#Drug & Alcohol

[lambment]

request: "What do your bishops look like and how does the lamb think of them?"

I haven’t decided (or started) on designs yet. As for my lambs opinion, they process everything through humour, I would say this is their surface level opinion on the bishops. There’s obviously the deeper-seated issues they have w them tho.

[prokopetz]

I feel like folks who are disappointed that trying to escalate physical confrontations in Disco Elysium often results in Harry getting clowned regardless of how many points you put into physical skills are not fully grasping the "you are a middle-aged alcoholic with a heart condition who is currently experiencing the withdrawal symptoms of every drug" dimension of the game's premise.

[bamsara]

Local chaos god gets humbled, creates chaos over it. His aim still needs some work though

I really need to stop drawing Drunken Gods chapter stuff and actually finish the damn chapter lmao

[giggibaloggio]

you can find me here if you need

[awetfrog]

respite

[funstyle]

TUMBLR POLL do you do drugs or have sex or drink alcohol or do cigarettes or anything

yeah ⬜️ 10%

NO!!! ⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ 90%

93837593 votes

[starshapedspider]

happy holidays

[muzgozjeb]

[chronicallycouchbound]

People who use drugs deserve love and kindness.

Abstinence is not the only form of recovery. AA/NA doesn’t work for everyone. Sometimes people choose to use instead of meeting other needs, which is valid. Some people use for recreational purposes. Some people use for medicinal purposes. Some people who use have substance abuse disorder. Treatment looks different for everyone. Not everyone needs or wants treatment, for various reasons. The only thing Naloxone enables is breathing. Active use is not shameful. People who use drugs often also deal drugs. People in recovery should not shame active users. Active users deserve love. Active users deserve someone to check in on them, get them safer use supplies, and get them pizza. Active users deserve to be listened to. They deserve better than to have that be the first time anyone ever treated them as human since they began using.

Let’s care for each other.

[rinhaler]

NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[hal-monitor]

“The Wind Beneath the Aspens”

-5 page pitch created during August of this year

[prokopetz]

I think a lot of the skepticism and derision toward the idea of "gifted kid burnout" stems from the fact that a lot of folks have no idea what the gifted track in most high schools actually looks like; they've got this mental image, possibly informed by popular media depictions, of "gifted kids" as a privileged group of students who get to go on extra field trips, monopolise the teachers' attention in class, and constantly be told how special they are, but who are otherwise treated identically to all the other kids.

In practice, the gifted track in most high schools – most North American high schools, at any rate – has the same problem as any other educational program: the need to adhere to published metrics. These programs exist for the benefit of students only insofar as those benefits can empirically be measured, which leads to several common outcomes:

Students on the gifted track being afforded fewer choices regarding elective classes – often to the extent of having no choices at all – in order to stream the highest-performing students into the subjects that are most valuable in terms of boosting institutional metrics.

Students on the gifted tracking receiving restricted access to educational resources such as tutoring because it's perceived as a waste of funding. In many cases, gifted students are not only denied access to tutoring, but expected to serve as volunteer tutors and teaching assistants themselves, effectively becoming a source of unpaid educational labour for the schools they attend.

Students on the gifted track being assigned considerably more homework, often literally doubling their workload in an environment where homework loads are already routinely high enough that kids have difficulty finding time to eat and sleep, simply because you get more measurable academic performance data that way.

The upshot is that the gifted track is often less about fun perks and constant praise, and more about receiving less freedom, fewer resources, and heavier workloads than one's peers, getting strong-armed into providing unpaid labour to the school on top of it, and constantly being told one should be grateful for it – and that's without touching on the fact that the unspoken secondary purpose of many gifted programs is to serve as a quarantine for all the neurodivergent kids the school couldn't find an excuse to institutionalise or expel.

Like, shit, there's a reason kids on the gifted track exhibit elevated rates of alcoholism and substance abuse compared to general student populations. That doesn't arise in a vacuum!

(To be clear, I'm not saying that people graduating from high school and immediately having an existential crisis upon realising they're not special after all isn't a thing that happens, but in my experience that's more usually something that happens to the kids who were on the football team, and reframing it as a nerd culture thing is really weird.)

[bioethicists]

beer killed my father . he had a disease which destroyed his body and strained his relationships with his wife, his friends, and his children. Alcohol destroys everything it touches, theres a reason you see so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods. don’t be fucking obtuse. Prohibition obviously doesn’t work, but I wish alcohol was taxed higher. And i want the CEO of Heineken on the guillotine right after Jeff Bezos.

before anything, i want to let you know that i am incredibly sorry about your father. alcohol has decimated entire generations of my family, played a crucial role in the neglectful family structure i spent the first 19 years of my life suffering under, + played a minor but not insignificant role in my brother's death. i would never undermine or dismiss that in anyone.

i used to feel very similarly to you, in large part because my mother is a recovering alcoholic who raised me to believe that alcohol is a magic poison which turns people into monsters + i, being her child, probably inherited a disease which would also turn me into a monster if i chose to drink. it's a deeply painful + understandable response to the pain that alcohol can cause.

my first question is, does alcohol really "destroy everything it touches"? are there not millions of people who engage with alcohol, in varying degrees of recreational use, who experience minimal or no negative impacts? or do you believe that everyone who drinks alcohol in any capacity is experiencing severe destruction in their lives as a result? does the existence of people for whom alcohol enriches their lives (or is a neutral presence) at all invalidate your experience, or your father's?

my second question is, you've identified that there are 'so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods' (i would add there is a lot of alcohol in rich neighborhoods, just distributed in less stigmatized ways, like boutique wineries + fancy bars), do you think that companies are strategically attempting to create alcohol dependencies among poor people, or do you think that poverty creates the pain, hopelessness, + desperation which can fuel an alcohol habit (which is then exacerbated by intergenerational trauma + community alcohol culture).

i feel no allegiance to liquor companies- they absolutely do make the bulk of their profits off of people who are drinking in a way that is destroying their lives (unsure if i trust the exact scope of the research in that link but i trust the gist). however, liquor companies love the disease model, because it exempts them from responsibility. if alcoholism is truly a genetic disease, then liquor companies, bars, package stores hold no fault in the development of destructive drinking habits + community norms (natasha Schüll discusses this in her book about gambling addiction)- the people were already sick + would be getting it somewhere else, anyway, right? but as you have correctly identified, liquor companies help create the structures which turn alcohol use into an accessible + normalized mode of self-destruction.

my third question is, will taxing liquor help the real problem? yes, it reduces alcohol consumption, but does it reduce addiction? or does it make cheapskates like me say "i'm not fucking paying for that" while individuals who consume alcohol compulsively either eat the cost or turn to more illicit ways of obtaining alcohol. or, rephrased, is the problem that alcohol is too accessible? is alcohol a magical poison which turns 'normal' people into 'alcoholics'? alternatively, is alcoholism a genetic condition, unrelated to any outside circumstances, which is triggered by drinking?

or: is alcoholism one of many ways in which people who are experiencing hopelessness, pain, grief, poverty, trauma, etc use to numb themselves, harm themselves, + make life feel more bearable? at this point, i do believe there is at least a temperament factor which makes people more likely to use substances over other forms of escape (hence why my brother used substances while i turned to anorexia + do not struggle with substance use). are we actually addressing the problem if we make it more expensive (thus, mind you, further impoverishing people with alcohol addictions!)? or are we shifting the pain these people are experiencing to either other avenues (opioids, other drugs, totally different ways of coping which are often just as destructive) or an unregulated, underground alcohol market.

the way you are viewing alcohol, alcohol is a unique substance which is manufacturing or feeding illness in people in order to make them behave in ways which destroy their lives + the lives of others. the way i am viewing it, alcohol is a presence which can fill a void that is being created in people's lives as a response to structural, communal, or social suffering. when alcohol is painted as the cause of this pain, we are able to look the other way from a which world is structured to cause an immense amount of people to suffer needlessly. at the same time, the common sense observation that many of us engage with alcohol in ways which do not destroy our lives, as well as the knowledge that prohibition does not work, prevents the erasure of alcohol from public or private life.

who benefits from the belief that alcohol is a uniquely corrupting substance? what lessons did we actually learn from prohibition- is trying to do it to a lesser degree (make alcohol less accessible) actually going to do anything? when the price of opioids went up due to dea crackdowns, did people stop buying opioids or did the market flood with cheap + deadly fentanyl? is the problem that people are drinking or that they are suffering?

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 25

part 1 | part 24 | ao3

cw: throwing up, recreational alcohol & drug use

“Well, thank fuck I didn’t wear the Reeboks,” Eddie laughs.

Steve groans 'Jesus,' because he doesn't know what else there is to say to that. Eddie came out of nowhere. Materialized like some kind of freaky wizard. And that would— that would be on brand, wouldn’t it?

Eddie the magician. Eddie the shapeshifter.

Maybe Eddie is Misty? Would explain why she left him all those dead rats when he first—

“Oh, fuck.” His stomach rolls at the thought, a hot-cold-nasty-sick shiver down his spine, and he bends forward to retch again. Hits the grass this time at least, right between Eddie’s boots; groans and spits drool into the dirt. Eddie smooths a hand between his shoulder blades, which is nice, even if everything else about this totally blows.

“Godddd,” he moans when the dry heaving stops. He lifts his head to apologize and nearly tips himself into the mess he just made.

“Whoa, whoa whoa, hey; easy,” Eddie shushes, steadying him with both hands. Warm palms against his biceps; firm grip.

“S’nice.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grins, private and soft. "Alright, arms up."

"Mmh?"

"Up! Come on, sweetheart, up you get." He loops Steve’s arms around his neck, wearing him like a cape. Steve giggles into his fluffy curls, nuzzles his nose into them because they're warm and Eddie smells nice, and time does that weird drunk thing where Steve slow blinks and suddenly they're a hundred yards away.

Edge of the creek, downstream from the falls where the water’s just a thin squiggle cut through smooth, mossy stone. Eddie's got Steve facedown across his lap, gathering up his hair and making a headband with his hands, and he's apologizing in advance for Steve-doesn't-know-what.

"Big breath," Eddie warns him, and then he dips Steve's face in the icy stream like he's battering fried chicken in a goddamn egg wash. Two quick dunks, the cold ripping through Steve's nerves; it's all finger-licking fucked.

"What the hell?!" Steve splutters when Eddie lifts him up, rolls him onto his back and smiles down at him.

"Mornin', sunshine!"

"Jesus Christ!"

Eddie's laughing at him hard. "Sorry, big boy. Had to wake you up somehow."

He brushes Steve's bangs off his face, and Steve pants up at him, wide awake now. Trembling. In the dark, Eddie's eyes look nearly black. Two inkpots full of moonlight.

“'M awake," Steve mumbles to distract himself from the sudden kick-throb behind his ribs. "Sorry I barfed on your shoes."

“Ah, comes with the territory.” Eddie kicks his legs out, rinsing the toes of his boots off in the stream. “Drug dealer, remember? Seen a lot worse than this at parties, sweetheart, I can promise you that."

Steve blinks at him. Still feels syrupy and slow like he's wading through mud. Sweetheart. The word's a fog machine in his mind. Hazy warmth; candy clouds. "If... If you're a drug dealer, then... should've woken me up with drugs."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. Jus' rude not to, really."

Eddie's lips quirk. His eyes are soft, his fingers combing through Steve's hair, and Steve's head is still in his lap, even though it probably shouldn't be. "If you want coke..." he murmurs, his voice a low, fond rumble, "you can just ask for it."

"Yeah?"

"Sure, Stevie."

Steve watches with rapt attention as Eddie reaches into his jacket, pulls out a little baggie and holds it up in question. Steve gulps; nods.

Fuck yeah. He hasn't had coke in forever.

Eddie pours the smallest amount onto the back of one hand, licks the thumb of his other and presses it into the pile, coating it in white powder. He brings it up to Steve's mouth and rests it right against his lip — barest hint of pressure; not hovering, not pushing in. "Well, go on," he smirks.

Steve makes a questioning sound that comes out like a whine, a high, nasal thing in the back of his throat. His cock stirs in his jeans.

"Ask me," Eddie whispers.

"Can I have it?" Steve asks. He can feel Eddie's thumb against his lips as he speaks; has to stop himself from flicking out his tongue to get a taste. "Please?"

"Fuck," Eddie hisses between his teeth. "Yeah, baby." He presses into the meat of Steve's bottom lip; drags it down, exposes skin that's wet and warm. Dances over it with the pad of his thumb — the inside of Steve's lip, his gums, his tongue.

There's no mistaking the sound Steve makes for anything but a moan, throaty and deep as he sucks Eddie's thumb deeper into his mouth; hollows his cheeks, makes Eddie gasp. Makes him twitch his hips up under Steve, and it's good, and Steve feels like there are live wires where his veins used to be, the rush of the coke and Eddie's hands and Eddie's noises in his good ear, and—

"Hey!" someone shouts across the field. Eddie moves like he's been shot at, flinching away from Steve entirely, a hand pressed over his lap as he turns to see who's coming.

Steve lifts his head to look. His mouth is buzzing, lips full and flushed like he's been kissing someone. Kissing Eddie. God, he wants to. Wants to hike him up the falls, shove him hard against a tree.

But he can't. Because Jason Carver's here now.

Great.

—

part 26

gonna do the tag lists in separate reblogs from now on (with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content), comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

[vanillaxoxocore]

Fuck Away The Pain.

Pairing: Adam First man x f!reader

> ⸝⸝﹒WARNINGS ; Explicit Language, cursing, Porn with plot, Porn, rough sex, vaginal fingering, gaping, drunk sex, Adam while high, drinking, dry humping, jealous/aggressive sex, sexual tension, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, use of pet names, implied size kink, language, dirty talk, hair pulling, dom! Adam, overstimulation;

⊹ ⌣ ⌣ ୨୧ ⌣ ⌣ ⊹

໒ Ft. Adam HB ᶻz

౨ৎ ︵︵ I recently had a fight with my romantic interest. It began mildly, but as we both continued to add to it, it escalated into a furious exchange of shouts,

“for fuck’s sakes! Why do you always start shit like this when we’re together?”,

From the other room, you heard him yell at me. Even though i had planned to spend the rest of the evening at my boyfriend's apartment, i decided to pack up my things and go. His remarks were like a knife to the chest, and even though i weren't blinking, i could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks and my vision getting unfocused.

They simply would not go away. My breathing contracted and it hurt, a lump forming in my throat. I completed packing every item that belonged to me. I finished packing all my belongings. My boyfriend cussed me out something that wasn’t heard clear but just rang through my ears.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Opening the door, i turned my upper body and flipped him off before slamming the front door shut.

I felt anxious and uncomfortable on the awkward walk home. I could feel eyes on me even if nobody was out at this late hour. I started to wonder if I was really to blame for the disagreement, if I was the trigger for all of our arguments. I softly sighed and moved toward your house since I was ready for the whole night to be over.

౨ৎ ︵︵ After what seemed like an eternity, I started to up my home's stairs. Shaking, I reached into my purse to retrieve my house key, but my hand trembled and I couldn't fit it into the lock. I swore in exasperation— "isn’t this the fucking light of my night.”, as more tears streamed down my cheeks. I rattled the key entire for the first time, finally managing to steady my hands. Slamming the door open and sending the doorknob crashing into the wall.

I tend to get more frustrated even when I take off my shoes. I grumble and kick off my shoes, sending them flying into the wall. There was a soft thump, as I dropped my purse to the floor and started up the stairs.

I heard a faint noise a few steps up and thought— "Did I leave my TV on? — As I ascended the stairs further, I noticed a golden feather shining from the corner of the wall, which I knew right away. Was that Adam's? Dealing with him at this time was not the right time,

As I walked up to the flat floor, I saw Adam, man spread out on my couch, reclining back on the back cushions and loudly chewing on the hamburger in his hand. With his other arm propped up on the top of the couch, he seemed engrossed in something on the television.

As I made my way over to my coffee table, I noticed several large beverages and bags of fast food. Standing there for a few seconds, and as he noticed me, his eyes widened. He then stopped chewing for a while and began to slowly chew the food that was still in his mouth, swallowing it with a loud gulping sound. Before talking, he uses his robe to clean his mouth,

“Hey, babe! You look fucking rough. Did your boyfriend forget to put it in the right hole this time? — I squint my eyes and point to my front door while he snickers with closed eyes, i state: "Can you get the fuck out, Adam? I'm not in the mood for your nonsense right now — Adam instantly stops laughing at the remarks I made and gives me a round-eyed stare.

"Wowah there, babe," he says with a ear to ear smirk and round eyes — What's twitching your panties?”, He tries to remain composed and says, "You usually don't mind when I drop by like this. — He ends his statement with a brief smirk.

౨ৎ ︵︵ However, Adam was correct—I appear as though I was just mobbed by a bunch of people. My body was shivering, my hair had become tangled and striking out, and my eyes were a deep crimson. I also happened to be sweating. I say, "Adam, I can't deal with you right now," as my voice breaks and cracks and suddenly becomes higher pitched. My throat felt that lump tighten up again.

Adam leaned forward and seemed to get the notion before laughing a little, "Holy fuck! Did you and your boyfriend have another argument, bro? — he gets up from the couch, places his hamburger on the table, and picks up the large beverage that was next to it. He reclines back on the couch with a grin.

My head shook and my eyebrow twitched. "Ex-boyfriend now," I muttered, my voice like an imitating whisper. Adams was slurping his drink when I said this, and as he did, his eyelids loosened. Finishing my sentence, his eyes widened as he choked on the beverage. With a bewildered expression, he asks, "Wait what? Really? "You're not shitting me at all?" he asks, grinning, ear to ear.

Adam squinted one eye while keeping the other wide; the squinted eye's eyebrow furrowed as he cocked the other eyebrow high up. He stares at me with that shit eating expression on his face, i stood there not saying anything.

After becoming extremely anxious, I said, "Who does that fucker think he even is? He's simply looking for ways to put the blame on me, I promise! You know, I'm sure he's hitting on his new coworker buddy. Since she joined, he has been as new as paint! — I walk over to the couch, throwing my arms and complaining to Adam. I settle in while Adam crosses over to the opposite side of the couch.

I was irritated as Adam sat there as well as my leg was bouncing. I bury my face in my palms, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. Adam sat there awkwardly as I started to cry quietly. "Hey babe — he said, but I interrupted him by taking him by the collar and tugging him in close to my face. His eyes widened and his brows raised, his mouth forming a sideways "v" shape as he stared at me and blinked a few times.

"You don't think I started the breakup, do you?" — I question him, staring him squarely in the eyes as tears stream down my cheeks at his feeble shrug.

౨ৎ ︵︵ As he leans back, I release his collar and lean forward, pressing my forehead on his chest. I sat there attempting to calm down. "You know," he hums, giving me an awkward back pat. "I can help you find a distraction," Adam chirps. Adam adds, "Keep your mind off him, ya know?" with a nonchalant expression. I look up at him, my chin resting on his chest, my eyes misty and bewildered. He placed his hand on my thigh and started massaging it.

I curse at him, "Adam, this isn't the time for fucking jokes," as he leans back a bit and whistles, "calm down, sweetie. I'm only trying to comfort you.”

I sigh and lie back on the couch, saying, "Adam, find me another way to comfort." Despite appearing disheartened, Adam persists and says, "Sure thing, babe." He hums and, as the bags of food and drink vanished into the portal, he made of a circle with his index finger. Before I can even sit up, Adam shuts the portal and summons out something that flashes brightly in my sight. I observed stacks of full booze bottles and a gold bong fashioned like a wing. I wondered to myself, "Was this his way to comfort people and himself?" but I kept my mouth shut.

Reaching ahead, he picks up a brand-new bottle of whisky and effortlessly ruptures it open. I was amazed—alcohol in the afterlife? Color me surprised. He reclines backwards as he effortlessly downs the bottle, and then, with a burp, he pulls away from it after a few seconds. He frowns and cocks an eyebrow at me, asking, "What? Grab one. It's okay, babe — he adds, gesturing to the several bottles of alcohol.

With wide eyes, I ask him, "Give me yours," referring to his bottle. He stares at me, then down at the bottle he is holding. He shrugs and hands it to me. I look at it for a moment, then put the bottle excessively close to my lips and take a sip before opening my mouth wider and letting more fluid pass down my throat. The bitter taste makes me jolt a little as the scorching sensation moves down my throat. Adam smirks and laughs at me, saying, "Big chub there, babe!"

He leans back against the couch headboard, he lifts one leg up on the couch cushion as he man spread in front of me. He rests one arm on the top of the couch, lifting up his other hand and summons something that looks like a cigarette, it was golden color. When he sets a flame at the end of it, he takes a long drag before blowing out at me with a smirk, it starts to reek of weed.

My breathing hitches as I breathe in the smoke with a cough, waving my hand in front of my face clearing out the smoke.

I say, "Don't do that, Adam," and he sits up. He holds my chin and raises my head. When I turned to face him, he took another big take and blew at my face once more, shooting golden smoke that clouded my vision.Adam leans in to give me a gentle kiss as the smoke starts to dissipate. My gaze drops to our lips, and my eyes enlarge. Half of his hand rested on my jaw as he moved it from my chin to my cheek. He presses his lips more connected to mine and opens his mouth a little, all the while maintaining eye contact. He touches my lips with the tip of his tongue, and I accept the kiss.

I close my eyes and bend closer to share the kiss, extending my mouth wider to let more of his tongue enter as he slips it in. I put my hand on his thighs and moaned softly as he pulled away from the kiss, our tongues touching with a string of saliva. He gives me a sly smile and brings the end of the joint to his lips once again, inhaling yet holding the smoke inside. He moves in closer for another, starting to kiss me passionately. Our head moving in synch together as our tongues danced against each other, a sluggish sound coming out of our mouths.

as he blows the mouth within my mouth, golden smoke escaping from the corner of my lips — let me suck on your tits.” he says bluntly as he pulls away from the kiss, I shake my head.

“Adam, this feels so wrong. I just ended my relationship not long a— he cuts me off by putting his index finger over my lips, “I’m asking to suck on your tits, not put my dick in you”, not yet at least. “Know the difference, babe.”

౨ৎ ︵︵ Within a few seconds, Adam was able to get me undressed within seconds. It happened so fast but I couldn’t complain. He was amazing at everything, talking me through it, his fingers, his words, his touch. It made me need for him more, becoming more needy for his attention and touch.

He quickly took my boobs in his rough, heated hands. He kissed me, gripped them, and then put his mouth down. He delicately sucked on my nipple after flicking his tongue over it. I hiss and sigh gently when I feel his tiny bite on my breast. I close my eyes and throw back my head, letting out gasps.

He stops and goes to get a bottle of whisky. He starts by putting some on my chest and then begins to suck the juice from my breasts, leaving light hickeys on sections of my skin.

I sulk, putting my arms around Adam's neck and letting him lick my breasts some more. As he repeatedly sucks and pours whisky over my breasts, I gasp and moan in exhaustion as I feel his cock hardening against me. I brought him closer by putting my leg around his hips. He alternated between sucking and squeezing my boobs while I rocked my hips into him.

He hums, "Turn around and sit on my lap again, babe," and I nod as I get up from his lap, turn to face him, and then settle back down. He sets the partially used whisky bottle down next to him. He spreads my legs wide open, holding them high in the air while he exposes my cunt by sliding his hands under my knees. Before he lets go of my legs, my eyes dilate.

"Keep your legs like that," he says to me as he leans in and places his chin on my shoulder. He then starts to caress my thighs before placing a palm over my cunt. His index finger pressing across my clit and grazing my entrance.

He plays with my clit, Adam suddenly digs his fingers into my aching pussy causing me to let out a high pitched groan, begging for his touch for so long, it felt so amazing feeling a part of him inside me. Adam loves how simple it is to make fun of me in that way. How completely masterful he is over my enjoyment with a few simple strokes.

Just by his hands, the most common part of the body, they have the ability to elicit the sweetest groans from me as if they were nothing at all.

"Go ahead, baby, and cum all over my fingers — I'd like to feel you give them a firm and nice squeeze”, He keeps pumping his fingers in and out of me as I rock my hips into them, letting out gasps and groans. Adam had a way of leaving me dumbfounded and unable to speak.

Weakly, I felt a press against my lips as I looked down at the alcohol bottle in front of my mouth. "Drink, sweetheart. — Adam grins and keeps pumping his fingers. My eyes drift back, and I grudgingly open my mouth. Before the liquid started to seep into my mouth, I felt the glass's tip brush against my lips.

౨ৎ ︵︵ As the alcohol kept pouring into my mouth, I started to swallow it. The liquid was filling my mouth to overflowing, and drops started to drip down my chin and cheeks. I kept gulping it down, feeling a scorching sensation in my throat until Adam took the bottle away from me. My vision blurs and my tongue falls out; a thin string of saliva that tastes and smells like alcohol sticks to both my tongue and the top of the bottle.

I let out a few more grunts as waves of intense pleasure raced through my body and veins. I came up on his fingers, arching my upper body and tossing my head back. Drool trickles down my cheek and chin, causing a loud sound to escape my lips.

Adam holds my chin, causing me to turn my head to the side and stare at him. I feel his tongue go down my throat as he plants a long kiss on me, and I try to wrap mine around his as much as I can. He's licking his lower lip and savouring the last of the alcohol. I lower my legs as I feel them starting to cramp, panting heavily I let out a one last heavy pant.

He leans in close to ask, "How are you feeling right now, babe?" with a shit-eating smirk that made me want to punch him. All I could manage to slur was "mng-hfff," with Adams' finger still lodged in my cunt. With my fluids sticking to his fingers as it slowly descends, he removes his fingers from my swollen, used cunt — close enough to an answer”, he laughs.

Adam grabs me by the waist and places my back against the couch's headboard while spreading my legs and standing between them. He raises his robe and he removes everything from underneath, keeping on his boxers. Revealing his enormous bulge that his boxers were concealing. Adam gets closer, his thighs pressing into the backs of my thighs.

His cock sprung out as he pulled down his underwear, causing my eyes to expand and startle out of my intoxication, “fuck he has a dick piercing too? — I thought to myself as I stare at him with doll eyes. He uses the tips of his fingers to grasp his cockhead.

Adam smirked at my reaction, leaning down and grabbing her hand, placing it on his massive cock. "feel how thick it is? — he asked , "i know it looks big, but i promise, it's gonna feel amazing. you're gonna love it.", I nod slowly as I was rubbing around the tip piercing.

He purrs, "Turn around for me, baby," and you fumble to do so, your knees trembling as your body starts to shake. You turned around and pressed your top head against the headboard of the couch, your back to him.

He chimed, his hands wildly parting your ass cheeks to inspect your puckered hole. "Damn, you're hot like that. — ya know, i bet he can't fuck you the way I'm gonna right now." Adam said, smearing some of his spit on your cunt and dabbing some of it onto his cock, He then rubbed it generously on his cockhead, “Adam— i barely whimper out, turning your head over my shoulder, — I’m having second thoughts about this.”

"you're already here. might as well do it, yeah? — he smirks as he leans toward, his chest pressing against my back.

"so," he asked , "are you gonna take my dick or not? — I look forward once more, pausing to relive each moment. My eyebrows furrowed at the thought of my ex-boyfriend as my memories returned to him. I nodded weakly to Adam and leaned my forehead against the couch's headboard.

His shit-eating grin made my stomach turn around, and sank my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself from wriggling. "That's my fucking woman," he rasped. I truly were excited, but it had always been difficult to accept his size. "Damn, then the bastard would definitely be upset, if he found out his ex-girlfriend has changed her mind for me," he cocked up to my tight hole with a smug expression on his face. — You know you've improved your taste?”,

Slowly pushing the head of his cock against her entrance. "relax," he murmured , "just relax and let me in."

pushing it deeper into my tight, stretched hole. I let out a strained moan, his pelvis squashed against mine. As he stretched me even further, reaching places i didn't even know existed or could be felt in.

adam groaned as he felt the tightness around his cock, pushing deeper inside me, his member stretching my puckered cunt hole wider than i thought possible. My walls had to gradually become accustomed to the intrusion as his cock began to split them apart. He let out a grunt, enjoying the sensation of my pussy squeezing his length as each second went by.

He reached down, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer to him, thrusting his hips in a slow and steady rhythm, his hips rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm.

"oh, fuck yes," he groaned out — you're so fucking tight”, i whimpered, arching my back in pleasure and an ounce of pain. Steady rhythm while keeping my eyes closed to concentrate on the sound of his cock sloping into my wetness. Adam picked up the pace even faster, his hips slamming against me in a brutal rhythm. His member slapped against my sensitive spots, sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through my body.

"motherfucker," he groaned , "so fucking tight."

I was flat on your stomach, and he was pressing two big hands into the little hump of my back. "Want me to fuck away the pain, ya?" he asks, his accent lightening at the end of his statement. He copied the movements for the other while my hips naturally rise. Adam simply roughed me up and grabbed the area where my ass met my hips.

“Yes!” I nod, practically choking on my moans. My eyes squeeze shut, feeling the pressure into my stomach building as my body began to heat up. Completely lost in pleasure, my vision becoming blurry.

he pushed deeper than ever before, his entire length filling me completely. His member pulsed violently, shooting hot semen into my womb, filling me up to the brim, my eyes widen as I let out a moan, “H-Oh my fucking god Adam! — My voice was higher than he’d ever heard it.

he pushed deeper than ever before, his entire length filling her completely. His member pulsed violently, shooting hot semen into her womb, filling her up to the brim. He held himself there, savoring the feeling of being completely inside her, until his orgasm subsided.

Adam, whose cock was still pulsing inside me, smiled proudly at my response. He started to slowly and steadily move his hips once more. Adam's thighs struck the back of my thighs till he started to thrust his hips more rapidly. A loud slapping sound reverberated throughout the room, relishing in the noises of my pleasure mingled with anguish.

Each thrust sent another wave of pleasure coursing through her body, and he loved watching her struggle to cope with his immense size. “If you weren’t with that fuckhead, I would’ve fucked you on the first day. You were always so loyal to him like a fucking dog. — he grunts out

As Adam kept hammering into me, the thrusts caused my body to jerk. Adam groaned as he kept pushing into me when he heard a ringtone coming from my pants pockets. I shriek, "Adam, my phone is ringing! — as I feel his hand push down on the back of my head and tangle his fingers in my hair.

"Adam, my phone is ringing — He mocks at what I say and then pushes his cock deep inside of me. I scream and grab the headboard of the couch. “No shit Sherlock. I can hear the fucking ringing — he replies to me with an aggressive tone of voice. I reply back at to him with a loud groan.

"Ignore it," he moans, pushing his hips more deeply. "This feels too fucking good to stop," he complains loudly. I replied with a loud cry, "It's probably my ex-boyfriend," as Adam slowed down, he cursed under his breathe, "How the hell are you sure it's him?"

I said, "Custom ringtone," as drool started to trickle out of my mouth. "Custom ringtone?" he asks sarcastically, "You're full of shit — You're such a fucking sapp," as the phone rang for a what seems like a minute, it stopped ringing as I heard a notification ding.

He moaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Take it all, bitch," he hissed, "take every single inch of me." He tilts his head back again and with his free hand, Adam reaches down to grab my phone from the pockets of my pants. Adam proceeded to unlock my phone's camera. When I hear the recording begin, I try to seize the phone from him, but he presses my head farther into the cushion.

Lost in pleasure and with his hips ramming me even more, I lowered my hand and let out dampened cries. All I could muster was high-pitched whimpers as the air was being knocked out.

I should and could have yelled as he thrust me till there was no more of his dick visible. He struck the same location roughly twice a second with no buildup, but I ran out of energy. Right then, he gave up speed in favour of power. I gave a senseless, sexual groan and came, pushing against him from within feeling him shoot his seed into my again.

His seed erupted out of me, it began to spill out down my thighs and trails down to his cock. With a moan, he thrusts his hips a couple more times to get the high out of his system. He pulls out of me as a thread of sperm connects his tip and spills across his pierced dick to my plump, red, used cunt just as the sound of the video ending. My body twitched and a yellow, shimmering seed was pouring out of my cunt.

> ,, ᎑᎑᎑ tags ; @k1prisunnx @bucketwater69

@censoredhysteria

[fxlsegods]

🎡