Drunk Tank Pink Novels & Stories

Right now it was so hard to picture her as the aspiring lawyer she was studying to be. I slammed the bottle down on the marble counter and swiped the excess rum from my lips. Maybe that was one too many shots, but I needed to be drunk for the plan devising in my head. I drank three more and wrap my hands around her waist and pulled her into the crowd of gyrating bodies. "Who are you and what have you done with Leah Monroe? Seriously, did you spend your sabbatical in a club?" I swing my hips playfully in her direction. You wouldn't catch me dead in a club like this or even drinking this much. But desperate times….

Denny's eyes became enlarged, he was shocked for a bit. "Really?" said Richard in increasing suspicion. "B-because it's colored pink, okay. I'm gay you know, bright colors easily attract me" He lied. "Okay, okay" said Richard. After a few moments Frank came with the pink milktea in his hands. "Here's your pink milktea miss beautiful" Frank winked at Denny. "Thank you darling" Denny said, trying to tolerate Frank's flirtatious actions. "So, miss beautiful can I ask your beautiful name?" asked Frank.

" Slowly, Blake began to calm but his voice refused to obey. When he tried to speak, the words came in garbled gibberish. He stopped fighting Peters's attempt to sit him up, his muscles becoming limp. His breathing has heavy, catching in his throat when the bottle was pressed to his lips. The alcohol stung but the warmth freed all his senses. But they were still weak and he sat back, ignoring the pain of the splinters in the wall. "Do...what it says..." He whispered harshly, grabbing the bottle and greedily draining it. He shuddered, still feeling the residue of the cruel presence in his veins. "This could be our chance, lads. Take it." The others looked uncertain, exchanging uneasy looks. B

She handed over to him a small bag. "Yuuppp!" Dalvin smiled, looking inside the bag, he suddenly frowned. "A piece of cake, with a small bottle of Pepsi?" "A piece of cake at MacDonald's!" Pink snapped. "I spent five thousand naira buying that piece of cake and small bottle of Pepsi. Mitcheeeew, ungrateful soul." Dalvin came closer to Pink, sniffing her dress to confirm his suspicion. "Yikes! You stink, when did you start drinking alcohol?"

Chen later returned and I felt my world tilt. “We rushed the paternity test,” he said. “You are Pink’s biological father—99.9% match.” I felt numb. “Are you sure?” “Positive,” he said. “The lab is clear.” My head is filled with questions. If Pink was mine, who was her mother? The memory hit me like a punch. It was a night three years ago when I was drunk and broken after Brittany and I split. I’d been to a club. A woman had been there, it was Adrian. Yeah, although I've sharp memory of a stranger, a blurry face. Adrian had been there too. Martin, her ex-boyfriend, had drugged her. I paid him and then I slept with her that night…

I tell her. Tia nods she is amused. “So, where’s our drinks?” she asks. The drunk woman walks over to a tiki bar and hands us our drink. “This one is called Men are dicks.” She slurs. I take a sip. And almost spit it out. Fuck what is in this thing? Tia however spits it out. “What the hell did I just ingest?” she asks her breath taken away. “Oh, straight up rum, whiskey, gin, and little wine. We are having cocktails of course.” Gracie says.

The kind of guy who looked like he’d been born inside a tattoo parlor and had simply expanded outward from there. He dropped onto his stool, snapping on a fresh pair of black nitrile gloves. “Name’s Tank. What are we doing?” I pulled my hoodie over my head and dropped it on the oil-stained concrete. “Full upper back. Left shoulder blade down across the spine.” Tank raised an eyebrow, dragging a skeptical gaze over my bare torso. “Big commitment for a garage at a college party at midnight. You drunk?” “Sober.” “High?” “Completely clean.” “Good. I won’t ink anyone who can’t sign a consent form in their right mind.” He stroked his beard with one gloved thumb. “You got a reference sketch, or are

On the day of my abortion, my best friend tried to stop me. "You and your husband have been married for seven years. You finally managed to get pregnant. Why does the baby have to go?" I answered calmly, "Because of a glass of water." Aaron Jefferson had a severe germphobia. He never shared everyday items with me. If I had already drunk from a glass, he would not touch it. Then I found a video on his student's social media. In it, the girl held up her half-finished coffee and brought it to his lips. Aaron leaned down and took a sip straight from her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He frowned slightly, but a smile still touched his lips. "That sweet, huh? Careful,

He said the shot would catch both of us. So that was what he'd really been framing—every single detail on that bed. My hand started shaking. Not from anger. A real, physical tremor, like Parkinson's, until I could barely hold onto the phone. I thought back to that night. Axel had sat beside me the whole time, overly eager, overly warm. He kept pressing me to drink more. I was never good with alcohol. But out of politeness, I drank. Glass after glass. I'd trusted my boyfriend would take care of me. How could I not trust him? We'd been together for so long.

Martin started a secretive talk with his wolf. "Yes, You need to trust me. I can not be wrong. She is the one." Ezaz growled, showing his authority. "But you explained she is without her wolf." Martin showed his doubt. "I can not be wrong. She is the one. I can sense a bond." Ezaz's words made him perplexed. "Damn, she smells intoxicated," Ezaz commented, and this attracted Martin's attention to her sweet slight smell. It's not powerful, but he can not buzz as well. He had never been attracted to someone's smell like this before. He is 25 and still without a mate.