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crippleprophet · 7 months

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rules of engagement before we begin: do not seek the original post out to interact with it negatively or harass op in any way. if i find out about anybody doing that sort of shit i’ll block them so quick it’ll be the fastest i’ve moved all year. ok thx here we go

[image description: three screenshots of a post with the username blacked out. the introductory & closing paragraphs are as follows, & the bullet points will be listed within the body of this post. the introduction reads:

nobody warns you this but addiction happens without you noticing and one of the first things that it attacks is your ability to care. if you find yourself using recreational drugs every day, stop and take one day a week sober. if you struggle with this or if you don't see the point of the exercise, you are likely already addicted and you need help.

nobody ever taught me the warning signs for drug addiction, only that "it costs lots of money and destroys your life!!!1" which is not helpful if you can't recognize a developing addiction in yourself. so here's some things to watch out for with recreational drug use.

the conclusion reads: yes this applies to weed. weed is a drug and you can get addicted to it like any other substance. addiction is not the same as physical dependence; it is psychological and it can happen to anyone. you are not immune to addiction. end image description.]

now! fundamentally why i will never align with this kind of perspective is that i affirm addiction as a social construct, like all so-called mental illnesses, & the psychiatric institution which invents & reifies them as a fucking sham.

answer quickly:

what substances is it possible for one to become addicted to? does this include caffeine? why or why not?

is the claim of sugar addiction legitimate or anti-fat pseudoscience? what, if anything, differentiates this from other addiction science?

what is the harm of the so-called opioid epidemic: access to a safe supply of narcotics, or the lack thereof?

can an autistic person who eats the same dinner every night, for example, be said to be “psychologically addicted” to it if they have a meltdown & subsequent ongoing distress + disinterest in food when it is discontinued?

can you be addicted to psychiatric medication? immunosuppressants? why or why not?

my point is less that these behaviors are not indicative of addiction but rather that that wouldn’t inherently make them harmful. fuck it, let’s take it point by point!

planning your day around drugs e.g "i'll give myself an extra half hour before heading out so i can get high first"

this whole post had me asking “literally what is the problem with this,” starting with this first bullet! why does someone need to leave for the grocery store at 5:30 instead of 6, or whatever? and the other recurring theme: what happens if you replace “drugs” with “pain management”? (chronic pain is not the only valid reason to get high—all reasons for drug use are equally value-neutral—but it certainly still is one.) “i’ll give myself an extra half hour before heading out for my pain management to start working” is the kind of calculation familiar to most people with chronic pain. “stop and take one day a week without pain management” is not a test of whether you “need help,” it’s torture.

now, disregarding one’s priorities or commitments to other people in favor of drugs can happen, & in many circumstances it’s harmful to the other people impacted. that’s not what was said here, & stopping that behavior does not require getting sober.

rapidly switching emotions around drugs. you love them but you hate that you love them so much. you hate the way you feel on them but you hate being sober. feeling guilty after using even when you didn't give a crap beforehand.

do you know what else i love but hate that i love, what else i hate using? my fucking bed. three years ago, my mobility scooter. this is not a logical argument, this is a bullshit argument. my feelings about something do not inherently reflect its harm to others – or to myself, even, though i firmly argue for the right to make “self-harmful” decisions regardless.

you know what people hate being on but hate worse being off? the vast fucking majority of medications.

why might a drug user start to feel guilty when they previously didn’t? being shamed by friends, family, or a fucking tumblr post; surpassing a constructed threshold of “acceptable” use they didn’t know they’d internalized; experiencing new or greater access issues; beginning to probe their morality around drugs & unpack things they were taught; experiencing consequences of criminalization; getting triggered.

caring less about spending money. if you are budgeting for drugs like they are food, you are likely prioritizing them more than is healthy.

“if you are budgeting for pain management like it’s as important as food, you are likely prioritizing it more than is healthy.” health is absolutely useless as a value for me anyway, but: the food’s no good if i’m too nauseous or too dead to eat it.

prioritizing drugs over other people’s financial needs is harmful! this wouldn’t happen if food & drugs were provided to people; some people wouldn’t need as many drugs if their needs were met otherwise; people’s needs being met shouldn’t be dependent on their parent / partner / self not using drugs; this harm is not what the bullet says.

getting high to do household chores and other unpleasant things because it would suck less and be more bearable on drugs

“things should suck. because god wills it i said so.”

feeling anxious or restless while sober, not knowing what to do with oneself, feeling lost or ungrounded.

again just. what’s the problem with that. so what if being sober sucks or is boring or stressful or demanding. so what if someone decides to deal with that sober or decides to use more because of that. who gives a shit.

thinking about doing drugs constantly even while sober. maybe it's the first thing you think of when you wake up. maybe when you're bored or otherwise have free time, drugs are one of the first things you can think of to occupy yourself with.

“thinking about getting better pain management constantly when you’re in pain”

i feel like you’re gonna tell me the only thing that can really take my pain away is jesus

again like. what is the problem with doing drugs because you’re bored. why do i need to occupy myself, what, fucking productively?

going to work or school while under the influence, especially if it happens regularly and if you're seeing your performance suffer as a result.

what’s wrong with going to school high. derailing a class discussion is a dick move, maybe, but that’s not inherent to being high. work & performance are both very broad terms – a surgeon or someone operating heavy machinery not being sober is putting others at risk of harm in a way a cashier is not.

the idea of taking a 'tolerance break' sounds good to you until it's actually break time, at which point you can come up with 20 very reasonable sounding points to explain why it wouldn't benefit you actually and you should just keep doing drugs regardless.

y’all think this is incredibly circular logic too right? “drugs are bad, so telling yourself drugs are not bad is proof that they’re bad.” took me right back to the sunday school classroom and i wish i was fucking exaggerating. it’s an argument founded upon the inherent wrongness of trusting yourself – what you want to do must be wrong because you want it. this is one of the points that’s a more solid indicator of, like, “congrats! you’re now in circumstances doctors are salivating to psychiatrize as XYZ Use Disorder,” but that doesn’t make it any less nonsense as a moral argument.

even if you succeed at quitting the drug, you keep your dealer's number on your phone "just in case"

so what. what’s wrong with giving yourself the continual autonomy to choose whether or not to do drugs. what’s wrong with quitting drugs for a while and starting using again.

you pretend to be sober when you aren't. you worry about other people noticing how much time you spend high. you make efforts to hide your drug use or minimize how much other people think you're using. you're scared of other people's judgement if they were to find out.

this one might be the most ludicrous to me, which is really saying something. “if other people being bigoted towards drug users makes you pretend to use less than you do, that’s your fault & not theirs.” cool! thanks for the quick heads up to not believe a word you say!

you have mood swings laced with self-hatred, regret, financial worries, and guilt. these mood swings are then very quickly wiped away by feelings of "but it doesn't matter, i can do what i want, and clearly i'm doing just fine while using drugs frequently". news flash, if you are rapidly switching between feeling numb-ok and hating yourself more than anything because of your drug use, you are mentally ill.

again, “the norm knows you better than you know yourself, you can’t listen to yourself, the body is wrong, wanting is wrong, pleasure is wrong, you are wrong wrong wrong.” but god, what a beautiful example of how oppression is psychiatrized: it’s not enough for the oppression to have worked, the system must then convince us that the effects of it working are our own fault. it’s not enough to just kill us with us fully aware of the knife, it’s gotta convince us we’re bleeding out for no reason. if you want any moments of pleasure during your miserable godforsaken little life you’d better put your nose back on the goddamn grindstone and repent. everything around you for your entire life has told you to hate yourself for your drug use but if the combined force of that violence works you are mentally ill, and that is the worst crime of all.

according to this post, when is it okay to use drugs, then? well, not planned into your day, and not at work or school, but not when you’re bored or have been thinking about it too much, and not if anyone who’d judge you or you don’t trust knowing you’re high or you just don’t want knowing is around, and not if you don’t want to quit, but also not if you’ve quit already. you have to hate your drug use otherwise that’s proof it’s attacked your ability to care but hating your drug use is proof you should stop. #JustSayNo

#& yes i wrote this stoned #substance use #drug use #addiction #drugs #long post #stigma #mac.txt

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megamindsecretlair · 27 days

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When the Rain Starts

Pairing: Big Stunna x Demi!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Fluff with some smut, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) fingering (female receiving) size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, drug (weed) use. Demi reader. Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in which a person feels sexually attracted to someone only after they've developed a close emotional bond with them.

Summary: Spending a rainy afternoon with Stunna, you enjoy each other's bodies.

Word Count: 3,693k

A/N: Self-indulgent as fuck! Exposing myself a bit, but that's alright. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

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“You sure you good?”

Stunna laid on top of you, putting his full weight down and you never felt better. You nodded and sighed, loving the feel of him. You sort of wished he was heavier. You loved that you could barely breathe around him and you adjusted your legs around his waist.

You were both naked, spending most of the rainy afternoon vibing. Soft, lofi music played in the background enough to feel like you were in a private bubble without getting distracted by the lyrics. A coffee scented candle was burning and it filled up your room with its intoxicating aroma.

Stunna smiled at you. “You really don’t mind me laying on you like this?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It feels so good,” you said and giggled. Stunna shook his head and peppered you with kisses, lingering on your lips for half a beat before pulling away.

“I ain’t understand it, but as long as you’re happy,” he said. He leaned down further and a gasp escaped you, quickly followed by a sigh as your eyes went dream-like. His image went blurry around the edges and you smiled.

“You’re so pretty when your ass is high,” he said and laughed.

“You’re pretty when you’re high,” you said and stuck your tongue out.

Stunna pretended like he wanted to capture your tongue with his mouth. You leaned away. His big hands came up to your sides, tickling you. You squirmed and moved, trying to get away but he was on top of you and you had nowhere to go. You laughed, unable to help yourself.

“Stop! No tickle!” Your voice went lower, softer, and you pouted at him in between your giggles. He stopped tickling you and kissed your neck.

“Okay, fine, no tickle. Kiss?”

“All the kisses,” you said with a nod.

He leaned down, prepared to give you a kiss. He started up his tickles again and you squealed and screamed. It was such an unnerving experience, but you didn’t mind when Stunna did it. It was just his playful way with you.

He laughed as you tried to hold him down and tickle him back. He shifted his hips, rubbing his dick against you and you sighed. You were sopping wet and had been for a number of hours. You stopped keeping count some time ago.

That was the point. To finally get out of your head long enough to enjoy his body. Not just race to the finish line.

Stunna returned to your lazy kisses, lips capturing your bottom lip in between his. He held on, sucking on it before pulling away, kissing you, and doing it again. Your hands rubbed his smooth strong shoulders, holding him as close to you as you could. You wished you could live inside his body. To tuck yourself inside and never leave.

“Come back, baby,” he said against your lips.

You giggled. “I can’t help it, my mind keeps wandering,” you said.

“That’s okay. That’s why I’m here. You feeling good?” He asked.

You nodded. “So, so good. Needy too,” you said. You smiled at him and his mouth curved into that slow, sexy half smirk of his.

“Is that right?” He asked.

You nodded again, running your hands up and down his arms. Across his back. It was insane how well he took care of his body. He ate right, drank plenty of water, and exercised like a maniac. And you got to enjoy the results each and every single day. It still amazed you. Out of all the stars in the galaxy, you ended up under the same ones as him.

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said. He leaned over to the side, moving his weight off of you. You could breathe better, but you’d rather suffocate than have him move an inch. He pulled you into a kiss while his hand snaked down your body.

His fingers ran between your breasts, down your tummy, cupping your mound and you shifted. “Shh, shh,” he said. “You ain’t gotta do a thing,” he said.

You continued to kiss him, getting lost in just that sensation alone while he dipped a finger between your folds. He groaned against your lips, finding you incredibly wet.

The music flipped to a quieter song and you could hear the rain pounding against the window. You opened your eyes and found Stunna looking at you. “So fuckin’ wet and beautiful,” he said.

It felt like your heart grew three sizes too big. It thundered against your ribcage, beating like it wanted to take flight and hug him. Hug him and never let go.

He pushed his fingers inside and you moaned, opening your legs wider. “There you go, that’s all you gotta do. Just relax and listen to me,” he said.

He talked to you in between kissing you. You didn’t know what to pay attention to. The song. The candle. The rain. His fingers. All of it was fighting for attention in your head. You decided to focus on his fingers, the way they pushed in and out slowly. The way he’d wiggle his fingers a little while inside.

You held onto his arm, thighs shaking, gasps leaving you in short bursts. You felt the approaching orgasm. The way your pussy would clench and stomach would flip. Like you were about to go over a tall drop on a rollercoaster. You could see and feel it coming, but nothing ever prepared you for going over. The weed made everything more sensitive and you took a deep breath. You didn’t cum though. As soon as you called attention to it, it seemed to scurry away.

You sighed and shook your head. Stunna kissed your forehead. “That’s okay. That doesn’t have to be the goal. Focus on feeling good,” he said.

How could you? You felt like you waited so damn long to have sex and now your vagina was broken or something. It wasn’t a use it or lose it type of situation, but it felt like it. You stupidly thought that sex would be like how it was on TV. That all it took was some passionate lovemaking and then boom, stars would explode behind your eyes. It was nothing like how you read either. How guys knew exactly what to do and you’d cum on the spot, speaking in tongues, and promising your first born to him.

You’d been dating Stunna for quite a while, almost a year, and while you had sex, you’d never had an orgasm. You planned to leave, knowing it was awkward as hell. You didn’t want to subject him to a life trying to satisfy his partner. He wouldn’t let you though.

He did all the right things. Ate you out, fingered you, had sex. And nothing. Nada. Zip.

“Come on back, baby,” Stunna said, kissing you and pulling you from your thoughts. You smiled. You absolutely loved this man. He was kind, sweet, and kept you laughing. He loved feeding you his latest experiments. He got so cute and flustered while he watched as you tried his latest dish.

He had pulled out his fingers while your mind went on a little trip. “There’s no expectations here. Just you and me.”

You nodded. “It’s not that. It feels so good and I get so close. But nothing!”

“You have to let it come. I know it’s scary,” he said.

“It’s not scary. I just, I have to brace for it,” you said. You didn’t know if you were making any sense. You weren’t afraid to have an orgasm, you were just…nervous? Of your reaction maybe? Or how you’d look? It was hard to let go completely. Your entire life, you had to plot, plan, and be wary of everything. You never knew where the next blow would come from and you liked being prepared.

There was nothing wrong with that. But how did you prepare for an orgasm? Something you’d never experienced and was pretty sure it was the lost city of Atlantis by this point. You were never going to find it.

“You can’t brace for it either. It’s gon’ come when you good and ready,” he said.

“I’m ready now!” You said.

He chuckled and you smiled. Not many men would be this patient with you. Now your sexcapades had shifted from desperate clutches in the dark to Stunna making sure you were as comfortable as possible. He took the time to slow down and get you so worked up you couldn’t see straight.

Like now. You were horny as hell. You had spent the entire afternoon getting comfortable and listening to the sound of his voice. Which should be bottled up and sold as the cure for everybody’s ailments. You could listen to him read the dictionary and you’d stay up all night just to listen. But you still hadn’t been able to get off.

Stunna kissed down your body, pulling you back to reality. He took his time, getting your mind away from your deep thoughts. You played with his mini afro, rubbing his head and neck as he kissed down your body.

Your stomach flipped. You wanted him so badly, you would chew through cardboard to get him to dick you down. A thought in the back of your mind told you not to bother; it wasn’t like you could get off anyway.

The journey was the most important part. You focused on him, on his lips on your skin. His thumbs digging into your thighs, finding hard little knots that he rubbed away. “Fuuuck,” you moaned, eyes crossing.

How did he always know where to find those spots? You moaned, twisting on the bed. He cooed at you, kissing your skin. His breath was warm as it fanned across your wet core. His tongue swiped against your pussy and your hips bucked off of the bed.

He chuckled. “Do I need to tie you up next time?” He asked.

“No,” you said, voice breathy.

He hummed while he started to lick you. His hands plucked each knot out of your thighs. How were you supposed to focus on cumming when you couldn’t stop thinking about his hands? He found a big knot and you moaned, eyes widening as you looked to the ceiling.

You loved when he did this shit while you were high. It was like floating, or flying, or swimming. Some type of weightless activity that took your breath away. The way everything seemed to get sharper and less sharp at the same time. That everything was dreamy and you were nothing more than a clump of atoms.

He suckled your clit, pulling you back down. “Oh god, ouee Stunna. Fuuck,” you moaned. The knot popped at the same time he sucked on you again. Your body tensed, hips gyrating, rushing towards an orgasm.

“Unnf,” you moaned. Your eyes crossed, body shaking uncontrollably. “Please, please, please,” you moaned.

The orgasm went away again. Slippery bastard. You were right there. There had to be something other than the out of body shakes right? There had to be something just over that peak. You got right to the edge but couldn’t jump.

Stunna slowed down, sucking up anything you gushed out. He came up, beard shiny, and a wide smile. “Don’t pout, baby,” he said. He cleaned off his beard and you watched him.

You wanted a fucking orgasm. And it didn’t help you to focus on it like this. It wasn’t fair to have him do this for you and all you were worried about was cumming. But you wanted to feel normal for fucking once.

You already grew up feeling like a freak. Like everyone had been born with a rulebook to life except for you. Yours had been lost in transit and you always felt a step behind. The last to get a boyfriend, the last to move out, the last to promote at work. You got jokes a second too late. Some things had to be explained over and over. And now you couldn’t have sex right.

The guilt began to tear you up inside, hollowing you. You turned your head to the side. Didn’t want Stunna to read your thoughts all over your face.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that. Talk to me, gorgeous,” he said. He got to his knees and pulled you by the hips until you were resting on his thighs. Your back was still against the bed and the silky sheets beneath you.

You shook your head. If you let all of the demons out of the cage at once, you’d turn into a crying mess. And you didn’t want to do that. Not when he had painstakingly done everything in his power to relax you. Your brain was just your opp at the moment.

“I hate feeling like I’m failing,” you said.

Stunna nodded, rubbing your thighs. The glide of his hands calmed you, soothed you, and your breathing calmed down. “You can’t fail at sex, baby,” he said. “If people have a bad time, it’s because they don’t connect or communicate. We connect. We communicate. That’s it, that’s all. So you’re not failing. You just have a block in that pretty head of yours and if it takes five years or ten years or sixty-five years to break it, then so be it.”

You shook your head, trying to sit up. He wouldn’t let you, so you had to settle for leaning against the pillows. “There is no way I’m not cumming for sixty-five years!”

“Then we gon’ work on what relaxes you,” he said.

“There’s no way I’m letting you do that,” you said.

“You ain’t gon’ let me do shit. I decided I wanna be here. Deal with it,” he said. He leaned forward, kissing you. His hands moved to your titties, grabbing hold of your nipples and playing with them.

Your pussy throbbed in response. You moaned against his lips. He smiled against yours. He moved his kisses to your neck, suckling on you like he was still making out with you.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous. Do you know I lucky I feel to spend everyday with you?” He asked.

“Yes, ‘cause I feel just as lucky,” you told him. He pulled on your nipples and you hissed, nails digging into his back as you held on.

“Good. ‘Cause I love you so much. And I know you feel frustrated. But we’re going to get there. Together. Feel me?” He asked.

“I feel you,” you echoed.

“I need you to really feel me, baby,” he said. He took mercy on your poor nipples and stopped tugging on them. He flicked his eyes to you while he moved his head down. His long tongue dropped down and licked around your nipple.

Your lips parted with a sigh while you watched his tongue encircle your nipple. There was a slight sting from when he was playing with them, but now his warm tongue was sweeping that away. Heat moved down your body, making you rub against him.

He kissed your nipple. “Feeling me, baby?” He asked.

“Yes, I feel you,” you sighed. He was too damn delicious for words. So beautiful and Black. Rich, royal skin pressing against yours. As close as two people could possibly be. He watched you still, eyes never leaving yours.

He rolled your nipple into his mouth and sucked on it. You gasped, fighting for air at this point. There wasn’t enough of it in your system. You tapped at his shoulder, but all he did was wink at you.

“Stay with me, baby,” he said. He leaned up, getting back to his haunches. He grabbed his dick and slapped it against your wet pussy. “Mmm, hear that.”

You nodded. You definitely heard the wet smacks. Sounded just like the rain hitting your window. He swirled his dick in your essence, coating the tip of his dick. You hissed. So fucking sensitive.

“Ready for me?” He asked.

“Oue, yes, please!” You cried out. You couldn’t stand it. You felt out of sync with your body. Like you were caught somewhere in the middle, able to feel both hot and cold. Both needy and desperate to have him inside you finally.

He pushed in and you leaned up. He stopped and shushed you, pushing on your shoulders to lay back down. “Just feel, baby, and breathe. Breathe for me,” he said. He began to mimic deep breathing and you nodded, following him.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. He moved once more and your hand gripped his forearm. “That’s okay, do what you need to. But you gotta keep breathing,” he said.

You were trying. He was big and you constantly had to tell him to go slow. But more than that. He was filling you up and you were unbearably horny. You were impatient.

Stunna worked to Stunna’s desires. He went slow, making sure that you felt every single inch of him glide in. Your body welcomed him in and soon, you were plenty stuffed. He grinned, watching you. You didn’t know what was so damn funny but at least he was pretty.

He could break your back like a glow stick and you’d say thank you.

He kissed you. You sighed against his lips and spent some time focusing on that. So soft. So wet. So delicious. He was an amazing kisser, playful in a lot of ways. He pulled back and kissed your cheek.

“Still feeling me, baby?” He asked.

“Fuck yes, please move,” you said. You wiggled your hips. You may not be able to cum, but you could still enjoy the journey. He smiled and moved in and out of you. You slapped at his stomach, pushing against him slightly. Shit. You ain’t mean like this!

His stroke game was crazy. Rolling his hips and driving you insane. He had a long dick and you felt it all. You locked eyes with him while you panted and moaned. He pushed against your hand.

“Move that shit, baby. You gon’ feel all this,” he said. He pushed into you deeper to make his point. He was nearly bottomed out and your thighs were quaking. Shivering. Twitching. Your hand flopped to the side, gripping onto the pillows behind you.

You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hold on while he stroked. Oh fuck. It felt too good, entirely too fucking good. You wiggled trying to escape him. Too. Fucking. Good.

“Nah, stay with me. What you running for?” He asked.

“I-I-”

“I know that, baby. But what you running for?” He asked. “You gotta feel me. You gotta see me. Just focus on right here and now.”

You gripped the pillow tighter. Oh fuck. “Focus on my voice and how deep I am. Focus on the fact that you doing so fucking good for me.”

“But I-”

“Yes, yes you can. I believe in you, baby. You just gotta believe in you,” he said. He brought his hand up to lick his thumb. Then he flicked it against your clit.

“Ouue shit! Stunna!” You cried out.

“Mhmm. Calm down and focus on your breathing. Come on,” he said.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Your breathing was erratic with short hiccuping bursts. You took in one shuddering breath after the other, trying to calm down. He kept stroking the whole time, rolling his hips in a dizzying pattern. Thumb rubbing circles on your clit. You liked watching and feeling him slide in and out.

“Don’t look down there, baby. You look at me,” he said. His voice turned sharp, commanding your attention. You flicked your eyes to his while you breathed with him. Your breathing calmed down while pressure built in your lower belly.

“Oh fuck, oh shit. Stunna. Fuck, fuck,” you moaned.

“I know it. Keep breathing, keep breathing with me,” he said.

Eyes locked. Huffing breaths escaping him. Sweat dripping off his forehead. You breathed with him. The pressure continued to build. Desire gripped your pussy in a strong vice.

“I’m gonna cum,” Stunna whispered. His eyebrows furthered. “Fuck. Gonna cum. Pussy feelin’ good as hell.” He came with a pained moan, loudly, while you felt his dick twitch inside you. His hot cum painted your warm walls and you gripped him tighter.

Your body exploded. You yelled out as you convulsed on his dick. You didn’t know what you looked like. Probably like a hot mess. But on the inside, fireworks popped behind your eyelids. You felt electric and out of control. Wild. Untamed. Far, far away, you heard Stunna speaking but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. Not over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. The smell of coffee. And the curses flying from your mouth.

When it was over, you stared at Stunna like he was a creature from another planet. He grinned with a wide, smug smile. “What I say about trusting your man?” He asked.

You breathlessly giggled, rubbing sweat from your own forehead. That was…yeah, you’d sell your firstborn for another hit of that. Got damn. It was exactly as you had imagined it. All those songs, movies, and books were right. That felt so damn incredible. You looked at him with amazement. “I’m sorry, baby,” you said.

He rolled his hips, reminding you that he was still inside. His cum pumped out of you and you shivered. It was such a weird, wonderful feeling.

“Wanna see if we can squeeze another one out of you?”

“Fuck yes!” You yelled. You pulled him towards you by his neck, crashing your lips to his. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Stunna chuckled, kissing you back. “Ain’t gotta thank me. I love you so fucking much.”

“Love you so fucking much.” He played with your body well into the night. Until you were both a sweaty, gross blend of flesh. The music played, ensnaring you both in a bubble you never wanted to leave.

Even as the candle burned and the rain pounded heavily against the window, you only had eyes for Stunna. And he only had eyes for you.

The brain rot is real. The Secret Big Stunna Files

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