𝓒𝐇𝐑𝐈$. ─── luvs jewelry blunts > joints hotboxes in his whip everyday $$$ nardo wick is his spirit animal always blazing in the morning smellin’ like dior sauvage veeze on blast jordan 4s grillz ‘n tooth gems #needthat !
plug!chris who doesn’t have social media. only way for customers to contact him is through telegram.
plug!chris who loves ripping people off right in front of their eyes.
plug!chris who has gotten in trouble with the police too many times to count.
plug!chris who has been making it his mission to befriend at least one police officer to make his life easier.
plug!chris who is both street smart and book smart.
plug!chris who has to stay away from sativa strains because he ends up being horny 24/7.
plug!chris whose first time smoking consisted of smoking out of an apple during his sophomore year of high school and he ended up eating the entire apple.
plug!chris who has insane munchies and will make the most weirdest meals ever.
plug!chris who always has an ‘emergency blunt’ with him.
plug!chris who only sparks up with matt or nate because he trusts them.
plug!chris who will always love his backwoods.
plug!chris who has his girl’s face printed on his lighter.
plug!chris who is either a giggly mess or completely relaxed when high.
plug!chris who tries his very best to not smell like weed near his parents, but when he’s whispering to matt if he smells, there’s never a time where he said no.
plug!chris who always has empty carts on his nightstand.
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nasty, baby do it in the backseat. swear this marijuana keep it cracking.
﹒𖥻、 pairing : plug!chris x poc!fem!reader.
﹒𖥻、 summary : things that come with being plug!chris favorite client.
﹒𖥻、 genre : smut / suggestive — college au ? kinda.
﹒𖥻、authors note : don’t be afraid to request ! < 3
PLUG!CHRIS : who developed an obsession on the pretty client who was always dressed in the cute light pink outfits— always bedazzled with glitter that was always on her plushed thighs.
PLUG!CHRIS : who made it to where she couldn’t smoke with anyone else but him— so she couldn’t get supply from anyone else . . . but him and only him.
PLUG!CHRIS : who would always drive around the city of boston—one hand on the wheel as the other was placed right on her thigh, gripping the flesh every chance he got as the girl in her seat sat with her thighs pressed together to ease the ache between her legs.
PLUG!CHRIS : who loves to blast music once he has you on his lap in the backseat of his car, blunt wrapped around his lips—head thrown back as you rode him, your ass bouncing on top of him and the whiny moans that you were letting out made him want to stay in the moment forever.
﹝ 2:22 AM — BOSTON, MA. ﹞
chris groaned slightly in your ear, head tossed back as a wispy trail of smoke drifted from his lips the blunt hung lazily from his fingers—his free hand using the light blue polaroid that he fished out of your purse to take a picture of you, who was a moaning mess around him.
" chrisss " you whined and squirmed on top of him, walls squeezing down onto him with every bounce.
" cmon on pretty " he mumbled as he found himself pressing the black button on the camera—capturing ur fucked out face, before dropping it on the empty seat next to him, taking another drag from the blunt. " you got it, I know you do. " he whispered while all you could do was whine, tears falling down your pretty face.
the feeling was too much for you, and chris could see that so, gently placing the blunt between ur glossed lips; his rough, warm hands found their was towards your hips and pushing his hips upwards, savoring the sensation of your walls enveloping his entire length.
" look so pretty like this, mama. " which was true, the way he was feeding you deep, long strokes, he couldn’t help but watch the way your face scrunched up from the pressure— and the way you were clinging to his shoulders as his tip hit your sweet spot.
" take it all baby—fuck " he moaned, your pussy clenching around him— without slowing his pace, the boy seemed to drive you over the edge, causing you to cum all over him, coating his dick with your release. " look at that, you made a mess mama. " chris whimpered, eyes low as he looked up at you.
chris raced to your apartment with some pre-rolls and greeted you with a sluggish smile at your door. soon, haze from the burning joint filled your living room as chris’s lips meets yours in a dopey kiss.
the night draws on with messy kisses and lewd moans shared amongst the two; ending with you both pleased with each other’s presence. you lay on his sticky chest while he scrolls on his phone carelessly.
peace and relaxation is all you felt… before a suggestive text from a contact named, “Chelsea🍒” catches your eye on the brunet’s phone. chris is quick to swipe it away as you scoff.
“are you fucking serious christopher?” you yell, sitting up to stare at his irritated expression. though, chris isn’t one to let himself get chewed out without a fight.
"what? it’s not like we’re dating! we’re just fucking!” he defends himself, running his hand through his hair in frustration before throwing his arms out in defense. he slouches against your pillows as the argument gets heated.
so, the night endured in harsh words being rationed until chris was kicked out your apartment. your body felt heavy with betrayal and curled up under your thick blankets in comfort.
you went to sleep alone that night; high and hurt.
a/n : these two are toxic. how ironic, huh? first little blurb! lmk if yall like it or not ;p
𓂃 ‘ . . . AITA for leaving out my edibles resulting in my current situationship [M21] getting baked af for 24 hrs? ‘
꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ not proofread, 18+, f!reader, smut, vulgar language, pet name usage, drug usage, recording, y’all are lowk toxic, sex under the influence, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cheating ??, mdni.
you’re freshly showered. you spent an half hour shaving your whole body and you even used your expensive lotion and oils just to fully enjoy the wonderful night you planned to have.
no chris equals no loud, muffled yelling from his angry customers on the phone, no smelly socks laying around the couch he’s stuck sleeping on, and you finally get to walk into your living room without it being hotboxed.
that caused for a celebration, so you baked brownie edibles! even though you accidentally doubled the recipe for weed butter, you weren’t about to let good product go to waste. especially when the shit chris sold to you was always weak.
just for the hell of it, you’ve already indulged in a brownie and the effects were already starting to hit.
you can smell the remnants of the sweet smelling brownie and the pungent weed wafting throughout your apartment as you walk down the hall and into the living room, but the closer you get, your nose gets infiltrated with the familiar, nauseating scent of cologne. fuck, is chris home already?
you don’t even spare a glance toward the kitchen—you make your way to round the couch and you find yours truly; chris, lazily spread out with his body melted into the soft cushions. his legs are spread out wide, so you get a clear shot of the gigantic bulge protruding over those black jeans he wears religiously—that’s definitely not the point, though.
his arms are hanging over the cushions and he blankly stares right across from him. you momentarily follow his gaze and find it at the corner of your floor. it’s then that you notice the soft smile on his face that seems to not rid and his eyes are so low that he looks like he’s squinting.
okay, this isn’t the first time he’s come home high. don’t freak out.
yet, you still nervously move your gaze over to your kitchen where your brownies were supposed to lay on a plate—but all you find are crumbs.
it takes everything in you to not directly pounce on chris, but he’s high—like really high. there’s about 100 mg of weed in his system and surprisingly, he’s chilling.
you sigh through your nose, rolling your eyes at how calm he looked right now, “chris.”
his head lulls against the couch cushion to look at you and the faint sound of his curious ‘hm?’ echoes through the silent apartment. it’s like his eyes had to manually focus on you; blinking owlishly for a second before his lips bloom into a smile.
he sings your name as his smile grows wider and you catch the way his hips shift around, almost as if he was trying to find relief for the predicament in his pants, “missed you s’much, kid.” chris grumbles in a soft voice.
“don’t play that shit with me, chris. i swear to god . .” you groan, shutting your eyes and rolling them.
chris pouts at your attitude, his face distorting into something more serious like he was sobering up, “fuck did i do, now? cops here?” and then he’s sitting up—not without a fight with his sluggish body—and starts whipping his head toward the front door.
“you fuckin’ fatass. no one’s here.”
“yo, don’t call me a fa-“
“i am gonna call you a fatass because you ate all my brownies!”
he stares up at you in bewilderment, eyes wide and mouth agape, “wha-what brownies? are you the fuckin’ pillsbury doughboy now—since when does your ass even bake?!”
you smooth your hands over your face as an attempt to calm yourself down, “chris,” you start, “do you even know how you’re high right now?”
he hums as he thinks about it, lips pursing and eyes squinting before he smiles at you, “i smoked a joint with matt—shit was crazy, i almost ate everything in his damn fridge, like, right after.” he giggles to himself.
“. . holy shit, you’re literally the definition of gluttony.”
“shut the fuck up. it was just the munchies—“
“you have, like, more than a hundred milligrams of weed in you, chris.” you try to reason with him—calmly—but he has that dumb look on his face and it makes your anger spike a bit.
he frowns, “fuck are you even talking ‘bout?”
“those brownies were edibles, dumbass.”
chris takes a moment to really sink that in. he’s got enough weed in him to get an elephant high, and the sight of you mad at him with your skin glowing from that lotion he loves to smell on you is making him rock hard—but there’s also anger boiling in his blood.
“andddddd, you decided to not fuckin’ tell me? those brownies were jus’ sitting on a plate and you expected me to, what?—not take a fuckin’ bite?”
you can’t believe him right now, “are you fo—you’re blaming me?”
“yeah, ‘cause it’s your fuckin’ fault, dickhead. i feel like a elephant is layin’ on my lap, can’t even move.” chris huffs dramatically.
to be fair, you only cut slack on chris just a bit because you knew he was going to high for a long time, and it’d come in waves since they were edibles—but jesus, there was no way he downed all those brownies within your shower period . .
even though your high was beyond ruined, the sight of chris’ lap looked so inviting. his legs are still spread apart, and the boner poking out of his pants hasn’t gone down.
“y’er a slut, y’know that? holy fuck—“
yeah, you just got caught red handed.
you sputter, eyes finally peeling off from in between his legs to stare up at chris in bewilderment, “me? a slut? bitch, for all i know, you’re probably going out to fuck your hoes ‘cause i won’t let you fuck me.”
“fuck off, weirdo,” he sneers, “and my, uhm . . i dropped all of ‘em.”
“boy, you know they all left your ass ‘cause they didn’t wanna fuck with a felon.”
that left chris silenced, face turning stern as he sighs exasperatedly and slumps further into the couch. his eyes drew closed while his head fell onto the soft cushions. for a second, you’d grown worried—but chris can fend for himself. you’ve ought to kick him out if he doesn’t start paying rent anytime soon, anyways.
“are you gonna be fine out here? want some . . water?”
he rolls his eyes, “nah, ‘m gonna jerk off out here for a lil’ bit,” he turns to you and grins innocently, “watch or not, i don’t give a fuck.”
you swore to chris—and yourself that you were not going to give in to him again. he’s gotten you into so much trouble, with cops and paying customers, and you can’t let him know you forgive him. so all you do is nod and walk off to your room.
that doesn’t mean you can’t think about him.
chris looked real fucking good, too. he had finally got rid of that one disgusting cap he keeps wearing on his head to showcase his hair that you liked to tug on when his head was shoved in between your thighs, and he wore that one hoodie you remember wiping his cum off your thigh with. it’s honestly a little gross, but you’re so deprived off of chris that you think it’s hot.
resting your head onto your pillow, you decide to scroll through your phone and giggle at random videos. that was always your favorite way pass time your high. though, when you start scrolling on instagram for a quick second, you get a text from chris. he’s so needy—you think, yet you open it.
it’s a video recorded for two minutes, and he put invisible ink over the attachment.
you tap on it until the virtual particles disappear, and you’re left with the image of chris’ smiley face, the dim kitchen light illuminating over his face. you know he’s just made the video from how his eyes are even lower than they were from when you last saw him, and he’s got that little cut on his lip from when one of his customers finally had enough of him scamming him in plain sight.
it’s suspicious, but you still click on the video.
the video starts off with, of course, chris smiling innocently, but then the camera pans around to showcase his lap. the more you stare, you come to find that you could see the clear outline of his dick. fuck, you always forget how big he is.
“fuckin’ piss me off,” he grumbles low enough just for you to hear as his large hand comes in view, cupping his bulge and hissing sharply, “i feel s’fuckin’ helpless ‘cause i can’t fuck you. ‘s all your fault.” he slurs.
your thighs immediately tighten as chris shamelessly babbles to you, slick dampening your panties from his whiny voice. all you can hear are the slow, staggered breathing and the deafening sound of a belt unbuckling. you watch as the camera shakes a bit and goes out of focus before it pans back to his cock in his hand. of course he went fucking commando.
“fuck,” chris gasps as he starts stroking himself in slow, languid motions. the pre cum that leaks from his swollen tip and down to the base had helped to create a low squelching sound each pump of his fist he takes, which only made you wetter. a few seconds go by of him fucking his fist and groaning your name while bad mouthing you at the same time before the suddenly video ends, leaving you on a cliffhanger.
ugh—no fair, you wanted to see him cum!
you’re left with your lips parted in both shock and arousal, and your panties soaked through. man, fuck this. you’re horny and still very high, and you really want some dick. jumping off the bed, you beeline toward your door in a furious stupor and fling it open. and surprisingly, you find that chris stands on the other side, cheeks red and lips pouty as he stares down at you.
“. . .chris?”
and then he’s kissing you, both hands digging into your waist as he quietly simpers into your mouth. chris pushes his body closer to yours until he’s guiding you backwards and the back of your knees hit the bed, and you can feel the large bulge tucked beneath his jeans digging into your bare thigh.
“mph—c-chri-“ you squeal against his swollen lips, a hand flying up to grip his bicep.
“shut the fuck up.” chris grumbles back before he attacks your lips with his once again. he uses his body weight and the sluggishness of his bones as an advantage to push you down onto the bed, sloppily maneuvering you to have your head resting on the plethora of pillows and plushies he had won you in one of those rigged carnival games one time—a time where he wasn’t acting like a bum and hiding from the feds in your apartment.
he’s kissing you so hard you think he’s making bruises on your lips. and you also think he couldn’t get more animalistic, but the way one of his hands hurriedly travel south to sneak its way under your tank top to cup your bare tit tells you otherwise. his thumbs grazes over your nipple and he smirks against your lips when you whine lowly.
you almost give up entirely like you intended to, but the stubbornness in you is telling you the exact opposite. your legs come up to wrap themselves around chris’ waist, the material of his hoodie riding up and exposing his back. with the amount of strength you muster up with the boy practically making you jelly, you managed to maneuver him into your position. he stares at you in slight bewilderment as you straddle him, pulling your lips off of his by pushing on his chest.
“the fuck you think y’er doin’, huh?” chris voice is staggered and quite slurred. low and red tinted eyes bore into you as you pant, licking the shared saliva off your lips as you look back at him with similar jaded eyes.
you huff with a whine, “you’re not gonna win, chris.” your voice betrays on you, suddenly coming out lower than you intended to and more meek.
he sighs rather loudly while his eyes flicker to your soft, plush thighs caging his waist in, “‘s all good. i’ll let you win,” he smirks a bit as his hands come up to grip onto the fat of your thighs, vision trailing up to you in a languid pace, “just make me cum, a’ight?”
and honestly, you’re in too deep. your panties are beyond soaked, the rough denim of chris’ jeans feels too good on your bare skin, and the thc intoxicating your mind is making you incredibly needy for the boy before you.
so, you nod, leaning down until your breasts squish against his chest and connecting your lips to his. chris heavily sighs into your mouth while one hand reaches down to grab fat globes of your ass cheek, the other coming up to pinch your chin so he could slip his tongue into your mouth.
sneakily, the hand that was on your ass begins to hook around the drenched cotton of your panties, pulling them to the side so he could feel how wet he made you.
your breath staggers heavily while chris begins to get two heavy fingers sticky with your slick, rubbing them up and down your puffy folds in a slow pace. and he doesn’t let you pull away from his lips, not even when he starts massaging your clit enough to make you whimper against him.
chris oh so desperately wishes he could get a 4k shot of your sweet pussy he’s been missing, but having you flush against him with your saccharine scent invading his nostrils made up for it. and the fact that you were even letting him touch you—it was his lucky day.
your pussy feels extra sensitive now that you’re all high and lax, but also you have chris touching you. you can feel how your hole constantly leaks and he couldn’t be more eager to spread it around your sticky clit and flick his wrist faster.
all you can do is wither helplessly and moan into his mouth. you hate how good he is with his fingers, especially when you reluctantly have to pull away from his plump lips to let some air back into your lungs. your two hands plant to the bed on either side of chris’ head to stabilize yourself and you catch him just staring up at you.
“what?” you breathe out with a whine.
he slowly smirks, “jus’ missed you.” and then he’s lining two fingers up to your hole, his lips blooming into a full smile as he watches you gasp and squeal. chris’ patience completely runs thin when his slender fingers bottom out, and all he can feel is your slick coating them.
so, all he does is roll you over onto your back, despite you frantically clinging onto him like you were going to fall on your ass, and continues to massage your gummy walls.
all it takes is one glance down at your wet cunt, all glossy and pretty around his digits just as he remembers, to lose all his composure. chris grunts loudly while his fingers begrudgingly slides out of your tight hole, glancing up to find you already pouting up at him.
“gotta fuck this pussy, baby. don’t give a fuck what you say.” he says, in a hurry to stick his shiny fingers in his mouth.
if you weren’t just as needy to have him dick you down until you couldn’t remember the alphabet, you would’ve laughed in his damn face at his sheer desperation when he manhandles you onto your hands and knees, ass perked up high. you barely hear the comical rip! of your panties as chris tears the flimsy cotton off your body and throws it over his shoulder.
in a daze, you glance over your shoulder to watch in utter amazement as chris sits up on his knees to grip onto the hem of his hoodie and hold it in place with his teeth and reach down to unzip his jeans. he pulls the denim off his waist just enough for his leaking cock to spring out, hitting his belly button and creating a wet plap! sound.
chris hisses under his breath as he wraps the hand that was plowing into your pussy around his sensitive cock. he uses his free hand to harshly grip onto the fat of your ass so he could place his length right onto your puffy cunt, hissing sharply when he starts tapping his pink tip across your hole and your nub.
“chrisss,” you huff meekly, staring up at him with furrowed brows, glossy red eyes, and a pout, “put it in.”
he hums as he mumbles over the thick cotton, “got you beggin’ now, huh?” he damn near chuckles when your face contorts into sudden offense, beginning to raise yourself on your elbows to create an argument before you feel his thick tip prodding at your entrance.
it’s then that you melt back onto the bed, whimpering openmouthedly as you shove your face into your pillow. you don’t know what to focus on—chris’ cock splitting you open, his large hands splayed all across your body—either way, you do know that you want him to fuck you.
you lift your head off the cushiony pillow to whine nasally just as your gummy walls begin to tightly hug his tip. just as chris always does, he enters you painfully slow, so that you could feel every inch of him stretching you out. it always makes your eyes water and your hips buck back into his, just plain inpatient that he’s taking his sweet ol’ time with you.
“missed this pussy.” chris whines to himself as he bottoms out, eyes trained down on your wet cunt swallowing up every inch of his cock. your mouth just hangs open; you’ve grown to forget how much he’s packing that feeling him prodding your cervix makes you absolutely dumb.
he doesn’t give you any time to even breathe before he’s retracting his hips back and thrusting forward with a guttural grunt, blue eyes trailing down to your arched figure when he hears you mumble something.
a sinister smirk curls on chris’ lips as he opts to hold onto his hoodie, so he could lean down until his clad chest was flush to your back. a wide hand snaking over your throat to squeeze at your pulse point, and it makes you turn your head to look back at him.
“you say somethin’?”
your pussy flutters when chris’ cock repeatedly hits your g-spot, making you choke on whatever you planned to have said.
“c’mon, use ‘em words.”
you can’t help but whine pathetically at the pet name, “i-it’s too much.”
chris can’t help but rise back up, mounting a hand on your waist before pulling out. and you can’t even protest—just waiting for his next move patiently. he rubs his slippery tip against your glistening folds with a hiss, “it’s too much?” he asks.
a small ‘mhm’ exits through your lips as you unconsciously rock your hips. the emptiness of your cunt doesn’t last long when he decides to nudge his cock back into you, sliding in even slower than before just so he could relish in your pretty moans.
“yeah, i really don’t give a fuck.” chris deadpans low enough just for you to hear. he doesn’t care about how your hand reaches to grip onto his wrist as you gasp, instead he just starts plowing into you—no mercy given.
you always felt bad for your downstairs neighbors whenever you and chris fucked, but this time you have to bake some cookies or something.
a satisfied grin grows on his face when he catches the way you fuck yourself back into him, ass clapping against his pelvis. damn, he missed that.
chris has felt like a wild animal ever since he started crashing at your place. when he showed up at your door, the last thing he expected was to be held off of sex from you. one day when he was just looking at himself through the bathroom mirror, his right bicep was far more toned than his left.
and he’s guilty for that—it’s just that a man has his needs! whenever you’re out, he’d sneak into your room to grab ahold of one your perfumes and bring it up to his nose while he stroked himself off, all while laying in your bed with your scent hugging him.
so, to finally be inside of you after so long, chris tries to hold off . . to savor this moment, but your pussy betrays him. you’re so wet, and you’re already clenching around him while squealing his name.
he lets out breathy chuckles while he continues to pump himself in you, eyes locked down on the creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, “you gonna cum? already?”
“shut the fuck up.” you huff with a whine. yet, he’s right. your entire body feels like a cloud, and your mind is fuzzy. all you think of is chris and that fucking pipe on him. your stomach clenches as you feel your orgasm approaching full speed, and neither you or chris get any warning before you cum . . . hard.
your pussy tightens and pulses around his dick as it gets coated with your cum. it doesn’t take much long for him to follow up behind you, whimpering under his breath as he forfeits the hold on his hoodie to grip onto the fat of your ass cheeks, thrusting into you deeper.
“shiiiit, gonna fuckin’ cum.” he grunts to himself. chris’ vision turns white as his stomach caves in, full on moaning out loud while he fills your cunt up with his cum.
you stay pliant in his hold while you both take a few seconds to come up from your high, fingertips digging into your hips as he slowly pulls out. his lips are parted in awe as his cum starts dripping out your hole.
chris leans forward, his arm sliding under the space of your arched body to scoop you up with his bicep curled around your neck. it’s an uncomfortable position with you on your knees and your back completely flush against his chest, but a kiss planted on your cheek makes up for it.
“you ‘aight?” chris mumbles against your ear, a large palm splayed just under your chest.
you paw at the bicep wrapped around your neck, “missed you.” is all you say, sparing a glance at the boy when suddenly he attacks you with a searing kiss. this is what you missed, and you wish it could be like that forever.
chris ordered you food as aftercare and he even opted to stay in bed with you. you had changed your clothes, freshened up—even took another shower, but somehow he was still wearing that fuckass hoodie.
you glance up at him, studying his side profile before you speak up, “why do you still have that hoodie on, chris?”
he pauses, his adams apple bobbing as he momentarily licks his lips, “jus’ cold.”
but you know better than that, and besides, chris is the worst liar ever. your brows raise as you lift yourself off the bed, a pretend smirk on your lips while you swing a leg across his waist, straddling him. you snatch his phone from his hands, fingers toying with the hem of his hoodie.
“round two?” you don’t really wait for an answer, you just lean down to lock your lips against his as a distraction before you hurriedly tug the material off. just when you pull away to remove the hoodie from his head, that’s when you spot the splotchy and fresh hickeys scattered all the way from his collarbones and down to his ribs.
chris follows your gaze and gulps. oh, he’s in deep shit.
