advice for drunks

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not [Gaston x Lefou]

Summary:  Drunken confessions turn into drunken actions, and Lefou wonders if he’s not dreaming as Gaston presses him against a wall and whispers everything he missed the last seventeen years.

Notes: Based on this adorable fanart from @sincoe

Warnings: Rough-ish semi public sex, alcohol, drunken confessions, praise kink, light choking, some angst.


It usually wasn’t like this.

Usually, it started with a few mugs and Gaston’s drunken confessions of love or lust for chaser women around town. After a couple years, it became Belle whom he continuously confessed his love for, and their nights in the tavern became even more painful for Lefou. But he just gave his advice, got himself drunk too, and pretended later that Gaston had taken him home, not Marie, in place of Belle, from down the road.

Tonight, it was different. Something felt out of sorts, as if Gaston’s laughs were a little weaker, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Sometimes, he had nights like this, Lefou noticed- sobriety within the many glasses of alcohol pounded back. These were the nights Gaston thought of the war, and the nights where Lefou found it most appropriate to retell stories of his military chivalry to all the villagers who knew the stories well, yet enjoyed them more each time.

But tonight, Lefou’s praise wasn’t affecting his friend the way it usually did… it could be because Gaston had faced another scathing rejection that day, or it could be because he was loosening up more than he normally let himself.

“Lefou,” Gaston proclaimed, slapping his friend on the shoulder, “You’re the best.” Lefou’s spirits skyrocketed- they always did when Gaston actually complimented him back- rare occurrence. “How is it that no girl has snatched you up yet?”

Lefou paused, watching his best friend’s eyes… how his long eyelashes would flutter on eyelids that periodically drooped. He watched his pink lips curling around the mug as he took another swig, and wondered how one man could be so stupidly handsome. Lefou’s eyes fell to the stubble around his mouth, up his jaw, up to his perfectly coiffed hair that never seemed out of place. Then, he allowed himself to gaze down over Gaston’s heaving chest, as Gaston was probably too drunk by now to notice. His shirt was open tonight in the heat, and Lefou noticed the small scar over the top of his right pectoral- he remembered that scar from war.

“Hm?” the tall, brawny man reminded Lefou of his question, and Lefou sat forward a little. Was this the right time to tell him?

Would it ever be?

“I don’t know, they say I’m clingy, but I don’t get it,” Lefou went with, biting his lip.

“Clingy?” Gaston repeated, a slight slur in his voice, “Mmm… I suppose I can see that.”

Lefou frowned a little, but Gaston let out a laugh, row of white teeth on display.

“In a good way.”

“Good… good to know,” Lefou tried to smile, chuckling awkwardly. Gaston had his hand on Lefou’s shoulder still, and his hand was rubbing deep ministrations into the tense muscle there.

“Lefou…” Gaston started again, almost hesitant this time, but eventually chose to polish off his beer instead of finishing.

Lefou continued to watch him closely, then started to rise. “Well, it’s getting late-“

“I love you so much, you know.”

Lefou just about spit his drink, falling back into his seat.

“Are you all… alright, Lefou?” Gaston asked, barely able to coherently comfort his friend in his state.

“I’m,” Lefou mumbled, suppressing his noises of utter disbelief and joy as Gaston rested his head on Lefou’s shoulder, nuzzling in closer. Lefou almost felt dirty for enjoying this, as if he was taking advantage of his friend’s drunken stupor to fulfill his own fantasy… but then again, he wasn’t exactly forcing Gaston to play with his hair like a lovesick boy. If that physical contact wasn’t enough, the tall hunter began to stroke his fingers across Lefou’s cheek, and took to playing with another errant curl falling there.

“I really think we should…” Lefou breathed, looking at the door, but he didn’t quite know how he wanted to end that sentence.

“So do I,” Gaston nodded, and stood up, grabbing Lefou by the hand. Lefou stammered something, and almost tripped over his feet as he followed Gaston to the door. They weren’t even ten feet out before Gaston grabbed Lefou by the wrists and slammed him up against the wall of the tavern.

“H-here?” Lefou murmured, looking around. It was dark, but not dark enough to protect Gaston’s reputation, in his opinion.

“Can’t wait,” Gaston simply replied by way of breathless heave, and tucked Lefou’s hair back to mouth along his neck.

“Okay, wow,” Lefou said softly. It appeared that he hadn’t been the only one harbouring frustration, or so he could tell by the intimidating bulge in Gaston’s breeches.

“Turn around,” Gaston whispered, and Lefou quickly did as he asked, shoving down the slight twinge of disappointment. What, you expected him to want you facing each other? he taunted himself, staring into each other’s eyes like Romeo and Juliet? Lefou then sighed in bliss as he felt his friend’s hardness rub against his hip from behind.

“Gaston-” Lefou began to murmur, but Gaston silenced him with fingers wrapping around his neck.

“Unbuckle yourself.”

Lefou swallowed, anticipation eating him up, and when he did finally get his breeches down, he was as hard as Gaston, even more desperate.

“So lovely,” Gaston mused, voice low and rough with arousal as he dragged a finger along Lefou’s skin, “Can’t believe I haven’t had you at least once before.”

I’ve been right here in front of you this whole time, yours for the taking, Lefou wanted to scream, but this simply came out as an effeminately gasped, “Take me, Gaston.”

Lefou was again silenced by the strong grip around his neck. He could hear the sounds of Gaston taking himself out of his pants and spitting in his hand, and craved to turn and look at what he imagined having nearly every night. But, he remained pressed against the wall, Gaston’s fingers slowly teasing him and-

“Ohhhh,” the smaller man managed, and Gaston smirked behind him, stretching his friend’s hole. He was tight, but not as tight as some of the virgins he had fucked… Gaston got the impression that Lefou must understand himself enough to know what he needed to do for pleasure.

The ex-captain let out a low hum, lining himself up as best he could with somewhat double vision. He then ripped open Lefou’s waistcoat hungrily and pulled down his shirt to reveal his bare shoulder, and sank his teeth into the soft flesh there. A couple of villagers came stumbling out of the tavern, so Gaston reached around to hold his hand over Lefou’s mouth. When they were gone, he let go, and Lefou arched his back as Gaston probed him further open.

“How am I doing?” Gaston slurred, and Lefou almost laughed. Even in the heat of the moment, the man needed praise and validation.

“So good,” he panted, and, confidence sufficiently bolstered, Gaston finally smirked and pushed in. Lefou shrieked a little, then remembered to keep his voice down.

“Is this what I’ve been missing?” Gaston murmured, moaning softly as his head rolled back, and Lefou squeezed his eyes shut, wanting so badly to believe this wasn’t the alcohol talking. Soon, the two had a rhythm going- Gaston pounded in full force, Lefou loving every minute of it. This was all he ever wanted…

This, possibly, and something a little more; something Lefou doubted Gaston could give, but after tonight’s miracle, he’d be willing to believe enchanted teapots really did exist.

“How about now?” Gaston asked, as Lefou was once again shoved against the stone wall with a thrust.

“My god, you’re amazing,” Lefou nodded, “Yeah, don’t stop…”

“Mmm, but what would you do if I did stop?” Gaston asked hazily, quirking a sexy brow, “If I left you like this, hard and begging for me?”

“I…” Lefou moaned, “Please don’t…“

"What would you do?”

“I'd… hit you.”

“You’d hit me?” Gaston asked, amused.

“Yes,” Lefou growled, pushing back into Gaston’s next thrust defiantly, and the tall man groaned at the flash of disobedience. “Please may I come now, sir?” Lefou asked, and Gaston’s jaw clenched in arousal at the title. After a minute, he spoke.

“Lefou, we’re dearest of friends,” Gaston smiled wickedly, “We confide in one another, have lived through hell together. Address me as you would. Say my name. I know you want to.”

“Oh, Gaston,” Lefou said desperately, gasping as he felt himself approach.

“Yes, that’s it,” Gaston coaxed, his brow furrowing as he felt himself begin to throb as well. Lefou felt Gaston’s cock pulsing inside of him, so he decided to finish the job with a bang.

“You are the greatest lover I’ve ever taken, Gaston. You’re huge, you’re fast, like a predator and I love it, I love you claiming me like I’m nothing but game.” His fists tightened as he slammed them into the wall. “And everyone knows who comes out on top when you accept a challenge.” Gaston’s thrusts were beginning to speed up, and Lefou grinned, knowing what it did to the man. “I’m so lucky to feel your big cock inside of me, filling me up like this. Anyone would be so lucky.”

Gaston let out a feral growl, and tugged Lefou’s hair back. Lefou let out his own shaky moan, and came against the wall in spurts. Gaston felt Lefou’s orgasm, how his friend shuddered under his touch like just another brothel maid but different, and that pushed him over the edge as well.

After they had come down, Gaston softened and pulled out. Lefou righted himself, wiping off the wall and pulling his ripped waistcoat back up over his shoulder to cover the bite marks and hickeys- he didn’t even want to think of the stitching nightmare this would be. Gaston buttoned up his breeches, taking a deep, satisfied breath, and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to have sobered up much more now, and Lefou gazed into his eyes hopefully, offering a small smile. Gaston took his hands, and Lefou waited expectantly for the confession. They stared at each other, Gaston almost, almost leaning down to brush their lips together… then his grip tightened, a cold scowl developing on his lips.

“Let me get one thing straight,” he said quietly, “Belle is the woman I’m going to marry.”

With that, he looked around, and set off home. Left alone in the moonlight with Gaston’s markings all over his body and the evidence of their intimacy dripping out of him, Lefou watched him leave, and straightened his back.

“Belle is the woman he’s going to marry,” he told himself, “But I’m the man he’s going to fuck.”

Going his own way home, Lefou slicked his own hair back just as Gaston had, smiled assuredly, and convinced himself that’s truly all he wanted.

Literally...

Take your friends out on dates. Treat them to a shitty meal at your fav fast food restaurant and then take them to a movie, or go bar hopping, or lay in your bed and watch Netflix all damn day. Literally anything that reminds the people closest to you that you’re there and you love them is the most rewarding thing in the world. It doesn’t matter the way that you do it, just do it. Because sometimes people need to be reminded that they’re valid and incredibly loved. And who better to do it than you?

You know what you have to do right?” She purrs, smoke drifting from her curved lips. “You have to choose right now. You can either continue to fuck up any chance of happiness that comes your way and complain when things don’t work,” she levels me with a hard stare and smirks. “Or let it go. And realise that not everyone is going to treat you how he did, try to hope this one could be different and that I won’t have to pour you a drink if he turns out to be like the others.
—  Excerpt from the book I’ll never write // advice from my alter ego
Banquet

Phichit was living the time of his life. First, he made Thailand proud by making it to the Gran Prix Final and now he was about to enjoy the wildest party of the year. The GPF banquet.

It started innocently, Viktor and Yuuri forcibly held away from any alcohol. But then Yuuri got a call from Guang-Hong that he needs a relationship advice. And obviously, everybody offered their experiences with love. After a couple of stories, Viktor found some vodka in Yakov’s bag and the seriousness of the advices for poor Chinese started going down. And when Mila, the only one, who was not drunk yet got her hands on Yuuri ’ s phone, she tried to immidiately end the conversation a spare others from embarasment. Luckily Phichit was there and even though nobody will be able to recall the drunk advices, at least they would all have nice memories in photos he took.

He documented everything. From Yuuri’s ‘I am not going to drink this time, Viktor’ to Sara’s ‘Mila, Mickey is not there today.. We have the entire evening just for ourselves!’(followed by a kiss). But not even he was spared. Yurio will forever have the record of Phichit singing ‘Shaaal wee skaaateee?’ On his phone.

Just when they though it could not get better, completely drunk Viktor got a text.

(from leo)

(what have you done to guang hong? who is drunk? You or him? he has been sending me old pick up lines for over an hour. i want my bf back!)

It was truly a night that no one will ever forget.

anonymous asked:

I'm really scared of partying and have no real friends, I'm really lonely and deeply ashamed of the fact that I'm 18 and never been kissed

my good homie jade @exitc is takin this one:

M8, I’m 19, and DAMN, I feel you. Nevr been kissed either, but u gotta remember, it’s not YOUR FAULT. Why waste time with fuckbois if ur not interested? Just wait. It doesn’t matter. Societal norms are not rules for life. Stay positive, stay open, things will come to u. Case in point: i, a big lame introverted nerd who is terrible at making friends, am here right now enjoying drinks with my fav girls. Remember: nothing really matters, no one really cares. You’re only here to enjoy urself.

Thing I love about stripping

Instead of all the wise women being haggard and desexualized, the wise women are multitudinous and their sexuality is fluid.  One can be grinding on a customer while whispering advice in your ear to make a sale while another makes a bear cave out of sweatshirts under the makeup counter and eats a pizza while spewing drunk advice about the best way to deal with sports injuries.  The stripper on the side stage hanging twerks while suggesting take out options, while a disembodied voice from the tanning bed tells you to not let boys make you feel unwanted.  Make up fixes, flexibility exercises, tax advice.  There is always someone who has an answer. 

anonymous asked:

i've been going to therapy for my anxiety, and while having that unbiased person to talk to has really helped me, a lot of what i've gotten out of it i've found apps for! the best ones so far for me have been 'Fear Tools' (free) where you can do some thought journals to move through anxiety and understand where it comes from - my therapist said to start doing thought journals ~3x/day to help steer away from negative patterns of thought. also 'Headspace' (free for the) 10 day meditation startup.

Sam takeover @sorrybubba shameless plug because tipsy and whatnot lol sorry bridge //


Yeah apps are great from a medicated anxietee (defo not a word) they’re great when you’re out or in bed and alone .. literally not figuratively. Pacifica is a great app to track your mood because you can say what you’re feeling when and it helps to decipher when you’re low in the day / week so you can figure out how to control your triggers. They also have great breathing exercises which have saved me many a time from falling into a full blown anxiety attack (which for me are particularly horrific as they come across as full blown seizing fits that land me in hospital ) xx