#original cannabis content

[deliciousllamalamppandabanana]

[gloomypixiie]

When the Cookie dawg too loud 🍪

[jimisunsets]

camera dump #13

stoner in the woods

[izzydeee-doodles]

[moltengarnet]

True weed story

[fushiguho]

Roll Some Mo ☆ Suguru Getou

☆ Word Count 5.7k ☆ Synopsis Suguru Getou, your classmate, a stoner, a slut. When he invites you out to smoke one night after class, he can’t help but to bare is soul, admitting his slight infatuation with you, the prettiest girl on campus, but what happens when you think you might feel the same way? ☆ Content Warnings Marijuana use, car sex, mutual pining ☆ A/N This was originally meant to be a drabble but I had too much fun with this. It’s heavily inspired by the songs Roll Some Mo by Lucky Day and Wet Dreams by J. Cole! Also, this is a reimagining of a Connie fic I wrote on Ao3 almost three years ago :o ENJOY!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

Further and further you sink into your reclined seat, easing into a state of euphoria as you take another ponderous drag from the dwindling joint. Inhaling deeply, you allow the thick, earthy cloud of smoke to slowly fill your lungs, long lashes fluttering closed in serenity. Soon tilting your head back to languidly blow it out of the open sunroof above before taking another hit.

Suguru eyes you silently, quirking a curious brow before sneakily stealing the carefully rolled joint from your fingers. “Never took you for a smoker,” he’s placing it between his lips, a sly grin pulling at one corner of his mouth, “didn’t think you liked to have fun.” He gibes, inhaling deeply just as you did.

You can hardly help the exaggerated, thespian roll of your eyes as you scoff. “Just because I’m smarter than you and don’t skip class doesn’t mean I don’t like to have fun, Suguru,” your smaller hand is reaching for his, attempting to steal the joint back, but he’s teasingly jerking his hand away, “stopppp, Suguru…” you’re whining as you begin to crawl over the center console, determined to retrieve it, “ever heard of working first and playing later?” You continue as you're contentedly settling back into your seat with the salvaged joint.

He gives a noncommittal shrug, stuffing a hand into the pocket of his little, black athletic shorts. “Guess I just prefer to play… nothin’ wrong with a little fun, hm?” Is all he says before plucking the joint from your pretty, glossed lips, returning it to his own, the essence of your lip balm lingering on the paper. You observe as he pulls leisurely, allowing the cannabis to swell in his chest before tilting his head back and pushing out the smoke.

Surprisingly, you don’t quarrel back. Instead, you gnaw on your inner cheek, contemplative in silence as you eye the smug, sable-haired man beside you. Suguru sits slouched in his seat, long legs spread lazily—wide enough that one of his knees are pressed against the driver’s side door, the other resting abut the center console. He almost looks tired as he sprawls himself across the reclined seat of the car, the diminishing joint tucked between his nimble fingers.

Long, unsecured strands of dense hair slip from the tie at the back of his head, loose tresses of inky black escaping the haphazard bun, adorning his neck and shoulders in a dark, tousled mess, yet he’s still as handsome as he is on the rare, fleeting days he makes an appearance in class. You can’t ignore your wandering curiosity. What is it like? What is he like? Beyond the singular class you happen to share, you have no idea as to what Suguru does aside from skipping class and smoking copious amounts of weed. Is there more beneath the surface? Beneath those godforsaken shorts?

The not-so-subtle trail of your wandering gaze doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re far from shameful as you wordlessly gawk, dragging your gaze along his relaxed mien, his low, gradually reddening eyes eventually catching yours. He brings the joint to his lips, taking yet another deep pull. A slow, crooked smile mars his face, crinkling his subtly darkening eyes.

Suguru’s head cocks to the right. “What?” He laughs—a sharp gust of air through his nose.

Humming, you shrug, gesturing a hand for the now microscopic joint. “Why’d you ask me to smoke with you?” You’re genuine in your curiosity, tilting your head in inquiry. Prior to tonight, Suguru has only ever sought you out for the answers to homework assignments he inevitably forgets to do—which you always inevitably end up doing.

“Because I like you,” he says calmly, transfixing his unwavering gaze on the way you wrap your lips around the joint, inhaling deeply, “and you might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen… so I had to ask.” His heart skips a beat when your eyes eventually meet his, your brows furrowing in confusion.

Oh.

Oh.

You shake your head in refutation, an incredulous smile creeping onto your face. “No, don’t try n’ butter me up, you’re not slick, Suguru,” you laugh, dismissing him, “you just like that I do your homework for you ‘cause no one else’ll do it.” You glare, flicking the end of the joint onto the ashtray atop the dashboard.

Deadpanning, Suguru falls silent, shrugging his shoulders as if he’s said all he needed to—as if the arbitrary basketball is now in your court and he’s waiting patiently for you to get off the bench. He’s unsmiling and dour. Fuck, is he serious? Part of you is afraid he might be, yet there’s another, more curious part of you that’s swooning like a giddy little girl with their first crush.

You’re stumped. “Oh, you’re serious?”

Suguru nods, leaning in closer to gauge your expression. He’s close, eyeing you silently, flitting his intense gaze from your furrowed brows down to your perfectly glossed lips. He’s cocking his head to the right, grinning lazily as he closely admires your dumbfounded expression. His scent envelops you—the heady, lingering redolence of his cheap cologne, marrying with the earthy terpenes of marijuana. God, he’s too close.

“Said I like you,” he purrs, now a hair’s breadth away, the warm fan of his breath against your parted lips, “you gonna make me beg? ‘Cause I will if you want me to... if you’re into that,” his voice softens, trailing in a whisper, “I can do anything you want… what do you want from me tonight, hm?”

The car falls silent as he awaits your reply, the air so thick you can feel it brush against your skin—or is that him? Is it the curious hand that’s reaching for your necklace? Lithe fingers toying with the gold plated pendant that hangs dangerously low from your neck. Is it benign? Innocent? Did he mean to run his fingers along the supple skin that spills from your top?

“But why tell me now?” You swallow thickly, flitting your gaze down to observe the way he twirls your necklace between his fingers. “Took you all semester to figure it out?”

He shakes his head softly, a slow, bewitching grin playing his wet lips. “Been workin’ up the courage… you make me nervous as all hell y’know,” he admits, wandering gaze falling to your lips again, “pretty women make me nervous.”

Like a naive moth to a rampant flame, something is drawing you closer, almost like you’re falling forward—into him. Is it the weed? Is it him? There’s a subtle glint of suggestiveness that twinkles in his irises, his crude gaze still holding yours. You huff an unintentional breath, your ever growing curiosity getting the worst of you. What is he like? What does he feel like? Why is the thought of not knowing killing you?

What is under those fucking shorts?

“What do you want?” He hums as if the question still looms.

You swallow thickly once more, “. . . I want you to tell me that this will mean something to you tomorrow,” you’re subconsciously leaning into his growing sense of touch, a large hand now slowly creeping up your neck, cupping your jaw as you speak, “and that you’re not just tryna sweeten me up so that you can fuck me. Promise me that, Suguru.”

He nods reassuringly, a burly thumb now grazing your bottom lip, “I promise… hm? I promise you I want you—I think I need you,” his thick, sable brows furrow in profound revelation, “but, can I… can I kiss you, please? It’s killing me…” his eyes soften, searching for a glimmer of your approval. Your slow, encouraging nod makes his cock twitch.

Not even a breath later, Suguru’s pulling you closer by the hand that holds your face and eagerly slotting his lips against yours, “mmph—m’sorry, I just need to taste you… been thinkin’ about putting my hands on you all fuckin’ semester,” he mutters between his hurried movements, another hand is also reaching for your face, deepening the haphazard kiss, “so I wanna apologize right now for my greediness.” He almost warns.

Several warm fingers are threading through the hair at the nape of your neck, holding your face taut as he pulls you further into him. He breathes you in, inhaling your sweet, gourmand scent while you sigh against his mouth, relaxing into his ever-growing touch. It’s almost as if he’s waited his whole life for this moment, as if he’d truly die if not for your saccharine smell—your touch. God, what’s stopping him from eating you alive right here? Right now?

Then, the fleeting redolence of your sweet perfume that’d waft from the stride of your walk was enough to have him pressing his thighs together underneath his desk, fruitlessly attempting to suppress the painful throb of his cock. But now that he’s gotten this close, Suguru is positive that fucking his hand like a devolved caveman will never be enough again. He needs more… he needs you.

You almost miss the hand that’s reaching for yours, pulling it close to palm the painful erection that hides beneath his slutty little shorts. As he drags your hand along the length of his hardening cock, the surprised little oh’s! and gasps that slip past your lips forces a stifled moan from his chest. It’s not enough, he thinks. He wishes you could feel him everywhere. So really, can you blame him when he’s willing himself away, but only crawl to the backseat of his car, hoping you’ll follow?

Apparently not because not a second thought passes as you trail behind him, clambering to meet him in the back of his black, stanced, Subaru Impreza. As if it’s second nature, Suguru is immediately pulling you onto his lap, his large hands finding purchase on your waist while your thighs ache deliciously to accommodate the girth of his muscular hips.

Later, maybe you’ll fault the weed for the way you desperately hump yourself against him, huffing out the prettiest little sighs as his thick, deft fingers haphazardly roam your body. They’re everywhere—dancing up the hem of your shirt, into the waistband of your sweatpants, grazing along the sensitive skin of your tummy, and anywhere else his greedy hands can reach.

“You’re sooo pretty… fuck. I think about you in class just like this.” Suguru hums, two, big hands cupping your jaw as he croaks a wicked grin. His warm thumbs absentmindedly caress your lips and cheeks. “I’ve cum so much to the thought of you… so many times that it hurts—swear you make me so hard it fucking hurts.” He’s greedily gripping at the thick of your hips, subtly guiding your body as he bucks his hips forward, creating his own, purposeful rhythm, one that he likes.

“I do too… I think about you doing horrible things to me,” you admit in a timid whisper, sweet lips falling into a pretty little ‘o’ as your head lolls back to dangle between your shoulder blades, “get so wet thinkin’ about what your cock would look like—what it would feel like…” arousal pools from your cunt as your stomach caves, your poor underwear dripping in your essence.

“Yeah? Fuck, can you feel it?” Suguru’s hips are bucking forward once, deliberately pressing his cock firmer against the palpable heat of your core. “You feel how hard you get me? How hard you get me every fucking time I see you? Everytime I smell you?” The slow, calculated roll of his hips only deepens, forcing strangled huffs of air from his gaped mouth.

You can only nod dumbly, humming in pleasure as he begins to run a wet, eager tongue along the length of your neck—one, longggg, ponderous drag from your collar bone, allll the way up to that sensitive spot hidden behind the shell of your ear. As you graciously crane your head to the side, granting him unobstructed access, several, small, fleeting kisses are left in his wake, leaving your throat and chest a beautiful, kiss-bitten mess.

Two, calloused hands are slipping up the hem of your shirt, curiously feeling you up—they’re greedily pulling you closer as they creep up your arched back before blindly dancing to the front, feeling the soft skin of your tummy. Your lips sag open, wanton whimpers and sighs of his name tumbling carelessly as he grazes the pads of thumbs along your hardening nipples. You can’t help but to wonder if he’s always been this handsy with his prey—this greedy. Has he always been the type to play with his food before he eats it?

“I… I wanna see it,” you mutter as you begin to climb off of him, eagerly reaching for the waistband of his shorts, “can I see it?” His cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his shorts when you peer up at him. Long, fluttering lashes, batting ever so sweetly as you gently palm his clothed cock.

With a gaped mouth, Suguru nods. Without so much as a second thought, he’s pushing his hips forward, tugging his shorts down the meat of his thighs, baring his stiff, swollen cock. You can’t help the incredulous gasp that slips past your lips. The head weeps in sinful rivulets of his arousal, pearlescent bubbles of precum popping and snapping before erotically dribbling down the length of his cock, fuck.

“Knew it was pretty…” you simper, whispering more to yourself if anything as you wrap an eager hand around the girthy base, beginning to slowly tug at his length, “and you’re so wet too.” You giggle, leaning forward to lick the vein that runs along the underside of his cock—the singular, thick, protruding vein that stretches from the fat of his swollen balls, allll the way to the leaking mushroom tip.

The slow, delirious loll of his head as it falls back to press against the headrest of the car makes your stomach knot in arousal. “Oh, f— fuuuck.” Is all he can manage—a deep, strangled, throaty groan that rumbles from the depths of his chest. Suguru bucks his hips once toward your teasing hand. “See w-what you do to me, huh?” He bucks again, twice… thrice.

It’s so thick—so ready and eager to be devoured, whole. He can hardly suppress the singular, guttural moan that belts from his gaped lips when you finally take him into your warm mouth, swirling your tongue around the messy head to collect the bitterly sweet arousal on your tastebuds.

Hums of pure satisfaction slip from the corners of your tautly stretched lips as you swallow more of him, moaning wantonly from how perfectly fills your jaw, the tip of his cock now brushing the entrance of your throat. He twitches lewdly against your plush tongue, the poor head weeping out more of his endless arousal.

You’re pulling away with an obscene pop! quickly gathering saliva behind your puckered lips before lolling out your tongue, drooling on the pretty head of his cock. Wordlessly, you both observe as the slick substance dribbles down the girth of him, eventually pooling near his fat, swollen balls in a sinful puddle. His eyes flit to meet yours, a sinful glint of carnality gleaming in his darkened irises.

With your gaze transfixed on his, you’re leaning your head to the side, dragging your lips up the length of his heavy cock. Wet, sloppy kisses are left in your wake. You even take it upon yourself to roll out your tongue, sluttily slapping the drooling head against the plush center of the slick muscle. A guttural groan tumbles from his gaped mouth as his head falls to the right, hips unintentionally bucking toward your touch. Eventually, you’re taking him back inside like before, a sweet, relishing hum of contentment falling from your lips.

“I knew you’d be nasty, fuck,” he gapes, carding his fingers through his thick, sable locks in disbelief, “just by the way you fuckin’ walk. I just knew you were a nasty girl—slapping my cock on your tongue like that… what the fuck? Who does that?” You only giggle at his incredulity.

Suguru sucks in a tight breath through gritted teeth, gasping incredulously as you begin to adopt a sinful rhythm, your fluttering eyes searching for his as you slowly start to bob your head. A shaky whimper falls from his permanently slacked jaw before he curses to himself when a curious hand is reaching a little lower to play with his swollen balls. It’s not long before he’s gasping, face contorting in his overwhelming pleasure whilst you toy with his heavy balls, your other hand tugging at the base of his pretty cock, your wet lips wrapped around the head.

“Ohhh, god…” you’re sputtering around him, the subtle roll of his hips forcing his cock deeper, “yeeeeaah, that’s a good, pretty girl… gag on it—mhmmm, just like that, s’okay,” he’s nearly panting as a deft hand reaches for your hair, thick fingers finding purchase at the back of your head, aiding your movements, “yesss, baby… f— fuck, take all that cock. You been thinkin’ about this?”

You attempt to hum in agreement but gag horribly instead. Rivulets of drool pool from your mouth and dribble down the length of his cock, accumulating in a sinful puddle near the short, sable tufts of hair that adorn his crotch. Suguru only simpers to himself at your response, a languid, lust-stricken grin marring his pretty face.

He cocks his head slightly, brows furrowing. “Breatheee, sweet girl,” he drawls, reminding you of the overtly obvious fact, tittering at the way your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head, “through your nose… yeaaah, thaaaat’s it, good girl… see?” He’s peeling away the few strands of hair that stick to your forehead, baring your cock-drunken mien. “You really are so pretty.”

God, what sight for sore eyes—the perfect melody for battered souls. The debauched, gut-wrenching gurgle that reverberates as you swallow the length of his cock forces you to clamp your thighs together to lull the achy throb of your cunt.

Suguru can’t help the trail of his eyes down your perfectly arched back. He sits upright as you lean over him, your knees planted on the seat while your hips absentmindedly sway in the air. A large hand is finding purchase on the fat of your ass, kneading and caressing greedily before creeping a hair lower, cupping your clothed cunt.

Long, adept fingers dance along your heat—pressing and dragging against the fabric of your sweats, touching you through the hindering material. You buck into his touch, rolling your hips to feel more of him, whimpering around the girth of his cock when he finally slips a hand past the waistband, haphazardly pushing the garment down to expose the pretty lace of your panties

You’re drenched. Utterly and completely drenched. Suguru’s eyes widen, jaw falling slack at the sheer amount of arousal that seeps through the thin fabric of your panties. Several warm fingers are running along the entirety of your cunt, collecting the slick, viscous essence that soaks through.

“Look at thaaaat,” he admires, pulling his hand away to observe the arousal that adorns the pads of his fingers, “you always get this wet from sucking cock?” He’s pulling you off so that you can nod properly, adoring the way a gossamer of saliva connects your bottom lip to the head of his cock. 

Deliriously, you’re beaming up to catch his lips in a wet, sloppy kiss, blindly kicking off your sweatpants to rid yourself of the garment before planting yourself on his lap. A long, slutty whine falls from your lips when Suguru is reaching between your warm bodies, pulling your panties aside to run three, fat fingers along the heat of your cunt, spreading you apart. He swallows all of your pretty, little wails of pleasure, his warm tongue licking its way into your sweet mouth, desperate to taste you.

Like a sunflower growing toward the warmth of the sun, you’re coiling into his touch. Your breasts press against his chest while the large hand that rests on the small of your back is pulling you closer. “Why are you arching like that, huh?” He taunts, a sinful tease on his tongue. Two, fat digits are disappearing inside of your sloppy hole. “You wanna fuck? Is that it, pretty girl?”

Meekly, you nod, a helpless, prolonged whimper dragging from your kiss-bitten lips, heading straight for his cock. Suguru huffs out the sluttiest little breaths, nearly panting from his gaped mouth as you buck against his hand. God, he’s going to make a mess of you tonight and he’ll make sure of it.

“Yeah? You wanna fuck me?” Suguru’s lips are creeping down your neck, a trail of wet, openmouthed kisses left in his wake. “Fuck me then,” he whispers, breath hot against your skin, “reach down and put my cock inside of you and fuck me however you want… however that slutty pussy wants.”

Sable, lustrous eyes hold your gaze crudely, his large pupils dilating in ever growing rapture as you reach between the palpable heat of your bodies to press the swollen, mushroom head of his cock against your drooling cunt. You share a singular, incredulous gasp as you begin to sink down onto him, brows furrowing while your mouth sags open.

A sultry, drawn out whine falls from your parted lips. Inch by fucking inch, you swallow him whole. Pretty, desperate pussy stretching so obscenely wide, slabbering down the length of him until you’re literally balls deep. It aches—the delicious, burning stretch of his cock as it fervidly splits you apart with the sole intention of gutting you out completely.

His jaw hangs wide, a throaty, wanton groan of pleasure bellowing from his lungs. “Yeaaaah, th-that’s it… c’mon pretty girl, fuck me,” two, dexterous hands are pulling at your hips, long fingers splaying across the fat of your ass, “oh, god you feel so fuckin’ good—knew you’d feel so good… fuck me, baby c’mon,” the subconscious buck of his hips beneath you is forcing his cock deeper, the near deafening squelch of your overfilled cunt like kindle to an ever growing flame, “move those hips n’ fuck me however you want.”

Both of your hands are reaching to his shoulders for stability as you awkwardly clamber to plant your feet on either side of his hips. Then, you’re raising your hips off of him, sheathing yourself from his cock until the poor, weeping head rests against your salivating entrance, wordlessly begging for more. 

Suguru’s head is slowly craning back, peering up at you hungrily through the fallen strands of inky black that adorn his forehead, occluding his vision. A painstakingly slow and slutty grin is marring his wet lips when you eventually lower your hips, greedily sucking him in. His mouth drags open while he nods up at you slowly, silently encouraging you to fuck him—to ruin him.

So, you’re lifting your hips once more, only to slam them back down again, and again, and again until you’re stupidly bouncing up and down the monstrous length of his cock, taking exactly what you need from him. You hardly even register the way you’re beginning to lean back, elongating your torso as your hands fly behind you to blindly grasp the center console.

You’re huffing out prettiest sighs as you babble. “F— fuuuuck, oh my god,” you nearly growl through gritted teeth, lolling your head back as you roll your hips to meet his shallow bucks beneath you, “you feel sooo good… oh my god. Such a p-perfect cock.”

“Heh, yeah, sweet girl? You been thinkin’ about fuckin’ me like this? Do you dream about it?”

Your brows furrow as you nod dumbly. God, you truly are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s the way you're shamelessly fucking him like your favorite toy, like an inanimate object with the sole purpose of making you feel good. He always had a feeling you’d be like this—so desperate… slutty. His gaze is hungrily trailing down the arch of your pretty little body. It almost feels predatory—as if you’ve been running for so long and finally, he’s got you all to himself and he’s as starved as ever.

Suguru’s hands are everywhere—they’re squeezing the thick of your hips as you fuck down onto him, guiding your frenzied movements. They’re greedily creeping under the hem of your sweat-ridden shirt, bunching up the fabric to bare your pretty chest. They’re even pushing the fat of your breasts together so that he can hungrily stuff his face between them.

His tongue is darting out, licking a wet, sloppy trail along the expanse of your chest between openmouthed kisses. Sweet hums of pleasure are lost and muffled in the plush, suppleness of your tits. He’s so greedy, he can hardly help the hands that are eagerly yanking your shirt over your head, blindly tossing it to the front of the cabin.

“Fuuuck…” he groans, kissing up your tummy, trailing slowly from your navel toward the deep valley between your breasts, “you’re sooo fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?” He hums and you nod once, whimpering obnoxiously when his lips eventually reach your throat. “Prettiest girl on campus.” He whispers, warm breath creeping up your neck.

“Tell me I’m pretty again… please.” You pant, your sweet mouth gaped as you await his praise.

He’s leaning forward to draw you close, pecking your lips once. “You’re so pretty… such a pretty girl,” he repeats sincerely, sitting up slighty to pull you off of him, laying you along the backseat of his car, “you wanna get fucked like a pretty girl too?” As he questions you his head is cocking to the right, ungainly shuffling in the cramped space of the car to situate himself between your plush thighs. A wicked, toothy grin that tugs at the corners of his lips when you nod up at him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

God, the heat is palpable. You can feel the growing need, the desperation, the hunger. His cock sits so eagerly between your thighs, begging for something, anything. The poor head still leaks with precum, weeping sinful tears of desperation, aching to feel the overwhelming pressure of your slick walls drooling around it yet again. And how it stands so impatiently, so hopeful, hungry. It’s absolutely going to split you apart and Suguru will make damn sure of it.

You’re whining so desperately at the torturesome and ponderous drag of his cock along your sloppy lips, hips bucking wildly in an attempt to lull the painful throb of your greedy cunt. The cutest little pout plagues your lips as he grins devilishly, his closed fist squeezing down the length of his cock, pushing the messy head against your swollen clit. Just as you’re readying to cry out a complaint, as if he can read your desperation, a fat thumb is finally pushing the tip inside of your slabbering hole, his hips soon following, stuffing you completely full at once.

The deep, elongated thrusts that immediately ensue pry your jaw open, allowing the beautiful cries of his sweet name to spill from your raptured tongue. It’s utterly obscene—the way he’s reeling his hips back so far, far enough that the tip of his cock just barely rests against your entrance, only to heavily pummel forward, stuffing himself to a hilt. And he does it again, and again, and again, until you’re moaning and panting like a bitch in heat, grasping at his shirt to ground yourself.

Surguru’s lips are pursing together, biting back the whimpers that threaten to erupt from his chest. “Suuuch a pretty pussy, fuck… c’mere,” he nearly growls, reaching a large hand under the small of your back to pull you up, “look at it, watch how it goes inside… yeaaah, watch how my cock slides into that slutty little pussy,” he’s holding you upright as you peer between your thighs, observing in an incredulous haze as your arousal sheathes the entirety of his cock, “goddd, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me.”

He’s roughly yanking you closer, big, strong hands squeezing at the thick of your hips, selfishly pulling you onto his cock, meeting himself halfway. The hefty batter of his relentless thrusts jerk your entire being, your pretty tits bouncing so perfectly for him, wordlessly begging to be touched. Obliging to your body’s silent needs, Suguru is slipping a hand up your tummy, fingers inching toward your hardened nipples. A calloused thumb is swiping across one of the sensitive buds, forcing a helpless whimper from your lips. 

Another big hand is reaching for your face, cupping your jaw as a warm thumb curiously grazes your bottom lip. Instinctively, your lips are parting, silently inviting him into your mouth. The salty digit pushes inside, resting heavily against your tongue as he mercilessly fucks you into the backseat of his car, rivulets of your drool spilling down his hand. What a fucking mess… all of it.

Your pretty pussy leaks like a broken faucet that begs to be mended—so sloppy and needy, poor legs spread achingly wide as he drills into your slutty little hole like a madman on the brink of utter insanity. Fuck, you’re not even sure if you’ll make it out alive, definitely not with the way he’s starting to apply pressure to the back of your thighs, prying them open even further to pin them to the seat with the sole intention of fucking you deeper.

Suguru is leaning forward on the hands that hold your thighs, exerting all of his weight into his palms so that he can fuck with his entire being. His hips are drawing back like before, but when he begins pummeling into you, the tip of his fat cock repeatedly strikes against your cervix, his bruising thrusts bullying your poor, ravaged cunt.

“Hah—ohhh my god… f-fuck fuck fuck,” you’re gasping, reaching a desperate hand between your legs to touch your swollen clit, “fuck, m’gonna cum, Sugu—nnghh, you’re gonna make me cum!” The repetitive, dulling strike of his swollen balls against the fat of your ass only pushes you further.

“Yeah? You gonna cum, pretty?” He’s cooing encouragingly as he leans in closer, the tip of his large nose brushing yours. “Fuck, do it then, cum for me so good n’ make a mess on my cock, baby c’mon,” his lips are on yours again, kissing you sloppily—nothing but wet tongue and clashing teeth, “c’mon baby, thaaaat’s it… cum on my cock like a good girl.”

Suguru gapes as your back arches off the seat, pressing your tits into the air as you roll your hips to meet his sloppy thrusts. Then, you feel it. Your stomach is caving in sheer arousal, clouding your senses in a warm, white haze and you’re utterly delirious. Head spinning as your eyes threaten to cross, drool dripping from the corner of your parted lips as your walls squeezing the length of his cock. Your ravaged, fucked-out body falls limp as he continues to pummel into your sloppy cunt, forcing your sweet, viscous arousal to leak onto his expensive, cloth seats.

“Hah—oh my god, fuck. M’gonna cum so muchhh… this pretty pussy is gonna make me c-cum, fuck,” god, he’s a fucking mess. His mouth sits wide as he babbles, thick brows furrowed while he desperately chases his own orgasm. Fat, leaking cock bullying its way deeper and deeper inside of your battered cunt, eager to cum anywhere you want it. “Fuck, where do you want my cum, sweet girl?”

With both hands, you’re pushing the fat of your breasts together, wordlessly encouraging him to cum on your pretty, plush tits. A slew of incoherent profanities fall from his lips as he unwillingly pulls himself out of you, frantically jerking his cock in his tightly closed fist. You’re shuffling to sit upright, lolling out your tongue, waiting patiently like an obedient puppy, ready to take all of his cum like the good girl he knows you are.

Suguru’s head is falling back to dangle over his broad shoulders, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly. His lips are pursing together as he hums in rapture, whimpering strangled, erratic breaths through his nostrils. His forearm tenses as he hastily strokes his slick cock. Each time his fist nears the head, his wrist is slightly twisting to the left before his thumb swipes across the opening. A large hand is reaching behind you to greedily pull you closer, his wet cock resting against your chest as he continues to fuck his hand inches from of your face.

“Holy fuck, look at youuu… you’re so ready for it,” he huffs a gruff chuckle, abdomen tightening while cock twitches against the palm of his hand, “god, c’mere.” He’s inching impossibly closer, whining so prettily as he cums, hard. An unbroken chain of guttural moans drag from his gaped mouth as he’s spilling across your chest and tongue in several, thick, viscous gushes, painting you in a beautiful, translucent sheen.

It’s too much... all of it—his pretty boy moans, the way he drunkenly gazes down at you, the fingers that are swiping across your chest, collecting his release, only to stuff them into your open mouth, forcing you to taste more of the bitterly sweet substance. A content hum drags from your obstructed mouth as you suck on his fingers, your tongue sluttily sliding down the lengthy digits before releasing them with an obscene pop!

Suguru smiles down at you lazily, shaking his head in utter disbelief at just how slutty you got for him tonight. Who would’ve thought that the smart, quiet girl who sits directly in front of him in rhetorical theory likes to get fucked like a whore in the back of a car?

“When can I take you on a real date, huh?” He hums, backing away to slouch against the rear door on the driver’s side of the car, opposite of you.

You shrug, eyeing him. “When you ask me.” Is all you say, teasingly nudging his knee with your foot.

“Tomorrow night then,” he smiles, pulling you into him so that he can hold you close, “let me take you out on a real date. Wherever you want, pretty girl.”

[sageinsubculture]

cowboy kush, by sage vasquez

[xedla]

片々 (02.18.2023)

honestly it wasn't supposed to look like a cannabis leaf but here we are

[zvaigzdelasas]

The Onondaga claim that the United States violated a 1794 treaty, signed by George Washington, that guaranteed 2.5 million acres in central New York to them. The case, filed in 2014, is the second brought by an American Indian nation against the United States in an international human rights body; a finding is expected as soon as this year.

Even if the Onondaga are successful, the result will mostly be symbolic. The entity, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, has no power to enforce a finding or settlement, and the United States has said that it does not consider the commission’s recommendations to be binding.

“We could win against them, but that doesn’t mean that they have to abide by whatever,” Mr. Hill said in an interview.

The 2.5 million acres have long since been transformed by highways and utility lines, shopping malls, universities, airports and roller rinks.

The territory encompasses the cities of Binghamton and Syracuse, as well as more than 30 state forests, dozens of lakes and countless streams and tributaries. It is also home to 24 Superfund sites, the environmental detritus of the powerhouse economy that helped central New York thrive during the beginning and middle half of the 20th century.

Most notorious of these is Lake Onondaga, which once held the dubious title of America’s most polluted lake.

Industrial waste has left its mark on Onondaga territory, leaving the nation unable to fish from its streams and rivers. The history of environmental degradation is part of what motivates the Onondaga, who consider it their sacred responsibility to protect their land.

One of their chief objectives in filing the petition is a seat at the table on environmental decisions across the original territory. The other is an acknowledgment that New York, even if only in principle, owes them 2.5 million acres.[...]

Some Native nations have been willing to drop land claims in exchange for licenses to operate casinos. But the Onondaga say they are not interested in cash. Nor are they interested in licenses to sell cannabis or operate a casino — which they consider socially irresponsible and a threat to their tribal sovereignty.

There’s really just one thing that Mr. Hill says would be an acceptable form of payment: land.

The Onondaga insist they are not looking to displace anyone. Instead they hope the state might turn over a tract of unspoiled land for the nation to hunt, fish, preserve or develop as it sees fit. One such repatriation effort is underway: the return of 1,000 acres as a part of a federal settlement with Honeywell International for the contamination of Onondaga Lake. The United States has not contested the Onondaga's account of how the nation lost its land. Indeed, the lawyers representing the United States in the Onondaga case have centered their argument on legal precedence, noting that courts at every level — including the U.S. Supreme Court — rejected the Onondaga’s claims as too old and most remedies too disruptive to the region’s current inhabitants.

To the Onondaga, the logic required to square these contentions seems unfair. Why should the United States be allowed to steal their land and face no obligation to give some back?[...]

In New York, [...] Native people were not considered to have standing to sue on their own behalf until 1987.[...]

In 2005, the Onondaga filed a version of their current claim in Federal District Court in the Northern District of New York, naming as defendants the State of New York, its governor, Onondaga County, the City of Syracuse and a handful of the companies responsible for the environmental degradation over the past centuries. A similar case filed by the Oneida Nation was, at the time, pending before the Supreme Court.

But just 18 days after the Onondaga filed their petition, the Supreme Court rejected the Oneidas’ case. The decision referenced an colonial-era legal theory known as the Doctrine of Discovery, which holds in part that Indigenous property claims were nullified by the “discovery” of that land by Christians.

The “long lapse of time” and “the attendant dramatic changes in the character” precluded the Oneida nation from the “disruptive remedy” it sought, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg wrote in the majority decision.[...]

[L]awyers for the Onondaga used the rejection as the premise for a new argument. They contended that the U.S. court system’s refusal to find in their favor proved that they could not find justice in the United States.

The petition filed before the international commission amounts to the most direct challenge of the United States’ treatment of Indigenous people to date in terms of human rights — and the first to apply the lens of colonialism.

“What the Onondaga litigation is doing right now is to force a political dialogue with the colonial occupier,” said Andrew Reid, a lawyer representing the Onondaga, adding that a favorable finding could prompt a political conversation about the United States’s treatment of native people on the world stage.

Representatives for the State Department declined to be interviewed and did not respond to requests for comment. But in legal documents, the United States contended that the Onondaga’s central claims have been rejected in prior cases; that they have had “abundant opportunity” for their case to be heard; and that they are merely unhappy with the outcome. It also contended that the commission has no jurisdiction, given that the bulk of the nation’s losses took place two centuries before it was established.

“The judicial process functioned as it should have in this matter,” the United States wrote in legal papers.

15 Mar 24

[mothandpidgeon]

Making Out to Pablo Honey (virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: Dieter’s always tried to be cool. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. You, on the other hand, you’re cool.

contents: virgin!Dieter, young!Dieter, lots of 90s references, cannabis, mentions of masturbation, fingering, premature ejaculating, one ferris bueller reference, reader is able bodied and not described physically moth never uses y/n.

This fic is about horny teens doing horny teen things. It's not too late to not read this if that's not ok with you.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I'm thinking of this as a Dieter origin story. I really enjoyed thinking about him before he was the DIETER BRAVO. Anyway, this was kind of healing I wish I knew him back when I was in high school. Thanks @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for betaing and cheering me on!

“Sweet or salty?” you ask. Your head is buried in one of the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through a selection of snacks. 

Dieter sits on the counter opposite, watching you with a lazy smile. 

“Sweet,” he says. “No, wait. Salty.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your eyes bloodshot under heavy lids. 

“You’re so stoned,” you giggle. 

Dieter blushes. Despite the fact that he coughs after every hit, getting high with you after school has become his favorite past time. You never tease him for it, just put the joint between your lips while Dieter wonders if you can feel the warmth from his there. You’re both well and truly blazed at this point after smoking up in the dugout of the school's baseball field.

Dieter gazes over your body as you stand on tip toe, reaching for the top shelf. It’s like he can’t control his eyes from wandering to you when he’s like this. Sometimes you notice. 

“What?” you’ll say. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re paranoid,” he’ll lie. 

He wishes he was brave enough to tell you that he’s staring because he thinks you’re beautiful. 

It’s hard to believe that the two of you are actually friends now. He still remembers when you were assigned as his lab partner, a girl that he was equally drawn to and intimidated by.  

Now he’s in your house after school almost every day. 

“Honey?” your mother’s voice calls from the front door.

“Shit.” Dieter hops onto the floor before she enters the kitchen in a smart business outfit. 

“Oh, hi, Dieter,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her hair. 

“Hello, ma’am,” Dieter says. 

You stifle a laugh. 

“Dieter, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” your mother says.  

“Um okay,” he replies. He can’t remember her first name. She’s told him before. Does he seem stoned? Oh, god, he definitely does. 

She scrunches her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Dieter’s stomach plummets. The two of you must reek of pot. He’s grown to like the scent– an earthy tang that now reminds him of you. He braces himself, trying to clear his foggy mind for a moment so he can’t act sober. 

“Somebody must’ve run over a skunk,” you say. “What’re you doing home so early?”

You change the subject so seamlessly. Of course. Nothing ever seems to scare you.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Vermont people but I left the damn file here,” she says, picking a folder up from the kitchen table. “I’ll be back late if we close the deal.”

“Good luck,” you say.

Dieter bursts with laughter as your mother goes out the front door. You join him, nearly doubling over with your giggles. 

“I was freaking out!” he tells you. “A skunk! I can’t believe she bought that.”

“I know, right? She’s clueless,” you chuckle. “Look.” 

You hold up your creation— a plate bursting with flavor and texture. It’s organized into little piles of treats— potato chips, Oreos, a handful of glistening strawberries. Chocolate covered pretzels rest beside dried cranberries and several ropes of licorice separate honey roasted peanuts from fun sized Kit Kats in glossy red wrappers. It’s a feast, every bite he could ever want just when he wants it the most. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in this offering. 

Maybe it’s the pot buzzing around in his head but he can feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wants to kiss you but what if you don’t want to be kissed? What if you reject him? He could play it off as a joke like the one he told in the biology lab that got you to notice him for the first time. Humiliation he can handle but he’s not sure he could take that heartbreak. 

The cookies are calling his name so he abandons any dreams of filling his mouth with your tongue in favor of a Nutter Butter. 

There’s a big, L shaped couch in the basement that Dieter sprawls out on while he munches on the fruit. They might be the best strawberries he’s ever eaten. Everything tastes so good when he’s high. He wonders what you taste like. 

“Do you like Radiohead?” you ask sorting through a pile of cassettes. 

“Yeah. I love them,” he says. He’s only heard one of their songs on the radio but if you like them, he wants to like them, too. 

Dieter’s always tried to be cool. He has a lot working against him— built like a string bean, a goofy personality. His own fucking name has betrayed him. He got the same haircut as Leonardo DiCaprio, he saved up to buy a pair of fancy sneakers, he spends hours in the mirror carefully choosing his outfits. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. 

You, on the other hand, you’re cool. Effortlessly so in your black boots and chipped nail polish. It’s not just the music you listen to or the clothes you wear. There’s something in your attitude, an aloof confidence that he’s never been able to replicate. 

Despite his anxieties, you never make him feel judged. It seems like you enjoy introducing him to new things. You offered to make him a mixtape and it sent his heart fluttering. He’s shared a thing or two with you, too— leading you through the aisles of the local video store handing you his favorite obscure movies. Sometimes you laugh at his enthusiasm but it’s never mean spirited. 

You pop the tape in and climb up onto the sofa as rough guitar strums seep through the speakers. There’s something psychedelic in the music that has Dieter sinking deeper into his seat. 

Although there’s plenty of space, you sit alongside him, propping your feet up on the chaise beside his. Dieter’s pulse picks up. He’s so aware of you so close to him, each move of your muscles as you get comfortable. He can smell the pot tangled up in your hair and the fresh scent of cotton that always lingers on your clothes. 

“I like being high,” Dieter sighs. 

You laugh. He fucking loves the sound of it, wants to be a little clown to keep you giggling away.

“Give me a Kit Kat,” you say. 

The snack plate is balanced on Dieter’s lap so when you fish through it for the candy, he can feel the pressure of your touch right on his dick. He stifles a groan, trying to focus his attention on the crinkle of the wrapper in your hands. 

He’s touched himself to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit. There was an incident when you unexpectedly brushed your ass against him at your locker and he popped a boner. He had to take care of it in the bathroom, one hand cupping the tip of his cock as he came so he didn’t make a mess. 

“Dieter,” you say. His name sounds so sweet when you say it softly like that. 

“Yeah,” he replies. 

Some time in the last fifteen minutes, his mind wandered away and he got lost in the haze of his high. He can’t remember what he was thinking about before you got his attention or how long he’s been out of it. There’s just a warm feeling in his head and every once in a while he remembers that you’re sitting right next to him and he smiles to himself and then he floats away again. 

“You’re staring at me,” you say. 

You’re close, laying on the same couch cushion, your face just inches from his own. You have pretty eyes. Maybe that’s what he’s been looking at. Or your hair. He likes your hair. 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. There’s no denying it this time. 

Your lips curl into a smile and your eyes dance over his features. He feels himself leaning towards you like his head is too heavy to fight your magnetic pull. 

Your noses brush, that’s when he realizes that you’re moving towards him, too. Both of you hesitate there, an acknowledgement of this point of no return— your friendship will never be the same. 

You kiss him. At first it’s a cautious meeting of lips and, suddenly, a crash of passion and excitement. It’s sloppy and unchoreographed but the two of you find a rhythm. He can taste the chocolate in your kiss. 

You climb onto his lap, sliding your hands beneath his shirt. Having all of you there, straddling him like he’s in his own wet dream, is overwhelming. Blood rushes to his cock. There’s so much of you to explore— soft places to touch and hold and taste. He wants all of you all at once and you seem just as eager. 

Your mouth roams his neck and teeth rake against his earlobe as you rock over the bulge in his jeans. He’s so sensitive from the weed, he can practically feel the hot drag of your pussy even through the layers between you. 

Dieter fumbles with the clasp of your bra and you knock his hands away to do it for him, then unbutton your pants and do the same for him. He keeps his mouth on yours as you pull off his shirt with eager kisses. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. He’s met with the slick lips of your pussy giving him a delicious shiver. You gasp and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Now your hand finds him, coating his length with precum and tugging. 

“Oh god,” he chokes. He wills himself not to finish right there in your hand. 

Dieter presses a finger into your entrance, slow and cautious, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine the crush of it around him. The strokes on his cock stutter and slow as he thrusts deeper until eventually your limp hand simply holds him. He doesn’t care.  The feeling of you is addicting, all slippery and inviting. 

“Ow,” you complain. 

“Is this ok?” Dieter asks. 

“Don’t just finger me,” you complain. 

He blanches, unsure of how to correct himself. If you want more, he’s more than willing to give it to you but it has nerves churning in his belly. 

“I’ve never done it,” Dieter says. 

He immediately wishes he could take the words and swallow them back down. His neck burns with embarrassment. The coolest girl he’s ever met is letting him in her pants and he just spoiled it all by admitting he’s a virgin. 

You stare at him with big, round eyes, your lips swollen from kissing. Your adam’s apple bobs in your throat. 

“Me either,” you tell him. 

It’s Dieter’s turn to stare. He’s shocked. It seems like you’ve done everything already. At least, everything a high school senior would aspire to do. 

If you were embarrassed to tell him that, you don’t let it linger for long. “That wasn’t what I meant,” you say. “It just— I don't think I can come that way.”

Dieter nods in awe. This isn’t the first time he’s gone to third base but he hadn’t felt very sure of his technique during those few encounters. You look a little nervous, maybe for the first time ever, but he’s so impressed you’re confident enough to tell him what you want, to even know. He wants to give you exactly what you need. 

“Show me,” he says. “Show me what you like.”

Your pupils blow out and Dieter’s not sure which one of you is more aroused. Eventually you regain yourself, nodding quickly and climbing off of his lap so you can shimmy your pants all the way off. 

Dieter can’t help but stare at all the parts of you that are exposed. You’re so pretty he can hardly believe he gets to touch you. His cock throbs at the sight and he fists himself before realizing that he’d better stop if he wants to last more than half a minute. 

You lay back on the couch, parting your bent legs for Dieter. He sits up for a good view as you explain the secrets of the universe. You take his hand and guide his fingers to your pussy, carefully sliding them along the side of your clit. It’s velvety soft and warm and slick and you take in a sharp breath. His cock jumps. Again, a wet stroke over you. You set a pace, your hand around his as he makes you melt.

“Woah,” he whispers to himself as he watches your body respond. 

He’s not sure where to look; at the glistening lips of your pussy, a rare glimpse at the opposite sex in real life or at your face, eyes closed and brow knit as you float in ecstasy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

He forgets the throbbing between his own legs, entranced by your pleasure. Your grip around his hand slackens and Dieter experiments with slightly faster strokes, kissing your neck. Your pulse thrums under his lips, your whines vibrating. 

As he gathers more slick from your entrance, you grind your clit into the heel of his hand. Your hips lift from the wet patch that’s growing beneath you. Dieter keeps his hand planted on you, giving you all the friction you need. 

He tries to find a way to tell you to use him, to take what you need, but he’s speechless. Watching a girl get off on him, and not just any girl but you, feels like witnessing a miracle. 

Your muscles tighten, every single tendon in your body wrapped up like a rubber band about to snap. He can’t help himself. Dieter slides a finger inside of you. It feels even better than before, now that your walls are coated in that sweet release. 

That’s when it crashes over you. You lock up, your arms and thighs straining. He can feel your core tensing around him desperately and he thinks he might cum just from the sight of you like this. It’s not like he’s seen in porn. You’re quiet, focused, somewhere else and he wants to go there, wherever that planet of pleasure might be. 

He wants to kiss you, to taste your release and bury his face in your tits but he doesn’t dare move and ruin this exquisite moment for you. So he keeps moving with the same steady tempo as you flutter around him. 

You groan out his name, long and slow and it sounds like music. 

Dieter feels his hips jerk and, oh fuck, he’s cumming. He tears his hand away from you to squeeze it over his spasming cock. It’s too late and the wet press of you coated on his fingers doesn’t help. He paints his torso with his own warm, sticky spend. 

You stare, eyes wildly surveying the mess on his belly, still dazed as you come down. 

He should be mortified that he just blew his load all over himself the very first time he’s gotten physical with you but his veins are coursing with bliss. His head falls back, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

“I really like you,” he says. 

Your face breaks out in a smile and you bashfully bite your lip. He feels your fingers intertwine with his own. 

“Yeah. I like you too,” you say. 

-

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and my asks are always open!

[savnofilter]

Guilty | a. shouta

         Plug!Shouta Aizawa x [FEM]Reader

WARNING(S): sexual content, mentions of weed, drug use (cannabis), high/inebriated sex, infidelity (don't do this y'all), it's consensual tho they both suck, Reader is a "older-sister deals with a lot mess" tease, fingering (m -> f), lube, making out, light petting, barely any foreplay besides that, p in v sex, protected sex, unestablished relationship.

COUNT: 2.5k words.

READ MORE: masterlist | adults masterlist

A/N: this is funny cuz ive never been high a day in my life. ive never gotten high or drunk... ive tried but. 🤷🏽‍♀️ 😭 if i get sum wrong with the terms, SORRY. my knowledge is only extensive to what i hear my friends be saying okay?! okay. sorry weed heads lol. this was originally gonna be car sex but it ended up... not being that so maybe next time. 👀

You

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. 0:69

‘Just come upstairs plssss, I’ll slip you extra’

[✓] 23:56

Aizawa huffed at your whining. He knew better than to do it but tonight he wasn't being stern with himself. The last time you had come down to his car to get what you normally did, it went in a whole other direction that wasn’t intended.

You were a good person.

Meaning you were currently in a high level of schooling, soon to graduate and finally full send into your desired career. You were dressed somewhat modestly in your day to day life, avoided using unnecessary swear words and was always polite when needed. You were a model student, rounding up to be on the dean's list as the final exam period rounds the corner. You often helped out with your community and even volunteered in a soup kitchen.

Not to mention, you were the kid parents dreamed of. Being the first born you didn't really have that many choices. You were already in a serious relationship, the guy you were with had a lot more destined for him as well so it only made sense for you two to be together. You had met them through your parents, actually. Thankfully they weren't ugly nor was they that bad to be around. But did you really want to marry?

To everyone else, you were a “good person”. But your underlying secrets said otherwise.

Aizawa was starting to question it himself. The last time you two had crossed the line hadn't been the first. You see, your “good” reputation was only merely an act. You weren't the worst person on the planet, no, but there was a lapse in your judgement as you slowly felt like your life was a lie. The somewhat arranged relationship and the hand held future into what you should desire instead of what you actually wanted to do caught up to you eventually.

You had met Aizawa a little bit more than a few years ago through a friend of yours. At that time, you were single and his romantic situation wasn't any knowledge to you. Not that it was any of your business to begin with. That night you had bought from him was your first time smoking, ever. Your friends had convinced you to do it and you weren't entirely against the idea so you went along with it.

It was at some beach party that he could only care so much about and he was in a mode operating strictly for business despite knowing the party owners himself. Though when you had first come up to him, weary and looking the prettiest you've ever been. Shouta had seen so many people in his lifetime, but looking at you for the first time had him starstruck. It was almost embarrassing how he nearly zoned out when you two caught eye contact. The way your lips moved and how you hugged your body as a sign of needing direction in the whole process intrigued him. You stuck out like a sore thumb between you and your friends that accompanied you, even though you all clearly arrived together.

The moment he first saw you replayed in his head as he stood at your door, waiting for you to let him in. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, interfering with your life but it wasn’t all his fault; it took two to tango.

“Leave your shoes at the door,” Your voice called out to him. His eyes refocused as you turned around, eyes taking more than enough time to take your appearance. A hoodie that fit your figure in a way he knew wasn't yours covered your torso while a small pair of shorts hugged your ass all too well and only a pair of socks to keep you comfortable in your warm but drafty apartment is all you wore. Focused, that's what he needed to be. That's what he should be reminding himself of. This should only be for business.

He absentmindedly does as you say though, the process of removing his shoes easier than usual since he adorned a comfortable pair of designer slides (gifted to him by someone close to him, of course). You instruct him to rest the grams on your living room's coffee table, already giving away how many times Shouta shouldn't have been in your apartment. Still, he wordlessly pads his way to the room, his feet covered in socks also thudding against the padded floor.

Shouta follows your instructions on placing the bag on your table and promptly attempts to leave before making any choices he'd regret later. Your plans were different as you stood in the doorway, not blocking the walkway at all, but for sure trapping him. You glance at him with a pout full of confusion and longing.

“Could you help me roll one? You know I struggle with it.”

His eyes were glued to your plump lips as you talked, mesmerized at your words. That was a damn lie and both you knew it. Though he couldn't hold back the gulp as he nodded his head in hesitation, glancing towards the door behind you, reluctant to the idea of a special someone waltzing in that door. As if reading his mind, you smile and walk towards him, shoulder briefly checking his even with the amount of room that should've been left between you two.

“My fíance is out of town, they usually help me.” You get yourself comfortably sat on your couch and beckon him over, and pat the free seat next to you for him to sit. You don't wait for him as you rest your rolling tray on the table. “Come sit,”

And so he does.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes glued to the product he brought to you. He walks around the table to not interrupt you and gingerly sits as requested. If anyone walked in on you, there would be no mistaking the tension in the air. Shouta’s body posture was more than stiff as he tried not to pursue you. He clears his throat once you've finally pulled your gram out, getting your shredder to help mince the plant.

“None of your friends are available?” Shouta asks, leaning back in to your sofa as you busy yourself with preparation. You shrug and glance at him with a grin.

“You're a friend, no?” You tease him as you beckon him to get closer and move the tray in front of him.

He rolls his eyes as he gets busy, glaring at the rolling paper as he lines up the sativa. “You know what I mean.”

But you have no answer for him. Instead he watches as you purse your lips and cross your arms, body language closing him out without you having to verbally say it. He feels a little smug though, finally being able to turn the tables on you in this situation instead of the opposite.

He sits back as he finally finishes up the roll and glances around for the lighter. Although at this time you refused to make eye contact, you read his actions pretty well and dig into your hoodie’s pocket for the pink lighter. You hold it out to him once your fish it out, palm open with invitation.

“Open.” Shouta says curtly, but you understand what he meant all too well. He holds up the blunt and you grin happily in content. You scoot closer to him, the two of your bodies now touching each other as you leaned closer to his hand. You look up at him as he gently places the blunt to your mouth, your hand quick to top off the process by lighting it up.

You take a deep drag from it and lightly pull away, holding in your breath before puffing it out in a soft breath. You hum happily as you lean back against your sofa, still sitting close to him as he takes his own turn in having a drag of his own. The exchange is continued in silence minus the bustling city noises and people outside to accompany it. As the air grew thicker in scent with weed, so did the tension between both of you.

As you sat back with your body language open and muscles relaxed, his large and heavy hand rested on the inside of your thigh, squeezing every few moments or so. The light movement had you giggling—mixed between the airy headed sensation filling your senses and the tips of his fingers itching for more had you eager to receive it. Sharing another puff you gently pass it to him and use both of your hands to guide his wandering one straight to your clothed core, the only thing stopping him from properly touching you is the thin material or your shorts. His hand palms your pussy through the material, his unabashed groping bringing a light moan from you. You open your legs further in an attempt to encourage him further, the gesture working.

Though, Aizawa pulls away, ignoring your whine in protest and snubs the end of the tiny end of the blunt onto the rolling tray. He finally sits back and pats his thigh for you to climb up on it, and you happily follow his lead. In a few seconds you're climbing over his lap comfortably, and sitting across it as your hands find his neck in solace. Your eyes are lidded and already heavy with arousal, needing nothing more than to take him.

He isn't in the mood to play coy either as his hands slip down to hold your ass and thigh respectively. He gives your skin a squeeze and you finally lean in to plant a messy kiss against his. It takes everything in Aizawa to hold back the groan that threatens to leave his lips, mouth moulding to yours as you both try to develop a rhythm that worked for both of you. You were a grinning mess trying to get into the motion, pride already swelling within you as you could feel him poking at the side of your body. Of course without hesitation you palmed him, needing not to shy away from him anymore.

You tease his lower lip by giving it a small bite as you pull away and look down to watch yourself palm at his building erection. Usually at this time you'd drop a remark but you were too thirsty to even do so. It'd only been a few days since you've gotten some and you were fiending for him. As his eyes flicker back up at yours, you glance back at him and lean in to take his lips with yours again. It's intoxicating how he has a soft dominant nature to him; the way Aizawa’s mouth overtook yours was so natural and steady. Not too much nor too little. You were so lost in his kisses that you didn't even notice you were switching positions with him until you were properly straddling his lap and your hands were resting on his shoulders.

“Ride it.”

He had said in a haze, glaring eyes staring back at yours with no patience behind them. Despite you two only making out and petting for only so long you feel giddy to finally get on with it. You slowly nodded your head as you carefully tried to get off his lap to remove your shorts. Aizawa did his part in reaching into his back pocket and only letting down his pants only enough to let his cock out. Due to his inebriation he wasn't the hardest as he typically is, but that'll all change once the real part comes in.

Your eyes quickly scanned the scene as you reached under the cabinet of the coffee table for your lube to help slick you up, not having much foreplay beforehand. Once you grabbed it you happily straddled him again and put a healthy serving on his awaiting cock. Thankfully he had already wrapped himself up so you didn't have to fumble with that this time around. Once you put the amount you were comfortable with, you got in position and lined yourself up on his tip. You toyed with your lip as you slowly sunk yourself onto it, you two pulling in a deep breath as you continued to do so. It wasn't until you had basically taken in most of his length did you two exhale in relief, the sensation so much better than you remembered.

Aizawa's hands find your hips to help guide you once you start to move, a heavy moan escaping your lips as his sizable hands gripped your skin. You dared to look back at yourself, out of breath and riding off pure ecstasy and lust. You watched as he grew more greedy, instead of going with your original pace and speeding you up as he sunk himself deeper into your greedy cunt. Because that's exactly what you were. Greedy.

You lean your body more against his as you try to adjust, the sound of his cock hitting up into you growing louder by the second. Skin slapping against skin, with the occasional sound of his hand slapping your ass for good measure. He wasn't discreet in checking you out either, every so often glancing towards the mirror you had in your living room that perfectly gave him a view of you riding his cock like no tomorrow. Or at least he was making you do so.

Your whimpers filled the room as you were starting to get overstimulated by the second. You were mumbling his name and cursing as if you were trying to rid of him, eyes closed in bliss and hands tightly fisting the couch that sat behind him and his sweatshirt. Against your better judgment and his, you didn't even think to question him sucking and biting your neck, leaving evidence with his kisses that he was claiming someone that will never be his. A sharp nip on your skin is what catches your attention, a frustrated groan coming from you once you realize.

“Ngh…” You start to speak but fail miserably. As best as you could lean away from his lips without sacrificing your position didn't work as Aizawa wraps his arms around your waist and effortlessly flips you two over on the couch.

With his cock still in you, he pounds into your wet pussy, mouth once again on yours and swallows your vocal sounds. Your hands are tangled in his black hair as you have completely forgotten about your complaint, legs wrapped around his hips to help lock him in. You try your best to gyrate up against him, head tilting back as you near your first intimate high for the night.

You breathe out his name in the form of his nickname, the sensation of hearing you whisper for him against his ear bringing a guilty shiver down his spine. He even lets out a small groan as you manage to clench unbelievably tight around him as you come undone, the feeling almost unbearable. He dishes out a few more thrusts of his until he's filling the condom he wore. Unlike you though, the kisses you delivered onto his neck had him sobering up fast and quickly coming to terms with tonight's exchange. Aizawa couldn't bring himself to judge you as a person, either.

Knowing he has his own partner waiting at home, oblivious.

[izzydeee-doodles]

Bit the bullet and created an Etsy! Whose gonna be my first sale 😈

[time-to-kill-god]

Item #: SCP-8106

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures:

SCP-8106 is to be contained within a custom-made cell constructed from an anomalous alloy designated as "kronosium." Access to the containment area requires Level 3 authorization or higher.

Description:

SCP-8106 is a humanoid entity with various avian characteristics, including wings, scaly claw-like hands, and feathers. Its body emits a bright, glowing light that makes it difficult to discern details of its physical form. 

SCP-8106 was first encountered by Dr. Jack Bright, who at the time was taunting SCP-682 with a katana and cannabis. SCP-8106 suddenly appeared and forcefully subdued SCP-682, before collapsing from apparent exhaustion.

When awakened by Dr. Bright poking it with the katana, SCP-8106 promptly vanished and was later found in a small hut in Scotland. During interactions with researchers and D-Class personnel, SCP-8106 has displayed a polite, British-accented demeanor, often offering tea before experiencing what has been described as a "glitching out" phenomenon.

This "glitching out" involves SCP-8106 losing its Euclidean form, emitting various colors, and crying. It then proceeds to teleport the affected individual(s) to a location they consider a "safe space." After these incidents, SCP-8106 has apologized and provided instances of SCP-500 or a variant that heals mental issues.

When SCP-8106 was invited to visit the Foundation, it initially appeared confused and content, but upon encountering D-Class personnel, it "glitched out" in a red state, immediately teleporting all D-Class to an unknown location. It then proceeded to harm, but subsequently heal, Foundation personnel who had advocated for less humane treatment of D-Class. 

Attempts to approach the hut in Scotland where SCP-8106 was originally found have resulted in an impenetrable force field surrounding the structure, occasionally delivering electrical shocks to researchers. All photographic and video evidence of the hut has been lost in a mysterious fire.

SCP-8106 has on occasion willingly visited the Foundation, only to attempt to free D-Class personnel and damage the facility, for reasons that remain unclear. During one such visit, SCP-8106 approached the containment unit of SCP-343, resulting in radio signals of a distressed man pleading for mercy. When questioned, SCP-343 cryptically advised the Foundation to "dig down far enough," leading to the discovery of a strange, unidentifiable black substance that caused severe depression and death in those who handled it.

Further testing with the black substance revealed that it does not appear to be composed of molecules or atoms, and its presence seems to be connected to SCP-8106. When researchers attempted to throw the substance at SCP-8106, the entity immediately collapsed and lost consciousness, only to wake up and faint again repeatedly. Upon finally regaining consciousness, SCP-8106 inquired about the "kronosium" used to construct its containment cell, leading to the designation of this material as SCP-8106-1.

Since its containment, SCP-8106 has remained quiet and despondent, staring at the containment cell wall. All D-Class personnel placed within the cell leave in better health, and any attempts to harm SCP-8106 result in the attacker's disappearance.

The anomalous effects surrounding the hut in Scotland have remained active and have been designated as SCP-8106-2.

[potsmart]

What’s the Deal with Kush? The Origin of a Classic Strain

Before we get into the article about what the deal with Kush is, here is an actual deal on Kush, delivered to your door in Canada. Rad.

Everyone knows Kush means quality. There’s a built in expectation that the weed should slap if it bears the classic name. It’s also a well known parent to many classic varietals. Before the names O.G. Kush, Chem Dog, and Cookies became household among growers worldwide, there existed a time when the Kush strain remained relatively obscure. Let’s look into the intriguing history of the Kush strain and its transformation into one of the most renowned medical marijuana varieties globally.

Just like any other modern cannabis seed strain, landraces played a pivotal role in establishing the fundamental genetic foundations of everything we smoke today with the Kush name on it. Numerous countries harbour a diverse array of marijuana landraces, thriving particularly in regions characterized by hot climates and mountainous terrain. In these areas, expansive fields of landrace cannabis plants flourish organically. Owing to the cannabis plant’s inherent robustness, these fields have been subject to countless generations of natural backcrossing over the span of hundreds, if not thousands of years.

Among the most well-known Kush varieties today are Hindu Kush, Master Kush, and Afghan Kush, all originating from these locations as original landraces. Through meticulous backcrossing efforts, breeders sought to unearth the quintessential phenotype for cannabis cultivation. Since its introduction in Amsterdam nearly three decades ago, numerous seed banks now offer a broad spectrum of landraces and hybrids, with many of the original landrace strains still available to enthusiasts.

The Kush cannabis strain found its way to Amsterdam during the late 1970s or early 1980s, carried by intrepid cannabis enthusiasts who ventured through the rugged landscapes of the Himalayas, spanning Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan. They returned with seeds sourced from the Hindu Kush mountain range, nestled between northern Pakistan and Afghanistan. The name “Kush” derives from this region and intriguingly translates to “killer” in ancient Persian.

The aromatic profile, taste, and effects of Kush strains are the key attributes that make them highly sought after both in the context of a coffee shop’s offerings and for growers. The scent of this medical marijuana variety is unmistakable, often likened to the odour of jet fuel and characterized by a pungent, dank, and lemony quality. The potency of the Kush aroma is such that even the tiniest dried bud can fill a room with its distinctive fragrance. When it comes to taste, a well-cultivated Kush strain mirrors its aroma but adds a lingering jet fuel undertone that lingers with every puff, creating a truly unique and memorable experience. Typical of other heavy Indicas, real kush plants stay short with tight internodal spacing, creating dense foliage and buds. The plants finish quickly and produce well, making them a favourite for more modern growers all over the world for decades.

A joint of OG Kush, like I posted above, will transform the surrounding air, saturating it with a dense, rich, and almost viscous quality. A few puffs of this potent strain with its unmistakable jet fuel aroma will promptly initiate a profound shift in your state of mind and body. The initial effects manifest as heavy eyelids and an almost immediate sense of being pleasantly stoned. Energy levels plummet, and motivation wanes, ultimately leading to a state of complete relaxation and tranquility. Notably, the THC content in Kush varieties has consistently been subjected to testing, with results often exceeding the 20% threshold.

Kush strains are renowned for their robust pain-relief properties. Whether smoked or incorporated into edibles, the medicinal impact of Kush is often likened to a nearly narcotic experience. It proves highly effective in addressing a range of conditions, including insomnia, appetite loss, and anxiety. Patients grappling with pain stemming from bone, nerve, or muscle issues also find considerable relief through Kush usage. For those coping with conditions like Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson’s, and a multitude of other illnesses, medicating with Kush and similar indica strains has proven to be indispensable.

Cancer patients, in particular, derive substantial benefits from Kush, often experiencing relief that surpasses the effectiveness of pharmaceutical resources. Many report improved appetite, better sleep, and the restoration of regular bowel function when incorporating this cannabis strain into their treatment plans.

While sativa strains are typically favoured by patients seeking heightened energy levels and motivation, Kush continues to hold appeal for many due to its potent anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving effects. Recognizing this, numerous breeders, including Spliff Seeds, are now focusing on developing Kush hybrids that aim to preserve its distinctive medicinal potency while mitigating its pronounced couch-locking effect. One such example is Spliff Blue Medi Kush, a strain developed in collaboration with medical marijuana users, tailored to serve precisely this purpose.

If you’re looking for a classic you can’t miss with a well grown Kush strain.

By Meso Potamia, Ganja Guy, for Potsmart

[calibudornobudsociety]

Cali Nerdz

Cali Nerdz

Wedding Nerdz Wedding nerdz strain being and influential cannabis hybrid strain with 50% indica and 50% sativa, is a cross between strawberry cough and grape ape with a the percentage of 23.5 % THC This amazing strains is best for patients suffering from anxiety and chronic pain. This strain guarantees immediate relief from pain for the relieve. It’s light real impacts may facilitate a few a throbbing painfulness just as queasiness. The strain may likewise help battle the manifestations of PTSD.This strain develops short and can do well inside, outside or even a nursery. Geeks ought to be given at any rate a month, if not five, to get done with vegetating. The strain blossoms for eight to nine weeks and will deliver a gram for each watt inside. Outside cultivators may have gathers as much as a pound for every plant. Wedding Nerdz is one of the most popular cannabis strains on the market, and for good reason. It's a hybrid strain that's known for its sweet and fruity flavor, as well as its potent effects. In this guide, we'll take a comprehensive look at the Cali Wedding Nerdz, including its origins, genetics, effects, and how to grow it. Wedding Nerdz Origins and Genetics:

Wedding Nerdz is a cross between two popular strains: Gelato and Zkittlez. It was first created by Cookies Fam, a cannabis breeder in California. Runtz weed quickly became popular among cannabis enthusiasts and celebrities alike, and it's now one of the most sought-after strains in the world. Effects Wedding Nerdz is a hybrid strain, so it produces both Indica and sativa effects. The Indica effects are typically felt first, and they include relaxation, euphoria, and a sense of well-being. The sativa effects typically come on later, and they include increased energy, creativity, and focus. Wedding Nerdz is also known for its high THC content, which ranges from 20% to 30%. This makes it a very potent strain, so it's important to start with a low dose if you're new to cannabis. How to Grow Cali Nerdz

Wedding Nerdz is a relatively easy strain to grow, but it does require some special care. The plants need a lot of sunlight and nutrients, and they need to be watered regularly. Cali Runtz weed plants also need to be trimmed regularly to promote airflow and prevent mold growth. Runtz weed plants typically flower in 7 to 8 weeks, and they can be harvested after 9 to 10 weeks. The buds are typically dense and covered in trichomes, which give them a frosty appearance. Conclusion

Wedding Nerdz weed is a popular cannabis strain for a reason. It's a potent strain with a sweet and fruity flavor. If you're looking for a strain that will give you a relaxing and euphoric high, Buying Runtz weed is a great option.

[the-intuitive-divine]

✨ welcome! ✨

i figured i needed a little introductory post, so here we go!

🦋 - my name is theo, i'm 23 years old at the time of writing, and i am a non-binary, bisexual, disabled, and neurodivergent witch!

🫧 - my specialty is divination, specifically using tarot. i was naturally drawn to it and picked it up as if it were second nature. i also dabble in spirit work and you'll frequently find me talking about shadow work as well!

🌙 - i do tarot readings for a small fee! i'm unable to work due to my disabilities, so i charge a few dollars to help support myself. thank you for being understanding of this! i will attach my price menu below in case there is any interest. i plan on expanding my offerings very soon.

🌱 - i am cannabis friendly! i primarily use for medicinal purposes, but love using it in my practice as well, to help relax me and open my mind.

🧿 - i encourage you to check out my featured tags if you want to find my original content (tagged with my blog's name) or things that i just really like/things that have been beneficial to my practice.

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! i hope what i do will resonate with you and be of value to you in your spiritual growth journey. feel free to reach out at any time, for any reason! i would love to chat with you 🫶