#he's definitely drunker than usual

[heavenlyvision]

Roommates

Pairing: Kenshi Takahashi x F!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: This was not meant to be this long, I am sorry !!! I know I am meant to be writing for Johnny but Kenshi calls my name and whispers sweet nothings to me (I’m relentlessly horny for the yakuza man). Anyways, it's not my best work but ENJOY !!! <33

Summary: When your roommate is out of town, you go clubbing to look for some companionship. When you strike out, you get an unexpected offer that you’re lightly hesitant to accept.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, mentions of creepy men, minor mention of violence (single punch), mentions of alcohol, dirty talk, p in v sex, creampie, omg… they were roommates, Kenshi (he’s his own warning), no use of y/n, I think that’s all !

MDNI

It’s Friday night and you’ve had a hard time at work lately, it doesn’t help that Kenshi has been gone all week and won’t be back until Wednesday at the earliest. You miss him and you’re frustrated from work. So, when your friends invite you out to the club, your immediate response wasn’t to turn them down – like you usually did, instead you shocked both yourself and them by saying yes.

Now, you’re a bit tipsy and dancing the night away with your friends, you finally feel light after being weighed down by anxieties all week. Unfortunately, men ruin everything and one has come up behind you, grabbing at you to try and get you to dance with him. You attempt to shimmy away and tell him you’re uninterested but his hands grab onto you harder. He pulls you back into him and now you’re feeling scared, your heart rate has spiked and you feel like you’ve completely sobered up.

You turn around quickly, trying to loosen his grip on you, when you’ve successfully turned you smack him square in the nose and run away. Weaving through the large sea of people, you’ve lost track of your friends and you don’t remember when that happened anymore. Maybe you were drunker than you thought.

Reaching the exit, you stumble out onto the street, it’s still busy and bright, people moving along the strip to get into all kinds of different clubs. You pull out your phone to try and get an uber home when you see a heap of missed calls from Kenshi. Your heart jumps, worried for him but as you go to call him back, your phone rings in your hand, he’s calling again.

Your words rush out as soon as you pick up, “Are you okay?”

He breathes a sigh of relief on the other end, “Are you? I come home early and I can’t find you anywhere at nearly midnight and you won’t pick up your phone.”

“…Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home so early.” You feel badly, you didn’t mean to worry him.

“Neither did I,” he pauses for a moment, “Where are you?”

“Just… out with some friends,” you cringe at your half-truth, “I’m coming home right now.”

He sounds unamused, definitely able to tell you’re lying, “Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, I’m okay, I’ll get an uber or something,” your eyes wander the streets, a group of men are approaching and you shrink in on yourself.

Kenshi doesn’t like the idea of you getting in an uber alone, “Where are your friends? Can’t one of them take you home?”

“They’re still inside, I’ll tell you about it when I get home,” the group of men that pass by whistle and cat call you, your face pulls up in disgust at it but you continue talking, “I shouldn’t be that long–”

“­–I’m going to come get you,” his tone is strained, you know he’s heard the men accost you.

His offer makes your heart swell but you tell him, “Kenshi don’t, it’ll take longer, just let me get an uber. I’ll be home super soon… okay?”

“Fine but if you aren’t home in 20 I’m coming to get you… and turn your location on,” he grumbles out, giving in to your logic.

“Yessir,” you joke at him.

“Don’t call me that,” he does not find you funny.

You pout at him, “You’re so mean to me.”

“Order your uber and get home safe,” he retorts before hanging up on you, not wanting you to talk to him any longer. The longer you stay on the phone with him, the longer it takes for you to get home.

You chuckle at his frustrations with you, he’s simultaneously so patient and impatient with you. Even though he’s a little short with you, he’s a good roommate and friend and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

.𖥔˖ִ ₊ ⊹˚

The uber came pretty quick, you get back to your shared apartment safe and within the 20 minutes he gave you. When you walk through the front door he’s quick to come up to you, he had been waiting for you on the couch.

His hands gently move over you, double checking you’re okay, “You smell like vodka.”

“I’m sober, the night started good but ended up blowing. The buzz was ruined after that,” you huff.

His hand holds yours; his thumb lightly brushes your knuckles and you intake a sharp breath, “What happened?”

“Mmm, some jackass grabbed onto me and I had to swing and run,” you’re dismissive, not really all that worried about it anymore, “I hadn’t realised I hit him that hard.”

His frown is deep, “Where were your friends?”

“I don’t know, dancing I guess. We just sorta lost track of each other,” you lean into him, your forehead rests on his chest, “I’m glad you’re home, it’s been lonely.”

“I don’t like your friends,” he’s blunt, straight to the point about it.

“They’re alright,” you defend.

Kenshi disagrees, “They do this every time you go out with them, they leave you behind.”

That is true, they have a tendency to forget about you when you all go out together but it’s not a huge deal. It’s not like they do it purposefully, you all get a little drunk is all.

“Not always,” you argue.

“Yes, always,” he’s not interested, especially since he knows the truth, “Why did you go out tonight anyways? You don’t even like clubbing that much.”

You don’t tell him the whole truth; you had been intending to get laid. Having a good one-night stand was something you were hoping would help with your stress levels. Your vibrator hasn’t been cutting it lately and with Kenshi away you thought tonight would be the perfect time but after his unexpected return and that creepy guy, you’re happy it didn’t work out.

You settle for a half truth, “I was bored and lonely, plus this week sucked,” you push off his chest and look up at him.

He snickers down at you and teases, “Miss me that much?”

Maybe it’s the small amount of alcohol swimming in your head but you don’t even try and deny it, “Yes.”

He scoffs at you, “Go to bed, you need to sober up more.”

You shake your head at him, “I don’t wanna sleep, you’re home now, I wanna hang out with you.”

“Go hang out in your bed,” he counters.

You’re quick to say, “Only if you join me.”

“You’re annoying,” he comments.

You pretend to be really hurt as you ask him, “So, you didn’t miss me at all?” His expression is stoic, he’s completely unreadable, it’s even worse with the blindfold. “You’re hurting my feelings here, Ken doll.”

He doesn’t like that, “Don’t call me that.”

You groan and throw your head back, “You don’t let me call you anything.”

His brow raises, “You could call me by my name?”

You jeer at him, “Boooo, boring!”

“You’re impossible to deal with,” he groans and walks into the kitchen.

You follow after him, “I think I’m entirely possible actually.”

He ignores you and fills a glass with water, he hands it to you once it’s full, “Drink that.”

Your face pulls up at him but you take the cup and drink it, “You’re quite crabby tonight.”

“I am annoyed,” he replies simply.

You speak into the rim of the glass, “Why are you annoyed, Ken doll?”

“I was worried about you,” is all he says, no further elaboration. Though it’s not really needed, you know he gets a little bit concerned when you go out with those friends.

“Awe, you worry about me,” you poke at his face, trying to lighten his mood.

He groans and his head rolls back, moving away from your prodding, “You should go to sleep.”

“Fine but not because you told me to,” you place the glass in the sink, “I am choosing to go to bed because I am tired.”

“Mhm,” he hums at you, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You walk off down the hall to your room, calling back to him, “If you’re lucky.”

.𖥔˖ִ ₊ ⊹˚

When you wake up it’s late morning but at least it’s still morning, small wins. Kenshi isn’t home when you wander around looking for him, you shrug off his absence and have a shower. You feel grungy from last night and find yourself wishing you had showered before bed.

By the time you’re clean and ready for the day, Kenshi is home and in the kitchen, “I got you a coffee,” he nods at the to-go cup on the bench.

“Thank you,” You reach over and take it.

He asks you, “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine, I hadn’t drank that much last night,” you stand idly, watching him sip at his own coffee. You aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not… but he seems annoyed, well more specifically, he seems annoyed at you. “Are you mad at me?”

His reply is sharp, “I’m not mad.”

“You seem mad,” you insist.

“You’re gonna make me mad,” he retorts, his fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, “I’m not mad at you, I just… don’t like when you go out while I’m away.”

“I’m always fine though and I rarely go out as it is,” you’re trying to make him feel better but you don’t think it’s working.

He doesn’t reply but his mouth pulls up in a scowl and he grumbles a sound of acknowledgement.

You walk around the counter and shimmy between him and the bench, so you’re directly in front of him, “Why is this worrying you so much?”

“You worry me and it’s not like you have a great support system when you go out,” he isn’t wrong, which is somewhat bothersome.

You pat his shoulder, “You need to stress less, It’s all good, Ken doll.”

He leans forward, his hands rest on the bench either side of you, effectively caging you between him and the counters, “Don’t call me that.”

He’s being weird, you don’t know why he’s so worried about you all of a sudden. He’s always been ‘protective’ over you but that always felt more casual, this feels a bit out of the blue, “Why are you so worried about this? You’ve never been so concerned.”

He frowns at you, “I’ve always been this concerned, I’ve just never said anything.”

“Oh.” It seems he has reached a sort of breaking point.

He tries asking you again, seemingly knowing you lied to him last time you answered, “Why did you go out last night anyways?”

He can’t see you but you shy away anyways, your eyes look away from him, “I told you last night.”

“No, you lied last night,” his head tilts at you slightly.

How he manages to know, you aren’t sure. It’s become an annoying talent of his, knowing when you’re lying, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He leans the smallest bit closer, “You are a poor liar.”

“I’ve never lied a day in my life,” you lie.

He doesn’t move or say anything, from how exposed you feel right now, you could swear he can see you. It feels like he’s staring you down… and it’s working.

You groan at him, “Kenshi, it’s not a huge deal, I went out to have fun and maybe… get laid,” you trail off, feeling embarrassed before adding, “but things didn’t work out that way.”

He’s completely unreadable right now, he doesn’t have a single tell, “You went out last night for a one-night stand?”

You’re facing him properly again, “Yeah but then no one really caught my eye and that guy was grabby and the night was ruined, plus you were home so I’m glad I didn’t bring anyone back.”

“Is that what you meant by ‘you were lonely’.”

Your face grows warm and you want to squirm into a heap on the floor, why is he asking so many questions, “Well… yes and no?”

His fingers grip the counter a little tighter, his frown deepens, “What would you have done if I were home?”

You aren’t sure what he’s asking, “I don’t–”

“–Would you still go out to the club or would you have asked me?” He clarifies.

You think you know what he’s asking now but you want to be clear, “Asked you what?”

He’s quick to reply, wanting you to catch on quicker, “To sleep with you–”

That doesn’t seem like it’d bode well for your friendship, “I don’t think that’s really–”

“–Cause I’d do it, in a heartbeat,” he’s resolute, completely certain.

You’re at a complete loss for words, he’s just told you he’d sleep with you and you’d think he was just teasing you if he wasn’t so steadfast. He shows no signs of joking and you have no idea how to reply to him.

“Stop playing around,” your tone is nervous, you’re trying to give him an out.

He doesn’t take it, “Princess, I’m being so serious.”

Your knees feel like they might give out, he’s flirted with you before and even then it had an effect on you. To have him in front of you, telling you he’s seriously willing to fuck you, is going to kill you. The nickname isn’t lost on you, usually when he calls you that, he’s teasing you by calling you delicate or sensitive, the change in context makes your heart skip a beat.

“Kenshi–”

“–Would you let me fuck you?” He’s unmoving, waiting for your answer.

A shiver runs down your spine at the low timbre of his voice, it’s not like you’ve never considered it, you just never thought he was interested, “Now?”

A large, wicked smile grows on his face, “Do you want me to fuck you right now?”

He’s crude and it’s arousing you, he’s always been blunt but this is different, you’ve never shared a moment like this with him, “Would you?”

“I would, like I said, in a heartbeat,” his leg slots between yours, pinning you closer to the kitchen counters.

He’s effectively worked you up and made you comfortable enough to ask, “Then… could you? Please?”

His smile is evil, ecstatic that you’ve asked, “Of course I could, princess,” one of his hands moves to your hip, holding you. “First, I have a yes or no question for you.”

“Okay…” You’re hesitant, you don’t know what he’s going to ask.

His leg slots higher, thigh pressed to your cunt, “Did you feel the need to get laid because your little vibrator wasn’t cutting it anymore?”

You gasp, both at his question and the sudden contact, “How did–”

“The walls aren’t all that thick, princess,” the hand on your hip encourages you to lightly rut into his thigh, “Can hear you sometimes.”

You feel beyond embarrassed knowing he’s heard you getting off, “It wasn’t enough”

“No, I bet it wasn’t,” he chuckles at you, “You got so fuckin needy you were gonna ask a stranger to fuck you, good thing I came home, hmm?”

Your hips grind down onto his leg, the stimulation shocking you. Your panties are well and truly drenched at this point, “Kenshi~”

“I’ll fuck you well, princess, I’ll give you what you need,” he leans down to you, his lips brushing yours, “But first, you have to take it.”

He takes your lips in his, unoccupied hand reaching up to hold your face, moving you how he pleases. You whimper into him, his tongue licks into your mouth. It’s hot and messy, he’s kissing you like he’s starved of you and it’s making you lightheaded. His hand paws at your hip before slipping into your pants, he reaches behind and grabs a handful of your ass. You moan into him, surprised by his rough touch.

When he pulls back, your lips are connected by a string of saliva, evidence of how messy he kissed you. Your mind is fuzzy and you whimper at him, mind filled with so many thoughts of him and his mouth. His thumb rubs over your mouth, spreading the mess more than cleaning it.

He hums at you in consideration, “Come with me,” he says, as he pulls you behind him into the lounge room.

You can’t help but stumble slightly, your legs wobbly from his lips. You feel stupid right now, you’re able to form thoughts but they don’t feel like your own. The only ones that do feel like yours are the ones imagining how he’d look tongue fucking you, or how he’d look when he cums.

He stops in front of the couch and then suddenly pulls his shirt off, you’re gobsmacked by the suddenness, “Undress,” he tells you, “Keep your panties on though.”

If you were a weaker person, even by just a little bit you would have fainted on the spot, “You’re bossy,” you mumble as you shimmy your pants off.

Kenshi undresses completely and sits on the couch behind him, his cock hard and resting against his abdomen. He’s patiently waiting for you to finish undressing, “You have no idea.”

You feel awkward, standing in front of him almost completely bare. He spreads his legs wider and you stand between them, patting his thigh he says, “Come on, don’t be shy, straddle me, princess.”

He’s doing this on purpose you could swear, you feel so hot in the cheeks and shy. He’s making you feel nervous and so horny. He’s working you up in a way that no one else ever has, “You say embarrassing things,” you comment.

“I’ve not even started,” he pats his thigh again, “Hurry up, got me aching for you here.”

You sit down on him and straddle either of his thighs, you’re holding yourself up on your knees, your hands reach out and hold onto his shoulders. One of his hands holds your hip, while the other runs over your panties, feeling how you’ve soaked them.

He groans at how wet you are, “Fuckin hell, all this because I kissed you?”

His teasing alone could make you cry, “Don’t be mean–”

“–I’m gonna be mean to you, princess.” His hand slips into your panties and through your folds, your fingers dig into his skin, a sigh passing your lips at his touch. “Gonna have you crying on my cock by the time I’m done with you.”

He plays with your cunt, fingers slipping through your slick folds. His cock twitches against his stomach, precum leaking from his tip and smearing itself against his skin. You mindlessly move your hips back and forth against his fingers, seeking more from him.

His hand pulls back and you whimper at him, he laughs, slightly amused at your neediness and slips your panties to the side, “Alright, sit down and take what you need.”

“Yessir,” you joke but his cock jerks in response and you smile to yourself at his reaction.

You take his dick in your hand and he chokes on a moan, you stroke him slowly, your hand collecting his mess of precum and spreading it over his length. Getting him slick with himself, he groans at you, his abs tense at the feeling of your smaller hand on him.

Hovering over him, you position his tip at your entrance, not pushing down but holding him pressed to you. Your cunt leaks on the head of his cock and he moans, his hands grip your hips, “Trying to let you do this yourself, princess but if you don’t hurry up… I’m gonna stuff you full and I don’t care if it’ll hurt.”

Your pussy jumps at his threat and he flops back onto the couch, his head hanging back on it, “You’re gonna kill me, you’re so fucking… wet and warm,” he’s mumbling mostly to himself.

Slowly, you start pushing down on him, the stretch is a lot, especially since it’s been so long since you last had sex. That and Kenshi may be the biggest you’ve attempted to take – not that you’re going to tell him that. You pull back and press down again, trying to fuck yourself open on the tip of his cock.

He groans under you, his brows pinched, thinking of anything he can other than how goddamn tight you are. He wants you to do this yourself but his patience is about to tear into shreds, it feels like it’s actively being put through a shredder. His thumb moves to your clit and rubs tight circles into it, trying to get you to relax enough to take him.

You whine at him, your hand on his shoulder gripping him tight. Taking a deep breath, you sink further down onto him, finally taking the tip and a little less than half of him. Your cunt quivers around him, throbbing. You feel like you could cry, the way he fills you is overwhelming and already so satisfying.

Your hand leaves his dick and holds onto his other shoulder, when you look at him, you can see how he’s clenching his jaw tight. His fingers dig into your hips, he’s trying so hard not to slam into you until you’re completely full. You’re gripping him so tightly, your pussy leaking down his shaft, you’re so warm and soft and he has a primal need to have you fucked full of him.

You slip further down him, gasped moans leaving you as you incrementally sit down, “Kenshi~”

He hums at you, his hands move up and down your body, gripping you anywhere he can reach, memorising you with his hands, “I said before, you have to take it.”

You understand now what he meant; he wants you to fuck yourself on his cock. He’s not going to help; he’s going to make you take it and you already know, it’s not going to be as good as if he were to just fuck you.

You go to complain, “It won’t–”

His hands grab your tits, playing with them, “–Won’t what?” He encourages.

You’re breathless, his fingers pinch and pull at your nipples and if it weren’t for your hands holding you up, you would’ve collapsed onto him, “It– uh– won’t feel as good.”

He smiles big at you, “I know.”

You whimper at him and in an attempt to get revenge, you slam the rest of the way down onto him. He moans loudly in shock; his arms wrap around you and tug you into his chest.

He speaks into your skin, “Holy fuck– nnghhf– You’re so fucking~” He can’t help how he holds you down and grinds up into you, “So wet~ bet you’re gonna be fuckin creaming all over my cock– nngh~”

You can only whinge into him, your slightly drooling onto his skin, feeling incredibly stupid at this very moment. His cock filling you so well, the stretch very welcome. You want to fuck down onto him but he’s holding you tight. His own thoughts lost in how your tight cunt is clutching him, he needs to grind into you right now, and you’re not going to stop him. Not that you want to.  

He’s trying to collect himself, his head resting against your chest, he moves to the side and bites into the skin of your breast. It shocks you and your cunt clamps down on him, he groans into your skin before pulling back. His chest heaves up and down, his head thrown back on the couch, hands back to resting on your hips again.

“Fuck��� alright, fuck yourself on my cock now, princess,” his voice is strained, laced in arousal.

You lift yourself up, beginning to ride him, the slow drag of your walls on his cock have Kenshi twitching inside you. He’s starting to doubt his ability to hold on to control while you fuck onto him, already borderline pussy drunk.

You bounce up and down his dick, it feels so good but it’s not enough, you want him to fuck you, you want to get railed, “Kenshi~ I need you –hah– to please –nngh– fuck me.”

“Cum first and then I’ll –hah– fuck you,” his head is lulled back, only focusing on the tight clutch of your cunt.

The room is filled with slick slapping noises, your pussy leaking into his lap. The lewd sounds have your face growing hot, your soft moans furthering your embarrassment, you can’t keep them in though, they slip from you before you even register that it’s you making those noises.

Kenshi grunts, “Making such cute noises, princess,” his abdomen muscles tighten and twitch, “Always make such –hah– cute sounds, can hear the way you whine when you’re fucking yourself –mmph– can hear the slick sounds of your cunt, God, you’ve got such a wet cunt, drive me mental –nngh–” He’s babbling almost incoherently, his comments only further your arousal, more slick leaking from you.

The longer you ride him, the more frustrated you get, you’re so close to the edge but can’t seem to get yourself to fall off it, “Kenshi please, help.”

Despite his ravenous need for you, he smiles evilly and says, “No.” You shed tears, actual tears at your frustration, a sob gets caught up with your moans and he smiles wider, “You crying about it, princess?”

“No,” you sniffle out.

He grabs your face and his thumb runs along your cheek, feeling your tears, “God you are, fuck.” His cock jerks inside you.

You continue trying to get yourself off, your orgasm floating just beyond your reach, Kenshi seemingly takes some pity on you, his thumb rubs into your clit. You switch from bouncing to grinding, grinding his cock into you, your heart stutters in your chest and you moan out his name.

Your cunt pulsates on him, your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, you collapse into him as you finally cum on him. Tears fall from your eyes and onto the skin of his shoulder as you finish. Kenshi groans at the vice like grip you have on him, his hand helping you to grind into him, riding out your high.

“There you fuckin go,” he practically growls at you.

He doesn’t give you a second to come down, he’s immediately fucking up into you, both his hands on your hips, moving you up and down his dick like a sex toy. His hips slamming up to meet your cunt on your way down. He groans more freely, getting lost in the feel of you.

You’re fucked dumb, essentially. Only able to drool and cry into his shoulder, moans and whimpers spilling from you. Sounds that Kenshi relishes in, loving how vocal you are, needing the sounds to make up for his lack of sight.

“You should come to me from –ngh– now on, if you wanna get fucked,” his words slur together slightly.

“Uh huh,” you agree easily, even if you have a hard time forming complete words.

He continues, “You gonna let me fuck you how you need, mmm? Have you creaming for me whenever you want?”

“…Yes.”

His chest vibrates with a growl, “How about when I need it? Gonna let me fuck your tight little cunt whenever I need it, princess?”

“Whatever you wan,” you mumble out, focusing mostly on the heavy drag of his cock against your walls, of the force he drives into you with.

He chuckles darkly at you, “You’re real fuckin agreeable when I’m stuffing you full of my cock,” he purrs, “Where’d that teasing nature of yours go, mmm?”

You hum at him noncommittally, not having an answer for him.

“Probably wherever your brain is, you’re fucked completely dumb right now, huh?” his tone is amused, enjoying immensely how cock drunk you are for him, “Guarantee no one else would make you feel this good, princess.”

As much as you want to refute that, you know he’s right. You’ve never felt this fucking good during sex, or this full. You’re creaming around him, white ring at the base of his cock. Your stomach is fluttering, already so close to cumming again. You feel so far gone; eyes rolled back in your head. Cunt gripping onto him, holding on for dear life. With how wet and sticky everything is, you may have to buy a new couch.

Kenshi can’t help but whine as he gets closer to finishing, “Can’t get over how slick you are, you’re fuckin– you’re sucking me right back in ­–nghh–”

You gasp against him, “Kenshi~ I’m gonna–”

“Go on, fuckin soak me, finish all over my cock again,” his hips slam up into you harder, faster, “God, please, fuck– wanna feel how fucking tight you grip me again, wanna hear the little whimpers you let out, finish on me again, princess,” his words are grit out from behind his teeth, trying like hell to hold off his own orgasm.

His nails bite into the skin on your hips, he’s starting to growl out whines next to your ear and they sound so delicious, your mind swimming with them, committing the noises to memory. He fucks into you a few more times before you’re clamping down on him and cumming so hard you see white, tears falling freely from the force of it.

Your pussy spasms on his cock, the feeling has Kenshi moaning loudly before he’s suddenly cumming with a bitten back whine, his cum pumps inside you, coating your walls. He has cum so much it leaks back down his cock and into his lap, your panties are thoroughly ruined, soaked in so much cum and slick.

You stay stuffed full of him, barely conscious and clinging to him, you’re dazed and lost in how good you feel after finally getting fucked well.

Kenshi’s arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, “Better?”

“Mhmm,” it is better, you feel so content right now.

He presses his lips to the side of your head and asks, “Not gonna go looking for one night stands again are you?”

You mumble out, “Would you even let me?”

He laughs before pressing a kiss to your cheek, “No, swear on my life your cunt was made for me.”

You snicker at him, “Whatever you want.”

“I should fuck you more often, you’re significantly less annoying after a good dicking,” he jokes… you think.

“You love it.”

He laughs lightly at you, not willing to agree verbally but he does enjoy your teasing. That might just be because he enjoys you though.

A quiet lulls over the pair of you, both holding each other close and coming down from your respective highs.

You remember something and you ask him, “Why did you ask me to keep my panties on?”

“I wanna keep ‘em, could be handy to have when I go away,” he says blasé, unashamed.

You groan at him in disgust but you can both feel the way your cunt lightly flutters on him. Thinking of him using your panties to jerk off arouses you more than you wish it would.

Kenshi laughs knowingly, “I’ll let you watch.”

.𖥔˖ִ ₊ ⊹˚

A/N: I hope you enjoyed !!! Like I said, not my best work but I had to purge the Kenshi brain rot before doing anything else <3 My inbox is open for thoughts or questions but I am not taking requests at the moment, I have too many 😭 Anyways, I hope you all have a good day/night !!!

[atopvisenyashill]

patterns of abuse with jaehaerys

this post made me deeply depressed and i reread f&b which was my first mistake.

tldr i’m making the argument that jaehaerys definitely sexually abused saera and alysanne, and likely viserra and gael, and also i hate this man. if you disagree and want to say so *nicely* that’s cool but if you hardcore love jae and don’t want to hear criticism, maybe just scroll past bc i’m not nice to him at all (obviously, i’m accusing him of csa lol).

breaking this down by each woman, so there’s 6 sections: saera, viserra, daella, gael, alysanne, and alicent.

saera targaryen

If she were the king’s firstborn, or better still his only child, she would be well content. Instead she finds herself the ninthborn, with six living siblings who are older than her and even more adored. Aemon is to be king, Baelon most like will be his Hand, Alyssa may be all her mother is and more, Vaegon is more learned than she is, Maegelle is holier, and Daella…when does a day go by when Daella is not in need of comfort? And whilst she is being soothed, Saera is being ignored. Such a fierce little thing she is, they say, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.

that’s septon barth’s opinion on her and barth is always right. simply put, she’s a deeply neglected child who acts like a brat to get her parents attention because she’s learned the only way they’ll pay attention to her is if she’s causing a problem.

Before she was eleven, she was stealing wine and ale instead. By twelve, she was like as not to arrive drunk when summoned to the sept for prayer.

The king’s half-witted fool, Tom Turnip, was the victim of many of her japes, and her unwitting catspaw for others. Once, before a great feast where many lords and ladies were to be in attendance, she persuaded Tom that it would be much funnier if he performed naked. It was not well received.

stealing alcohol at 10 and being a committed alcoholic at 12 is not normal behavior. it is a sign of something deeply at wrong at home. also, the way she kind of, sexually humiliated tom, someone who is too “innocent” to even realize she’s sexually humiliating him…gives me the ick re: how she views sex.

Saera had learned the art of getting anything she wanted from her father: a kitten, a hound, a pony, a hawk, a horse (Jaehaerys did draw a firm line at the elephant). Queen Alysanne was far less gullible, however, and Septon Barth tells us that Saera’s sisters all misliked her to various degrees.

i don’t like this. nothing wrong with giving your child gifts (see ned going above and beyond to get arya not just instruction on how to fight but also a specific style that would gel with being smaller than your average opponent) but in conjunction with “jaehaerys ignores saera unless she’s pressing him for an expensive gift which he immediately gives her and alysanne doesn’t get why he caved so quickly” its an alarming dynamic.

also speaks to how isolated saera specifically was, that the only siblings that like her (aemon and baelon) are usually out and about, and there’s a clear wedge between saera and her sisters, even viserra.

The screams were coming from Tom Turnip, who was lurching helplessly in circles trying to escape from half a dozen naked whores, whilst the patrons of the house laughed uproariously and shouted on the harlots. Jonah Mooton, Red Roy Connington, and Stinger Beesbury were amongst those patrons, each one drunker than the last. They had thought it would be funny to see old Turnip do the deed, Red Roy admitted. Then Jonah Mooton laughed and said the jape had all been Saera’s notion, and what a funny girl she was.

again with sexually humiliating tom.

it continues with her friends. it’s not unusual for a 15 year old girl to want to fool around with other 15 year olds but alys and perri are all guilt ridden and upset and alys is with child. it reminds me a lot of cersei sexually abusing taena in affc. when she’s caught (now, mind you, she’s been marched in front of her parents sitting on the throne and not brought to them in their private rooms. she’s being treated right off the bat as if she’s guilty of a crime and not guilty of being a shitty teenager):

“She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. “She never did it, they were lying, it never happened, how could they believe that, it was just a game, it was just a jape, who said that, that was not how it happened, everyone likes kissing, she was sorry, Peri started it, it was such fun, no one was hurt, no one ever told her kissing was bad, Sweetberry had dared her, she was so ashamed, Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time, once she started she did not know how to stop, she was afraid of Stinger, the Mother Above had forgiven her, all the girls were doing it, the first time she was drunk, she had never wanted to, it was what men wanted, Maegelle said the gods forgave all sins, Jonah said he loved her, the gods had made her pretty, it was not her fault, she would be good from now on, it will be as if it never happened, she would marry Red Roy Connington, they had to forgive her, she would never kiss a man again or do any of those other things, it wasn’t her who was with child, she was their daughter, she was their little girl, she was a princess, if she were queen she would do as she liked, why wouldn’t they believe her, they never loved her, she hated them, they could whip her if they wanted but she would never be their slave. She took my breath away, this girl. There was never a mummer in all the land who gave such a performance, but by the end she was exhausted and afraid, and her mask slipped.”

What does Jaehaerys ask after all of this? “Have you given any of these boys your maidenhead?” Her response:

“True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.”

Now mind you, Alyssa and Daella have both died of childbirth recently and her parents are mad she had sex as a 16 year old bordering on 17 year old, and not the fact that she like, at best peer pressured her besties into having sex and now one of them is pregnant. jaehaerys has only asked if she’s still a virgin.

“I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.”

i keep trying not to give my opinion and just lay it all out but the thing is i’d just be reposting the whole scene because it’s just filled with so much weird sex stuff. if you don’t remember it, go reread it. it doesn’t feel (to me) like regular “george is bad at writing sex” vibes but “george is purposefully trying to skeeve you out” vibes but i am willing to admit i could be wrong and he really just doesn’t understand what he wrote.

anyways remember how i said saera acts out to get attention from her parents? all she’s done here is act out, her “crimes” are basically nonexistent; beyond how alys feels about being pregnant, saera consensually had sex with boys around her age who aren’t married, and then blithely compared herself to some asshole relatives. if your teenager idolizes dick cheney that’s probably worrying but not a crime! this is not how jae treats it however.

When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father.

The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “

saera tries to escape.

This time the princess was not allowed to return to her own chambers. She was confined to a tower cell instead, with Jonquil Darke guarding her day and night, even in the privy.

Princess Saera watched from the window of her cell. Jonquil Darke, her gaoler, made certain that she did not turn away.

that’s as her dad is murdering stinger btw. is he a creepy 19 year old? yeah. but like, making your 15 year old watch you murder her 19 year old trust fund baby stoner boyfriend sure is something.

so then they sent her to the silent sisters where she’s beaten all the time and has to pray all the time and she runs away, becomes a sex worker and literally never looks back.

The truth did not come out until a year later, when the former princess was seen in a Lysene pleasure garden, still clad as a novice. Queen Alysanne wept to hear it. “They have made our daughter into a whore,” she said. “She always was,” the king replied.

“You need her as a Dornishman needs a pit viper,” Jaehaerys said. “I am sorry. King’s Landing has sufficient whores. I do not wish to hear her name again.”

but before we move on, let’s look at one more related ick, when saera’s sons show up to the great council:

From Essos came three rival competitors, grandsons of King Jaehaerys through his daughter Saera, each sired by a different father. One was said to be the very image of his grandsire in his youth.

after her drinking, acting out, and jaehaerys’ focus on calling her a whore, explicitly pointing out that one of her grandsons looks just like jae is a choice. i know they’re super inbred. it’s still uncomfortable in context.

viserra targaryen

alysanne makes no sense here but i’m just gonna quickly explain instead of lay it out or we will be here all day bc viserra’s engagement is completely nonsensical. theomore manderly is old, ugly, has a shitton of heirs, and viserra clearly doesn’t want to marry him. also if she wanted to be queen, why is she going after baelon, aemon is still alive. anyways jaehaerys is no help here, then she goes to baelon for help, but she’s also super drunk.

Frustrated, Viserra next turned to her brother Baelon in hopes of rescue, if court gossip can be believed. Slipping past his guards into his bedchamber one night, she disrobed and waited for him, making free with the prince’s wine whilst she lingered. When Prince Baelon finally appeared, he found her drunk and naked in his bed and sent her on her way. The princess was so unsteady that she required the help of two maids and a knight of the Kingsguard to get her safely back to her own apartments.

she gets drunk with some friends again, goes riding, breaks her neck. i wanted to point out this pattern of drinking and acting out at a young age. as well as this pattern of targaryen daughters who aren’t “meant” for a brother and are promised to men who are old and with heirs

daella targaryen

i wanted to add daella because her getting married at 15 makes as little sense as viserra, and her match to a old man with several heirs is equally nonsensical. but also this:

“I would never marry her,” the boy said, in front of half the court. “She can barely read. She should find some lord in need of stupid children, for that’s the only sort he will ever have of her.”

where did vaegon get that mouth.

Daella was not clever, even her septa had to admit. She learned to read after a fashion, but haltingly, and without full comprehension. She could not seem to commit even the simplest prayers to memory. She had a sweet voice, but was afraid to sing; she always got the words wrong. She loved flowers, but was frightened of gardens; a bee had almost stung her once.

Jaehaerys, even more than Alysanne, despaired of her. “She will not even speak to a boy. How is she to marry? We could entrust her to the Faith, but she does not know her prayers, and her septa says that she cries when asked to read aloud from The Seven-Pointed Star.”

The queen always rose to her defense. “Daella is sweet and kind and gentle. She has such a tender heart. Give me time, and I will find a lord to cherish her. Not every Targaryen needs to wield a sword and ride a dragon.”

so daella is 12 at this point.

Her sixteenth nameday was fast approaching, and with it her womanhood. Queen Alysanne was at her wit’s end, and the king had lost his patience. On the first day of the 80th year since Aegon’s Conquest, he told the queen he wanted Daella wed before the year’s end. “If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes,” he said. “I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.”

i just don’t like this. other “simple” targs are not required to marry, like vaella and aelora, two of daeron ii’s grandfaughters so i don’t get why daella is pressured into marrying before she’s even of age. at least jae 2 forced rhaella and aerys because of a prophecy? what is jae’s reasoning for so sexualizing his daughter?

gael targaryen

this one is definitely a reach but i’d like to point out that this is basically all we know about gael:

Princess Gael, a sweet, shy child of seven, became the queen’s constant shadow and support, even sharing her bed at night.

and our information on how she dies is so shady:

A sweet-natured girl, but frail and somewhat simpleminded, she remained with the queen long after her other children had grown and gone, but in 99 AC she vanished from court, and soon afterward it was announced that she had died of a summer fever. Only after both her parents were gone did the true tale come out. Seduced and abandoned by a traveling singer, the princess had given birth to a stillborn son, then, overwhelmed by grief, walked into the waters of Blackwater Bay and drowned.

how does gael get pregnant by a traveling singer when she never leaves her mother’s side? why doesn’t anyone in court know gael got pregnant and killed herself until after aly and jae both die and how was this even found out?

am i implying that jaehaerys sexually abused all four of his daughters? yes because he literally sexually abuses his own wife.

alysanne targaryen

“I am forty-two years old,” she told the king. “You must be content with the children I have given you. I am more suited to be a grandmother than a mother now, I fear.”

King Jaehaerys did not share her certainty. “Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn,” he pointed out to Grand Maester Elysar. “The gods may not be done with us.” He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay.

he uses the birth that killed their mother and that is condemned by rhaena and alysanne as reckless and cruel of rogar to force on her. that birth.

at this point as well, he had abused saera and daella, then they’re gone, then viserra starts drinking and dies, then jae marital rapes aly into having gael, giving him access to another young girl to abuse…i’m aware this is a very uncharitable reading of him but…

alicent hightower (and kind of alyssa targaryen)

Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.

saera is the one he fixated on yet again but notable that he’s fixated on his daughters as he dies and not his sons, despite jaehaerys turning to drink after aemon died bc he was so upset.

He announced his intention to wed Lady Alicent of House Hightower, the clever and lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of the King’s Hand, the girl who had read to King Jaehaerys as he lay dying.

The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.)

i know it’s just mushroom being a perv but a rumor that 15 year old alicent “serviced” jaehaerys existing besides rumors that he mistook 15 year old alicent for the daughter he last saw when she was 17 - and viserra was 15, gael 19, and daella 15, all around alicent’s age and all died before age 20. all the targaryen girls that weren’t born “for” a brother exit the narrative after some sort of sexual abuse that centers around jae, as teenagers; daenerys was born for aemon, alyssa for baelon, and maegelle for vaegon before they both fucked off and maegelle was too pious (and too old). this idea of being “for” a brother leads directly to alyssa’s death before 30:

“You were made for battles, and I was made for this. Viserys and Daemon and Aegon, that’s three. As soon as I am well, let’s make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!” It was not to be. Alyssa Targaryen had a warrior’s heart in a woman’s body, and her strength failed her. She never fully recovered from Aegon’s birth, and died within the year at only four-and-twenty.

and alysanne being “for” jaehaerys is how he excusing sexually abusing her into a risky pregnancy. essentially what i fear is that because saera, daella, viserra, and gael aren’t “for” someone, jaehaerys gets it into his mind that that are for him. even without him raping them tho, that subtext is there! he is entitled to saera’s virginity and calls her a whore multiple times, even decades after she’s left, and murders her boyfriend in front of her. he claims a weird sexual ownership over his neurodivergent daughter daella and his alcoholic, depressed daughter viserra, and we get zero information on gael’s pregnancy or his reaction to it. but jaehaerys deciding his daughters are “for” him certainly has a basis in canon just judging from the erratic and worrying behavior of his younger daughters.

jaehaerys is a creep and i hate him and i don’t know how much of this is on purpose (like, will aegon vi or dany find out jaehaerys was a shady pedo and it shatters their world? will dunk and egg find it out and it affects their plot somehow? did george just put it in there to make a comment on power and monarchy and misogyny, similar to aegon iv raping the bracken women? or is just there for window dressing creepiness, like “i will pepper in the fact that jaehaerys is sexually obsessed with his daughters” thing?) or if george just made jaehaerys sexually obsessed with his daughters on accident?

on the one hand, it seems out of character for george. he romanticizes drogo thru dany’s eyes but it’s clear he’s meant to be seen as a creep (dany talking about being pregnant followed by “she had just turned 14” is sickeningly jarring for a reason) and also, drogo dies bc of his own pride. sansa doesn’t like any of the old dudes touching her; she is at least marginally freaked out by her wedding night, the unkiss, and lf & dontos taking liberties with her, and rightly. the story that’s told about the mountain raping a girl and making the father pay him is meant to disgust us. the walk of shame is a harrowing chapter to read, because whatever cersei’s crimes, this sexual humiliation is not something she deserves. on and on. yes, we all hate the way arya is sexualized in the mercy chapter, but crucially, she’s not blithely and happily seducing these pervs, she’s going hard candy on their asses. is this just messy set up for something like that?? i think, given how little dany knows about her family’s crimes that somehow learning jae sexually abused (and maybe even impregnated) his own daughters after she herself experiences sexual abuse would be huge. the same goes for aegon vi learning that sexual abuse runs rampant in his family tree; would he empathize with saera hiding out in essos to escape the sexual abuse of her father, see some of elia and his own plight in her? in gael?

or did george really just. not realize how sexually obsessed jaehaerys was with his daughters?

idk how to end this. where’s the winds of winter george i need answers.

[bunnyreaper]

guy fawkes/bonfire night with the 141

(mild nsfw/18+, mostly fluffy though)

as the resident demolitions expert, you best believe johnny has that shit on lock. he refuses to go to an organised display because he just knows he can do way better. his job gives him the expertise and access to anything he might need (and ghost secretly helps him assemble anything else if they need to skirt the law just a lil)

he ends up with a massive cache of intricately rigged up fireworks all perfectly timed--johnny had been planning it on and off for half the year, working on preparing for all of october and pulling late nights leading up to november 5th.

he bonds/flirts with you by begging you to help him a little with the set up. of course you don't really know enough to help, but you hold things for him, give him encouragement and listen to his excited rambles after you make sure to ask questions to get him going.

when the big night finally comes, he's setting off remote detonators with glee, pulling you into his body as the two of you watch the display. you get lost watching the sparkle in his eyes--both his passion and the flurry of sparkling explosions.

the sex that night is even more frantic than usual, johnny filled with excitable energy after watching all the blasts.

simon is in charge of the bonfire and is very territorial about it. starts collecting huge amounts of wood early on and setting it all up in the field behind the barracks. the whole thing is stacked PERFECTLY, structurally sound as fuck and to go up in a barrage of flames.

he'd love to make "guys" to set up on the bonfire, leaning into his goofy side. some of them have masks just like him, some of them have printed out faces as your enemies, one of them has hastily sewn in features that look a LOT like soap... but simon swears it's just coincidence when the scot loses his mind looking at it.

he's happy you have to quietly tag along as he sets up, and occasionally indulges you in chat as the two of you carry piles of wood back and forth. of course he keeps jokes for the occasion in his back pocket.

on the night he lights the fire, steps back and admires his work as he hugs you from behind, cradling you as he rests his head on the top of yours and the two of you listen to the crackle of flames as they lick up the sides of the structure. as the night goes on, his hands start to wander over your body and his lips find their way to your neck, making you burn hotter than the fire did.

john is on general dad duty ensuring safety, but more importantly he's pn hot chocolate duty. his recipe is a special one (and yes there's a bit of whiskey in there of course) passed on from his mother and his grandmother.

he's insistent on everyone having a thermos filled with it, to keep you warm and to enjoy the start of winter properly. of course while handing out the flasks he tells stories of bonfires he saw as a kid.

he invited you along with him while he worked in the kitchen, allowing you to be the only one to know about his secret addition to the drink (you'd giggled and encouraged him to add more, as well as making him do a shot as he prepared the other drinks).

the two of you had a blast shoving the whipped cream can into the thermos to fill it up with the topping--and price had definitely squirted some on your face.

he also put you in one if his oversized jackets, wrapped a scarf around you and made sure you were covered in layers of clothes and hats and gloves. he didnt want you getting cold even for a split second. the coat smells just like him as he leads you out into the field hand in hand, his other holding a bag with your hot chocolate filled thermos' in.

when you make it back to your room after all the festivities, he makes sure to warm you up properly, pinning you to the bed making you feel drunker than the whiskey-filled beverage did.

kyle takes point on setting up a cozy space for you all, but especially for you. he knows exactly what he has in mind to make the night just perfect for you. he sets up a little lean-to or two, lays down a picnic spread and fills it with all the warmest and comfiest blankets and cushions for you to lounge on. he strings dimmed fairy lights across the top, lays some lanterns around the outside and creates the most enchanting little set up imaginable.

he does it all because he knows it'll make your night, your month, your year. yes the guys will be there two but this is all for you, because he knows something so pretty and aesthetic and cozy will make your heart so happy.

he makes sure to help you snap photos of the comfy space, making sure the memory is never forgotten, but mentions that he has one final thing before you all get comfortable and wrapped up in the blankets.

he has a stack of sparklers waiting for you, as he knows they're one of your favourite parts of the occasion. two two of you take cute photos with the sparklers, with kyle showing you how to make the trail show up by giving the shot a long exposure time, of course the two of you draw hearts together.

later on when you're cuddled up, maybe his hand sneaks under the blanket and finds your clit, making sure you really see sparks.

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 08

Kinktober Masterlist ad vitam aeternam - "to eternal life" Johnny "Soap" MacTavish/141 x gn!reader Kinks > mind control, vampires, blood-sucking Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

The 141 vampire coven is terrorizing tiny villages in Northumberland, but you work nights and you really need this job. When a cute guy named Johnny offers to walk you home, you feel grateful for the free security. Unfortunately, you start feeling drowsy and confused. Where do you live, again? “It’s okay, bonnie. I’ll make sure you get there safe and sound.” 

No specific body traits or genitalia are mentioned. Gender neutral pronouns used. The only gendered nicknames are when Soap refers to the reader as "bonnie" or "hen" but no use of "lass" or "girl".

This work trip had definitely taken a turn. You’d expected to be at the north edge of England for about three weeks, but it was going on three months for this project with no end in sight. You were staying close to Northumberland National Park, helping map an updated migratory route for the bat colony that roosted on The Sill of Hadrian’s Wall. However, as animals often do, the bats made their own schedule for when they wanted to appear, and you hadn’t collected nearly enough data to feed to the tracker model. 

But, you weren’t complaining too loudly. Your cottage was located in a barely-there village called Elishaw, and it was as romantic as it could be. The only problem was that, after the evening sun set and the bats had all returned to their roosts, the closest place to get a pint was a three kilometer hike on a two lane road with no lights, signs, or footpaths. 

In the daytime, the view of the area was lovely. Rolling hills, black forests, and green sheep-dotted fields stretched out before you as far as the eye could see. Everyone who drove past you would wave, and you would wave back. It was lovely… when the sun was shining. But, now, as winter chased away the warmth of autumn, it brought grey clouds and a constantly setting sun, making the nights frigid and windy.

It was spooky the first time you’d gone at night, but now that you’d ripped off the proverbial bandage, the second time was no big deal. At this point, you’d been down to the Redesdale pub dozens of times, and you often walked alone, in the middle of the night, bundled up like an arctic explorer, drunker than you’d ever been.  

Tonight was one of those nights. 

“Are ye sure ye’ll be alright by yersel’, hen?” Thomas, the barkeep worried over you in his semi-local Berwickian accent.

“Yeah, Tom,” you smiled up at him, “I only had two pints. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be home before I know it.”

“There’s been talk of wild dogs takin’ to eatin’ the Kilpatrick’s sheep, Tom. ‘S not safe for a visitor to go alone, ye ken?” A man’s voice, Scottish instead of Northumbrian, piped up from the back of the bar. 

You hadn’t even realized there were other people with you and Tom. But, the grizzled barkeep smiled knowingly, 

“Ah, Johnny. Take ‘em back with ye, lad. Make sure ye get home safe and sound. I’ll worry the night away if ye dinnae go together.”

“No trouble, Tom. Headed that way, besides. C’mon, bonnie. Tha’s us, then,” Johnny paid for your tab and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the pub with a speed and ease that should have been alarming. 

But, you had to admit, it was nice to have an escort on your scary road for a change. 

Except… this wasn’t your road.

“Hey, I thought that was the way back there?” You pointed through the trees at the path you usually took, the one that was wide open and clearly visible, not the path through the dark forest.  

“Dinnae fash, yourself, bonnie. It’s a wee shortcut,” Johnny assured you. 

His smile was so easy to believe. The light that shone in his bright blue eyes was intoxicating, and his body was statuesque. He told you all about himself - the town he was from, where he went to school, how he was a sergeant in the RAF. It was fascinating. So thrilling, in fact, you came to your senses about thirty minutes into your trip, knowing you should be seeing landmarks, and yet you were even deeper in the woods than you’d been when you started. 

“You feelin’ alright, hen? Lookin’ a little puggled. Think you’ll make the trip, though. Just a bit further.”

“Where… um, where are… you… taking me?” Your words slurred together, and you felt like you were trapped between being awake and being asleep, knowing you couldn’t have drank enough to make you muddle your speech.

“Gonnae stop by my place for a moment,” Johnny pointed to a blackstone cairn that sat on the side of a hill, “Should only be a wee minute. Do ya wanna come in with me?”

When he asked you the last question, he made a point to make you meet his gaze, and when you did, his eyes invaded your mind. You felt as if you couldn’t look away, and the only word that could come out of your mouth was a yes. 

You didn’t want to go inside that creepy fucking cairn. There was no way this was actually his house. But, you followed him, your body putting one foot in front of the other without needing for your mind to be on board with the plan. 

“You ken,” he talked to you as he held your hand, “Tomorrow’s Samhain. Gonnae celebrate with a wee bonfire, maybe a few more drinks. Want me to tell my mates to set the table for one more?”

Again, your brain blanked out when you replied to him. Had you said yes again? What was happening to you?

Finally, you made it to the mouth of the cairn, and a crude wooden door blocked your entrance. Johnny pulled it open and held it for you, waving his hand in a ladies-first sort of sweep. You couldn’t help but obey. So, you walked into the dark stone hut, discovering that the inside was filled with flaming logs in a round well in the center and rows of lit candles surrounding the space. 

“Hey!” Johnny called out into the crude building, “We’ve got company, lads.”

Too quickly, three other men appeared in the room. You wanted to say that they walked or that they ran, but they didn’t. You could lie to yourself about that later, but you knew they had just suddenly fucking spawned there. Your body, however, failed to react in shock like you wanted to. 

They were gorgeous; just as handsome and well-muscled as Johnny, but their eyes seemed less kind. There was something predatory about their faces, especially the one with the beard. He seemed cold in a way that was beyond cruelty. It made you shiver more than the cold wind ever could. 

“Well done, Johnny,” the bearded one spoke, reaching out to stroke your cheek, “Such a pretty thing, hm?” 

You wanted to pull your face away from his touch, but your will was muted, your desire gone, and your sense of self-preservation completely absent from your mind. The only thing you could still do, it seemed, was speak to them. But, even then, it was hard to form the words. 

“Johnny asked me to come for dinner. I hope that I’m not intruding,” you went for politeness over screaming your bloody head off. No one would hear you all the way out here anyway. Maybe if you were nice to them, they’d let you leave.

“Not at all, love,” the bearded one said again, taking your coat from your shoulders and tossing it down on a chair. 

You felt Johnny’s lips begin to trail their way up your neck as he stood behind you. He was kissing you with a hot passion, his teeth dragging across your smooth flesh. Then, his hands reached around to grope your chest, fondling your nipples under your shirt, pinching them in his hands cruelly.

“How could you intrude?” The tall, Black man replied, his teeth straight and sharp and gleaming in the low light of the room, “Guests are always welcome here, especially when they smell as delicious as you do.” 

“Besides,” his gigantic, blond friend responded, “You’re not here for dinner, love. You are dinner.”

As you saw the fangs drop into the hollow of the blond’s mouth, you felt Johnny’s set on your neck. He bit down into you and began to suck from you, taking gulps of your hot, crimson blood down his throat. It felt orgasmic, but there was something so very wrong about it, too. A dying part of you was yelling at you to run, but that voice was muted by the urgency of your pleasure.

Then, panic welled up in your chest. Who were these men? How did you get here? You needed your phone, something, anything to call the emergency line and get the cops over here. 

Yet, you were motionless. Your brain felt like it had finally been washed away to a blank, empty slate. It was painful to be drained from your neck and wrists and, now, from your chest as the immense blond lifted your shirt to suckle from your flesh, biting into your nipple with his two, long fangs, and draining your life from you. But, you let him. You let all of them feed and fondle you. You were in their thrall, and there was no escape.

You felt tears roll down your cheeks as you realized you weren’t going home again. You were prey to a coven of vampires, and you’d be lucky if they just killed you quickly rather than prolonged your life. 

Johnny shoved his hand down the front of your pants and began to play with your sex, moaning when he found its warmth. He pulled his mouth away from his meal for a moment and asked a question to the man with the beard.

“Can we keep this one, sir? Tastes too damn good.”  

“Aye, Johnny,” his leader told him, lifting your chin with his thick finger, “The ritual’s tomorrow, and I know you’ve been a good lad. So, just this once, we can keep ‘em.”

[ghostlychief]

Heyhey! I've been reading your Ghost fanfics recently and all I can say is dhehfvebihgfehbifehbferiubfrifferijfr,j, <33333, is it okay if you can write a drunk!Simon x gn reader?? It's okay if not! Have a nice day ^^

Thank you so much for reading my ghost fics!! I hope you enjoyed them <3 I love the concept of drunk!Simon, so I hope that you enjoy what i threw together. Also, I just wanted to say that your ask was so nice and sweet, and i hope that you're having a great day/night. Ok, i think that's all- enjoy!!! <3

--

Full of Surprises

Pairing: oneshot; Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn reader

warnings: alcohol drinking; drunk Simon and reader; fluff; ( i apologize for any typos or grammar mistakes lol)

wc: 1.1k+

Summary: You witness drunk Simon for the first time

--

It was not often that you saw Simon drunk, let alone, more drunk that you. Between the two of you, you were always more of a lightweight. It makes sense after all, he was a 6’4 250 (plus) pound man who had a penchant for whiskey. So, whenever you two went drinking, you rarely saw him inebriated.

However, tonight seemed to be the night of firsts. One, because he was teasing you, which he sometimes does, but not to this extent, and two, because Simon was drunker than you, already on his fourth glass of whiskey.

You didn’t really know what to expect a drunk Simon to look like. Maybe he would be quieter, more so than usual. Maybe he would become loud and boisterous. Maybe he would pick bar fights with people who crossed him, or who looked at you the wrong way. What you weren’t expecting was for Simon to become affectionate with you while drunk.

Like, really affectionate.

PDA was not his forte, nor was he super comfortable with it. He was quieter, reserved, and definitely enjoyed his privacy, especially when it came to romantic relationships. Sure, he would hold your hand, or toss his arm around your shoulder when you guys were out, but nothing more extreme than that. Every once in a while, a small kiss would be thrown into the mix. He left the thigh holding, rubbing your back, kissing your cheek, forehead, nose, for when you guys were in private.

You could already tell Simon was a little drunk tonight when he pulled your barstool closer to him, his strength almost making you topple over. When you regained your balance, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised, but a ghost of a smile crossed your lips.

He locked eyes with you, “What? I just wanted you to be closer to me.”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that; you always wanted to be closer with him too. But you never wanted to push him too much.

You lean your head on your hand and coo, “Aw, is that it?”

“Mhm,” he pulls you in for a kiss.

You’re expecting the kiss to just be a peck, so when you start to pull away, you’re taken aback when Simon brings up a hand to gently cup your jaw, preventing you from detaching from him.

He deepens the kiss; you’ve never kissed him like this in public before.

When you finally pull away, you’re left breathless, and you’re a hair’s breath away from him. You can clearly make out his dilated pupils and the specks in his eyes; they always seemed to shine the brightest while gazing at you.

Before you know it, he’s leaning in again, but this time he leaves a kiss on your nose, and brushes his thumb across your cheek.

Once he pulls away, he places his large hand on your thigh, now easily accessible to him since he pulled your chair closer.

“You’re full of surprises tonight.” You place your hand on top of his that rests on your thigh and lightly rub your thumb across his knuckles.

He just laughs at your comment, something else that’s mainly reserved for just you, in the privacy of your home.

“What can I say, I’m a man full of surprises. You just haven’t seen them all.” He grants you with a wide grin, a grin that makes your cheeks warm and eyes sparkle.

“Oh? So, there’s more that I’m missing out on?”

“Maybe.” He grins at you again, then orders another glass of whiskey. His hand doesn’t leave your leg.

“You know what, give me what you’re having.” You tap the rim of his glass.

“You’re finally going to join the whiskey train, huh? I’ve been trying to get you to for so long now, what gives now?”

“You. I like seeing you like this.” You bring your hand up to gently rub his shoulder and you give him a sweet kiss on his cheek. You could have sworn that there was a light pink dusting his cheeks, making him glow.

“Say no more, my liege.” You laugh at his silly nickname for you, and you see the pink that’s coating his cheeks getting darker.

You both finally get your drinks. However, you’re not on your fifth glass like he is, only your second, so you’re a little buzzed, but not drunk, just yet.

Besides his teasing and being more touchy, you find that Simon also talks a lot more while drinking; something you come to love. You love his voice after all, it can put you to sleep (in a good way of course), but it also just soothes you. The deep rumble of it sounds like waves to your ears.

He’s telling you a story about the time when the team had to run four miles for training, and how he was never a runner, always more of a weights guy, so he was dreading the run for days leading up to it.

Well, it turns out he’s actually quite a good runner, despite his heavy muscle mass.

The whole time he’s telling his story, you’re nodding your head, listening intently, but while also trying to keep up. His words are starting to slur together, though he’s still mainly composed.

“You should have seen me, bean. I was flying. I beat all those fuckers with ease.”

Bean? He never calls me that outside of the house. Your feel the butterflies start to stir in your tummy, always loving it when he calls you sweet names.

You squeeze his shoulder, “That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you baby.”

“It was pretty amazing.” He sighs, which you find hilarious at that moment, so you burst into laughter, and Simon looks at you like you’re crazy, but then he starts laughing too.

You’re trying to talk but you’re still laughing, “Honest, that sounds really great, Simon. I really am proud of you.”

Your laughs finally die down, and he brings you in for another kiss. This time, you’re both smiling into it, and you feel the butterflies rise and rise, until they reach your heart and make it flutter.  

When he pulls away, he trails his hand down your side until it rests on your waist. He gives you a squeeze, “You know I love you, right?” He’s gazing at you fondly, and you’re finding it hard to look away from him.

“Of course I do.” You’re smiling at him like he hung the moon and the starts up in the sky just for you.

“Ok, I just had to make sure.”

You shake your head, showing your disbelief, “Come here.”

You pull him in for a long, warm hug, something that you know Simon secretly enjoys the most.

“What do you say we get out of here?” you murmur this, lips brushing over his ear.

“I would love nothing more.”

--

Hope you enjoyed! <3

masterlist

[lyssasdrafts]

stupid in love — lucien x reader

modern au! fluff, alcohol consumption, lucien is a drunk idiot, mentions of marriage and eloping

based on this song <3 @saltnseas LETS GET MARRIED IN VEGASSS

when you and lucien first started dating two years ago, you never thought you’d end up together on a beach, drunker than you’d ever been alone in the middle of the night. you never thought your casual relationship would have even gone this far.

it’s the day of your anniversary and lucien had insisted on taking you to a nice date at the beach. he’d prepared everything — he brought a picnic blanket, your favorite snacks, and most importantly, a bottle of wine. it was enough for the two of you to have finished it by the time the sun had set into the sky.

what had turned into a romantic day became the two of you completely wasted together as the sky turned dark, nothing but the sound of your giggling and the waves crashing.

lucien pulls you closer, you can tell he’s not thinking clearly. he’s usually calm and put together, but right now your boyfriend is a bubbling mess in front of you. he’s hugging you, laughing and getting flustered at the sight of you as if you hadn’t known you for years, forgetting that you were his partner.

he buries his head into your neck, heat rushing to his cheeks, the hangover after this is going to be horrible.

“y/n…” he’s been repeating for the past thirty minutes, like he’s whispering your name. “do you know that i love you?” he peers up and gives you the biggest grin.

“i think you’ve mentioned it,” you say. you’ve always had a higher tolerance than him, finding the way he’s acting right now to be enduring. he’s definitely going to say it was embarrassing when he’s sober again and you’ll have something to tease him about.

his hands grab your waist and he pulls you in for a kiss unexpectedly, taking your lips as you taste the wine on his. “i need you,” he mutters when you pull away before he kisses you again. and again.

“let’s go home,” you take his hands off you, knowing neither of you are in the right mind to drive tonight. “let me call someone—“

“y/n, let’s get married.” it’s like he’s not even listening to you.

you try not to burst out laughing. lucien can barely stand on his own and think properly, proposing something that sounds out of this world. he’s just rambling, right?

“i love you,” he says again, holding onto your arm for support. “let’s… get married!!” he slurs the words together.

“lucien,” you lead him to go sit down with you. “i’m sure that’s great, but what about your family?”

“i don’t care,” his nose scrunches. he continues giddily. “let’s just run away, y/n. i’ve loved you since we met, since i confessed and asked you out, it’s been two years—”

“lucien,” you repeat, then your tone changes. “you’re drunk.” your expression had dropped. of course you loved him and wanted to be with him, but right now he was saying things you only wanted to talk about in a genuine conversation about your relationship.

“i’m serious,” lucien responds. it’s like he’s snapped out of it, suddenly straightening up and changing his eloquence too. it’s like he’s thinking clearly again. “i want to marry you, y/n. i want you forever.”

they say drunken words are sober thoughts.

[cherikdogfood]

For @desdemona2902 : Erik is getting drinks for them and some random asks Charles "are you working?" This happened irl. it was very funny but I don't think Erik would be amused.

Thank you for the lovely prompt! I hope you like it!

Notes: NSFW at the end.

Are You Working?

"I'll get us more drinks," Erik said telepathically, knowing that speaking out loud would be useless in the rowdy environment.

"Okay, don't keep me waiting for too long," Charles giggled, already slightly tipsy.

Erik sighed fondly and stood up, making his way through the crowd. It was a typical Friday night, the bar filled with customers, both human and mutant alike, mingling and chatting and drinking.

Erik asked the bartender for his drinks, the usual, and tapped his finger impatiently as he waited.

He wondered what Charles was doing right now. Probably thinking about his students, or the countless papers he had to grade, or about Raven and Hank's upcoming wedding.

God, speaking about the wedding, Erik was dizzy with all the things they had to choose -- the color scheme, the flowers, the vases, the cakes, the food, the chairs, god, even the napkins! He couldn't help thinking about him and Charles...

When it's their turn to get married (and it's a question of when, because they have talked about getting married and they just need to set a date), Erik knows he'll have to go through the entire process just like Raven and Hank -- picking the venue, the clothes, the chairs (he wants the chairs to be metal), the jewelry (he'll be hand-carving the ring for Charles, of course), and even the guest list (Erik wants to ban Azazel from coming since the last time Azazel got drunk during a wedding party, he teleported everywhere and smeared cake all over the place).

When the drinks finally arrived, Erik was listing the people he would be okay with as the minister of his and Charles' wedding. Number one, first and foremost, was Emma Frost. Partly because she was indeed an ordained minister (fancy that, Erik was sure she had mind-whammied someone into ordaining her) and partly because she was his best friend.

The fact that she was an ice-cold telepath who had asked (read: demanded) to be the minister for their wedding definitely did not play a part. And Erik was definitely not afraid of her, even after that incident when she used her telepathy to make him think he was a frog and shamelessly asked Charles for a kiss to turn him into a human.

(Charles thought it was funny and sweet, Raven had gagged, Hank had been embarrassed, and Emma had found the entire situation hilarious. She had also taken a video of the entire incident and threatened to show it to Azazel, who would no doubt laugh his tail off if he knew).

Even so, he loved Emma and Azazel and would not trade them for all the metal in the world. Maybe.

It was at this point that Erik knew he was much drunker than he thought he was, because the only times he would admit that he loved his friends was when he was really drunk, or when he was with Charles, because Charles was a telepath and his future husband and he couldn't hide anything from him.

Erik held the drinks in one hand and spotted Charles, smiling before he heard the most outrageous sentence that made his blood boil.

"Hey, are you here working?" A man asks, looming over Charles' small figure.

"Huh?" Charles looks dazedly at the man.

"I said, are you working? If you are, how much for a blowjob?" The man asks again.

Charles blinks owlishly and the man runs a hand through his hair.

"Or can I just fuck you? I've seen that ass of yours, I really want to squeeze it," the man chuckles lewdly.

Erik is thrumming with fury and all the metal in the room is vibrating subtly, and he should move, he should reach out to Charles and take him away from that bastard, but for some reason he can't move, he's rooted to the spot and there's nothing he can do but watch.

"You can't," Charles slurs, "I belong to someone already..."

"You're booked for the night?" The man asks, impatient. "Don't worry, whatever that guy offered you, I can pay double. Just name the price.

"I'm not booked for the night," Charles says.

Erik feels his heart drop and quickly reminds himself that Charles is drunk. Charles has no idea what he's saying. He shouldn't be upset. He should move, damn it, do something--!

"M'sorry," Charles says, smiling apologetically, "I'm booked for life."

The man is puzzled, and Erik feels himself soar into the skies.

"I said, m'booked for life. I'm Erik's," Charles says, speaking as if it's a matter of fact (and it is).

Suddenly Erik feels his limbs and shifts. He can move -- he wastes no time to walk (more like stomp angrily) to the man and glares at him. (It's at moments like these when Erik wishes he had Scott's powers instead, so he could blast this bastard away just by glaring).

"Charles," he says, putting down the drinks and snaking his arms around Charles' waist.

It's not enough, he thinks, so he gently cups Charles' face in one hand and plants his lips over Charles'.

He wanted to kiss Charles gently, but feeling the soft and pliant lips part obediently for him made him growl in satisfaction, turning the kiss into a heated one. Tongues and teeth clashed, Erik seeming as if he wanted to meld Charles into his own flesh and devour him.

Mine, he thinks, hot and possessive.

Yours, Charles replies, whimpering underneath him.

The sound is enough to make Erik's blood boil, this time out of lust. His drinks (and the man) are forgotten as he hoists Charles to his feet.

"Let's go," he whispers, dragging Charles out of the bar and hailing a cab. The ride back home is torturously slow, Erik trying not to just fuck Charles right then and there. It's a losing battle, really, because Erik's pants are already too tight and seeing Charles flushed and panting is enough to make him cum. To make matters worse, a drunk Charles means a horny Charles, and Charles wants more than just kisses on the mouth.

"Do you know what the man was thinking, Erik?" He asks, biting his lip and making Erik's dick twitch. Gott, that mouth, imagining it wrapped around his dick, sucking him off, the sounds Charles would make, tears spilling out of his cerulean eyes as he could do nothing but take it --

"Yes, oh yes," Charles moans, "That's exactly what he was thinking."

And Charles, the slut that he is, sends him image after image, Charles pressed to the bed, ass up in the air as Erik pounds into him, Charles lying flat on the bed, moaning and whimpering as Erik fingers him, Charles riding him until his legs are sore, bouncing on Erik's cock, Erik fucking Charles until he can't speak or think, forgetting everything except Erik's name.

When they arrive at their house, Erik thanks the driver, giving him a generous tip, and pulls Charles inside.

They don't make it to the bed before Erik fucks him, claiming him against the wall, because Charles is his.

Mine, mine, mine, Erik's mind sings as he thrusts into Charles' tight hole.

Yours, ah-- yours, Erik, please--! Charles pleads.

Erik grins. It's going to be a long, long, night.

[made by cherikdogfood]

[yawnderu]

hi love hope u doing great !

i am totally obsessed with bimbo!reader as everyone and i just have that one idea in my head..

… what about our sweet girl dragging simon out to the club? at first, when she told him about it, he barked a definite „no” because he never been a fan of such crowded and loud places, but! she’s so adorable and gets so so sad when he reject her idea !! so after few days he comes to her and mumble a quiet offer to go out with her to this smaller club not so far from their place? and she immediately lights up at his words, excited and happy that he agreed! (ofc she could never miss an opportunity to get dolled up, rightttt?)

and they get ready together, our girl finishing her makeup while simon helps her with putting on these pretty heels he bought her (princess treatment all the time !)

and i just can’t get out of my head that thought about them dancing (after thousand of pleas) together, getting a little drunk and just spending some nice time (surprisingly ghost is really enjoying himself????) and ! simon actually getting a little more drunk than usual (drunker than reader ???) and she tries her best at taking them home, as always using her little brain only when it comes to being a good girlfriend, she takes care of him after coming back and just aaaaah!!! she is sooo sweeet and good right?!

i feel like i got too lost in it and im sooooo sorry but this just lives rent free in my head and also this is my first ask ever so i dunno if its even good or whatever ????

anyway i just wanted to share the thought, have a good night and take care!! love your works, 🎀

also please don’t mind my english, it is not my first language ! <\3

Hii sweetheart!! I love this req sm omg<33 and don't apologize for your english!! everything was very well explained<333

Answered in this post!!

[stratossphere]

Fic where ville meets the lead singer of another band who’s performing at the same festival of him and he like has the biggest crush on her but whenever he tries to flirt with her it goes horribly wrong and he says the weirdest shit and she just kinda 🧍‍♀️ and he just embarrasses himself the whole time until she finally gets what he’s trying to do and goes out w him

from the band | v.v

ville has it bad for the lead singer of one of the other bands at a festival HIM is playing in, and he has a horrible way of showing it.

warnings: nervous ville, miscommunication at its finest, a tiny hint of mentioned suggestive content

word count: 4.1k

a/n: got a couple of asks kind of like this and combined them into one! also you guys are literal geniuses the plots you send are so good

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @4377666 @althaiascure

— —

Ville usually didn't give a flying shit about who else was playing at any of the festivals HIM was booked for. He was just there to enjoy his gigs, get ridiculously plastered, and maybe cause a little ruckus with the band while they weren't on stage. He didn't really want to be there anyway, as he was getting more homesick for Helsinki by the day and the hot sun was making him feel a little crazy, so it's not like he was actively participating in anything besides the drinking.

Until the last act that had gone on after them came down from the stage and into the artists' area where they were all getting progressively drunker by the minute due to the fact that they'd already played their show and had nothing left to do except drown their livers for the next 16 hours or so.

And where he said he usually didn't give a flying shit about who else was playing, this band did not apply. Because he'd seen this band before, and had seen the lead singer, who was drop dead gorgeous. Ville had never seen another woman like her, and for some reason felt his heart rate picking up like he was a fucking schoolgirl every time they happened to cross paths. And they were definitely crossing paths now, because she was getting a beer from the same cooler that they'd all been drinking out of after they'd come down.

However, he stayed completely silent, only watching her and admiring the smooth way she moved until she was gone. Burton, who had been talking to him specifically while they all sat around together in a circle on empty beer buckets, snorted.

"You're going to scare her off if you keep looking at her like that." He said, pointing very obviously over to Ville's not-so-secret crush as he talked through a swig of his beer. Mige laughed right along with him, nudging Ville's arm.

"Not if she smells him first." He teased, only making Ville scowl harder than he already had been before as he relented under his friends' teasing. They were clearly not on his side here, and the hot sun was making him feel a lot more irritated than usual, so all he did was kick Burton's bucket and elbow Mige right back a lot harder.

"Go fuck yourselves. Are we not allowed to look at other people anymore?" He spoke in a hostile tone as he threw a hand in the air, finishing off the last of his beer after he spoke and then crushing the can in his hand with enough force to displace some of his irritation. Gas shrugged.

"...do you look at us like you want to shove your hand down our pants?" That triggered a completely new wave of laughing and guffawing at Ville's expense. Even Linde, who usually couldn't be bothered to do more than roll his eyes, was snickering. They were being so loud that it had drawn her attention over in their direction, and then before he knew it, she was staring right at Ville. Which was horrible timing, because at that moment all he was doing was glaring. She clearly seemed taken aback by the sight of him when their eyes connected, and Ville mentally slapped himself when she quickly looked away.

"Now look what you fucking idiots did." He grumbled, standing up from where he'd been sitting in pursuit of another beer. His nerves were swimming with irritation despite the pile of beer cans he'd ingested by this time of day, and he needed more. "All you pricks know how to do is scare women away."

"Yeah, well you're not doing much better. Bet you 15 that she wouldn't give you the time of day if your face was already in her tits." Mige guffawed crudely, and loudly, as Ville picked at the tab of his beer can and tried not to commit a homicide. He about lost his reserve when he looked up to see that she was looking at them. And she had clearly heard what was being said, because there was a disgusted pout on her face that Ville couldn't help but find deeply attractive.

He felt hopelessness sinking in due to his friends' horrible timing and the lack of interest this painfully gorgeous rockstar was giving him, and before long there was another cigarette stuck between his lips as he went in search of a beer cooler that was still cold. He had been aiming to talk to this girl at least enough to get a good dose of the addicting sound of her voice, but at this point he'd mostly given up in favor of scowling at the grass he was kicking as he walked.

Usually this wasn't hard for him, but he had always had a soft spot for musicians. And it didn't help that she had almost completely ignored him in every interaction the two of them had ever shared, which honestly only made him want her more. He'd never actually heard her speak, only sing, but today he was aiming to change that.

However, fate and its impeccable timing seemed to have other plans for him, because just as he was crouching down to grab one of the last German beers that was actually in a bottle instead of a can, his attention was drawn by a voice behind him.

"Are you the lead singer of the headliner band?" It was a woman's voice, and Ville internally slouched. Great. Security was obviously shit, because now on top of his asshole company, groupies were worming their way into the artists' grounds. His jaw clenched.

"I don't fuck groupies." Sure, he was being a little short to a person who probably didn't deserve it, but he was too sober to find it funny, and he was in a bad mood anyway. There was a disbelieving scoff in response to his curt answer, and he immediately paled and stood back up when he realized who he'd just spoken to.

It was her. Of course it was fucking her.

"I was gonna ask if you could get the staff to send out more beer." She revealed sourly, her eyes raking over his in a way that in no way matched the way his eyes had been raking over her when she hadn't been looking. She then spat in the grass, and despite the embarrassment burning down his neck, Ville somehow found it in him to feel himself getting even hotter at the sight. However, she was too busy continuing her hostile retort to notice the flame in his eyes. "Not every woman who talks to you wants to fuck you. Dick."

And boom. Now he felt even worse. She turned on the tattered heel of her sneaker and marched right off before his lips could even part to allow him to explain himself, and all he could do in that moment was let out a heavy, irritated sigh as he watched her go. Might as well get her fucking beer and drown in his sorrows bottle-style considering he had nothing else going on for another two hours.

As he walked back towards where he knew the staff would be gathered waiting for whatever prima-donna rockstar came banging on their tent with some ridiculous request, Ville hummed softly to himself, scowl on his face no doubt one to reckon with as he passed other rockstars of various bands getting trashed beyond belief in order to cope with the fact that they'd be playing with several big names as the night progressed. He was trying to ignore his own bandmates ogling at the girl he so obviously had a thing for for the sake of his own temper, but he found his eyes drawn to the scene regardless, and then his jaw was clenched even tighter before he lost sight of the infuriating scene as he continued his search for her requested beer.

—

You were not a pushover. Flourishing in a scene so deeply dominated by men who more-often-than-not would've rathered to grab your tits in a crowd surf than to ever play on the same stage as you was more than exhausting, but you'd earned your place. However, that didn't mean you'd ever stop coming in contact with the ones who had a problem with you.

And, apparently, Ville Valo really had a problem with you. It was evident in even the slightest of his movements and the way his eyes moved over you, and you were more than sick of it. You'd already heard the words 'face in her tits' thrown around whilst him and the rest of his band had been blatantly staring in your direction, and him assuming that you were a groupie begging to fuck him had solidified your distaste towards him.

But god, there was just something about him. You'd felt it only from the several times you'd found yourself making eye contact with him from however far apart the two of you were, and to be honest, before you'd picked up on his extremely hostile demeanor, you'd almost considered that he might've been checking you out. But now, as you watched him stomp his way across the grounds with his heavy Doc Martens scuffing the grass that he was glowering at, you just found him annoying. You should've known, considering you had never met a metal frontman that wasn't a raging bitch.

However, despite your sourness in the singer’s direction, you couldn’t help but feel the loss considering he was incredibly good looking. Perfect eyes, sharp features, and a voice deep enough to make any sensible person weak in the knees were not a mix of factors that were making this easy on you. You were only simply an overly-horny young adult, after all.

“I heard that he’s like, one of those prodigies where it makes your brain want to explode talking to him.” Your band mate, the guitarist, clearly noticed that you were watching Ville (who had since disappeared), and leaned in closer to you as she motioned in Ville’s previous general direction. “He was totally checking you out.”

“The only thing he said to me was that he doesn’t fuck groupies, so yeah. Brain definitely exploded.” You replied uninterestedly, choosing to brush past your bandmate’s bewildered look at your response in favor of just falling back in the grass where you were sitting. “I’m not trying it. I can’t take any more pretentious music prodigies.”

“But he’s so hot. Have you seen him preforming?” As she delved into a detailed description of Ville’s set that she’d trekked up the hill to watch, you focused your attention mostly on staring miserably towards the staff tent, where you’d watched Ville disappear a few minutes before. You weren’t totally sure as to what was causing you to focus on him for such a long period of time, but somehow your eyes just seemed to keep finding their way back.

And low and behold, when you spotted him again, he was coming out of the side of the staff tent with a six pack in each hand. Score.

“Oh my god, is he actually bringing you the beer?” The guitarist had overheard you ask Ville if he could use his main talent privileges to hook the rest of you up with some beer, and you saw her turn to watch Ville alongside you with her jaw dropped as he paused to slam one of the six packs into one of his bandmates’ lap. You rolled your eyes.

“I guess.” Okay. So maybe you were biting back a slight grin through your scowl, but she wasn’t looking at you anyway. Ville, however, was looking at you, and you felt your heart jump a little bit despite your best intentions when his startling green irises connected with yours. So he had brought you beer. Huh. You quickly looked to your bandmate. “Don’t say anything.”

“Hope English beer entices you.” Those words were uttered past Ville’s lips and through a thick cloud of smoke as he came up to where your band was sitting together, holding out the six pack with a mostly uninterested look on his face the entire time.

“Thank you.” As your hand almost brushed his, you noticed a scar on his wedding ring finger that looked shockingly similar to if someone were to use their finger as an ashtray, but you looked away as you picked out a bottle once the pack was in your lap and then held it up. “Do you have a bottle opener, by chance?”

“Fuck. There uh, there might be one in Mige’s bag over there.” Ville mentally slapped himself for having forgotten a way to open her bottle, knowing that she probably wouldn’t have appreciated his foolproof method of just smashing the neck of the bottle on the nearest solid surface. He mentally slapped himself once more when he saw her cast a wary look in the direction of his friends, quickly shooting to give her another option. “I’ll get it for you.”

However, just as he turned to walk away from where he could clearly see the rest of her band watching him with knowing, amused looks on their stupid faces, he heard shoes scuffing the grass, and he glanced back to see her right next to him. Shit.

“Are you guys going to talk about my tits while I’m right there, too?” She asked conversationally as she fell in step next to him, casting a critical look in his direction as she called him out clear as day. Ville resisted the urge to wince viscerally.

“Um, you heard that wrong. That’s not—we weren’t talking about you.” He saved himself lamely, not missing her skeptical look as she continued to side-eye him. He didn’t know why the hell he was stuttering like a fucking idiot, but it wasn’t going away no matter how many times he cleared his throat. He had a feeling that if her fingers even brushed his arm at this point, his head was going to explode.

“You don’t fuck groupies, and you were the only one not talking about my tits? You deserve a medal.” Her tone was more than sour, and Ville sighed miserably at the realization that he had probably fucked this whole thing up. Here was his dream girl, who had a metal attitude fiery enough to make him weak in the knees and the looks to go with it, and she obviously didn’t like him. His level of game was astounding.

“Yeah. Guess I do.” Okay, so maybe that wasn’t totally helping his case, but his snarky attitude was a hard habit to break. And, to give himself some credit, Ville realized what a douchey thing that was to say as soon as it was out of his mouth. Y/n’s nose wrinkled, and she stopped right then and there in the middle of the grounds between Ville’s band and her own. He stopped with her, thankful for the fact that his long hair covered where his ears were burning with embarrassment. Never once in his life had he done so badly in the flirting department. “Uh, I mean—“

“You realize you’re kind of a dick, right? Why’d you get me the beer if you’re just going to be an asshole the whole time?” Y/n was transparent in her annoyance with the way Ville was currently acting, and he had to bite on the very inside of his cheek to avoid falling right at her feet as she snapped on him. “I can open the beer without an opener. Fuck off.”

“I—what?” Despite his knowing that Y/n wasn’t at all receptive to any idea he had tried to give that he was clearly into her, it took him aback when she verbally dismissed him away from her right to his face. He stood there looking like an idiot, and she only stared right back as she lifted up her foot, held the heel of her shoe in one hand, and then slammed the edge of her bottle cap on the hard rubber so that it popped right off and into the grass. And all Ville could think about was how beautiful she was the entire time.

“I never needed an opener. I already know how to open a fucking beer.” Her tone was still scalding as she repeated herself, and as she stood there with an open beer and a disgusted look on her face, it suddenly clicked in Ville’s brain. She had just wanted to talk to him.

Jesus Christ.

He skated a hand over his messy, sweaty hair, trying to collect himself enough to be a well-spoken human being before he finally just let out a large sigh and took a long swig of his beer.

“I’m sorry. I came off like shit.” He started, letting his hand fall back to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck as he glanced to the side to see his shitty friends watching him talk to Y/n like wolves watching their prey. He knew he’d get more than enough teasing for this whole thing later, and he was trying to hold his irritation at the fact off of his features for her sake. “I’m not usually like this. I swear. I’m just fucking…overheated.”

By overheated, he meant mostly his brain and a certain…other part of his body, but she didn’t need to know that. It didn’t look like she really believed him, anyway.

“Shit excuse.” She spoke simply, and her expression had softened a little bit, but there was still a hint of heat to her voice as she did so. He stuttered out a laugh, taking a drag off of his almost-cashed cigarette in an attempt to soothe his rapidly beating heart. Fuck, he felt like a goddamn teenager right now.

“Well it’s not about you, if you’re that worried.” Not only was that a shitty thing to say, but it was also a lie. In a rush to cover himself, he instead fucked it up again, and he immediately watched her recoil slightly at his words. Why was he so fucking bad at this today?

“What does that even mean?” God, at this point Ville wished she would’ve been one of those girls that just threw a drink in his face and slapped him instead of sitting there grilling him. Obviously, he usually fell in love with the ones that grilled him only that much quicker, but that wasn’t the point. And she didn’t give him time to make a point, anyway. “Listen, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you, but you’re not all fucking that. Not every girl that talks to you does it so that she can fuck your brains out.”

In a twisted, Ville-only part of his brain, he was falling in love with her for yelling at him like she was. In the middle of both her friends and his friends, as fate would have it. If heart eyes had been a real thing, Ville never would’ve been able to look at her in the first place without revealing how bad he had it for her.

“That’s not what I—I didn’t mean to—“ God. He could just not get the words to come out like he wanted them to. He snapped his mouth shut in frustration, because he didn’t know how to say ‘I’m being a fucking dick because I want you to kiss me’, then watched with panic as she started to walk away. “Wait! Please…just hold on for a second.”

“You really like the sound of your own voice.” She grumbled, sounding more than sick of him but thankfully pausing and crossing her arms anyway. Once he was sure he had her attention, Ville caved to the swarm of thoughts in his brain. Might as well throw out a last-ditch attempt considering how bad he’d screwed all this up for himself.

“I…” His heart was pounding so hard in his chest it felt as if he couldn’t speak around it, but he knew that he had no other choice. He swallowed. “Let me take you out to dinner. Please. I’m being like this because beautiful women make me a fucking idiot.”

Once the words had all fallen out of his mouth in a shaky, unintelligent swarm, he stood there waiting. He felt as if he may throw up, and the last half-drag off of his cigarette before he dropped it into the grass under his boot only made his heart seem to beat faster against his rib cage.

And then she began to smile.

“You look a little sick.” As if she was in his head and knew that it was only going to make his condition worse, she reached out and held his wrist in her perfect hand before she pressed her fingers gently into his wrist.

She was checking his pulse. Busted.

“I feel a little sick.” He admitted loosely, a sheepish smile passing on his features as he tried to continue to see straight with her touching his hand. She laughed at that, not yet letting his hand go.

“This is cute. You really had me going.” She said lightly, her eyes moving from his pulse to his with a look that told him she was amused by his racing heartbeat. His face went crimson at her calling him cute, because who the hell saw his dark, chronically-unamused expression and call it cute, before he found himself grinning beyond his control.

“Well? Did it work?” He asked, his stomach about dropping right out of his body when she suddenly laced their fingers together and held his hand in hers. Although he was praying to gods he didn’t believe in that she would say yes, he was simultaneously wondering how the hell he was going to get through an uninterrupted dinner alone with her when he felt like his life was ending at the mercy of just the slightest of her touches. She bit her lip.

“Hmm…yeah. It worked.” You were beaming, both at the fact that you’d just earned yourself a date with one of the hottest men you’d ever seen and at the fact that the hottest man you’d ever seen was shaky and nervous like a little kid in your mere presence. You felt more than bad about snapping on him now that you knew he just had a case of being a man and trying to express his feelings aloud. “You gonna take me somewhere fancy?”

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, love.” He seemed to ease slightly once he had your agreement to go out to dinner with him, and his voice found confidence as he shamelessly studied your features right in front of you. “I’d even cook something on the tour bus hot plate if it meant I’d get to see you.”

That made you laugh, and you thanked the fact for the time it allowed you to let your jumping heart settle. Something should’ve been said for the fact that Ville was offering dinner instead of a beer and a shitty fuck like every other rockstar you’d ever met doing the job you did, and you were trying your very hardest not to surround his name in hearts in your mind as he looked at you.

“Date’s on, Valo.” As you agreed, he made a whole dramatic show of sticking his hand out and forcing you to shake it, but you were laughing the whole time. You were mentally picturing yourself jumping his tall frame right then and there, but you instead let your hand linger in his for a suspicious amount of time before you pulled out of the handshake. “Until then, I’m going to keep checking you out across the yard, deal?”

“Deal.” Ville was relaxed and smiling now as the both of you talked, so as you made your exit, you felt no qualms about leaning up and pressing a kiss right to his warm cheek.

“See you tonight.” Your lips brushed against his cheek as you spoke quietly in his ear, as you bit back a grin as you heard him gasp just slightly. When you broke away from him, his eyes were already dragging over your figure as you turned away.

“See you tonight.” And suddenly Ville really needed some alone time in a room with a door that locked.

[irkimatsu]

Irk - I am gonna apologize in advance for this note but just imagine:

Someone pulling Husk by the suspenders and just like kissing him hard. Either because tension from an argument arose or he was just being self deprecating and it’s a way to shut him up. But just grabbing onto those fucking hot suspenders and laying it on the man.

I feel like he would definitely be shocked at first but would lean into it. Definitely tentatively but oh boy if you get him going? Be ready to be taken on the bar counter (low key a dream of mine) Just a mess of moans and teeth and if you are wearing short pants? Even better, this man will worship your legs till kingdom come (or you come either way)

Okay have a great day and know that you’re awesome!!!!

Oh those suspenders were made for pulling. Add in the "stop being so self-deprecating" kiss and this is absolutely gourmet

Husk is even drunker than usual... he's trying to drown feelings he told himself decades ago that he was done with. He knows you've been flirting with him, he knows how much you like him... and he likes you back. Too much. Even as he returns your flirtatious advances, he knows he can't let it get any further than that. He wants you, but knows he can't have you; he'll only drag you down and make you hate him in the end. It's better in his mind if he stays a fond memory to you, the one who got away, instead of becoming the one who broke your heart.

You've been trying to have this serious conversation with him for nights, and each time you try he's even drunker. Tonight, the alcohol helps his self-loathing pour freely from his lips. Why are you bothering? He's a drunk, a gambler, an addict. He has nothing, not even his own soul, and it's his own fucking fault. What could he possibly offer you? Hell, he'll probably do something stupid that gets you into as much trouble as he's in, and he'd never be able to forgive himself for that. Don't give him the chance. Just leave him here to drink himself as near to death as he can get when he's already in hell, it's all he's really good for anymore-

And then you pull him in for a kiss, his fur tickling your knuckles as you grab onto his suspenders. The alcohol is so strong on his breath, but you don't care - that scent has been reminding you of him for a long time anyway, and the taste represents him even more strongly. You comb one hand through the fur on his chest, letting all of your senses absorb as much of him as they can. He freezes, still for long enough that you worry you've crossed a line and he's going to push you away-

But the alcohol has lowered his inhibitions enough to allow him to grab your head and forcefully kiss you back, gently nipping your lips, practically climbing over the bar to be closer to you.

"You shouldn't," he slurs with a groan, but it doesn't stop him from kissing you again. "I'm just gonna- gonna fuck this up-"

You grab his head and shut him up again with another kiss. He gives in and slots his mouth against yours, practically devouring you. With you holding his head in place, he's free to run his paws down your back. You press yourself firmly into the bar as his paws cup your ass, wishing the damn thing wasn't in the way.

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" you ask, breathlessly.

"No."

You think for a moment that you went too far with that suggestion, but he interrupts your concern by pulling you over the bar. You collapse on top of him, pinning him to the floor, but it doesn't stop him from continuing to kiss you. His paws run down your body again, this time taking the opportunity to squeeze your bare thighs. A purr rumbles in his throat as his claws gently graze the soft flesh.

"Let's do it here."

You two will definitely need to talk about this in the morning - while sober, preferably. But for now, it's nice to finally let out the sexual tension that's been building to unbearable levels for so long...

[breezysdungeon]

A Drunken Visit

Some notes before you read:

This is a story from Cazmier's (he/him) perspective and I haven't made a characterization chart for him yet. Ezra (they/them) has one already (Which I might pin after this post) so if you want to know the basics for them then it's already posted on my blog. Anyways Cazmier is Ezra's bestie and both of them are nobles. Particularly Ezra is heir to the throne while Cazmier is just apart of another noble family. If you have any additional questions feel free to ask me in my ask box or in the replies. Enjoy~

♪☆＼(^０^＼) ♪(／^-^)／☆♪

Cazmier groaned and laid his head down at his desk. It was hard enough to listen to his father drone on about historic battles and rebellions but trying to read them was a completely different beast. He wished Ezra could be there telling him about it instead history always seemed more interesting when they talked about it. Just as the thought crossed his mind he heard a tapping at the balcony door. He sat up and turned to look through the glass doors. There waving at him through the glass was Ezra holding a bag in their other hand.

Cazmier got up and opened up the door to the balcony and stepped out to meet them. “Alright what brings you climbing up onto my balcony this time?”

Ezra mustered their most innocent smile. “I just wanted to hang out with my best friend.”

Cazmier looked out into the late afternoon sky. The sun was setting, painting the purplish hues across the horizon signaling the arrival of night was to soon be upon them. He crossed his arms and looked down at Ezra.

He sighed. “Okay I’m not that stupid Ezra, it’s a bit of a trek to get here from the castle and considering how late it’s getting the time you left was definitely deliberate.”

They huffed. “Fine… I did have a bit of a mischievous proposition, but only if you want to! If not… I will sadly have to make my home in the dark… alone…”

“Ezra…” He tried to stay composed. He knew they didn’t actually mean this stuff and only said it to mess with him, but Cazmier would be lying if said it didn’t work even a little bit on him. “Just tell me what it is already.” 

They nodded happily and pulled a few things out of the bag. Ezra held a sizable bottle of liquor and two cups in their hands. “Ta-da! I took this from my father’s little gift pile. He had the generals come for a meeting today and they always bring in some gifts. General Howard always brings alcohol however this time in particular he brought the one my father hates with a passion! So I snagged it. Don’t worry it was before he even got a good look at the pile he won’t even know it was ever there. Even then he won’t miss it.” They waved the bottle a bit trying to be more convincing.

Cazmier contemplated the predicament standing in front of him. If he said no Ezra would simply partake in the act of drinking this entire bottle alone and get in trouble, if he said yes the two of them would drink together and get in trouble together. Either way Ezra is somewhat fucked if they get caught.

“I’m starting to think this friendship is getting out of hand…” Cazimer relented.

“Is that a no?” Ezra said curiously.

“Just get inside already!” He said, guiding them through the doors.

Over the next couple of hours Cazmier and Ezra made their way through the bottle of shitty liquor and Cazmier’s history homework. Ezra always had a way of telling history like proper storytelling but that skill with a dash of them being tipsy made the story more like town gossip. They blabbed about previous rulers and generals often going on tangents about their sex lives and bastard children vying for the throne. Even with the looming threat of parental punishment hanging over this particular get-together, Cazmier still found himself enjoying his usual dose of Ezra. It just happens this time is a little bit more incoherent. 

Cazmier did his best to manage his alcohol intake and stay just less than drunk. He noticed that this had the unfortunate effect of Ezra getting way drunker than him. They weren’t exactly aiming to stay any bit of sober tonight apparently. Ezra sat up from the carpet finishing their bit about Stephen the 3rd and went to drink a bit more before being stopped by Cazmier.

He chuckled nervously looking at Ezra's offended expression. “Hey okay! I just want you to be able to walk home properly, you know?” He slowly pried the bottle from Ezra. 

“Wha- hey! I brought this for us! I was caring!” They leaned onto him trying to get the bottle back. “Come on! I was about to talk about Stephen’s niece Meridith and how she stole the throne back for her family!” Ezra slurred.

“No Ezra. That's plenty. You can talk about Meridith without another drink.” Cazmier carefully closed the bottle and pushed it out of sight under the bed.

Ezra huffed and collapsed onto his lap. “Ugh… I’ve lost my motivation…”

Cazmier patted Ezra’s head. “That’s okay, we can do something else.”

Ezra rolled over to look at him. “Like what?”

He hummed. “Hmm… we can play two truths and a lie.”

Ezra stared at him blankly. “What do I get if I win?”

“Umm… Usually bragging rights.” Cazmier chuckled at the thought of getting a prize from such a game. “Did you want something?”

A smile spread across Ezra’s face. “Uh-huh, but I’ll only tell you what I want if I win.” They covered their mouth and snickered like a child.

Cazmier poked at their face. “Alright you little devil you can win whatever you want within reason if you win.”

“You go first.” They poked back.

“Okay…” He thought for a moment. “My father’s lectures are boring, I have two brothers, and I do bird watching.”

“One of those is subjective…” Ezra commented “That’s cheating.”

He sighed “I think my father’s lectures are boring, better?”

“Much.” They hummed and hawed for a bit before answering. “I have never seen you go bird watching. I remember telling me about a bird you thought had it out for you as a child.” Ezra shook their finger as they spoke. “I smell a lie coming from you sir.”

“Right, right.” Cazmier said. “Yes, alas I do not birdwatch. I do, however, enjoy learning about different types of birds.” He smiled down at Ezra. “Your turn.”

Ezra took a little longer before answering than he did. Their stoic face furrowing in thought trying to get their brain to work. “I betrayed my sister… I stole from my mother… and… I’m in love with my best friend.” They looked up at Cazmier expectantly.

Cazmier was reeling a bit from the choices of truths and lies. Honestly people usually go for the smaller, less potentially damaging things. This is Ezra we’re talking about though. “Um… wow.” Cazmier was really stumped by this one.

“Do you give up?" they snickered sitting up to get eye level with him.

“No.” Cazmier said confidently. “You… aren’t in love with your best friend.” He said it a bit disappointedly he wasn’t entirely sure why but Ezra couldn’t possibly mean that. They were always messing with him but they wouldn’t go that far right?

“Nope!” Ezra cheered. “Ha ha! You lose.” 

“Wait what!?” Cazmier covered his mouth realizing he was being a bit too loud. “Well what was the lie then?” He whispered.

Ezra shrugged. “I think part of your punishment is not knowing.”

He tried to process what they meant before Ezra cut back in. “I get my prize now, yeah?”

“I supposed…” Cazmier conceded. “What do you want?” Just as he finished his thought Ezra grabbed his face and kissed him. It was a quick and childish kind of kiss but a kiss nothless.

They smiled content with their prize. “What do you want to do now?”

Cazmier, face fully flushed and a bit more sober retorted, “Let's just get you home okay?”

✦

Cazmier nervously paced a bit as he waited for Ezra at their usual meeting spot in the castle gardens. He had to drag them back home and sneak them in with the help of the very disappointed medic Kore. Ezra was way more drunk than he had thought and Cazmier had no idea if they were going to remember what happened. All he had been told when he and his family arrived for their weekly visit was that Ezra was a bit under the weather today but still functional. Cazmier heard a familiar set of paws pad up to him and looked down to Kenny doing his usual sniff down routine. Following close behind was a very tired looking Ezra.

“Hey… You look way better than me, honestly.” Ezra said with a slight smile. “I’ll comfort you with the fact I slept like the dead though.”

He sighed, no mention of anything that happened just the aftermath. “I’m fine I didn’t drink as much as you, remember?” Real slick.

Ezra paused looking to the side. “Uhh… no actually. I mean I remember that I couldn’t shut the fuck up, but other than that, not really.” They crossed their arms. “Wait so you didn’t drink as much as I did? Traitor.”

Cazmier laughed “Ezra, come on! How was I going to explain you sleeping over if neither of us could get you home?”

Ezra nodded in agreement. “Still a little peeved but understood.”

He was relieved. Mostly that he didn’t have to unpack whatever drunk Ezra was babbling on about. Although he’s still curious about what the lie was… if they were telling the truth. If they told the truth… shit.

[mad-hunts]

i just realized i haven't really talked about what barton is like while he's in arkham and/or what it's like for him. so... let me start by saying barton is probably among one of the inmates at arkham that has caused the highest number of incidents. and i don't mean small ones all the time, either. because barton will go so far to make himself sick just so he can go to the infirmary and steal scalpels / ANY sort of object he can cut people with (specifically the doctors.) now, of course i'm not trying to say that this is justified because of this, but he has also has a history of being treated very badly in there (though that certainly isn't an uncommon thing for anyone in arkham unfortunately) ... and i just feel like that's important to note because his behavior could very well be partially in retaliation to this.

however, i can imagine that the staff in arkham typically don't care about considering things like this since it is a SUPER corrupt place. and thus... i hate to say it, but whenever he is compliant, it's usually because he's drugged up to the point where he's drunker than a skunk. or loopier than a pot-holder. because it is DEFINITELY not normal for barton to not rebel against them in any way. he's also refused to eat in there several times and wellll — that probably didn't vibe well with them, either. so basically what i'm trying to say is barton 'acts out' a lot while he's in there, which could be attributed both to his circumstances AND to his very altered mental state

[libraryledge]

A Wild Ride (A Story Inspired by The Bikeriders)

Author's Note: Last week, I watched the film, "The Bikeriders" and highly recommend it. I was inspired to write a short story about Benny and Kathy, without major spoilers from the film. Enjoy!

It had been a long time since I'd had a night out. I was a busy gal, usually running errands or tending to matters at home. It wasn't like I was unhappy, it was more like I felt unfulfilled. I needed this night out, but my friend's decision to meet up at a sketchy bar was not my typical definition of fun. 

First of all, I wasn't a drinker. I didn't mind when others drank, but I could not stomach liquor. Secondly, this bar was filled to the brim with creeps. From the moment I set foot inside, I could feel the unavoidable male gaze on every inch of my body.

When I finally made my way to the table where my friend was sitting, I was overcome by a wave of relief.

“Geez! Could this place be any creepier?” I asked with exasperation. As soon as the words left my mouth, a guy at least 10 years older than me approached me and gave me a toothy grin.

“Hey pretty darlin’, mind if I take you out tonight?” he asked without shame of his putrid beer breath.

“Ugh! Yes, I do mind. Now let me be!” I said diverting my attention back to my friend. However, she was engrossed in a conversation with a man in the biker jacket. I assumed that he was part of the riding club, based on his attire. 

I sighed and allowed my eyes to wander around the room. Everywhere I looked men were either smoking, drinking, swearing, or doing all three simultaneously.

Eventually, my wandering eyes landed upon a young man who was playing at the pool table. He had a lean build, but his arm were very muscular. He seemed to be avoiding the hullabaloo of the crowd, and his sole intention appeared to be winning at the game in front of him.

Suddenly, he looked up from the table, and for a brief second, we made eye contact. I quickly looked away to avoid looking like a creep myself. 

I turned toward my friend who was still talking a mile a minute with the biker guy. I nudged her. 

“Who is that?” I asked, lowering my voice to avoid being overheard.

My friend looked up and gave me a quizzical look. “That's Benny. He visits here often and is a motorcycle enthusiast. You don't want to cross paths with him," she replied, giving me a side-eyed glance.

“Why not?” I asked, wondering what kind of history this mysterious man had.

“Don’t take it personally. It’s the advice I’d give to anyone. No gal wants to be caught dead with him. He's a reckless driver. One ride on his bike, and you can kiss your hopes and dreams goodbye,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, before diverting her attention back to the biker man.

With a twinge of annoyance, I turned my gaze back towards the pool table only to see that it was empty. Benny was gone.

The night droned on. My friend got drunker and drunker by the moment, and by her fourth drink, I’d had enough. I made up an excuse about needing to tend to some matters at home, and I made my quick escape.

The night air was chilly and unsettling. I knew that it was stupid to walk home alone in the middle of the night, but did I really have a choice? Just as I was about to begin my journey home, I heard the door to the bar open behind me. Benny walked outside and lit a cigarette. I knew that he saw me, but he didn't interact with me, which I assumed was because he wanted to give me space rather than because he wanted to be disrespectful. The scent of smoke lingered in the air, and normally it would have bothered me, but for some reason it didn't disturb me.

I continued walking, but didn't get very far because a large group of drunk and rowdy bikers came bounding out of the bar. I picked up the pace, but wasn't fast enough. 

They spotted me, and the smelly old beer guzzler, who attempted to flirt with me earlier, cornered me with an obnoxiously pleased look. 

“Hey little lady! Thought you could dash off without a good night kiss?” he said, with a nauseating sneer.

I swore at him and told him to get lost. I managed to escape from his path, only to come face to face with another equally as revolting biker.

“Ah! Can't you tell that she doesn't want to see your ugly face?” he snorted in amusement.

“Go screw yourself!” I yelled at him and began speed walking in the opposite direction, towards Benny, who was now sitting upon an older motorcycle.  I assumed it was his by the way he gently positioned his palms upon the handlebars.

Benny made eye contact with me as if to silently say, “Are you alright?” I watched as he steadied himself upon the front of the bike, leaving an open space behind him on the seat.

The men were approaching me, and I could hear them hooting and hollering. My eyes darted back towards Benny, and it was at that moment that I decided to push aside any hesitation and go for it. Despite not having any liquor in my system, I felt the electricity of a person, whose courage was being powered by one too many drinks.

I hopped onto the back of Benny's motorcycle and whispered in his ear, “I live at 44228 Russo Lane. Please, I need a ride home.”

A surprise look crossed Benny's tanned face, but it slowly morphed into one of amusement.

“Alright then. Hold on tight. I'm not known to take it easy,” he said with a chuckle.

Slowly, I wrapped my arms around his back and secured my grip around his torso. Benny revved up the engine, and I felt the motor rumble below me.

I had no idea what was driving the sudden rebellion inside of me, but it was certainly worth it to see the flabbergasted looks upon the faces of the other bikers as I rode away with my arms wrapped around Benny.

“So long boys. Hasta la vista!” I shouted over my shoulder, as we bolted out of the bar’s parking lot.

I felt the wind rushing through my hair as Benny  picked up speed and we went bounding down the street.

"Do I get to know your name?” Benny asked, over the thundering engine.

I let out a loud laugh. “Kathy,” I said, feeling the adrenaline build up in my chest.

“Kathy. That’s a beautiful name. Now hold on tight. I don't want to be the last person you introduce yourself to," he replied.

I chuckled. At least he was aware of the reputation he carried. Somehow, I wasn't afraid. Maybe it was the crisp scent of his cologne mixed with smoke that put me at ease.

I tightened my grip around him and replied, "I guess that's the risk I take for hitching a ride with a stranger.”

Benny let out a hearty laugh. “Darn right!” he exclaimed.

I had never ridden on a motorcycle, but I always admired those who made it seem so effortless. Bob Dylan, Marlon Brando, and even James Dean couldn't rival the charisma that Benny oozed as we rode into the night.

Eventually, we pulled up in front of my driveway, and as the motor slowed, my heartbeat quickened. I carefully made my way off of the bike and was now standing on the sidewalk in front of my house, positioned face to face with Benny.

“Well, I guess you made it home in one piece," he said with a teasing look in his eyes.

“Thank you. That wouldn’t have been the case if I lingered around that bar any longer,” I replied gratefully. “I swear I don't make a habit out of hitching rides with strangers.”

Benny grinned mischievously. “I hope after this I won't remain a stranger.”

Something about the way he said that lit a fire in me. “No, you're right. I don't think that will do," I responded, matching his playful tone.

Benny grinned. “Tomorrow, I’m meeting a few guys over at the abandoned lot, behind the town center. I could pick you up if you don't mind your life flashing before your eyes again,” he joked.

“You really know how to treat a gal,” I replied with a smile.

“I try,” he responded with a grin, as he started the engine, gave me a small wave, and went rumbling down the street once more.

I watched as he disappeared into the darkness. My night started off with a horrible social outing, surrounded by idiots. Somehow, amidst the chaos, I found comfort in a lonely bike rider, and I decided to trust him. Maybe I had a desire for rebellion, or maybe I was yearning for romance, but all I knew was that if I followed Benny, I was in for a wild ride.

[willowve01]

Fellowes Parents (LORE)

Lily Fellowes 

Formerly: Lily Kingly 

~

Lily Kingly was born and raised within Aakhan with the rest of her family; the third oldest of four. She was quite an adventurous soul in her youth, described to follow wherever the wind took her. In her youth–adolescent years–she had become a Dazinte just to have an excuse to adventure the world. 

During one of her travels–then in her late teens–she had ended up in Montell, stumbling upon David; crushing on the boy upon first meeting him despite his stand-offish behavior. Some years after that, David had moved to Aakhan, married Lily and later raised a small family of two daughters. Sometime later, she and her sister-Jane-were the only one left in Akkhan. The rest of her family moved to Montell primarily for the halfblood tournaments, fueling their hatred towards the brackish-blooded beings.

~

Lily was 33 when she had mysteriously died shortly after becoming ill, leaving Raine to raise her younger sister while their father had turned his back on them both. It’s worth mentioning that the couple started to have a fall out, the pair frequently arguing with each other throughout the nights over David’s growing addiction to alcohol. 

Maybe it was the heartbreak that caused her to fall ill ᓍᖇ ᘻᗩᖻᗷᘿ ᓰᖶ ᘺᗩS ᖶᕼᘿ ᕵᓍᓰSᓍᘉ… ̵̶̱͉̳̠͢C̷̢̩͍̳̱̱̖̫̟̺̰͢͠͞O͍̱͎̯̣͕̤̜̰͖̯͕̥̱̲̰̳͟͝Ŗ̜̯̰͖̯͕̥̱̲̰̳͟͟͡Ŗ̜̯̗͈̳̙̕͟͡ͅŲ̵̡̼̳̱͙͎̲̘̩̬̣̯̼͓͈̹͢P̷̷͇̳͔̪̹͉̯̟̟̙̥̻̰̻̀͡T̩̙̰̬͙͖ͅ ͇̻͕͔̳́͞ͅF̨̝̣͕͉̫̜͟͝ͅI̴̷̞̦̦̗̥̠̤͓͉̱̹͖̻͓͝L̶̥̤̤̪̜̩͇͟҉̶̡͕͓̪͚͕̩͈͔̩E̱̭̘̫̮̥͇̰͉͖̭̫̻̜͡Ş̯͕

David Fellowes 

~

David was born and raised in Montell, the only child of his family. David didn’t have the greatest childhood to say the least, surrounded by a family that drowned themselves in various substances for unknown reasons. He was a very reserved kid growing up, but that seemingly changed after meeting Lily.

In his late teens, David had run away from home. He had managed to escape his family, running to Aakhan; later meeting Lily once again. This time he had time to fall in love with that extroverted woman; opposites definitely attracted. Two years after they married, Raine was born. Unlike his parents, he adored his daughter more than his own life, protecting her from every little thing.

Some years after Lily had Everlynn, he had developed an addiction. He had always liked moonshine, but it had amplified throughout Everlynn’s childhood; never knowing he had once been a better man/father. After the sudden death of his wife, he tried to cut himself off from his daughters; daughters that remind him too much of her. 

~

A year after Lily’s death, Raine had taken up jobs to provide for herself, sister, and David. To pay off debt and buy the daily necessities for the family. Unbeknownst to his eldest, he had been snagging some coin to buy his own needs; like the drinks he numbed himself with.

The night of The Incident, he was drunker than usual and easy to rile. During his and his eldest confrontation, he had tried to break her down to prove whatever point he believed he had– he had never thought he’d turn it physical and bloody. Looking down on what he had done broke his heart, though he never showed it during or after the incident. It took him two years to attempt to apologize to Raine and Everlynn.

David was banished from Jane and Bill’s household that hid Everlynn away, Raine was already gone by that point. Missing.

[gabessquishytum]

For many human AUs, I think about Desire and Dream's rivalry and just... *smacks lips* They could do so much damage!

What if Desire oh so kindly helped their big brother lose his virginity by setting him up with someone. And the sex was terrible. And they try again and again but all the people who they set Dream up with are so bad that Dream doesn't even want to see them again. And each time, Desire SWORE to him that the sex would be good, they've been with this person before, it'll be amazing, but nope, Dream usually doesn't even come, even though he's still halfway a virgin. So, Desire and Dream "figure out" he's sex-repulsed/ace or something like that, he doesn't even care and honestly, he's just glad that Desire dropped the topic and he can go willow in self-pity and loneliness because now he's absolutely certain he'll never find a good partner for himself.

Enter Hob. Who is not deterred by Dream's personality or anything else. He wants Dream. Even after Dream tells him that he is not into sex at all. Hob is ok with a romantic relationship without sex.

Desire does EVERYTHING in their power to prevent that. They hit on Hob constantly, they spread rumours, they tell both of them lies, but nothing has the desired (pun intended) effect. Dream and Hob are happily dating.

Well, some months into the relationship, with the help of some alcohol, Dream and Hob talk about sex. And Hob is confused at first - is Dream drunker than he seems? - and then gently "dove, half of what you describe is not even sex, not even a virgin would cum from that." And the other half sounds just painful or awkward.

Turns out Desire had been paying people to have horrible sexual encounters with their brother to make him think sex is not for him, just to mess with him.

I'm kind of a regular here but I was thinking I could also get a sign off. XD 🚒 Fire truck taken? I was trying to think of the most random emoji, so hopefully it's free. XD I might also continue to be an anonymous anon because I often send weird and kinky shit. 😅

CACKLING about this. I love Desire as The Villain in Dream’s life even in human aus because they do the prettiest shit JUST to make their big brother's life difficult.

I think the funniest outcome of this is that Dream and Hob then do experiment together to see if Dream does like sex. And Hob is experienced enough to give Dream a good and well rounded introduction to good sex, but... Dream is like "eh". He doesn't hate it, sure, but he does still feel a bit uncomfy with the whole thing. He panics for a minute thinking that Hob will be angry or upset but he really doesn't mind! He's always accepted that sex might not be a part of their relationship, that isn't going to change and he loves Dream exactly as he is.

Next time Dream sees Desire he has some... choice words for his sibling. He finishes the whole spiel by declaring that he's still ace anyway so Desire's whole plan was completely pointless. He's NOT lonely and he doesn't pity himself anymore, he loves having the ace community to identify with, and Hob is never going to leave him because of anything as stupid as sex anyway.

Hob (who has sadly been forbidden from punching Desire in the face) is like "and I'm definitely not leaving him for someone as horrible as you" and Desire is mostly annoyed because it turns out that they accidentally helped Dream to discover self-love and identity that works for him, dammit.

You are so welcome to be 🚒 anon! Welcome to the emoji clan ❤

[zoeysdamn]

Headcanon (crack): Wednesday’s characters being drunk

Don’t ask me why. @beggingforxavierthorpe​ and I talked and boom -- crack thoughts, you know the drill

Wednesday: 

Doesn’t get drunk easily, is used to fancy wines from family dinners; it takes around a whole bottle to get her tipsy.  

Prefers old age whisky (or nail polish remover)

Blunt af – even more than usual it is

But it also means blunting compliments

“Your dress is nicely complimenting your body, Enid”

“....I’m sorry wHAT– “

“I said what I said”

0 sense of danger

Like, none

Would accept any dare, I swear to god

“Hey Wednesday, bet you can’t walk barefoot on that electric line”

“Hold my beer–” 

Probably confessed a hella lot of personal stuff to Thing without realizing it

(he’ll keep it to himself, he’s not suicidal)

If she tolerates a hug more than 5 seconds, she’s wasted 

Enid: 

Can hold her liquor for like three cups top – after that she’s a goner

Will deny she gets drunk 

Switch between sad drunk, happy drunk, and cuddly drunk

Also will fight God in a fistfight on her 6th drink 

Sad drunk Enid will cry her heart out and cuddle you over any random subject. Last episode of her favorite show? Yep. The caramel dessert at the cafeteria at lunch? Absolutely. Yoko wearing the same outfit as her at the last party? She’ll cry on your shoulder. Mommy issues? bOI bring the tissues. 

Karaoke is a must do; don’t tempt her with a mic, you’ll have the full Taylor Swift discography blasted ‘til daylight 

Came become suspicious of everyone on her top drunk state: she’ll be sure one of the guest is actually principal Weems in disguise 

Probably had show her boobs on top of a table for fun (sober Wednesday had to pull her down)

Gets whiny when the alcohol starts to wear off 

Already ended up asleep upside down in a bathtub – somehow always wakes up in her bed 

Ajax: 

Mildly light weight; can hold his beer as much as he wants, but anything stronger and he’s gone. 

At 3 drinks he thinks he’s a good singer; at 5 he’ll demonstrate it (he’s not) 

Definitely an affectionate drunk 

Will hug anyone – anyone

The only person who had tackled Bianca Barclay into a surprise hug and lived 

Bc drunk Ajax is a gentle giant too cute for his own good

Actually managed to get away after being busted by Ms Thornhill as he stumbled drunk in the school’s corridor 

Asks the dumbest yet most legit questions

“So snakes are basically walking on their bellies?”

“D’you think Weems can have a baby with herself? I mean theoretically–” 

“If I stone someone during sex and pull out, do I pull the sword out of the stone?” 

Loves everyone, will die for everyone if you ask enough (just ask him)

Saw a bearded man once and hugged him while crying “Dumbledore, you’re alive!!” 

Xavier and Yoko filmed the scene; it’s an official meme of Nevermore now 

Harder drunker, so somehow the best at knowing all the tricks how to handle hangovers 

Will leave ibuprofen and bottles of water in the bathroom every time the party’s in his room

Xavier: 

Also familiar with fancy drinks (family dinners and all)

Ajax definitely made fun of him during their first time drinking together because of that 

Will defy anyone in a drinking contest – will most likely win but at what cost 

Knows when he’s drunk, will have another drink to celebrate it 

Needs no more than 3 drinks to dramatically turn to Ajax singing like he’s a judge in The Voice 

Hair has no rule anymore: past 5 drinks, Xavier will let anyone try any hair style on him – should he end up with a palm tree hairstyle (he definitely did. Multiple time.)

Instaured a socks race with Enid to establish a winner in beer pong in case it ends in a tie

The scale of drunken Xavier can be established by the corny nicknames he uses: babe, sweetheart? Getting tipsy. Muffin, baby doll? Drunk. Sexy cake, pudding, honeybun? Definitely drunk. Baby boo, Sugar pie? Bro you’re wasted af, drop this drink right now and stop trying to hit on the coat hanger.

Emotional drunk; the daddy issues WILL show and the emo playlist will be brought up.

Also somehow a bitchy drunk. Will make a gossip club with Yoko and Wednesday on the spot to bitch about every single guest while sipping mojitos and margaritas. 

Bianca: 

Will drown a bottle of tequila without blinking an eye and then recite an entire Shakespeare sonnet without stuttering 

Slightly emotional drunk, but also a loud drunk

Like, legit sounds like Cardi B laughing while drunk – a hyena

Brutally honest with you, but more prone to help you after a few drinks 

Dance monster on her 4th drink; don’t try to stop her getting on the dancefloor 

Taster of every new mix by Yoko; she has excellent cocktail tastes 

Will cry watching ‘Monsters Inc.’ on her 5th drink, will absolutely trash talk the little mermaid tho

The strongest drinker – it takes a lot to actually get her drunk

So she always end up being the referee to all drinking games (which she’s most likely to have instigated)

Have tons of pics of her friends during their drunken antics – goldmine. 

Mama bear taking care of the drunk crew 

Tyler: 

No filter whatsoever

Will either broke down into tears or unleash anger 

Would fight anyone too 

Not a lightweight but doesn’t know how to handle the amount of liquor he’s drinking 

Conspiracy theories after the 5th drink. So. much. theories. 

Had improvised a drunk strip tease once; will not do that again (for free)

Actually received a lot of compliments after that

The official coffee supplier of the crew on hangovers 

“Give me a pint of that coffee, Galpin” 

Around 4am, he’s usually taken by the urge to stress/hangover clean everything. Will do all the dishes to sleep off the alcohol. 

Will alternatively flirt or try to fight everyone, no middle ground 

He’ll actually defend any of his drunk friends being harassed 

High chances he’d join the bitch club too; Enid once photoshopped his, Xavier, and Yoko’s faces on the ‘Mean girls’ poster

(every one of them had secretly that printed in their locker)

Also a mother hen – at least he tries

Bonus: Principal Weems

Did indeed transform herself into a student to attend a party 

Quickly understood why she preferred a glass of Chardonnay in her cozy office

The sole time she threw up after a party thanks to cheap vodka

Also had to purposefully ignore some students after that – some pictures can’t be erased