#these are sober thoughts

[vveedwacker]

Do y'all think transformers sleep/ recharge in their alt modes sometimes, to me it sounds comfortable as hell

Like fully laying in a bed, not just parked

[slutdge]

could you imagine trying to navigate this bar drunk, this is the 9th circle of hell

[time-woods]

bartalk

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Guys, hang on.

What if........ Emma-may... Southern Black Woman.......... Guys.... Think about it, that's all I ask 🙏🙏

[agustdiv1ne]

taehyun as the nerd in your psychology class who gets hard watching you put on your lip gloss- 😳

AJKAKDKSKFJJWJFHS ADA. ADAAAAA. ok i am so sane i am so normal i am so sane and normal and AHHHH-

(MDNI!!!!)

taehyun sits across from you in lecture, glasses perched on high on his nose and always clothed in comfortable hoodies and jeans. his seat gives him a perfect view of you, the person who he's had a perverted little crush on since the very beginning of the semester. you're pretty, okay? smart too, always answering the professor's questions when you can and diligently taking notes every class without fail, the end of your pen placed primly between your parted lips.

those lips are fucking sinful, he thinks. they're plump and just oh so kissable, lip gloss never not applied — lip gloss that he's weirdly obsessed with. he likes watching it glint under the lights of the lecture hall whenever you speak, your voice a siren song in his ears as his cock twitches below the table he sits at. he wants to see that lip gloss smeared across your face while you're under him writhing with unadulterated pleasure. he wants to feel it the sticky liquid against his own lips, his neck, everywhere. what do you taste like? he bets you taste sweet, maybe like bubblegum or cotton candy or something fruity, if the pink color gracing your lips is anything to go by.

you're just about done answering the professor's question (something about freud, he isn't really paying attention at the moment) when your hand brandishes his favorite thing in the world: a tube full of that pink sticky stuff that he adores. with one last smile, your fingers untwist the tube and apply some more gloss to your lips, and taehyun's cock fully hardens below the table, a very obvious tent in his pants. fuck. right now, really?

yet he still can't bring himself to wrench his wanting gaze from your lips, taking in how they smack together a couple times and quirk into a small smile as you look at him — wait, you're looking at him. and down to his lap, and back up to his face.

oh. oh, no.

you're openly ogling his boner with a surprised, almost humored smile, eyes not leaving him as he shrinks into himself a little, his panicky hands shoving his hoodie over his lap. he's been caught, there's no way you don't think he's weird now. shit. squriming in his seat, he shoves his hood over his head, hunches over the table, and starts taking rapid notes, not looking back at you for the rest of the class.

although he tries his best to avoid you after class, you manage to catch him before he can leave his seat. with an air of confidence, you introduce yourself, your stray gaze passing over his lap. he gulps, offering his name, which causes you to smile. there goes that lip gloss again, shining, taunting him. he wants to cum on them, mix his white cum into that sheer pink — shit, stop thinking about that. think about freud. yeah, frued and his vomit-inducing contributions to psychology. yeah, perfect.

"hello?" you call, waving a hand in front of face. his eyes blink back into focus, finding yours again. "i asked if you wanna study together sometime?" you're biting your lip, looking hopeful. playful now, almost.

"yeah, that sounds great," he replies just as confidently, though every single drop is fake. inside, he's shaking like a leaf at the thought of the two of you alone together, how close you would be. so when you smile and give him your number, hitting him with a giddy, "bye, taehyun! see you thursday!" as you scurry off, he's left sitting there almost dumbfounded. his cock is still hard beneath his hoodie, but it seems as if everyone has vacated the lecture hall now, no sign of life anywhere. maybe, maybe...

he nearly moans aloud at the feeling of relief, his jeans quickly unzipped so he can grope himself harder. his eyes remain on the door as he continues. shit, he shouldn't be doing this. what if he gets caught? but it feels so fucking good, thinking about you and your pretty fucking lip gloss, imagining those lips around him as he fucks your throat. groaning, he whispers a curse out into the quiet air, a purr of your name. fuck, baby, feels so good.

too good. he really can't stop now, hand pumping his cock so fast that he fears his arm may cramp, messy precum everywhere — but he can risk being a bad student for once in his life, he thinks.

[2knightt]

— REAL SWEET (but i wish you were sober!)

…IN WHICH—reader tells the greasers the things they want to hear. if only they were sober. (Greasers: J.C, D.W, PB.C, SP.C, D.C.)

tags/warnings: gn!reader, reader is depicted either high or drunk, reader is toxic, greaser(s) miss reader/miss the familiarity of reader, angsty, story-focused, rather long.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ red flag!reader, oh how you will always mean so much to me! this was supposed to be posted in august LMFAO

dallas winston

he should’ve never picked up that call.

if he knew that it was you calling him from a payphone, so drunk that you didn’t even know your own name, he would’ve let that phone ring.

“dally? oh, dally. i-i’m scared, i dunno where i am. it’s dark an-and i miss you.”

you slurred your words accidentally, trying to act sober in hopes that it would incline him to come and pick you up more.

“y/n, i’m busy. take this shit up with someone else.”

“dally-“

“dallas.”

he corrected you with a stern tone. he wasn’t your dally and he hadn’t been for a long time. not since your break-up. you hadn’t been his baby and he hadn’t been your dally.

“dallas, please. come and get me. i-i’m by the old gas station. please,”

you pleaded some more, no longer hiding the desperation in your voice.

the screeching from the other line was deafening. dally—dallas, had hung up on you.

wearing thin pants at a night like this, during the cold oklahoma fall, was stupid of you. it only hit you when you sat on the curb, the cold concrete hitting you like a truck.

it sobered you up; only for a second. then, just as before, it was back to every wind that rustled past, every slight movement you made was met with a familiar dizziness.

dallas kept on muttering to himself as he drove to the gas station. “can’t believe i’m doing this, man,” “they’re drunk outta their mind,” “they’re using me. it’s clear as day.”

he saw you sitting on the curb, the gas station lights illuminating your figure in the dark night. you were tightly hugging your knees to your chest, covering your face from the wind.

dally chuckled as you jumped from him honking the horn of the curtis’ ford. he leaned out the open window, not hiding the sheer annoyance he felt.

“hurry up! i got shit to do!”

watching you stumble to the truck made him feel bad for you. it’s been awhile since you’ve been this drunk. and you smelled disgusting when you got into the truck.

he rolled all the windows down.

“god, dallas. you’re so good to me—i dunno why i left you. i miss you, y’know?”

you rambled, tears already forming as you spoke. never were an emotional drunk until now.

dallas’ knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel harder, holding back from snapping at you.

‘if you missed me so goddamn bad, why is this the first fucking phone call i’m getting?!’ he thought, wishing he had the guts to shout it at you.

“you were s-so nice to me. so handsome, so funny. i’m such a fucking idiot..”

“where you goin’?”

dallas cut off your sobbing with a question, trying to stop himself from either yelling or crying.

he didn’t know why he was like this when it came to you. he hated it, almost as much as he hated you.

“home.”

you mustered between hyperventilating, tears streaming down your cheeks. you didn’t know where home was anymore since you drank yourself silly.

you two drove in silence for the rest of the ride. it was only until he pulled into the driveway did you speak again,*

“i still love you.”

god, dally wished his baby was sober.

johnny cade

“y/n, i thought you quit smokin’ mary jane.”

“i dunno where you heard that from.”

you giggled, too high to realize the seriousness of the situation.

crossing paths with you after the break up you had was unfortunate. smoking by yourself in the lot where you two hung out before was even more unfortunate.

johnny getting caught trying to go to your guy’s spot was the most unfortunate. he smelled the weed on your clothes, he seen the stub of the joint on the ground, and he seen your eyes that were red and tired.

he wished he could’ve said no when you patted the spot beside you, telling him to sit down.

“isn’t it funny that-that we meet here? i mean, accidentally, of course. unless..?”

johnny hated that you were joking with him. he knew that it could never go back to the normal bickering you two had.

“i just wanted to clear my mind.”

“yeah, me too.”

you mumbled, finding yourself in a trance with how your hair felt between your finger tips. you missed this feeling.

“is that why you started smoking again?”

the dark haired boy asked, only now realizing that he was asking too many question, getting too comfortable with you again.

god, what the hell was wrong with him?

“no.”

“then why?”

johnny couldn’t help himself from asking.

“i missed you too much. my..my mind was jus’ racing n’ racing with you. i needed to smoke.”

you admitted, dragging out the sentence for longer than it had to be.

that’s how johnny knew it wasn’t you talking anymore. the weed took over your brain, it took over your senses, it took over your mouth—it took over you.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear those words, though.

johnny just wished you were sober when you said it.

ponyboy curtis

“why’re you here, y/n?”

“why are you here, ponyboy?”

the alcohol on your breath reeked. the way you slurred your words made him cringe.

he hated you when you were drunk. pony hated it so much to the point where you stopped drinking all together.

you were clearly back into the habit now. he scoffed, wishing he hadn’t come out of the house party to sit outside. if he knew you were on the steps too, he’d have done a u-turn.

too late, though. you seen him and ponyboy couldn’t hold back a sarcastic comment.

“my friends are here.”

“you got friends?”

“yes.”

you chuckled at his answer. despite the alcohol in your system, you laugh reminded him of the good times; when you were sober.

“i thought you quit.”

ponyboy kicked the red solo cup beside you, watching it roll down the steps.

“nope.”

you replied, popping the ‘p’ in the word. he scoffed, walking to sit beside you. the steps creaked as he sat down.

your movements were slowed as you turned your head to face him, your chin in the palm of your hands as the other gripped a half-full cup tightly.

it was an awkward several minutes of you borderline admiring him while he looked up at the stars in the sky.

after awhile, he finally snapped and asked you in an agitated tone,

“why are you looking at me?”

“i miss you, y’know. i’m sorry.”

ponyboy paused, feeling like a little kid again. only for a second, however. then the irritation came back.

why can’t you say this sober? pony would’ve done anything to hear you say that sober.

sodapop curtis

“you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep wandering off,”

he warned as he held your wrist tightly, pulling you away from the road. even when you were tipsy, you stumbled over your feet.

being blackout drunk, however, made it hard for you to even process that you had legs attached to your body. you walked like a rag doll.

“sorry..”

“i don’t want ‘sorry’s, y/n.”

“i’m sorry.”

sodapop doesn’t even know why he bothered. you wouldn’t take in anything he told you.

he was walking you home. you were so drunk at the party steve dragged him to, he had to make sure you were good.

even if it meant walking your ex home at midnight.

“you smell nice, soda.”

“thank you,”

he mumbled in response, keeping his head straight forward. if he looked back at you, he didn’t trust himself to not cry or engulf you in a hug.

sodapop hated the way you two ended things, but he hated the relationship more.

as you two neared your house, he seen your porch light on and audible sighed. at least someone was home to care for you in this state.

“i’m so, so sorry, soda. i’m such a fucking idiot-”

“no, you aren’t.”

“yes, i am. i lost you.”

tears brimmed in your eyes as you thought back to your mistakes, the vodka making your emotions 10x stronger. the alcohol made you say stuff you didn’t mean or believe.

and soda knew that.

an apology was all he wanted. but, he wished you were sober to tell him that.

darry curtis

“you should know better by now.”

“i’m a grown woman, darry.”

he knew that. he seen the joint between your fingers as you sat out on your steps. he was scolding you like he was your boyfriend again.

“that doesn’t mean your lungs won’t be effected.”

it felt nice to be taken care of again. you missed darry.

“i miss you, dare.”

“no, you don’t.”

he replied sternly. he was, also, a grown man. he knew damn well that it wasn’t your actual feelings.

darry was the first person to call you out on your bullshit; always.

“i’m sorry,”

“be better, y/n.”

darry had to walk off before he did something stupid. he had to before he started to console you, before he started to treat you like a girlfriend again.

hearing you apologize, hearing you say you miss him wasn’t what he needed.

but god, he wanted you to be sober when you said those words so bad.

[ah0yh0y]

Sam vimes is the only person to remember the 25th of may as it originally was his timeline

He’s the only one who remembers John keel - only one in ankh-moorpork at least for who he actually was

[merakiui]

after seeing skully's um.......... so we're all in agreement that he would affectionately call you pumpkin, right? :) you are his beloved pumpkin!!! his darling pumpkin pie! perhaps you might even be,,, the lovely candy apple of his eye! just,,, lots of autumn-themed endearments from him to you (on top of the gentlemanly ones "my lovely, my dear, my sweetheart, etc" and the halloween-themed ones hehe). <3 pumpkin is number one solely because of his um and my own delusions,,,

[buckdiazlafd]

i need eddie, drunk on pain meds recovering from getttingcrushed, maybe even amnesiac too, but either way he barely even knows where he’s at let alone he’s supposed to be repressed so he’s slurring out compliments left and right to buck who hasn’t left his side, like you’re so fcking pretty bud and bucks stammering out a thank u when the nurse comes in and eddies like isn’t he so hot look at him.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

I think we should stop giving Lance family problems and instead give everyone else family problems and then drag him into all of them as universe's most unpaid and unqualified therapist. As god intended

[positiveupwardspiral]

[notbecauseofvictories]

I think American Psycho and Emma could sit side by side as works depicting people hemmed in and almost stunted by their deeply mannered worlds and the expectations built into them; silly, useless creatures, yet constitutionally incapable of fully looking at that fact without spiraling into full-blown existential crisis.

Which leads me to conclude that I would have enjoyed Emma more if she had a chainsaw.

[ultrataintedviolence]

deepthroating a bottle of cherry coke rn

[perfectfeelings]

We pretend that we dont care. But we care.

Lorde; Sober

[ihatedean]

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Harry, also a great friend of Dick's and also a great drinker constantly known to be drunk, did not get first dibs or any special pickings from Goering’s wine cellar.