#Alcohol consumption

[aventurineswife]

Thanks for answering my ask about comedic nudity!

So I ended up forgetting about the og idea I wanted to send because I didn’t write it down. 🙂‍↕️

But I do have another idea that involves Reader being a freak for art! If you’ve ever played (or watched someone play) Persona 5, Reader is a little bit like Yusuke, they love to draw and paint and all that fun stuff. They’re also a bit of a simp and have pages in their sketchbooks dedicated to drawing people they fancy.

So, not really nudity here, but one day while drinking, Reader gets so drunk off of their ass they finally dare to ask the question that’s been gnawing at the back of their mind:

“Hey, [muse]…D’ya wanna model naked for me?”

Bonus points if they’re trying to ask it to their muse in question, but they’re so drunk they don’t realize they’re facing someone else entirely.

Like, their muse could be Sunday and they’re trying to ask Sunday to model naked for them, but they’re facing Robin.

It can also be other combos!

Like, Muse:the person Reader is actually facing

So—

Gepard:Serval

Blade:Firefly

Dan Heng:Sushang

Lingsha:Yunli

Jing Yuan:Yanqing

These are just examples off the top of my head but basically pick any one or think of another pair yourself and make it as chaotic as you possible can. 🤣

If you make the title “Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls” istg—

Portraits of Desire

Tags: Sunday x Reader x Robin, Aventurine x Reader x Topaz, Artist!Reader, Fluff and Humor, Alcohol-Induced Shenanigans, Artistic Obsession, Mild Suggestive Themes, Confessions in Chaos, Playful Banter.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption and intoxication, Light innuendo, Embarrassing humorous situations.

A/N: sadly i already named a previous fic that, so I can't name this one the same title 😕💔

(Credits to @kakyoriya on Twitter/X)

The Charmony Festival's afterparty had always been a lively affair, filled with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You, an artist swept into the chaos of Penacony’s surreal world, found yourself seated at a circular table with Sunday and Robin. Despite your initial plans to observe the Halovian pair discreetly, the generous flow of Halovian wine had turned those plans into a swirling mess.

Your sketchbook lay open on the table, pages flipping as a gust of laughter erupted around you. The pages showcased the delicate strokes of your pencil—portraits of Sunday, Robin, and various festival moments. They were all expertly rendered, but your fascination with Sunday was painfully obvious. His eyes seemed to pierce through the pages, and even his halo was meticulously detailed.

Robin chuckled softly, her hair shimmering under the festival lights. “You’ve truly captured his essence.” she remarked, pointing at one of your sketches.

You hiccupped, the wine adding a rosy hue to your cheeks. “Well, it’s ‘cause he’s so damn… inspiring!” you slurred.

Sunday, ever dignified, raised a brow but allowed a faint smile to curl his lips. “I see. I suppose I should thank you for the flattery.”

The room swayed as you turned, your intoxicated mind suddenly consumed by a thought you’d never dared voice. You reached out, grabbing Sunday’s gloved hand—or at least you thought it was Sunday’s.

“Hey… hey, you!” you stammered, squinting up at Robin instead. She tilted her head, bemused.

“Yes?” Robin replied, her voice lilting like a melody.

“I’ve been… thinking,” you began, leaning closer to her. “You’re… perfect. Your symmetry, your aura—it’s breathtaking!”

Robin’s brows knitted in surprise, her cheeks flushing faintly. Sunday, watching from across the table, cleared his throat. “They mean to ask me, Robin. I’ve noticed their fixation.”

But you, oblivious and unbothered, barreled forward. “Model for me. Naked. Just once!”

Robin sputtered, her elegance momentarily faltering. “I beg your pardon?”

Sunday, his eyes narrowing slightly, stepped in to steady you. “I believe you’re mistaking your audience.” he said, his tone carrying both humor and restraint.

You blinked, your intoxicated brain struggling to process the situation. Then, your gaze shifted, landing on Sunday’s halo. “Oh, right!” you exclaimed, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You! I meant you!”

Robin burst into laughter, her melodic voice echoing through the room. “Oh, this is priceless.”

Sunday, maintaining his composure, leaned down to meet your gaze. “While I appreciate your artistic passion,” he said smoothly, “I fear your request might be better suited for sober conversation.”

The IPC gala was a hub of high-stakes networking, dazzling lights, and endless champagne. You, an artist with an eye for detail, found yourself amidst the extravagance, clutching your sketchbook like a lifeline. Aventurine and Topaz had invited you along, each promising you’d find inspiration among the elite.

You had taken them at their word, sketching furiously as your muses moved through the crowd. Aventurine, with his flamboyant overcoat and peacock feather earring, exuded charisma that demanded attention. Topaz, on the other hand, carried herself with a composed confidence, her hair catching the gala’s light.

Hours later, you were drunk. Not tipsy, not buzzed—drunk. Your sketchbook was open to a page filled with Aventurine’s smirk and Topaz’s sharp gaze. The champagne had loosened your inhibitions, and you found yourself staring at Aventurine’s eyes.

“You’re like… a painting.” you slurred, pointing at him.

Aventurine, ever the gambler, leaned forward with an amused grin. “Am I now? Flatter me more.”

Topaz rolled her eyes, sipping her wine. “They’re drunk. Don’t encourage them.”

But you were already gesturing wildly. “I gotta ask. It’s important. Life-changing, even!” You turned—or at least thought you turned—to Aventurine, but your gaze locked on Topaz instead.

“Will you model naked for me?” you blurted.

Topaz choked on her drink, glaring at you with wide eyes. “Excuse me?!”

Aventurine burst into laughter, clapping a hand to his chest. “Oh, this is rich. I think they meant me, darling.”

You blinked, confused, before swiveling toward Aventurine. “Wait, yeah! You! You’re, like… perfection. I need to capture it!”

Topaz shook her head, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

Aventurine leaned closer, tilting your chin up with a gloved finger. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he purred. “But we’ll discuss terms when you’re sober.”

Topaz snorted. “You’re both ridiculous.”

And in your drunken haze, you could only laugh, thrilled by the chaotic charm of your muses.

[kharmii]

Judging by the glasses, I'd be a Skeptic or a Geten when I have a drink on those two holidays a year.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 21 | Uninvited Judgements

summary: you were invited to a party by one of your friends, of course you brought Matt, your boyfriend along despite him being slightly younger, everything was going by smoothly and everyone was having great fun until you went out to the bathroom and when you came back you saw your drunken friends surrounding Matt, not suggesting anything good by their loud laughter…

warnings: ANGST, heavy language, arguing, party setting, drunk guests, bullying, age discrimination, age gap, all of the drinking characters are of age please drink responsibly and be aware of the possible consequences! & possibly more

authors note: nnn is soon coming to an end and the Christmas season will start which means… more Christmas fics! (And more smut) I am already feeling the spirit and love this season so much, also sorry for not posting this fic when I was supposed to but something personal happened and I couldn’t finish it that day and I hope y’all understand , but anyway luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The music bounced through the walls of the small apartment, a vibrant background to the laughter and conversation that filled the air. Matt adjusted the collar of his shirt, visibly feeling a little self-conscious under his excitement. He was still getting used to being around my friends, most of them were several years older than him. We had been dating for a few months now and while I loved spending time with him, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was still trying to prove himself.

I took his hand and squeezing it gently. “I’ll just be gone a minute,” I said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Just need to use the bathroom. You okay to hang out here?” “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, forcing a smile. “I’ll grab a soda or something.” As I slipped away into the crowded bathroom, Matt leaned against the counter and glanced around. Most of the partygoers were off in groups, cups in hand and laughter mixing with the music. He was about to reach for a drink when he noticed a couple of my friends gathering near him, their faces flushed and attitude high from the alcohol they have consumed.

“Look who it is!” one of my friends Mary slurred, her eyes shining with mischief. “Little Matt. What’s he doing here all by himself? Waiting for his mom to pick him up?” Matt felt heat rush to his cheeks, an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and irritation. “I’m fine,” he muttered, trying to brush off the comments but the lack of a reaction from him it only encouraged the others. “Oh come on!” another friend chimed in with her laughter ringing loud. “You’re dating a woman who could practically be your aunt! What is she like, 25?” The group burst into drunk giggles, clearly enjoying the show of the younger guy, considering him as an easy target.

Matt clenched his fists at his sides, feeling a swirl of emotions and his gut twisted in upset. The teasing only got worse, the insults sharper, the references to our age gap digging deeper until he just couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m not a kid for gods sake,” he shot back but his voice barely cut through the intense crowd. Their laughter only grew louder, cutting off his words. When I finally returned with a bright smile lighting my face while Matt was the opposite, livid and his skin prickling with anger. I noticed the tension immediately as I maneuvered through the crowd toward him.

“Everything okay?” I asked concerned looking from him to my drunken friends who had just finished their turn of jokes. “They think it’s hilarious that I’m younger,” he said, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. “Why do you even hang out with people who think it’s okay to make fun of someone like that?” I looked caught off guard while blinking rapidly. “I don’t think they meant anything by it, Matt. They were drunk and you know how that goes. They joke around, they don’t always know where to draw the line.” “A line?” he snapped and frustration spilling out of his expression. “It feels fucking disrespectful to make jokes about someone’s age! Like I’m some boy toy you’re just playing around with. Do you think I like being the center of their jokes?”

“Matt, just chill out for a second,” I ushed, raising your hands for him to calm down. “You know they didn’t mean for it to hurt you. It’s just banter! They were drunk—” “No, it’s not just banter!” he raised his voice louder than he intended. “It’s condescending and you’re just brushing it off like it doesn’t matter!” I felt my heart racing, a mixture of anger and hurt beginning to swirl in my veins “You’re making a huge deal out of this. They’re not bad people, they were having a good time! You can’t just get upset over everything people say when they’re drinking!” “It’s not ‘everything’! It’s just this! Ugh!” he exclaims, frustration lacing every syllable that left past his mouth. “Sometimes I feel like you don’t even see how it affects me. You just make excuses for them.” With that, one of my friends—a guy named Jake who had been listening nearby—snorted. “Who knew Matt had such thin skin? Can’t handle a little fun?”

Matt’s gaze flicked toward Jake, becoming stiff in his stance. “And you’re an ass.” “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s basically a kid,” Jake retorted and shaking his head. “Matt, just ignore him,” I pleaded but he was too far gone now. “No, fuck this…” he muttered, stepping away from the group who had been laughing at his expense. He turned to me with his eyes blazing. “I’m not playing this game. I’m not gonna sit here and take your friends’ bullshit. I’m done.” Before I could get a single word out past my lips, Matt turned on his heel and moved toward the exit, the door slamming behind him. The sound echoed in the now silent apartment as everyone exchanged glances, the party suddenly feeling much less exciting.

I tried to process what had just happened, a storm of emotions swirling inside of me. My friends still buzzing from the drinks, didn’t have the capacity to understand. They were just drunk and careless. But Matt? His feelings were painfully real and visible for anyone and my heart sank knowing I would have to find him and somehow make sense of this mess my drunk friends have put me in now.

@hearts4werka |

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🏷️ | @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknott - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - @sturniolosiphone - @sophand4n4 - @zombiesturniolo - @luvleyangeldust |

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Bucky getting gassy and Steve blushing at it>>>

This is so peak, embarrassing belly kink brain rot of an idea but you know what I can not for the LIFE of me stop thinking about that related to gassy burps and hiccups and sloshing gurgles of bubbles moving around in Bucky's bloated, drum-taut belly?

Steve turning Bucky into his personal beer brewery.

Hear me out *grabbing you by the shirt collar* Stay with me *shaking you* You have to hear me out *through gritted teeth* I promise I'm normal 🫣😤

Warning for unbeta'd, unrealistic belly kink nonsense under the read more. Lots of burps/onomatopoeias, bloating, intox kink, alcohol consumption, etc.

I started thinking about Bucky with a beer belly here, getting too drunk to stifle his burps and instead letting them slip through wide open beer-wet lips - loose and slurred - but then I took a nose dive into thinking about Bucky with a beer belly so big that Steve starts teasing him, saying he's a walking waddling barrel, Bucky as a barrel on legs got me thinking of kegs and tanks and, oh, how deep the spiral goes, because now all I can think of is Steve brewing beer inside Bucky's stretched, spherical belly.

He's a waddling, stumbling, clumsy brewery just for Steve.

He soaks in all that alcohol immediately and is destroyed by it. Bucky is hardly able to keep himself upright and definitely not able to walk in a straight line with that wide, round tummy sticking out in front of him, leading the way, entering every room a few seconds before him (if he even fits into the room... lately, a few doorways have been feeling sensuously tight).

His cheeks are constantly flushed a bright red color because he's fucking drunk as shit. Also, his words are mostly incoherent as a tumble of tongue and gassy burps between drawn-out moans of agonizing pleasure from how it feels to constantly be brewing. Pressure. Always growing. Stretching. Straining. Bloating with active bubbles - this carbonation that tickles the inside of his poor, abused stomach, causing him to constantly paw at his tummy, whining because he wants to itch, he wants to scratch, he wants to pop. He feels like he might burst - he looks like he might explode with all the stretch marks painting his flushed, solid belly. It's a lot.

If he isn't panting through moans while he gropes uselessly at his beyond-bloated middle, then he's gurgling through panting breaths, his chest heaving while his gut sloshes and groans, all that gas from the brewing driving him insane. It builds and builds until there's nothing he can do but let his mouth hang open wide and have it come out, rude and obscene, "uuuuuuuuuurp, buuurp, boooorp, urp, hic, uurp! Ugh? Guuh, oof, ow, ohh, ow, m-my-hic!-belly. It huuuurts! Buuurp!"

That's getting ahead of it all, though 🥵

When it starts, Steve makes him begin from the basics. Bucky is going to be good for him as a sweet, fat little personal brewery all for him, totally custom.

The water and yeast go down easy enough, Bucky's more than used to bloating his gut - he'd have to be with as tubby as he's gotten, you don't get so broad and heavy without pushing your limits, yanno - and his eyes go heavily lidded with the familiar taste of baked goods. There's nothing that makes Bucky blush these days like fluffy, warm bread; bread makes him think of being stuffed; Bucky likes being stuffed, and Bucky likes thinking about dough, too. His body is getting doughy enough these days - puffy, plump, and plush. Steve knows it, too, he's always squeezing, grabbing, shaping, and fucking kneading his fat as if it's overproofed dough. Although the barley and hops are a little more rough. The taste is strong - bitting and pungent - so it makes him gag once or twice, but... Bucky's never minded strong tastes, has he?

And he can more than stomach it knowing what the end result will be, something so heavy and massive that he'll struggle against the onslaught of hedonism. He wants that. He's greedy. He wants more. He'll get more until he regrets it, pinned and whimpering. So, he can do it, even if he pulls a face, throwing the pure hops and barley back. There's a reward.

The reward builds up. Fermenting. Pressure inside him. Bulging, swelling, bloating, surging, brewing, there are so many words for the delicious feelings Bucky can't help but weaken in the wake of. It turns him on to no end to be an object for Steve, just something greedy and entitled that needs filling 🥴🥴

It takes cock-teasing weeks to get to the point where he's uncontrollably gassy, burping recklessly, moaning raggedly through hiccups, groaning as his gut burbles, glorps, sloshes with liquid and gas. He enjoys the entire lead up, though - both Steve and Bucky do. The sexual tension of watching Bucky transform into a brewery tank consumes them both with its own kind of gluttony. Every day, they check in, meaning, every day Steve prods his tummy with a sharp, unforgiving finger to find that he's "not full enough," "not tight enough," "not round enough," or even, "not drunk enough," and topping him up so he's exactly all those things and more.

More.

Gulp.

Swallow.

Slosh.

Gurgle.

All that alcohol is an aphrodisiac, too, so not only is he red-cheeked, sweaty, and slurring, he's hypersensitive to every touch. The sensation of his active tummy against his too-tight clothes (when he's wearing them) makes him shudder. Bucky humps against solid that comes into contact with his more and more hidden dick. He can't help it. It feels good, unspeakably fucking pleasurable between the normally arousing friction and the crossed-wires sparks that feeling his full belly jiggle and slosh, too. It's overfull ecstasy. If Steve isn't prodding, groping, or wobbling his bloated gut, Bucky's patting it like it's its own entity. Petting it. Pressing on it. Cradling it. Holding it's heft. Forcing more gas out of himself. Bucky has no thoughts. He's as dumb as a rock, or more fittingly, a keg, living in a haze. Nothing matters, just opening his mouth and swallowing when Steve tells him to chug more water, eat more yeast, down more hops, and have some more barley, too, that's it, good boy.

Uuuurp.

Hnnngh-ghh-hic. Hic. Hic!

Buuuuuuuuurp.

Oooohh.

"Sh-St-Steeeve, 'm shhho full!"

It's heavy, sloshing liquid, fizzing bubbles, and frothing foam bulging his belly so massively. It's good. Distended with all that volume of pure fucking beer. His belly ripples when he shifts - he's shifting less and less, now, too, spreading his legs so fucking wide it makes his thighs ache like the muscles around his ribs ache, trying to keep that gut attached to him as it swells more, dropping down between his legs, putting exquisite pressure on his cock, keeping him moaning. Every inch of him throbs with the brewing process. It's a vibration of pleasure. Complete overfullness. The beer has taken him over. He is nothing but beer. He will ferment, brew, and expand until he bursts. He feels it all the way from the depths of his overstretched intestines to his distended stomach to his overused esophagus. He's full up.

So full.

Beer. Gas. Foam. Foam. Gas. Beer. Beer. Gas. Foam. Foam. Gas. Beer. Beer. Gas. Foam.

Unfathomable fullness.

He's dizzy, euphoric, and sloppy. It's so fucking hot, seeing how far he's stretched and how obedient he's become - folding to anything Steve wants, committed to his ideal of debauchery. And it's not just the burps that he can't keep down the drunker he gets. He can't tamp down belches or any noisy coming from his massive, gassy tummy. It's obscene.

Grrrgle.

Slosh.

Glug-glug.

Fizzzzz.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Rrrrumble.

Hissss.

Buuurp.

Churn.

Booooooooorp.

His belly lets out a deep gurgle, the beer inside sloshing and churning and fizzing as he moaned, "pleazze… fill me mmmngh-more,"

Guuuurgle.

Fizz-fizz.

"Ohhhgod, 's brewingg, inside me, I can feel it - urrrrrp! - I can't stop swelling! Mmmngh!"

"M'gonna loooz'sit... every sslosh, 'very bubble, fizzing, rumbling, buuuuuurp, can feel it building..."

"I'm full of beer, St-Steeeeve, all sl-sl-fuck-sloshy, heavy beer. Buuurp! It's stretchin me'smuch!"

"Noth-thing but a keg." Hiccup! "Fat, swollen keg." Gurgle, moaning, "I can't ssstop."

[aheckinmess]

Chapter 1/? of Top Shelf, a bartender Sukuna AU that was inspired by someone on Instagram (@pikkufrog). It started out as my take on bartender Sukuna and has gradually devolved into a fic idea. Since I finished chapter 1, I figured I'd post it.

Read on AO3.

Tags: Ryomen Sukuna, Ryoumen Sukuna, Sukuna x Reader, Sukuna x You, Female Reader, Soft Sukuna, Bartender Sukuna, Bartender AU, Canon Divergence, Might Devolve into Jujutsu Sorcery, Who Can Say?, Reader is Drunk, Shameless Flirting, Alcohol Consumption, Sukuna's House Makes an Appearance, Sukuna Collects Skulls, And Also Books, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Yuji Will Eventually Make an Appearance, Somewhere in This Series, Suggestive Themes, Suggestive Content, Reader Gets Hit On, But Nothing Actually Happens

Word Count: 2,169 words

Summary: After a long, difficult week, you find yourself at your favorite bar, people watching and appreciating the view. The view being Ryomen Sukuna, the local bartender. With a little liquid courage, you find yourself flirting shamelessly until he invites you to his place. What happens afterwards is a bartender and bookstore barista trying to find balance among their chaotic lives.

Chapter 1: A Shot in the Dark

After a long day of work, there’s no better way to wind down than to people watch at the bar. Dulling your mind with a few drinks loosens your muscles and stifles your insecurities. At the end of the counter, your eyes wander over the bartender you see regularly this time of day.

Damn, he’s hot. You sip the rest of your margarita and rest your head in your hand. As your head gets heavier, your gaze lowers from his face to his broad shoulders, roams down, and settles on the curve of his ass. His fingers stretch inside the cup he’s cleaning, his back to you. Do me like that.

“Enjoy the view?” Soft lips tilt up into a smirk as he steps over, leaning across the dark wood. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, darling. Have a rough week?”

Your cheeks darken to match his hair, but you stretch across the counter towards him anyway. 

“It’s been long. Dealing with people is frustrating.” You pout.

He laughs as he finishes cleaning the glass and sets it down. He mutters something that you miss as you get distracted with the tattoos on his chest, peeking out of his button-up. A soft whine whistles through your nose before his finger tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“Can I get you anything to drink, (Name)?” 

“An amaretto sour and a shot of tequila.” You lick your lips, acutely aware of how easy it would be for him to wrap his fingers around your neck. Hot! I need to calm myself before I do something I regret. 

You do your best to behave. But it is entirely unfair just how much his clothes strain against his body. The black fabric practically screams with his every move. 

“Here. If you’re going to gawk, you can at least use your words to tell me how good I look.” Sukuna taunts, tapping the counter to regain your attention. You throw back the shot without hesitation as your fingers ring the rim of your drink.

“But I wanna hear you talk.” You admit, holding out your open palm for his. You’re pleasantly surprised when he places his hand in yours and lets you trace the patterns of his tattoos. “Your voice makes me melt.” Oops…where’d that come from?

You can’t say you regret it, because it’s the first time he doesn’t meet your eyes as his cheeks flush bright pink. His hand twitches in yours.

“You’re too cute for your own good.” He pulls his hand back and drums his sharp nails on the countertop. “Here. Let me get their drinks and then we’ll talk.”

Your eyes follow him down the bar until you feel someone sit beside you; a tap on your shoulder pulls your gaze away from Sukuna and onto a red-haired stranger. “Mm?”

“I noticed you were over here looking lonely, pretty thing.” His voice is calm and smooth despite his obvious intoxication. “You wanna get out of here?” He winks.

You shake your head, trying to shove aside the immediate instinct to call back the bartender. I am perfectly capable of handling a drunk on my own. “I’m not really interested, thank you.”

“Ah, understood. Figured I’d shoot my shot, though.” He tips his head and struggles to get to his feet. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous, for what it’s worth.” 

“Thank you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

While Mr. Red Hair might be a perfect gentleman, his friend mutters something to him before wandering over himself. You deliberately turn towards Sukuna, trying to make it obvious who you’re interested in.

“You’re not interested in my buddy, huh? Can’t blame you. He’s a scrawny fellow. Not a lot to offer.” A gravelly voice speaks over your shoulder.

You ignore it.

Mr. Blonde & Buff doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“You’re not ignoring me, now, are you?” He growls, shoving your shoulder to look at him.

You wobble dangerously in your chair, hand flashing out for the counter when something steadies you from behind. Strong, warm, tattooed arms keep you from sprawling into the floor.

“That’s enough, Riku. Either go back to your table or get the fuck out.” The unspoken or else hangs in the air, dripping from Sukuna’s voice and the way he braces his shoulders, like he’s prepared to kick ass.

And damn, if it isn’t hot.

“Tch. Whatever.” He grumbles several obscenities as he stumbles over to his seat, not even glancing back in your direction.

“Sorry about that. Riku’s…well, an asshole, to put it lightly.” Sukuna sighs, pulling his hands away and gliding around the counter to stand across from you. “Are you alright?” 

“Why’d you let go? You can stay here.” You whine, chasing your straw with your tongue before taking a long drink. It gets warmer as you look up at him, hanging on his every word.

“I wasn’t sure if that might make you uncomfortable. You’d already voiced your disinterest to the other two.” He smirks, resting his chin on his fist. “I don’t make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I told them no, because I like your company better!” Your chair wobbles under the passion of your movements, but somehow you manage to keep from toppling over like an idiot.

“My company, huh? Why’s that?” 

“You’re an asshole, but you’re a respectable asshole.” You yawn, stretching out your back.

He barks out a laugh, causing the head of every drunk to swivel in his direction. Sukuna’s not exactly known for being full of mirth.

“A respectable asshole…” He grins and tucks a strand of your hair back in place. “So, can this respectable asshole ask when you’re free to come by my place?” 

“Can I come by later tonight?” You ask. “I don’t know that I’d be able to make my way home in the dark anyway…but if you’d like I can–”

“Tonight works.” He purrs, face marginally closer to yours. “I don’t get off for another thirty minutes. Think you can wait that long?”

“I’ll wait.” You agree, swallowing thickly. “If you keep getting that close to me, though, I’ll have no choice but to kiss you.”

Is it you, or does he move even closer? The tip of his nose almost meets yours as he looks down at you. The red of his eyes glistens under the dim bar light, pulling breath after shuddering breath from you. Your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You’re quite bold after a few drinks, aren’t you?” He chuckles.

“Not bold, just a warning of what you’re in for if you keep looking at me like that.” You murmur, aching to claim his lips and wipe that smirk off his face.

But you don’t. You wait for thirty minutes like a good girl, in and out of focus as you watch him clean up and get ready to leave. He disappears behind the employee door and comes out soon after.

“Ready, love?” He extends his arm while swinging his keys around his finger.

You get up from your chair, but forget about the step down from the counter. You fall straight into a pair of muscular arms as he catches you. You’re certainly not complaining.

“Watch your step.” He snorts. “As often as I’ve seen you in here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

“I needed to feel numb.” You explain, leaning your head against his chest as his arm comes around your waist. 

He guides you out of the bar, leading you to a car. Your stomach turns as it copes with the alcohol in its system. I could use some carbs.

“You got any french fries?” You ask, swinging his arm between the two of you. 

“That’s right, you didn’t eat much tonight. We’ll grab some on the way to my place.” His fingers comb through your hair. “Anything else you want?” “You.” It slips out before you can help it. 

“That can certainly be arranged.” He whispers in your ear, thumb grazing your side. But he pulls back and loosens his grip on you. “But it’ll have to be when you’re sober enough to remember it.” 

If he was sexy before, he becomes a hundred times sexier to you with that admission alone. He helps you into his car and starts the trek to the nearest fast food chain and orders some fries. When you offer your money, he rolls his eyes and hands the cashier his card.

“If you won’t let me pay, at least take my money.” You shove it back at him.

“You pay me money all the time to make you drinks. Allow me to return the favor.” He swats the money away. “Put that back.”

“But I don’t make you drinks!” “No, but you’ve made me very amused this evening.” 

You both get your order and when he tells you to dig in, you stuff your face full of fries. Your head lulls against the leather seat with your eyes closed in ecstasy. Truly, carbs are the superior food group.

By the time he opens your door at his house, you’ve inhaled a full serving of fries and gulped half of your water. He takes the food and you follow him inside.

Dark red walls greet you in the living room, with lavish furniture that matches his personality. A dark brown leather sofa sits adjacent to a matching recliner, and a coat rack with a cow skull on top stands in the foyer.

He catches your appraising eyes and smiles.

“I have a bit of an obsession with animal skulls.” He nods to the mantle decorated with skulls of more variety. “They’re interesting to me. But I keep my library down this hall. You enjoy reading, don’t you?”

“Mhmm!” 

He takes your hand and leads you into a room filled top to bottom with colorfully illustrated spines. His shelves all match and he’s got them organized neatly with added trinkets here and there for decoration. You vaguely remember telling him last week about your new favorite manga when he steps over to his large collection with you.

“As you can see…there’s your favorite.” He gestures to an entire row of the Hotel of Villains series. You instantly finger the 4th book, pulling it out and gaping at the cover. “I’ll warn you, once you get to the 8th volume, things start picking up. You won’t want to put it down.”

You’re too enthralled with the cover in front of you before you sling your arms around his waist, voice muffled as your face gets squished into his chest.

“Thank you.” You whimper, tears draining from your eyes. You tend to get a little more emotional when drunk. “I’ve been waiting so long to read the rest…and my favorite character is trapped so I’ve been so worried.”

“Heh. Dasuko is your favorite?” Sukuna smiles crookedly.

“I know he’s the big bad villain but he’s such a respectable one!” You whine, turning away self-consciously. In the world of fandom, you’ve learned there’s no telling how anyone will react to your favorite characters.

“Mm, I guess respectable assholes are your type, huh?”

You hide behind your hair, trying to get your sludgy brain to decipher whether he’s just teasing or being serious.

“Hey, hey,” He tilts your chin up at him. There’s a growing smile on his face. “I’m not shaming you. I think it’s cute that someone so soft would fall for someone so…feral.” His eyes shine under the glow of the light. “He’s one of my favorites too.”

You smile up at him before his hand rubbing your back reminds you that he’s still wrapped in your embrace. You set the book back, before you sway into his chest. Your fingers search out his exposed skin and you paw at him.

“Do you mind if I stay?” You purr sweetly.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow and takes your hands in his.

“You may stay for a place to sleep. But I will not take advantage of you. Any woman would choose me with a hazy mind. Only women who understand my worth and power would choose me while sober.” He croons.

You’re of a stubborn disposition, though, and feeling a bit whiny as your mind fogs. You slide to your knees and look up at him in hopes to change his mind. 

“(Name).” He speaks, voice thicker but still resolute. “No.”

You huff, but try on a compromise.

“Fine. But…can I at least have a kiss?” You ask, forcing yourself back up into a standing position, giving yourself an indulgent look at his mouth. I’ve been dying to kiss you all night…all week! Please say yes.

“Mm,” His gaze flickers to your lips and back to your face. “One little peck, and then off to bed with you.”

It’s short and brief, but those soft lips tap yours as he bends down to kiss you. He pulls back almost as soon as he’s started, and you whimper when he does.

“Come. Let’s put you in bed.”

Part 2 coming soon!

[freshiegayboi]

All the Sanses playing "never had I ever" and it getting steamy. Except Blue has drunk every single time for anything they could think of. Everyone has a conniption.

you. you get it /lh

went with the ever fun Blue and the Bad Sans Poly for this, just to keep it funky lol enjoy!!

(this one gets a little nsfw, so its under the cut for talk about kinks and suggestive stuff. please do not read if you are under 18!!)

~.~

Laughter filled the castle, and had been for a couple hours. The longer the drinks were brought out, the louder the gleeful sounds got, until Nightmare finally cut them off. Water only, but as a consolation he permitted them to play a few group games, without his supervision.

He knew they were less likely to try anything violent with how drunk they'd all gotten, but he was also fairly likely to come back to something less than innocent if he didn't give them something else to do.

It was Horror that had recommended Never Have I Ever, a simple game that while usually had alcoholic drinks accompanying it, was easily supplemented with weird sodas. Blue had agreed easily; surely it couldn't get too bad.

Now armed with ranch, bacon, bubblegum and other various flavored sodas, they started in almost immediately on the most hardcore things they could think of.

"Never have I ever kissed someone until they couldn't breathe!" Killer said, smirking as both Horror and Cross blinked, then took a drink, grimacing at the taste of synthetic bacon. All of them did a double take, however, when Blue also took a drink. He didn't seem to notice them all staring at him until he glanced up from his phone, his sockets widening.

"What?"

Killer shook himself out of his shock, waving a hand. "You're just a lot more kinky than we thought, Baby Blue, that's all! Your turn Dusty~"

Dust gave him a look, then signed a quick "Never have I ever spanked anyone."

This time Killer took a drink, gagging at the horrendous taste of fake bubblegum, as well as Cross. But they all stared as, once again, Blue took a drink with them.

"...Blue?" Horror asked, Blue startling as he realized they were all staring at him again with something only definable as total shock.

"What? I like impact play!"

Horror blinked, but shrugged. "Alright. My turn, I guess. Never have I ever... Used a knife on somebody."

Killer raised a brow, Horror huffing a laugh as he supplemented a "Sexually."

Dust took a drink. Killer took a drink. Blue took a drink.

And once again, they all stared. Blue stared back, perplexed through the state of being drunk off his ass, and finally said...

"...I've literally done all these things with you guys."

And well. There was truth to that, wasn't there?

[purplemang0z]

I need to draw more Rick n Morty stuffs

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

A Drunk Mind Speaks A Sober Heart Part 1

Summary: Reader gets injured on a call but Buck is swiftly to the rescue with Eddie in tow. Later on, Reader and Buck make drunken confessions to separate confidants. 

TW/CW: Evan “Buck” Buckley x Reader, Best Friends to Lovers, House Fire, Injured Reader, Alcohol Consumption

Requested?: No 

Word Count: 3,042

A/N: Alrighty, part 2 picks up right after where this one leaves off and I’ll have it up as soon as I edit through it lol. This took like 4 or 5 hours to write as a whole and I’m pretty fuckin proud of it. 

A/N: I can't... he's so fucking adorable.

Part 2 Here

--- Third Person POV --- 

    It’s Monday and the LAFD 118 team has been called to a two-story house fire and said house is beginning to collapse. Buck and Eddie jog away from it toward the engine to assist in putting out the rest of the fire, having rescued the residents and left them with Hen and Chim. As they approach Bobby, his gaze is cast behind them, “Where is (Y/N)?” he asks looking back to Buck and Eddie. The two look behind them and then back at each other before Buck takes off sprinting back toward the house even as the roof caves.   

    Bobby makes eye contact with Eddie who is already backing away, “Way ahead of you.” Eddie swiftly catches up with Buck as they both dodge a falling rafter.  

    “(Y/N)!” Buck yells, fear evident in his voice. Together the two yell for their teammate as they carefully pick through the flames around them. After what feels like ages, but is only a couple of minutes, Eddie slaps his friend on the shoulder. Pulling him to a stop, he motions for Buck to stop yelling. Barely audible over the flames, a chorus of meows is heard.   

    The two look to each other once again. “Don’t tell me she went back for cats,” Eddie mumbles, shocked.  

    Buck sighs and begins moving toward the sound, “This is (Y/N) we’re talking about. Of course she did.”  

    Finally, they find (Y/N) lying in the corner of whats supposed to be the kitchen. A rafter seems to have swept her off of her feet and is now lying across her ribcage. The area is mostly clear of flames and lying just to the side of (Y/N), as if she had dropped it when she was crushed, is an upturned nylon basket which is the source of the meows. “Help me with this rafter,” Buck urges as he moves towards (Y/N). Together the two lift the rafter off of her and toss it aside. Buck bends down and carefully lifts (Y/N) into his arms and begins heading for an exit. Eddie retrieves the basket of cats and follows.  

    By now, the flames have been subdued and only small flickers are seen scattered across the now demolished building. Buck shakes (Y/N) softly and she begins to wake up. She looks up at him in slight confusion before looking around her. “Wait, wait,” she mumbles, “Put me down, please.” Unwillingly, Buck does so to avoid an elbow or knee to his ribs.   

--- Your POV --- 

    I stop Eddie as he catches up to us and retrieve the basket of cats from him. I look inside to make sure all three kittens and their mother are accounted for and at least breathing before I turn back around to find their owner. I spot the little girl with Hen and her parents and b-line toward them. My legs attempt to give out from under me as my ribs and head throb in pain but I need to do this. I pull my helmet off, tossing it to the ground and stop in front of the little girl. Holding out the basket to her, I offer a small smile. “Oh! Thank you so much! You shouldn’t have!” her mother gasps as she realizes what is inside the soot covered basket.  

    “I don’t know what I would do if I lost one of my fur babies. I wanted to,” I lean closer to the mother as the little girl takes the basket, exploding with joy. “For her sake,” I whisper to the mother and father.   

    The mom pulls me into a tight hug, which makes my ribs riot but I ignore them. She pulls away and places her palm against my cheek, “Thank you so much, honey. You just made this whole ordeal a little better for her.”   

    I offer another smile, “Don’t thank me yet. They’ll need a vet visit asap and,” I lower my voice, “I tried to keep them covered as much as possible with my coat but they got a good bit of smoke exposure. They seem okay now but I’m not sure about the long-term effects,” I pause, “If you catch my drift.”  

    The father nods, “We understand but regardless, thank you.”  

    I smile to both of them before kneeling in front of the little girl who has busied herself with brushing the soot off the still meowing cat and kittens, “You take real good care of them okay?” She nods eagerly as she sets the basket aside and hops down from the gurney. She wraps her small arms around my neck in a tight hug and mumbles a thank you into my shoulder. “You are very welcome, Sweetie.”  

    The little girl lets go and returns to her basket of fluff so I stand and turn around to see Buck waiting a few feet away. He does not look happy and I know I’ll get an earful later. I make my way toward him, and looking back at the little girl with her basket of cats I decide, “It was worth it,” I state firmly to Buck as he meets me and wraps an arm around my shoulders to guide me to the other side of the firetruck out of sight of the family. As soon as we round the corner of the truck, my legs give and Buck has to catch me to keep me from faceplanting the pavement.   

    He picks me up once more before setting me on the side of the truck. He brushes my hair out of my face, “You’re going to give me an aneurysm one of these days.” Bobby, Hen, and Eddie join us before I can muster up a response. By now my ribs feel like they're about to collapse inwards and my head is trying to explode. A bout of dizziness nearly takes me down again but I lean into Buck who has collected a handful of alcohol prep pads to clean the soot off my face and taken a seat beside me.  

    “What’s the damage?” Bobby asks as I do my best to follow the penlight Hen is moving back and forth in my eyes.  

    “Definitely a concussion,” she responds, “Let’s see those ribs.” I suppose Eddie must’ve reported back to them alerting them to my injuries plus he’s pulling an oxygen mask over my face.  

    Bobby nods and holds up my helmet, “Well, that’s not surprising.” I now notice the crack across the visor and cringe. I struggle with my turn out for a moment before Buck slaps my hands away and helps me out of it. I lift my shirt to reveal already bruising ribs.  

    Hen gently feels across my ribs and presses a stethoscope over my lungs. I take a deep breath in as Hen speaks again, “I don’t think they’re broken but definitely heavily bruised.” She pulls the stethoscope away and places it back in her kit before taking a step back to look at me, “I know it’ll be your biggest nightmare but you’re gonna have to take it really easy for the next few weeks.”  

    Buck hooks a finger under my chin and pulls me to face him as I groan. “I know. I know. You’ll live. Now let me get the rest of this mess off so we can bandage these cuts.” Eddie and Bobby depart as I attempt to sit still for Buck but I keep fidgeting and adjusting in an effort to ease the pain in my ribs.   

    Hen laughs but states seriously, “You’re gonna need a CT scan to check for brain bleeds and some X-rays to make sure your ribs aren’t broken and to check for skull fractures.”  

    “I know,” I mumble as she passes Buck some band-aids before closing her kit and returning to the other side of the truck. Buck finishes cleaning my face and begins fighting with the wrapper of a band-aid. His hands are shaking so bad he almost drops it several times before I finally wrap my hands around his and look up at him, “Just breathe, Buck. I’m alive,” I pause, “Very banged up but alive.”  

    His lips press into a thin line and he breaks eye contact to look down at our hands. He lets me have the band-aids so I open one of them before handing it to him for application. As he places it right below my hair line, eyes trained on it and not looking at mine, he mutters something under his breath. I wait for him to place the band-aid and smooth it down before tilting my head, confusion plain to see on my face. He sighs heavily, “I said you scared the shit out of me.” Finally making eye contact with me again he adds, “I can’t lose you. You mean too damn much to me.”  

    I wrap him in a hug, which he promptly returns, and mumble, “I’m sorry.” He buries his face in my neck as I bury mine in his chest and we stay that way for a long moment before finally returning to the task at hand. I open another band-aid and hand it over for him to place on my cheek below the other. “I just figure that the house burning down is pretty shitty but to lose the cats too would be even worse. I know I would’ve been devastated to lose mine,” I explain and he nods in understanding. Once he’s satisfied with my treatment, we both make our way to join the others, Buck keeping an arm at my back in case I start to collapse again.  

    Soon, we all depart and return to the Fire House. I’m carted off to the ER to get a CT scan and X-rays as doc ordered. As expected, the results confirm a concussion but no brain bleeds, skull fractures, or broken ribs.   

    Finally, the weekend is here and I am spending my Saturday night at Maddie and Chim’s house with Maddie, Athena, Hen, and Karen. By now my concussion is gone for the most part but my ribs are still pretty sore. My fellow ladies are all taking it easy, having a beer or glass of wine. I on the other hand have managed to get sloshed even though they have repeatedly warned me to slow down. Who knows what trouble Buck and Eddie are getting into tonight but Chim is at Bobby and Athena’s house with Jee-Yun for cooking lessons.   

    I’m currently sprawled out on my back in Maddie’s living room floor babbling on and on. Most of it is drunken non-sense but soon I find myself on a train of thought that I’m not quite sure I should be voicing aloud but drunk me has lost all fucks to give. As soon as the first sentence stumbles out of my mouth, “You know who I really really like?” the ladies are all on the edges of their seats. Hen has even pulled out her phone and started recording but I couldn’t care less. I need to get this off my chest and it’s about fucking time. I might as well carry on while I have the guts. “Buck,” I pause trying but failing to collect my thoughts and decide to simply ramble on as the room wobbles, “He’s just so fucking sweet. He’s got the largest and shiniest heart of gold I’ve ever seen. He’s hilarious as fuck… And adorable… And fine as hell… He makes me feel safe… and happy… and giddy.”  

    I sit up abruptly and wobble slightly before looking at the nearest person, who just happens to be Maddie, “And I don’t know what the hell the whole knee nudge thing is that he does,” I point to Hen, “You know what I’m talking about. That thing he does whenever he’s sitting beside me where he just like nudges my knee with his,” The room starts to spin so I lay back down and look up at the ceiling, “I-I don’t know what that is. I don’t know if he does it as a funny funny ha ha. Or if he does it to aggravate me. Which it did at first because I couldn’t figure out why he was doing it but I finally gave up and just started nudging back. But anyway, I don’t know why he does it but I hope he never stops… It always reminds me that he’s right there… It reminds me that I’m not alone, that someone will have my back if I’m about to do stupid shit or be there if I need a shoulder to lean on. It makes me feel safe.” I come to a halt and shuffle through the thoughts in my head.  

    “And another fucking thing. His fucking biceps, dude. They’re damn near as big as my head. Sometimes I just wanna,” I click my teeth together, “bite them. Actually, next time he hits me with the ‘Bite me, (Y/L/N)’… I’ma do it.” I stop to catch my breath and a sudden realization hits me, “I think I fucked up,” I slur out.  

    “Yeah, honey, you’re pretty wasted,” Athen says with laughter.  

    “No. No I said I fucked up,” I correct her, assuming she thought I said, “I think I’m fucked up.”  

    “You mean by drinking so much?” Hen asks,” Yeah, probably so.”  

    I see Maddie shake her head with a grin out of the corner of my eye and I inquire, “What?”  

    “Elaborate. They haven’t put two and two together yet,” she replies.  

    I huff, “I said, ‘I think I fucked up’ because I told myself I was not gonna fall in love again because my luck with relationships is so damn shitty but I think I done fell in love with him and I’m scared.”  

    “Why are you scared, sweetheart,” Karen asks.  

    “Because I don’t wanna get hurt again,” I mumble before quickly adding, “It’s not that I think he’s gonna hurt me. It’s just… conditioning ya know? Like, anytime things are going good for a while, my body kicks into fight or flight thinking something bad is about to happen because that’s always what happens. I always get steamrolled and knocked down a peg. I don’t wanna rope him into the shit show that is my life. He deserves someone that has their shit together. Someone who can give him the world. That’s what he deserves… not someone who’s gonna expect shit to go south from the start.” The room is silent as this explanation sinks in.   

    I hear the beep of Hen stopping the recording as Maddie gets up from the couch and bends down to grab my arm and help me up, “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” I nod as she guides me toward a spare bedroom.  

--- Buck's POV ---

    “How’s (Y/N) doing?” I hear Eddie ask from the kitchen as I sit sipping my whiskey. Chris has already gone to bed for the night and Eddie is putting away leftovers from dinner.  

    Having not fully processed what he asked due to the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream I drop my head onto the back of the chair I’m sitting in and grin, “She’s just so beautiful.”  

    Eddie pokes his head around the wall and looks at me in confusion, “What?’  

    “You asked about (Y/N). She’s pretty… and smart… She’s funny too.”  

    Eddie waves his hand to interrupt me and sits down on the couch across from me, pulling out his phone, “Hang on what were you saying about (Y/N) I couldn’t hear you through your mumbles.”  

    I know damn well I wasn’t mumbling but repeat myself anyway, “I said, ‘She’s pretty and smart and funny,’” making sure to over-annunciate my words.  

    “Go on,” Eddie encourages, grinning at his phone.  

    I shake my head and carry on, “She’s always down for an adventure. She’s self-less. Like, as much as I want to be mad at her for risking her life to save those cats the other day, I can’t be because I know I’d do the same damn thing. She’d risk her life just to make sure someone else's doesn't end or is a little brighter despite the catastrophe they’ve just endured.” I sigh loudly, “I could watch her dance around like a goof ball or ramble about random shit for hours. Her smile makes me smile. Her laugh makes me laugh.”  

    “Really?” Eddie asks to keep me going.  

    I nod, “And you know how I nudge her knee with mine all the time?” Eddie nods, “It started out as just a way to annoy her when I was bored but now it’s way more than that. Now it’s a gentle reminder to her that I’m still right there by her side but also a reminder to myself that she’s right there within arm's reach. I-I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. I thought I did when I looked behind us and she wasn’t there. If I had lost her that day then not only would I no longer be able to enjoy her presence but i-it would’ve been my fault. I should’ve pulled up the rear and made sure she got out safe.”  

    “Don’t blame yourself, Buck. You know she would’ve gone back for the cats anyway,” Eddie comments.  

    “I know but like I said that’s one of the things I love about her,” I pause, “Love. Did I just say love?” I see him nod, “Man, I think I’m in love.” It’s quiet for a few moments before I breath out a laugh, “She has a really nice ass too.”   

    Eddie shakes his head and puts his phone away, “Alright buddy,” he says as he gets up and pulls the glass of whiskey from my grasp, “Time for you to hit the hay.” I begrudgingly get up and Eddie helps me to the couch.  

    “Wait,” I slur out once I’ve plopped onto the couch, and try to get back up but Eddie pushes me back down, “But I wanna go see her,” I whine but as the room wobbles, I give up and lie back down.  

    “You can see her tomorrow. We’re having family breakfast at Athena and Bobby’s remember?” Eddie responds.  

    “Oh yeah,” I mumble before drifting off to sleep. 

Masterlist

More 911

[aventurineswife]

College AU part II

Ok but what if reader comes home one evening (alhaitham is away for a while) and finds kaveh on his maybe 4th glass of wine so they know he is stressed...again. And while they try coax him to get some rest, kaveh in his half drunk state blurts out he likes reader.

Reader is of course stunned, but thinks they can figure it out in the morning when kaveh is better and if he remembers saying it. Just after reader tucks kaveh in, he grabs them and pulls them down next to him and cuddles them, falling asleep right then and there. Unfortunately, reader has no way out of his iron grip and falls asleep there.

Kaveh might have a mini heart attack in the morning XD just two silly idiots who are pining for each other so hard, its too comical (yes, you can end it with a more proper fleshed out confession blurted out by both at the same time, we love silly idiots in love)

“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other” | Part 2

Summary: You come home one evening to find Kaveh on his fourth glass of wine, clearly stressed from his work. As you try to coax him to get some rest, he unexpectedly blurts out that he likes you. Stunned but uncertain, you decide to wait until morning to see if he remembers. After tucking Kaveh in, he unexpectedly pulls you down beside him, cuddling you tightly as he drifts off to sleep. Trapped in his embrace, you eventually fall asleep too.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Modern AU, College AU, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lighthearted Romance, Confessions from both sides.

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Potential minor implications of intoxication.

A/N: AHAHA I KNEW IT YOU WERE GONNA COMMENT SOMETHING LIKE THIS ANON!! 🤭

Part 1

You stepped into the apartment, the familiar scent of Kaveh’s notes and scattered architectural plans filling the air. You called out a casual greeting, but the only response was the soft clink of glass against wood. Frowning, you moved toward the dining room and found Kaveh slouched at the table, a half-empty bottle of wine by his side, the remnants of his fourth glass pooling at the bottom.

“Kaveh?” you ventured cautiously, noting the slight flush to his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

He looked up, his sharp red eyes slightly glazed over. A lopsided smile spread across his face, the kind that hinted at a lighthearted spirit struggling against the weight of his stress. “I’m... splendid!” he declared, raising the glass like a trophy. “A true artist needs his inspiration, after all!”

You stepped closer, assessing the chaotic spread of sketches and blueprints littering the table. “It looks like you’ve been at this for hours. You need to get some rest.”

Kaveh waved his hand dismissively, though it was less of a confident gesture and more a sign of his unsteady state. “Rest is for the weak! I can’t stop now; I have to finish this project for the exhibition next week! It’s... it’s my masterpiece!” He emphasized this last word with a theatrical flourish that made you chuckle despite the concern gnawing at your heart.

“Your masterpiece can wait until tomorrow,” you insisted gently, moving to pull the bottle away from him. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep this up.”

He pouted, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in his eyes. “But you don’t understand! Everything I do has to be perfect! I can’t let anyone down!” His voice wavered, revealing a hint of the pressure that had been weighing on him. You sat beside him, feeling a swell of sympathy.

“You’re not letting anyone down by taking care of yourself,” you said softly, placing a hand on his back. “You’re more than your work, Kaveh.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider this, his expression softening. “I know, but—” He paused, taking another sip of wine. “But you’re the only one who sees that, you know?”

You felt your heart flutter. “I’m just trying to help you, that’s all.”

He leaned back in his chair, suddenly serious, the laughter fading from his eyes. “You really care, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” You could feel your face heating up as you met his gaze, but then he startled you with his next words.

“I like you,” he blurted, words tumbling out in a rush. “Like, a lot. You make me feel... happy, and I—”

The weight of the moment struck you like lightning, leaving you utterly speechless. Your mind raced as you processed his confession. “Wait, you like me?”

“Yes, I—”

But before he could continue, you shook your head slightly, wanting to ground the conversation. “Kaveh, you’ve had a bit too much to drink right now. Maybe we should talk about this in the morning?”

He blinked at you, confusion swirling in his red eyes. “But I mean it,” he insisted, slightly slurring his words now. “I really do like you... a lot.”

Trying to keep a straight face amid the internal chaos, you nodded slowly. “Okay, let’s get you to bed, and we can figure it out when you’re sober.”

With some effort, you helped him to his feet, guiding him toward his room. He stumbled slightly, and you laughed softly, feeling a mixture of affection and exasperation. Once in his room, you helped him settle onto his bed, pulling the covers over him gently. “Get some sleep, Kaveh.”

He turned onto his side, looking up at you with a sleepy smile. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the door. “I—”

Before you could finish, Kaveh reached out and grabbed your wrist, tugging you down beside him with surprising strength. You landed beside him, flustered and caught off guard. “Kaveh, what—”

“Stay,” he murmured, already drifting off. “I like you... so much...”

And with that, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close against his side, his warmth enveloping you like a soft blanket. You felt your heart race, trapped in his iron grip, unable to escape. You’d never expected this turn of events, yet you couldn’t deny the comfort of being beside him.

With a resigned sigh, you nestled into his side, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you tried to process everything that had just happened.

The sun filtered through the curtains the next morning, the warmth of daylight creeping into Kaveh’s room. You stirred awake, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings and feeling the weight of Kaveh’s arm draped possessively over you.

Panic shot through you as you remembered the night before. You carefully extricated yourself from his grip, only to find his eyes fluttering open, blinking against the light.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. Then his expression shifted from drowsy to horrified as realization washed over him. “Oh, no... Did I...?”

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted, trying to suppress a smile. “You might have confessed your feelings while drunk.”

Kaveh shot up, wide-eyed, his hair a wild mess. “I what?!”

You chuckled, leaning back on your hands. “You definitely did, Kaveh. But it’s okay. We can talk about it if you want.”

He put his head in his hands, mortified. “I can’t believe I did that! This is so embarrassing!”

“Relax,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice. “You weren’t wrong in what you said.”

Kaveh looked up at you, confusion etched on his features. “What do you mean?”

Taking a deep breath, you smiled softly at him. “I like you too, Kaveh. A lot. But maybe we should both be sober when we talk about it more seriously.”

His eyes lit up, and he sat straighter, a spark of hope igniting in them. “Really? You—”

Before he could finish, you both blurted out at the same time, “I like you!”

You stared at each other, a mix of surprise and joy on your faces. Laughter erupted from both of you, the tension breaking like a wave.

“Okay, so we both like each other,” you said, feeling your heart race at the realization. “Now what?”

Kaveh grinned, the nervousness replaced by his usual exuberance. “I think we should start with a proper date. I’ll even design a place that’s beautiful enough to impress you!”

You laughed again, shaking your head at the endearing absurdity of it all. “I’m looking forward to it, Kaveh. Just try not to spill your feelings after too much wine next time.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “No promises!”

And with that, two silly idiots finally embraced their feelings, their hearts in sync as they began to carve out a new chapter together, full of beauty, laughter, and love.

[asgardianhobbit98]

Four for Valentine: Week 2 "The Letter"

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield / Reader

Characters: Dwalin, Thorin, Gender Neutral Reader

Important Tags: written from Dwalin's POV, romance, angst, death, alcohol consumption, grief, love, redemption, healing

Words: 1146

Summary: When Dwalin attempts to heal his grief after the Battle of Five Armies, his finds himself not just grieving Thorin but also his sibling. But in the depth of night, ghosts come to life, and Dwalin finds that the letters are more healing than he originally thought. (I really meant for this to be fluffy but then my brain made it bittersweet instead because apparently angst is all I can manage today)

Written for my "Four for Valentine" event 🩷

My dearest y/n.

They are calling it the Battle of Five Armies: a Historic event, it seems. I certainly won’t be forgetting it. And I will make damned sure no Dwarf ever forgets it either. Just like I am making sure that no Dwarf ever forgets Smaug’s taking of the Lonely Mountain. Two points of important Dwarven history… and two moments in my life I would rather forget than remember. But it is crucial I don’t forget. If people remember it feels like people also remember you. Both of you.

My brother said writing down feelings is better than cutting down Orc filth. I still disagree. But I can’t deny that it helped me greatly when I lost you. It will certainly help me greatly now that I have lost him.

I loved you. You were my sibling, how could I not? But even if you had not been my family, I think the two of us would have gotten along well. You were funny in a way I didn’t really get, but which others seemed to find endearing. Thorin certainly found it endearing. More than he dared admit.

You see, I found a letter of his in his belongings. I didn’t mean to rummage through his things. It fell out when I was moving it. So don’t come yelling at me from the rocks now! And I only read it because it was addressed to you.

I hadn’t read your name in so very long. Maybe it was the already present grief, but I suddenly grieved you once more. I had to. Because when I read his letter to you, I saw the life you could have had if I had just been quicker in getting to you. That damned dragon!

He is dead now. Smaug. Revenge didn’t taste as sweet as I thought.

You would have had a life with Thorin. I know it. Because he wrote so. He loved you. Dwarves only love once. He was more devastated than he admitted to any of us. I knew he slipped away from us for a long time after the fall of Erebor. I knew he grew quiet. Distant. I never in a million years thought it was because of you too. I thought his family, his people… And here I was grieving you in front of him, burdening him with my own shite.

Yet, he never once said a word. He simply supported me.

He loved you.

You could have been his. He could have been yours.

Maybe this is for the better after all. If you had been here, you would have had to grieve him. The loss of Thorin is one I do not know how to handle.

I wish you were here to help me.

Perhaps the two of you are there in the afterlife, living among the rocks of Erebor, reunited at last.

Stupid.

Dwalin put the pen down and crumpled the letter in his hands with a little more force than necessary. He threw it aside where he watched it land among all the other attempts. Alone in a room in Erebor, finally home, Dwalin thought he might find some solace in a successful quest. But everything felt wrong.

With a sigh, he moved over to his bed and simply… drank himself to sleep, like he usually did. It helped with the nightmares, it helped with the grief, and it put him right to sleep. It was a win win, really.

Balin hated watching him do it, but Balin wasn’t around at the moment. He was on his way to Moria to continue furthering their people’s wealth; to try and retake the mountain. Meanwhile, Dwalin was still stuck in the past, in his grief… doing nothing with his life… or so he thought, at least.

…

As the darkness engulfed him, a restless sleep devouring Dwalin, he found that the alcohol actually did very little to help him. Rather than steering him onto a path of just dark, dreamless sleep, Dwalin found himself suddenly standing in his room.

Actually, that wasn’t the best description on where Dwalin found himself. He was in his room, yes, but he was sort of… standing by his bed, watching himself sleep.

It was a weird position to be in, and for a long time, Dwalin did nothing but stare at himself.

Had he died?

Was this the afterlife?

But no, he was breathing… Snoring, actually. It was a rather pitiful sight.

There was a strange humming in the background. As if someone was singing, but it wasn’t one person. It was a vibration so loud it sounded like a thousand people humming. It was peaceful, almost recognizable. As if Dwalin had always heard it in the background whilst walking in the mountain, or out and about.

But he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

The humming was interrupted by a little shuffle in the room behind him. He turned, finding it rather difficult and slow to do so, and watched…

You.

And Thorin.

Both of you looked ten times better than you’d ever done alive, warm peaceful looks on your faces at all times. The two of you were picking up Dwalin’s attempts at writing a letter to you, reading them with your heads held together, arms locked in a loving touch…

“Y/N?” Dwalin asked, staring at his sibling with pure… shock. And Thorin, his king… “Thorin?”

Both of you looked up at him. But it was you who answered Dwalin: “I like your letters. They make me happy.”

Dwalin must have looked quite dumb as he simply stared in shock, because suddenly you began to chuckle. That chuckle… He’d missed it.

“My dear Dwalin,” Thorin said, “you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Both of you chuckled a bit at this.

“You both are…”

“Dead,” you finished for him. “Yes, quite. But that doesn’t mean we’ve left you.”

Thorin nodded along. “We’re always with you. In the rocks that make up your home. In your memories. And we’ll be waiting. Until you’re ready.”

You smiled. Thorin smiled.

…

And far too soon did that ‘dream’ end because suddenly Dwalin woke up with a start in his bed, looking around the room, searching…

He pushed away the bottle of alcohol. His heart lighter, and went back over to the crumpled up drafts of a letter.

Okay… he thought to himself… I’ll keep writing if it makes you two so damn happy.

Chuckling for the first time in a long, long time, he wrote at least twenty long letters in the candlelight, telling the both of you everything that he wanted to. Because he missed you both, and he loved you. And if you two really did read his letters, then he was going to keep at it until he was sure you both knew just how much you meant to him.

tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @nowandthane if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list, please let me know!

reblog and comment = love and support 🥰

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Thinking about Steve getting so big and round that he can rest on his belly like it’s a giant beanbag and he’s alone without Bucky so he starts to belly fuck himself and is just whining and moaning and panting being very verbal while feeling himself jiggle

Asdfghjkl 🥵🥵🥵

Oh.

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead, including impossible/unrealistic levels of belly fat, belly humping, immobility, etc.

A stuttered, high moan bursts desperately out of Steve’s heaving chest as he squirms on top of his impossibly big gut. The sensation is otherworldly. It doesn’t feel real even though it’s so fucking visceral. It’s all he can feel. He can only feel his own fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Huge. He’s lost in it, lost in his own fucking fat. Steve’s grown so huge. Fattened and then overfattened recklessly. Ungodly round and swollen.

Steve lets his head hang down toward his overgrown middle and chest, pecs turned to moobs to just breasts, they’re so big and fat. All of him is. And he’s out of breath, panting and gasping, just from bucking his hips down frantically, barely doing any work at all, just trying to get any sort of friction to his blubber-buried dick. He hasn’t seen his dick in so fucking long, he hasn’t had Bucky’s hand or mouth or anything of Bucky’s around his dick is so long. His dick might as well be gone at this point, all of his normal sexual pleasure replaced by the pure pleasure of consumption - eating like a madman, eating so much that his belly stretches and he moans and cries, swearing he’s going to burst at the seams, straining around all this food and drink packed and stuffed into his body. It’s how he’d like to go, though, if he has to, he’s going to ride the wave of utter unrestrained gluttony like a true pig. Steve shivers just thinking about it - oh, oh, fuck yes. His gut stretched, new marks etching themselves into his thick flesh, his stomach churning and gurgling, his skin flushed red with how big he’s made himself, his body glistening with sweat, and creaking. There’s not enough room. There’s never enough room for everything he wants inside him. Delicious, decadent food.

Steve’s thinking about stuffing himself now, while he fucks his own fat. He’s reached an entirely new plane of greed and gluttony that he can’t be stopped. He’s the size of a boulder, his belly the shape of one, and he’s going to be stopped just about as easily as a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain. Jesus, he’s greedy. He’s fat. Huge. He’s moaning, crazed with the sensation of what he’s become.

The only thing Steve has to work with to get out his throbbing, pulsing arousal is the taut, huge surface of his belly. Nothing else. He’s so big. He can’t reach anything but so of his gut. Even his belly is too big for him to reach all of it. Steve whimpers. All he can feel his the sweaty, hot sensation of his own overfattened flesh. Thick and heavy, wobbling and jiggling underneath him. All over him. He’s massive. He almost can’t breathe, his stomach is so filled and so hard and pressing into him, trying and failing to find any more room to expand into.

Still, having trouble breathing or not, with every lazy thrust of his hips, pleasure sparks inside Steve. It feels so good. Fucking his own fat. So. good. But he needs more. Still. Steve always needs more. More food, more pleasure, and more complete hedonism.

Really writhing now, not just squirming, Steve’s toes curl until the soles of his feet ache like the sizes of his absolutely massive belly do, trying to stretch around all those calories, exponentially swelling him more. More. Steve whimpers unstoppably through a burp. There’s gas inside him rolling and bubbling in his stretched stomach and intestines from the damn keg of beer Bucky poured into him (trying, in vain, to placate and satisfy the monster of Steve’s appetite that they’ve built together) before he left to work on the monumental task of gathering, buying, and then hauling all the groceries they (mostly just Steve) need at home. So, now, Steve’s gargantuan stomach is carbonated. The feeling of bubbles in him is too much. He keeps belching and moaning, the bloat, the pressure mounting inside him. He’s gonna explode. All the humping and wiggling isn’t helping, he’s making more bubbles inside himself. Pressure. More pressure, tricking his body into thinking he’s fuller and leaving him panting even harder. He’s so fat. He can’t believe it.

Actually, he can believe it. He lives in his own head with the constant onslaught of thoughts that demand moremoremoremoremore. That’s how he got so giant. More. That’s how he grew this massive, round gut that holds his body off the ground like he’s laid out on a big, plush beanbag.

More.

Lavish.

Soft.

Big.

Steve just can’t fucking help himself. He’s so gluttonous and he doesn’t want to stop. Never.

Waves of his own wobbling fat take Steve beyond reason, almost beyond pleasure. It’s fucking good. So good that he can’t comprehend what he’s become. A true, immobile beached whale. His feet can’t touch the ground, they haven’t been able to touch the ground in ages. Ages and ages that have only been filled with food and drink - filled like Steve is filled. Overfilled. Unbearably filled with literally anything that Bucky wants to shove down his throat, from greasy pizzas to rich pastas to creamy desserts to malty beer and thick milkshakes.

More.

Steve licks his lips, whining. He just keeps fantasizing about food while he humps and fucks his gut. Jiggling. Wobbling. Bloating. Slowly… slowly… slowly growing fatter, stuffed with food, and always reaching new heights. Every day that goes by he’s the fattest he’s ever been and also the smallest he’ll be from now on.

God.

Another burp makes its way out of Steve, he intends to moan, squeezing his arms and legs into the blubbery sides of his belly - what he can reach of the sides of his belly underneath him - but he can’t control whether or not he moans or burps. He can’t control himself. What’s the difference anyway at this point? Indulgence is pleasure, pleasure is indulgence; food is sex, sex is food. There is no difference. All he knows is the pure sensation of unending fat underneath him. His body. So big. He can’t comprehend how fucking huge he is and it makes him so fucking horny.

[painsandconfusion]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Prompts and starters A collaboration with @wormwriting

[Prompt Masterpost]

“How much did you hear?”

Whumpee crouched and trying to stay quiet until they can slip away. Then the cool barrel of a gun pressing against the back of their head. Bonus for ~click~

“You know what happens now, right?”

Whumpee stumbling home, breath ragged and body in shock still. They stare at the liquor bottle - and without thinking, uncap it and start downing as much fire as they can stand. They don’t want to remember what they just saw. For everyone’s sake. 

Whumper shoving a bottle against Whumpee’s chest. “You’re going to want to forget that. I’ll check back in tomorrow to make sure you did.” 

Walked into the wrong bar at the wrong time - now they’re a vampire’s lunch.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who fucked up everything. Now I need to clean up your mess.”

The shaky hand Whumpee presses to their mouth to try to stifle their echoing breaths. Eyes squeezed shut so hard that they might press the memory of what they saw out of their mind.

“How’s about you and me go for a little walk, hm?”

“Sorry kid - boss said no loose ends.”

Whumpee stepping around the corner to see people and blood and heads slowly turning toward them. Seeing them seeing what just happened. Seeing the blood. Seeing them seeing the blood. Whumpee slooooooowwwwwly steps back, eyes stricken with horror-

“Can’t talk without a tongue, right?”

Whumpee driving in the middle of nowhere - how were they supposed to know it would be fifty miles to the nearest gas station? At least they can cal-......they don’t have signal either…

Whumpee flinching at each echoing footstep, tucking further back into their hiding spot. “I know you’re theeeeerrreeeee~ Come out come ouuuut~”

“You know this isn’t personal, right?”

And escaped whumpee bumping into Whumper completely randomly years later. The  s t a r e. Aaaaaaand run-

“What are you so scared for? I don’t gotta kill you~”

“Wh-y me?” “You were the easiest to grab.”

Stepping into a bear trap. 

Whumpee getting mistaken for a target. Tortured in their place while pleading all the while that they got the wrong mark. Of course, no one believes them.

“Know what you are? A liability.”

The random guy the villain shoots in a bar just to make a point. 

“Don’t. Move.”

[Prompt Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

(a few of these arent working so if wibbly-wobbly-whump or hold-back-on-the-comfort changed their blogs please lmk <3

[ask-team-misfit]

[ in reference to this ]

He'd be staring at the punch bowl when he overheard Reshi's announcement.

He was convinced he'd seen enough. His heart was set on taking anything he can and booking it. Maybe leave behind a surprise "gift", or several.

But he wasn't gonna do that without knowing which of these foodstuffs had meat, and which didn't. Thus lead to him becoming distracted by what he smelled from the punch bowl, staring into it until now.

Lief: "Truth or dare, eh?"

He turned his attention back to the bowl of wine, pondering over whether or not he should stay. His antennae twitched, taking in the aroma of the liquid.

The scent made him think of the cider back home he wanted to try once, were it not for Eve yelling for him to go away; just that instead of apples, it smelled quite a bit more like grepa berries.

He'd assume this was some kind of juice, but it only vaguely smelled like such. Very vaguely, the more he thought about it.

The curiosity got the better of him. He picked up the ladle to do so, directly drinking from it.

For a drink that only vaguely smelled like fruit, the taste completely took him by surprise. He nearly shuddered from the intense flavor upon swallowing.

Lief: "Ugh... that was not juice. Note to self."

He turned away, initially. But then he dipped the ladle back in to take another, slower sip.

Lief: "It's so fruity... and so bitter. But it's not bad. I think..."

Perhaps he really was just thirsty. Or perhaps he didn't hate the taste as much as he figured. Or perhaps he inadvertantly awakened a part of him that would like drinking it a little too much.

Because he went on to drink more. And more.

And more.

Stopping only to hiccup from how quickly he was gulping it down.

Lief: "Gods. Really hope no one saw that..."

He wasn't sure when it happened or how, but he now felt a lot more relaxed. If any parts of his fur looked frazzled or still stood on end, it didn't anymore.

He swore he also felt a little woozy, but he waved it off as being exhausted still.

Lief: "But you know what? Maybe this place is alright. I can salvage this. Totally..."

[ Lief is now accepting Truth or Dare asks. Also he's somewhat drunk. ]

[indizombie]

Over the last two decades, countries have increasingly introduced warning labels to inform consumers about the health risks of alcohol. The World Health Organization's Global Status Report for Alcohol and Health in 2018 said 47 member states mandated health and safety warnings on alcohol, up from 31 in 2014. Ireland is the first country in the world to mandate a warning linking any level of alcohol consumption to cancer. From 2026, it will be a legal requirement for all bottles of alcohol in the Republic of Ireland to carry a label. South Korea also requires cancer-specific warnings on alcohol.

Brajesh Upadhyay, ‘US top doctor calls for cancer warnings on alcohol’, BBC

[johnschneiderblog]

Name your poison

Remember the good old days, when modest alcohol consumption was considered a normal, acceptable - yes, even healthy - aspect of adult behavior ...?

It calmed our nerves. It helped our blood flow.

Now, aside from advertising - "Guinness refreshes the spirit" , etc. _ you'd be hard put to find a kind, or even neutral, word about drinking.

A Gallup poll released a few days ago asserts that 45 percent of Americans believe that even one drink a day is bad for our health. That's the most ever recorded by the survey.

I believe it. In recent months three friends of mine - all very modest tipplers - have, at the advice of their doctors, jumped on the wagon, taking "dry January" to extremes.

The phrase "name your poison" was once considered a light-hearted way of asking somebody what they wanted to drink. Suddenly it's a serious statement.

(The photo shows a small sample of alcohol-related Christmas tree ornaments available at Bronner's Christmas Wonderland in Frankenmuth, Michigan.)

[uncertainwallflower]

The past is dead, Tomorrow is not born. Be today!

— P.G. Wodehouse, Carry on, Jeeves

BETWEEN THE DESIRE AND THE SPASM Chapter 9: Alas!

A tapping at the kitchen window drew her attention and she left the thought uncategorised, venturing out of the bathroom to find Dorcas tending a small fudge-coloured owl. “It’s for you,” she said, holding a neat square of parchment out towards Lily. “Who’s it from?” shot Marlene. Two flaps of its wings and the owl was gone. Dorcas shut the window behind it. “Dunno.” Lily turned it over in her hands. “Oh.” “‘Oh’?” What’s ‘oh’? Who is ‘oh’?” “No one. It’s nothing.” She took her glass from the kitchen counter and emptied it in one bitter mouthful. “It’s definitely someone—”

AO3