him, he was in too much of a rush to get back to you before something bad happened.

Well, maybe he was being a little overdramatic. It’s not like it was a life threatening situation— he just wanted to get back before Eren had the chance to try anything funny with you.

He didn’t wanna leave you with Eren, but you really wanted to get high, and not having any papers for the weed prompted a trip to the corner store. Jean asked, no— begged you to come with him, a despairing look dawning upon his face when you said no.

The reason he even had to leave in the first place almost made him want to facepalm himself; you usually come over to get high, but since Jean had no cigar papers he had to run the risk of going to the store to buy some, leaving you all alone with Eren.

Jean was a little intimidated by his roommate. Sure, he was larger in stature and had a strong build, but Eren’s naturally dominating aura was enough to make any man back down from him with those piercing green eyes and dead stare. Jean almost wouldn’t dare step to him in a one-on-one fight.

Even so, Eren couldn’t be trusted around you alone, therefore Jean needed to make sure he was by your side at all times in case his roommate was up to any funny business. He had to protect you from him at all costs, so what if it meant standing up to Eren?

As far as friendship went, he didn’t trust Eren as far as he could throw him. Eren was known to sleep with guy’s girlfriends, there was pretty much an entire arsenal of chicks that he had slept with who had happened to have a significant other. And Jean wasn’t going to let that happen to you, you weren’t going to be another body added to Eren’s list of girls that he could slut out. But knew Eren wouldn’t do anything you didn’t allow him to, and you’d never cheat on him, right?

Seemed like Jean was in for some bad news though, because when he opens the door to his room there you were, feet planted firmly on the ground and your hands on his knees for stability, bouncing up and down on Eren’s fat cock with a dumb little expression on your face.

You seemed to notice the sudden intrusion, because you looked up at Jean through lidded eyes in pleasure, a daft smile playing on your lips not seeming to care that your boyfriend quite literally caught you in the act.

“Jean, you’re back,” you smiled between moans, hips not stopping as you hump Eren’s cock. “We missed you, couldn’t wait for you to get back home”

The pack of beer he’s holding slips through his fingertips, hitting the ground in a loud crash leaving alcohol and shattered glass all over the floor.

Jean can’t move right now, and he doesn’t know if it’s from shock, disappointment, or seeing you get off on another guy’s dick. It’s shameful, watching him make you moan louder than he’s ever made you and Eren’s not even the one in control, it’s you. Using his cock like a dumb little slut.

“What the fuck? What are you doing?” his expression is indiscernible, not able to make out while he stands at the threshold of the room, puddles of the spilled beer collecting underneath his shoe and the crunching of broken glass.

This time Eren speaks up for you, you’re too dumb on his cock to even respond. “You can see nice and clear Jean, I don’t think it’s that hard to tell.”

He doesn’t know how to feel right now, a part of him is telling him that he should feel hurt, betrayed— but the other is telling him that it’s perfect porn material, watching his girlfriend cheat on him right in front of his eyes.

But he’s not even given time to register the scene in front of him before Eren’s dark voice is speaking to him from across the room. “Touch yourself,” his voice is bitter and demanding, and Jean can tell his words aren’t for you but for him. “I want you to see how much better I fuck your girl than you.”

Against his own will, there’s already a tent forming in his black sweatpants at Eren’s words, observing the way your tits jiggle and bounce with your violent movements as you let out a broken sob in tandem with your orgasm.

Still, Jean obediently reaches past the waistband of his sweats, hand fisting at his cock that’s leaking thick beads of precum at the slit.

Eren’s gives you no remorse despite your sensitivity, quickly and roughly shifting you onto the bed, pulling your limp body back by your hips so your back was arched prettily for him. You let out a whimper feeling the head of Eren’s cock pressing at the entrance of your pussy, already feeling overstimulated from your previous orgasm.

Eren’s eyes flicker up to Jean’s, ruthlessly pounding into your poor cunt while he watches him pathetically stroke his cock, forced to watch his girlfriend get turned into a slut by another guy.

“Yeah, stand there with your tiny dick and watch me fuck your girl” he shoots Jean a sinister smirk from across the room, deepening your arch by pressing your chest into the mattress hard to hit your most sensitive spots.

“Shit,” he breathes, almost like a chuckle when he fists your hair to pull you up, pleasured expression on display for him to see as he places wet kisses to your neck, harshly sucking bruises into the skin before his eyes flit back to Jean’s. “She just might be my girl when I’m finished with her.”

His heart sinks at that, and he doesn’t know if he should be worried or more turned on than he already is. “N-No, please” he moves his big hand up and down his length faster as tears well at the back of his eyes and his voice comes out small, quite unusual for him despite his intimidating build— he sounds and looks so pathetic, and Eren’s loving it.

Pride surges through Eren’s chest knowing that Jean is reaching his breaking point, that he’s probably successfully ruined another seemingly happy relationship.

Eren Jaeger wasn’t really into relationships, they just weren’t his cup of tea; he’d much rather be breaking them up instead. There happened to be someone you were talking to? Not anymore. You had a boyfriend? Perfect, he loved breaking up happy homes. He never had to do too much for some pussy anyway, just flash that pretty smile of his with those green eyes and girls would line up, panties dropped with their legs spread willingly.

Girls were like candy to him, each one unique in their own way but all the same similar to one another. They were all the same in his eyes, sure they’d resist at first, but they’d eventually give in. It didn’t matter how much you loved your boyfriend, no one could resist the wiles of Eren Jaeger. Girls like you were his favorite kind of candy, all sweet and innocent for show, but a dirty slut behind closed doors when given the chance— sour candy, he liked to call it.

“She’s dripping, so fucking wet. You ever get her this wet Jean?” he slows his pace inside you to a grind, an effort to tease both you and Jean. Seems like it worked though because Jean’s a blubbering mess, shaking his head no and fucking his hand on his cock fast while you’re begging Eren to fuck you harder.

Stealing guys’ girlfriends was like a game to him, he did it just for sport. He’d find a cute chick, lure her in under false pretenses that they’re friends before slowly progressing into more. He’d act as a security blanket, pretending he was a shoulder to cry on when you and your boyfriend had disagreements. He pretended to be a nice guy when really he was the worst of them all, everything he said and did was a deception.

Flirty ‘jokes’ and seductive smiles turned into lingering touches which always led to more. It was all apart of his process, and it worked like a charm every time.

Girls who had boyfriends usually put up more of a fight, he loved a good chase before they finally caved in, doing whatever he’d ask of them. But you, you were so fucking easy, jumping almost immediately at the opportunity of getting some cock. He had to admit, he loved a good little submissive girl he could bend to his every will every now and then.

And that’s how you ended up here, just another dumb little bitch added to Eren’s endless list of girls who he managed to seduce out of another man’s arms and into his bed— well, technically Jean’s bed.

But it wasn’t the sex that that gets him off. Deceiving doe eyed naive girls like you into his arms right from under their lovers was the real thrill, and seeing the look on Jean’s face right now only reminded him why he does this in the first place, it only made things all the more rewarding. Yeah Jean was his roommate, so what? No girl is off limits in Eren’s eyes, that includes family, friends, and yes, even roommates.

Your deafening screams only makes Eren drive himself into you harder in his power driven craze, a loud squelch filling the room each time he fucks into you. “Mmm, tell Jean how you’re feeling.” He coos into your ear, the hot feeling of his lips against your cheek almost enough to make you cum.

“Fuck, Jean. Eren feels so good inside me” your eyes shut tight, the feeling of his cock hitting your favorite spots.

Eren isn’t too pleased with your answer, because he’s tugging at the strands of your hair again, pulling it taut to fuck into you harder. “You can fucking do better that”

Shrill cries rip from your lungs, another orgasm coming over you as you clench hard around his cock, pressure in your tummy building.“ ‘s big, t-too big—” it’s a struggle to breathe as your high washes over you, words spilling from your mouth as Eren slips in and out of your cunt with ease.

“ ‘s bigger than yours Jean, c-can feel it in my tummy.” Jean looks down to where Eren’s fucking you and he can see it, a prominent bulge of his cock in your stomach and it causes him to reach his peak.

He’s letting out guttural groans as he shoots thick white ropes onto his hand and shirt, leaning against the wall in case his legs give out. It’s shameful because it’s the hardest he’s ever came, and it’s from watching you fuck another guy right in front of him.

Eren’s close to his orgasm too, still fucking you in spite of your oversensitivity. “I think I wanna cum inside her,” his eyes flit from you to Jean, a condescending smirk on his face. “What do you think about that Jean?” The look on his face is borderline desperate, and he’s stopped pumping his cock in his hand.

“N-No, don’t let him—”

“You want that? Want me to breed that cute pussy?” you feel Eren coo into your ear, grip on your hair still tight as your juices spray onto his cock and pelvis while shake your head dumbly, cunt fluttering around him.

That’s all it takes for Eren to release inside you, forcefully pushing your face into the bed by your hair, thick spurts of cum filling you as he chases his release. “Fuck, I just might get her pregnant.”

It would be his most bragable feat, completely ruining your relationship with a pregnancy Jean while stranding you as a single mother, miserable and alone to raise a child by yourself. The thought alone makes his dick throb. He hopes you get pregnant, he really fucking does.

He pulls out of you with a loud squelch, cum oozing from your stretched out pussy as he catches the liquid with his tongue, lapping it up before he pulls your fucked out body up by your hair. “Open,” he purses his lips together as you eagerly stick your tongue out, greedily swallowing Eren’s cum-spit mixture.

“You’re my bitch now.” his eyes are dark and possessive as you nod your head yes, too fucked out to even form a proper sentence. He’s not finished with you yet as he lets himself fall between the pillows, the tie of his bun loosening and stray hairs sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead as he pulls you on top of him, drooling cunt hovering above his cock.

It’s in this moment that you remember your boyfriend that’s behind you, the person who’s been watching this entire thing unfold. He looks so broken and you really do feel bad, but Eren’s cock was too good, even better than Jean’s! you weren’t gonna stop just because he found out.

“Jean ‘m really sorry, okay?” You shoot him a half apologetic look, all the while slipping Eren back inside you, a satisfied moan leaving your lips as you sink down slowly.

“But ‘m not gonna stop fucking him, like ever.”

Eren’s chest swells with satisfaction, he’s got you now. Another happy relationship ruined and a seemingly decent girl made into a slut. All girls really were the same at their core, dirty whores hiding behind a facade that would crumble when given the chance and boy, did he love it. Sour candy really was his favorite treat.

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alpalblue · 3 years

Text

Part IV Idiot Hours

On the train back, I’m not in the best mood. Kind of bummed after all the preparation and plans tonight fell through. I was like “meh, no c****e.” Just being pouty, minding my business until this guy walking down the isle looks my way. This man immediately catches my eye, he looks like most hippiest version of young Clint Eastwood if he could manage a smile. He’s got a backpack with psychedelic print, Grateful Dead/Pinkfloyd, Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and fishermen hat. I’m thinking, “he’s got some stories” and sure enough he ends up sitting next to me. We get to talking some how, what we were doing in LA, where we’re from, and all that casual jazz. Then I learn this guy used to be a ski instructor in Jackson Hole Wyoming. (I’m stoked, because I love snowboarding and hearing other’s experiences/stories.) He tells me more about his adventures of skiing across the country, camping out in the winter, getting caught in an avalanche! Better yet this 65 year old man is still doing it. He said, “I’m going to keep going until both my knees give out”, and I was completely inspired by this. For now though he was taking a break until his one knee heals up properly, which is why he was in LA. He was visiting his kids, but they were also hooking up the good good after getting knee surgery recently. He opens his bag, and the dispensary really hooked this guy up, because there’s bags of swishers, different types of edibles, papers, and of course cases of nugs. I’m look at it like a kid outside of candy store.

Eastwood (we’ll call him that because I forgot his name) pulls out a cherry gummy 100 mlg and eats half of it. Then before he puts it away he’s like, “ya want the other half”. Usually you’re not supposed to take drugs from strangers... but this man had a cane and if it were a Ted Bundy situation I think I can out run him. Also, naive me thought “pfft what can 50 mlg do to me, I’m not going to disrespect the guy.” I eat it. Keep in mind, I had only smoked a couple times nor had much knowledge about edibles. So my tolerances was very low and for a normal person taking edibles for the first time would be in outer space just by taking 10 mlg... So we keep on talking for the next half hour, everything's fine. I think what a dud. It’s been an hour, mid conversation and both stop talking. I forget to breathe, thoughts are going backwards, time is slow, the fabric on the chair feels like hot and cold marbles on my skin. My clothes are overstimulating my skin not in a good way. I knew it was bad, because Eastwood goes, “whew... well... um.. I didn’t think it would hit this hard.”

I’m starting to panic, but Eastwood was kind enough to get me a sandwich/water trying to calm me down which seemed to work. By this time we were crossing a lagoon where you could see it looked like there was a mural of orange clouds while the sun was setting. We were both totally fixated on that for awhile until we figured out how to speak again. We ended up talking more about snowboarding, nature, space, planet Kepler-83d, aliens, love, and the theory of Jesus Christ being a stoner. In which, this is the most random topic because neither of us are that religious, but we were both so convinced and passionate about this theory.

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crestfallen-infatuation · 2 years

Text

You motherfuckers pitiful, I'm too sick of you

I'm a walking visual, you boys refillable

Unforgivable

Once you cross me, hoe

Now you a motherfucking stain to Lil Cut Throat (pow!)

Let the gun bang

Nuts hang, drug game ain't the same

"Savage" tatted on my face

Grey ape

Blazin' while we hotbox

Fuck a badge, fuck a cop even if the K hot

Watch me bust on any block

Northside knotty

Scope on the shotty

Semi blow ya' body

Tony gripping on the Tommy, bitch

I bite the head off a bat like I'm Ozzy

You got a problem motherfucker? Come and try me

I'm nothing like what you punk boys wanna embody

Norf, Norf, East Side *59

Tony gripping Tommy

Fuck around end up with your body, autopsy

I be that walking zombie, bath salts

Eating bodies

Three choppas and a shotty shooting everybody

Cigarette wet

Bumping Boosie Badazz

On them drugs, jiggin'

Jaws locked-clinching

Trigger finger itching if you think I'm kidding

Smoke leaking from the sticky that we smoking, boy

Fuck a Backwood, Swisher's what I use, boy

Smoke what I choose, do what I wanna do

Motherfuck you and (Ruby) your punk friends too

(Ruby) blunt lit lungs itch, bitch, I like the sting

Smoking potent thinking I'm the chosen one, bitch, I'm a king

I can hear my dead homies sing

Now my eyes always hurtin', wiping tears with diamond rings, yeah, aye

Hol' up fuckboy, who the fuck said we cool?

Man, I quit smoking with hypebeasts back in 2002

What it do?

Motherfucker I'ma fool

Ruby Da Cherry is ghouling with goblins

If you got a problem, then you better move

From the womb to the tomb

Busting out early, busting out soon

Black out the city, I'm back on them 30s

In 'bout 20 minutes we'll be on the moon, uh

Drugs got me fucked up, sluts got me drugged up, fuck

Slap my face against a pill to crush it up

Government ID helps me get high

Seeing stars in the mirror like I'm looking with a bright beam

Lime green paint but the rims looking Spike Lee

Mighty sloppy might be cocky

Am I in the right scene?

Highly unlikey, and I'm willing to fucking bet

Leave a pussy wet then I leave a pussy wet

I'm a fucking vet

I'm a motherfucking threat

G*59 the set

G*59 will make you sweat

"I don't give a fuck" is my fucking epithet

Lace up my Nike Decades, meet me at Heaven's Gates

7th Ward by the lake 'till my death

"You'll come off of your drunken stupor from Bourbon Street, Saturday night,

Get up in time to go to mass on Sunday morning and you tell God you're sorry for your drunkenness, only to go back out tonight and get wasted again!"

#music #Carrollton #$uicideboy$#Spotify

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dontaskmetodivide · 4 years

Note

HIII I was wondering if you could do a one shot smut thing of Y/N and H getting high at a party and then like you sneak away and have a rough quicke? No pressure

based off this ask!! i most certainly can do this, hope you enjoy. i totally got carried away with the weed parts, but i couldn’t help it. i love writing bad ass girl characters who know what the hell they’re doing when it comes to smoking lol.

tw: smut, posessive shit ig, yeah thats it, idk how to do tw

Harry’s tight grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you balanced as people on the make-shift dance floor are being knocked into you from every direction. Niall’s house party had definitely gone a little overboard, but you’re still enjoying yourself even if the night had only just begun.

The room smells of sweat and alcohol and you can almost see the condensation on the expensively decorated walls from all the bodies crowding the place. Colored strobe lights are the only thing illuminating the expensive penthouse living room and the bass from the speakers can be felt through the floor and up your feet.

Harry doesn’t enjoy these parties as much as you, and while you were both homebodies at heart, you really did enjoy just letting loose and having fun once every now and then.

You knock into your boyfriend’s body as he abruptly stops to slide open the balcony door. You had only just arrived and said hello to a few guests, stopping at the bar top after Niall begged to do group shots, before Harry was trying to escape the crowded living space.

As he pulls you onto the balcony over looking the Colorado city below, the cool night air hits your skin and it feels like you can sigh of relief, finally getting a chance to air the sweat off your body that had so quickly accumulated.

“Styles!” You hear to your left, both you and Harry turning your heads to see Liam and Zayn, as well as another party goer you hadn’t met before, sitting around a glass top table with a few ashtrays on top. “I told you he’d show.” Liam smacks Zayn’s shoulder who is puffing a blunt between his lips, not paying attention to Liam.

Harry leads you to the table, sitting in a chair first before pulling you sideways onto his lap, lingering his hands on your thighs. “In the flesh.” Harry announces his entrance with a forced smile.

Liam flicks his lighter on the dull end of his joint, rekindling the flame, and then tosses it to Harry, who catches it amazingly in one hand. You lace your arm around his neck and connect your hands on the side of his shoulder, hanging onto him like a koala bear. The contact causes Harry to lean forward and press a quick kiss to your cheek, almost out of reflex, before reaching into his front pocket of his very loosely buttoned shirt.

He pulls out a joint and brings it to his mouth, letting it hang between his lips while he cups the flame from the lighter in his hands and brings it to the end of the joint. He lights it and lets a the first puff of smoke leave his mouth before he inhales a deep breath, the cherry butt lighting up brighter, and then he’s blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth after holding it for a second.

The other boys at the table have already drifted into their own conversation, so it feels quite peaceful between you and Harry at the moment.

One of your favorite things to do with Harry on special occasions is smoke. Well, smoke and then fuck. You both are the kind to get super turned on when you’re high and it works perfectly for nights when you both just want to relax and spend time together. You never do it too often, neither of you wanting to rely on drugs or sex for any parts of the relationship, but it is definitely a sweet treat when the occasion arises.

He repeats his movements from before, inhaling the smoke, holding it and exhaling it, keeping his eyes focused on his hands as he taps a small amount of ash off the end of it and onto the concrete patio flooring.

To hell with the three ashtrays on the table, right?

His eyes flick up to yours, silently asking if you want some so you nod. He watches the joint as he places it between your lips, your two finger instinctively coming up to grasp the joint from him. As you puff on the joint, Harry’s olive green eyes trace over your face, repeatedly landing on your eyes and lips.

You take it out of your mouth, jumping at the chance to attach your lips to his, not wanting to wait any longer to kiss him. He inhales the smoke for your lungs, quite literally taking your breath away, and when he pulls back to release the smoke, tilting his head straight up to the sky, you can’t help but let your mind wander as your eyes trace over his feeble neck.

“Tha’s supposed to be my move.” He says as he looks back at you with a grin, but you just shrug and smile softly.

“Sue me.” You tell him under your breath and you can’t help your eyes going back to his lips.

“You wanna go-” Harry starts saying quietly, inching your faces closer before he gets unknowingly interrupted.

“So Styles,” The man that I do not know starts saying, which makes Harry clench his jaw as he turns his attention to the cock block. “How’d your bet go on that game the other night?”

The conversation steers straight to sports topics, and you begin to find your only entertainment in the weed on the table, you and Harry quickly finishing the previously rolled joint. You turn your back to Harry so you can face the table, making sure to swivel your hips in just the right place to tease him, which has him harshly gripping your hip as he tries to remain focused on the conversation at hand.

You take your time as you roll a blunt with the supplies on the table, trying your best to keep it all together in one piece. Harry always makes fun of your scrawny blunts, but you’ve been getting a lot better at rolling, especially with his help.

You follow all the steps to curate the best blunt you can, focusing so intently that the conversation in the background has drowned out. You unpack a swisher sweet, unroll it, empty most of the tobacco, grind up the weed on hand, pepper it into the tobacco paper, and finish it by licking the seal shut, slightly crisping it with your lighter.

Once you’re finished and your astonishing masterpiece is complete, you lean back on Harry’s chest, exhaling with relief. He wraps his arm around your stomach while still keeping his attention on whatever they’re speaking about, even though Harry is barely talking.

You hold up your freshly rolled blunt in his eye line, forcing him to give you attention. “Tell me that’s not the best blunt I’ve ever rolled.” You snicker while twirling the thin stick in your finger tips.

He hums in response, the sound going straight into your ears from his chest since you’re pressed so close together. “Beautiful craftsmanship.” He applauds as he raises one of his hands to take the blunt from you and inspect it more closely. You drop your hands to your chest, reaching in front of you to grab a lighter from the table. “I’d say you have one hell of a teacher.”

You sit up and shuffle around to be sat sideways on his lap again to share the joint. You enjoy the blunt in comfortable silence this time, just taking in each other’s motions and movements while passing it back and forth. You can tell you’re both way more high than before you smoked this one, but it’s only adding to the intensity between you two.

Harry has excused himself from the conversation at this point and by the time the blunt is finished you get back around to what Harry was going to ask before he was interrupted. “How about I take you inside,” He says as he lightly traces a piece of hair behind your ear, “And find an empty room,” He leans in and presses his lips to the base of your throat. You put your hands on the back of his neck, holding yourself against him. “An empty room with a lock,” He adds before he kisses your neck once again. You cock your head back, giving him more room to explore. “And fuck your pretty pussy absolutely senseless, yeah?” He says with a gruff tone, finishing his run on sentence staring directly into your eyes.

Your mouth has gone dry, and while it may be cotton mouth from the weed, you know that it’s really from the effects he has on you. “I think we could make that work.” You whisper back, slipping off Harry’s lap and grabbing his hand as he stands.

You don’t even bother saying anything to the other guys at the table as Harry walks past you and leads you back inside. The pounding from the speakers turns into ear blisteringly loud music as you enter back into the room.

Harry moves his hand to your waist, encapsulating you as he leads you to the stairs on the far wall. You feel your heart rate pick up and your breathing speed as you get closer to the array of bedroom doors.

Your boyfriend’s grip on your waist stays sturdy as he walks to the closest door, spinning you and pining you against it, not even making it through the closed door. Luckily the hallway is empty and mostly quiet, apart from the music, so you aren’t worried about being caught. His breath cascades down your face and his added height on you has you looking up at him through your lashes.

While you still have the confidence, you push against his chest and flip yourselves around, pining him against the door this time. He smirks, finding your small bravery cute. “Don’t get used to that, doll.” He says lowly into your ear.

You move your hand to the door knob and twist it open, keeping your eyes on Harry’s, but as the door swings open you hear a high pitched giggle and a man’s voice shouting ‘occupied!’ but it’s too late, cause you’ve already seen the fit couple doogy-styling it up on the bare mattress.

Harry snaps his head around to look into the room as you stand with wide eyes and a shocked expression, frozen in embarrassment. Once Harry has the slightest glance at what you’re staring at, he whips his head right back around and places his palm over your eyes. You quickly do the same, trying to cover his eyes while not seeing anything and as you get your hand in position, Harry’s body is pushing you forward and slamming the door shut behind him.

You stand in silence, still covering each other’s eyes as you start to giggle. And the giggle turns into you both full on heaving up laughs while blinding each other outside the door.

If anyone walked by right now, surely they’d think you two were insane, but neither of you can control your chuckles as you take in what just happened.

“Y/N,” Harry says as your laughs start to subside. “I’m going to remove my hand now, and I want to never speak about what we just saw.”

You laugh and nod behind his palm. “Agreed.” You say and at that, you both lower your hands to see each other again, which only makes your own giggles release again.

“I believe we were in the middle of something before our intrusion.” He says as he snakes one of his hands to your waist and you place on of his hands on his chest, stepping slightly closer.

“Now were we?” You play dumb with a coy smile. “You might have to refresh my memory.” You tease and he starts backwards walking to another closed door.

This time he knocks and you wait in silence for any sign of human life on the other side, your ears pressed very close to the door. After a second more of silence, Harry slowly creaks open the door, peaking in and once confirming that you’re alone, yanking your arm in the door and shutting it behind you, being very sure to lock it.

Harry’s lips crash against yours and his hands come up to your sides, pulling off the fabric of your top, taking your bra with it, and smoothly yanking his off by the back collar. You fiddle with his pants zipper as he moves his mouth to your neck and starts biting at your collar bone Your breathing increases as you slip your hand into his unbuttoned waist band, rubbing your hand over his cock and squeezing gently. He groans into your mouth before grabbing you by your hips and quite literally throwing you onto the bed like a rag doll.

He discards his pants as he walks over to you, hovering naked over your clothed center. He kissed between your breasts, and then attacks each nipple while undoing the button on your jeans, a small whine coming from your throat as your hand tangles in his head of hair. He releases your pebbled nipple and kisses your stomach once before ripping your jeans and underwear off your legs and onto the floor.

He waists no time grabbing the backs of your thighs and pressing them against your body, devouring your pussy with no warning. You moan harshly into the air, fisting his curls as he stares up at you through his dark eye lashes. “Harry!” You squeak into the air as he nibbles on your clit before adding a finger to the mix, completely mutilating you within seconds.

“Harry, fuck.” You moan into the air, squeezing your eyes shut as you already feel a fast approaching orgasm surfacing. You weren’t used to this quick of a pace, but your body adjusts fairly quickly. “Har- Harry if you k-keep that up I’m gonna-”

He abruptly stops his mouth and pulls back from your center, his chin shiny with your arousal. “Don’t cum til I say so, pet. I mean it.” He says with deep conviction in his voice despite the cute name,

Harry then grabs your hips and rolls you over so that your ass is to him. He yanks on your hips and props them up so that his hips are lined up with yours. Without warning, he’s pushing into you from behind, sinking all the way in, erupting a moan from both of your chests. “Shit, Y/N”

He remains still for a moment, letting you adjust before he’s slowly pulling out and pushing right back in and bottoming out inside you. He gradually picks up the pace until he’s rocking into you with aggression. His hand slides up your back and latches into your hair, pulling your body back to be flush with his chest.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He growls in your ear as his hips pivot up into you, the new angle reaching a whole new spot inside you.

“Yours.” You pant out, breathless from the mind-blowing pace he’s managing to keep up. “My pussy’s yours, Harry.”

“Good.” He rasps as he drops you back down onto the bed and pulling out.

As you lay still for a second trying to catch your breath, Harry comes and lays right next to you. You twist your brows in confusion, but your questions are answered when he slips his hand under your stomach on top of the mattress and rolls you onto his chest.

He wraps one arm around your shoulders, keeping the top half of your body locked against his, and he uses the other hand to guide his cock back into you. He props his feet up on the bed for leverage and starts thrusting up into your hips, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room. Your thighs are hooked onto the outside of his, making you so wide and open for him.

“Oh, God. Oh my God, Harry.” You whine, resting your head back in the crook of his neck as he wraps one of his arms around your stomach.

Since the side of your head is pressed so close to his face, his moans and grunts filter straight into your ear, sending tingles down your spine.

“Being such a good girl fo’ me.” Harry says breathlessly into your ear. “Takin’ my cock so well.” His accent getting thicker as he speaks lowly.

“Feels so good, H.” You whine, turning your face into his neck and sucking on a spot above his throat. “So fucking good.”

He slides his hand up from your stomach to your mouth, sticking two fingers on your tongue and you involuntarily suck on them, lathering them in saliva.

“Does my little slut wanna cum now?” He asks, slipping his hand from your shoulders to your throat and squeezing at the sides. You nod incessantly in response with his fingers still tangled in his mouth. “Beg.” He taunts you as he drags his coated fingers down your stomach, to your heat, and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit.

You moan loudly in response. “Please, please Harry. Please let me cum baby.” You beg, itching for your release. You’re practically whining as you beg, your toes curling and thighs startling to tremble.

“Go on, cum for me darling.” He allows as he continues his assault on your clit, his thrusts getting sharper as he nears his end too.

You finally allow yourself to reach the peak you’d been chasing, your orgasm ripping through your insides. You thighs shake and you grab the sheets with one hand and death grip Harry’s curls behind you with the other hand. Your eyes feel like they’re rolling into the back of your head and the moans of Harry coming with you only spur on the moment. Your back arches as much as possible while still in his hold, and your mouth gapes open.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, Y/N.” Harry’s grip on your throat absentmindedly tightens and he’s tilting his forehead into the side of your head as his heavy breaths warm your cheek. “Holy shit.”

Harry continues to play with your sensitive nerves as he slows his hip movements to a stop and you both relax your muscles, staggeringly attempting to catch your breath.

He slowly pulls out from beneath you and you flinch from sensitivity. He scoots over slightly so that he can get out from under you. He’s still panting as he grabs his boxers from the floor, raising them to your heat and wiping at it softly in attempt to clean you up.

You smile at him, your boyfriend always putting you first, even if it means he has cum stained boxers.

Once the majority of the mess is cleaned up he plops right back down on the bed next to you, both of you turning to face the other with a small smile.

“You’re my everything.” He tells you and leans forward, connecting his lips with yours as you both smile at each other.

a/n; yuh hoped you like it. didn’t know how to end it and i didn’t want it to be some ‘i love you’ bullshit so heres a cringier off brand line to end it. lmk what you think, love you all!

#harrystyles #harry styles x reader #weed #one direction #1d #harrystyles one shot #harrystylessmut

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