Main is @tiddyglitterbomb. Previously sloppysequinz. They deleted my page so I made this backup. 31, she/her, married. Icon by Blazbaros on DeviantArt.
Hi! I go by Glitter or Sequins, Iām 31, happily married, located generally on the US West Coast. This blog is primarily for my intox kink, but I also post a lot of other assorted kinks (mostly untagged so be warned). I reblog a mess of kink content, post original writing, and occasionally live post getting intoxxed myself (weed and alcohol only).
Da Rules
18+ only.
Age in bio to follow.
I have a husband, he knows about this blog, if I talk to you regularly he knows about you.
Donāt send nudes or sexually explicit DMs or asks out of the blue.
If you do ask or DM me and I donāt respond, donāt take in personally. I donāt have the bandwidth to answer everything, and I often go offline for long periods of time.
Just because Iām mommy doesnāt mean Iām YOUR mommy.
I will block for any reason I deem appropriate, including breaking or even being weird about any of these rules.
For tags and more info, see under the cut. Hope you enjoy the blog!
Tags: Original smut is tagged āmy writingā, drinking and getting high liveposts are āsequins liveposts getting fadedā, asks are āasked and answeredā, and if you added an anon tag or asked off anon Iāll add your tag or username to the post tags as well. All those tags are included on this post for your convenience.
Noncomprehensive kink list:
YES: Intox (consensual, forced, soft, hardāreally any kind of substance abuse makes me horny), corruption, mommy domme, fauxcest, puppy play, force fem, bimbofication, breast worship, breast expansion, lactation, pregnancy, belly worship, monsterfucking, giantessā¦
Only in specific circumstances: piss play, emeto, feederism, cgl.
HARD LIMITS: Scat, zoophilia, anything to do with pro-ana or starving yourself, blood, needles, and obviously any behavior masquerading as a paraphilia that harms vulnerable people.
need to be forced to get soo high by an older woman that i start calling her mom and and she she doesnāt say anything about it and and and maybe she even calls me kiddo n teaches me how to kiss andandandand
My recurring fantasy: Iām a rock star and youāre my manager. Iāve been invited to a charity dinner so you drag me out of whatever hole Iāve dug myself into and dress me up to look presentable. In the limo over, you lecture me about how I have to be on my best behavior while sneaking me a few quick bumps of speed, knowing I wonāt be able to resist - you havenāt let me have any in a few days and the withdrawal is kicking in. I lick it right out of your hand.
The whole night Iām clearly speeding. I canāt stop myself from twitching and talking to anyone who will listen, even though somewhere in the back of my mind Iām humiliated to my core. You lead me around like a dog and make your apologies for me. āYou know how he is. I do my best to keep him sober but he just canāt control himself,ā you say, discretely palming my dick through my pants as I try not to moan. You know how uppers get me horny.
The night goes on and I start crashing. I know you have more. I try to discretely beg you for just one more hit. I offer to suck you off in the bathroom for it. On my knees in the handicap stall, my mouth on your crotch, I canāt take my eyes off the baggie you dangle over my head. You finish in my mouth, then put it back in your pocket with a smile. I grab your pants, begging, pleading for it. Iāll do anything. āYou filthy junkie,ā you say, āLook at you, on the fucking floor like an animal.ā You shake me off and return to the party, leaving me gasping on the cold tile.
By the time you make your excuses and let me leave, Iām shaking, sweating through my suit, and I donāt know if itās from the drugs or the desire. All eyes are on us when we exit, with you playing the long-suffering caretaker, supporting my weight. As soon as we get into the limo, you slap me. āI told you to be on your best behavior tonight.ā I donāt even notice. Iām still begging for something, anything to tide me over, even a cigarette. When we get home, you tie me up and punish me for hours, each time promising me Iāll get my reward soon. When it finally comes, I canāt tell what I enjoy more: the hit or the orgasm.
Your substance abuse issues were a matter of public knowledge, but, to be fair, so were every other rock musiciansā. So maybe things were a little worse now, after you blew off your 5th gig in a row to pass out in your dealers apartment, but you were still holding it together. You definitely did NOT need to go sober.
That being said, it was remarkably easy for an obsessive stalker to catch you completely alone and already unconscious. You didnāt even realize what was happening until she pulled you from the trunk of her car. You made some weak gesture towards escape and she tased you into a whimpering, twitching mess on the floor. She draped you in a hoodie and supported you in your half-stumble up the stairs to her apartment. You looked like any other couple coming home after a night out. No one could even see the taser pressed to the small of your back.
āIām doing this to help youā she says, as she handcuffs your hands behind your back and chains you to the pipes under her bathroom sink. āYou wrote music that changed my life. But youāll never write like that again, not like this. You need to get clean.ā She shoves a rag in your mouth and duct-tapes over it. āSorry.ā She grimaces apologetically. āI have neighbors.ā
The first night is agonizing, your body begging for about 50 different chemicals at once. When she removes the tape from your mouth in the morning to feed you, taser to your throat the whole time, the first thing you do is beg her for something, anything to tide you over. She laughs and leaves you a sweating, sobbing mess.
When she comes again in the evening, your whole body is shaking. You felt so hot you kicked your pants off, leaving you in your boxers. She doesnāt seem surprised by the lack of penis, but you suppose a superfan would already know you were trans. Youāre so desperate that you offer her sex, point blank. She seems contemplative, then walks out of the room. For a second you think sheās abandoned you completely, but she returns with a little bag of white powder: the coke you had on you when she kidnapped you. Almost clinically, she removes her skirt and strokes herself to full hardness (and wasnāt that not an unwelcome surprise?). Delicately, she shakes out a few bumps down the length of her cock and offers them to you. You snort it up greatfully, the scent of her cock mixing with the sharp tinge of cocaine on the inside of your nostrils.
She stares wordlessly down at you, expectant. You notice the taser in her other hand.
You take her in your mouth. Before you can even move, she grabs the hair on the back of your head and guides you along her cock. You moan despite yourself.
āYou like that, huh?ā
Your mouth is too full of her to answer. You feel her cock hit the back of your throat where the coke is starting to drip down, dragging the acrid taste across your tongue.
She takes her time. By the time she comes, itās well past kicked in. You feel like every nerve is on fire.
āOh, you really did like that, didnāt you?ā She looks down at your soaked boxers.
Fuck. Coke always makes you horny. And maybe a little part of you is really, really enjoying this.
She kneels down to your level and runs her hand over your boxers, sliding your dick between two fingers through the fabric. You canāt help a desperate keen. Carefully, she slides your boxers off. Right when you think sheās finally going to touch you, she stuffs your own soaked boxers in your mouth and tapes back over them.
āMaybe next time,ā she smirks, leaving you high and starving for her touch. You whimper and grind on the cold tile.
It becomes routine, after that. She waits until youāre desperate enough to offer anything, then gives you some drug to tide you over while she fucks you into oblivion. You never know what sheās going to give you. Sometimes itās an opioid, to keep you pliant and suggestible. She gives you one before moving you to the bed, where she keeps you tied up, spread eagle, during the day. Sometimes she forces a joint into your mouth while she thrusts into you, holding your nose until you sputter smoke. Uppers used to be your favorite class of drug, but you dread them now. When she rubs speed or coke on your gums, letting you lick her fingers clean, you know she always mixes in a little gas station aphrodisiac as well, just to make it a little more unbearable. She loves to watch you squirm and beg for her touch before sticking a vibrator in both of your holes, turning them on low, and leaving for the day.
Eventually, she just keeps you drugged up all the time.
āI canāt believe I wanted you to get clean. Youāre so much better like this. My celebrity crush. My perfect toy.ā She strokes your cheek and it echoes a shudder down your whole body. Some mixture of ketamine and cannabis is running through your system now, leaving you sensitive and dumb. She sounds like sheās speaking through water. āI listen to your songs when Iām at work and wonder what your other fans would think if they knew the man who wrote them is drugged out of his mind in my bedroom, just waiting to beg for my cock.ā
She curls a finger into your mouth and you suck on it gratefully. āBut I guess we always knew you were a junkie whore, so this shouldnāt come as a surprise.ā She shoves her fingers down your throat until you gag. āAnd your songs were always so sad. Youāre so much happier like this, arenāt you?ā
You nod enthusiastically. Anything to get her to keep touching you like that.
āThis is what you wanted, right? With all the drugs? Just to be high and happy, with no responsibilities? In a way, you chose this.ā
You nuzzle into the hand on your cheek, playing with her fingers with your tongue. She pinches it and you moan.
āYou donāt even know what Iām saying, do you?ā she says.
You stare back, eyes glassy and half lidded.
āItās okay. Iāll take care of you. Iām your biggest fan.ā
Sunday scaries who? Cause Iām getting high and stuffed drinking booze humping your couch chanting I need to get fucked over and over and over again but that thatās just me
Iām retiring from the intox game. Itās been a fun time, but Iāve gotta move on.
But, because you guys have always been so lovely and supportive, Iām not gonna go out without a treat for you.
My ENTIRE DROPBOX ARCHIVE, almost 200GB of 6 yearsā worth of intoxicated goodness. From unfinished long form videos, to Snapchat clips, to fully edited customs of 1-2 hours, youāre gonna find it in here! And Iām still updating it! As I clean off all my various devices, those videos will be uploaded too!
The caveat? The entire thing gets deleted on December 7, 2026, so GET IT WHILE YOU CAN!!
DM me here, or hit me up at thor_twenty on Discord.
you know apparently you're not supposed to give kittens and cats saucers of milk? yeah what you're actually supposed to give them is 1-2 Modelo tall boys. easy mistake to make, happens to the best of us.
your intox dom takes you out for a day of errands followed by fun stuff. they control your booze intake as they drive you around, but the catch is you're not allowed to drink if you stop edging š while in the car. you can edge however you want, but you can't stop. they have picked out a specific type of underwear that they know will stimulate you the right way as you walk into stores with them, the post office, the bank...each destination a quieter place, each destination you're more wasted and needy. your dom has to remind you not to let your tongue stick out like that. your dom has to remind you not to squeeze your legs together like that. your dom has to shush you, when you think you're whispering.
they reward you by taking you to the movies, a theater a half hour away so you can drink and goon yourself stupid. you have no recollection of the movie later, just your dom groping you and shushing you in the theater as the pretty lights from the projector spun around.
your dom will tell you in the morning that you pissed yourself in the theater, and luckily they had brought you a change of clothes, because the night wasn't over. you had a dinner to go to with all of their friends and some of their family, after all! another half hour drive away.
Normally if Iām thinking of a male sub, Iām into a big chubby or buff or both sub. Looks like a bear but acts like a puppy sub. A version of Superman who melts at my touch.
But lately Iāve been fantasizing about a size difference situation where Iām the bigger one. A male sub who is short and lithe and maybe even has a cutesy face. I feel like it would be fun to play mommy with that kind of type because it would feel more real in a hot and taboo way. I also like the idea of them being shy and blushing and inexperienced, or at least playing inexperienced for me.
so the last couple weeks two of my coworkers have been out and sick and they came back likeā¦.practically on the same day. Turns out they both stopped drinking for different reasons and both got sick with different diseases and now my manager swears its because they stopped drinking š
so now hes going around telling everyone ādont stop drinking, not unless you wanna get really really sick- alcohol is antibacterial / antiseptic (i cant remember which one he bullshitted lmao) so ! It helps keep you from getting sick!ā
Lmao so in honor of not getting sick- a drink! Cheers!
oh to be a mom and get high with my daughter because im a stoner and itās something chill we can do together and weāre an affectionate family so yes im stroking her hair and maybe she gets hard and her cock pokes out from her shorts and instead of laughing it off or leaving her to take care of it, i just keep on stroking her hair and tracing patterns across her skin and my hands get lower and lower and. and.
Intox Mommy In Defiance @sloppiersequinz - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
