#alcholic

🎧 When he was little, he used to want to be a contortionist.

🎧 Whenever he blacks out drunk, Ran puts a pillow under his head and puts a blanket over him.

🎧He can predict the weather with his joints. (Ran doesn't believe him.)

🎧Some bar owners have Ran's number saved, so he can come pick his little brother up when he's too wasted.

🎧His playlist is a mess. One minute it's R&B, then it's an anime opening, then it's heavy metal

🎧Never failed to finish a keg.

🎧He has a collection of stolen road signs. Ran encourages this odd hobby and even dares him to steal bigger signs.

🎧He cracks his neck and knuckles constantly, and his joints pop like an old man.

🎧Ran would have to wake up in the middle of the night to adjust to him in his sleep because he'd sleep like a ragdoll.

🎧He has a reputation among party hosts for not letting him touch the speakers. Every time he gets his hands on them, he plays music so loud he breaks them

🎧He's a nice drunk, as long as no one tries to stop him from getting another drink.

🎧He'll say something funny asf with a straight face and send everyone into a laughing fit. "Ya'll laughing but I'm serious!" No, he's not.

🎧Screams bloody murder whenever Ran tries to hug him

🎧When adults berate him, they tell him not to "Make that face." He has no idea they're talking about his severe resting bitch face.

🎧When he asks what they mean, they'll think he's being smart because his voice naturally sounds sarcastic.

🎧His hair was supposed to be a darker blue, but because of Ran (and his refusal to wear glasses), he got the wrong color

🎧When South fought them, he genuinely didn't want to fight. (Have you seen the size of that guy?) The only reason he fought was because he didn't want to look like a pu$$y

🎧Tone deaf. Years of DJing will do that to you.

🎧He has a sixth sense for when Ran wakes up. He uses his friends as scapegoats for Ran's punishment for waking him up.

🎧He attended a court-mandated AA meeting and convinced the other members of the group to go out drinking with him afterward.

🎧Looks over his shoulder every time he's at the gym (He's convinced Kakucho is lurking in the shadows)

🎧Got drunk and ranted to a statue about his problems for half an hour

🎧He was a grumpy baby. Never smiled at anything, never laughed, never acknowledged anyone or anything in front of him. (His parents thought he was blind or deaf for a while.)

🎧Ran put an airtag in his wallet in case he wanders off when they're clubbing. (He doesn't know)

🎧Woke up at the Shibuya crossing twice

🎧People will walk past him and tell him to "smile more."

🎧 Anti-social until the drinks come out

🎧Teachers stop him in the hallway and ask him, "Is everything alright?"

🎧They'll pull him out of class to ask him if "everything at home is okay?"

🎧Nothings wrong with him. It's just his resting bitch face.

🎧Homeless people know him personally and let him sleep in their spots when he blacks out drunk.

🎧In the final timeline, he goes out drinking with Hanma. The only time they get along is when they're wasted

🎧His mom wouldn't get him Bluetooth headphones, so he cut the wires on regular ones and walked around pretending he had Bluetooth. (Ran never lets him live this down)

Continued...

Rehman × Ulfat

⚠️ MANDATORY WARNING:

This is a wholly fictional work inspired by the electrifying on-screen chemistry of the actors. It bears no relation to the real-life monster Rehman or his "fucking gang."

🔞 MATURE CONTENT: This chapter includes explicit, detailed smut and intimate scenes.

Sweethearts the first part got deleted because I was doing some experiments with that post and ended up deleting that (I am really feeling bad there was a lot of things in that ulfat accidentally drank spiked drink she wore Rehman's black kurta ONLY , she flirted with him like a teenager , she was doing bold moves,) she was about to claim him and here's the continued part.....

She flicked the fabric open, and Rehman’s sculpted chest was revealed. Ulfat began to trace the cold metal of the gun along the curves of his muscles down the line of his collarbone, over the hard planes of his pectorals, and trailing it down the center of his abs. The contrast of the freezing steel against his burning skin made Rehman gasp, his back arching off the bed.

"Ulfat... stop," he groaned, though his hands were now gripping the bedsheets instead of pushing her away.

"I'm just getting started," she whispered. She guided the gun further down, the nose of the barrel dipping toward the waistband of his trousers.

When he tried to catch her wrist, she moved with the grace of a dancer, setting the weapon aside on the rug and replacing it with her hands. With a sudden, bold tug, she handled his lower clothes, stripping away the formality of his attire until he was left in just his boxers.

Rehman lay there, exposed and breathless under her predatory gaze. Ulfat loomed over him, her shadow dancing on the walls. With a gaze that felt like a physical touch, she reached for the hem of his black kurta she was wearing.

"Jaan... wait," Rehman managed to rasp, his hands hovering near her waist.

"Chup!" she shushed him, her eyes dancing with mischief. "You talk too much for a man who is about to be conquered."

She pulled the kurta over her head in one fluid, slightly clumsy motion, tossing it blindly. It landed squarely on the AC unit, but she didn't care. She sat there in her delicate lace lingerie, her skin glowing like pearls in the dim light. Then, with a bold wink that was more "drunk auntie" than "femme fatale," she reached behind her back.

"Uff... ye engineering kisne banayi hai?" she muttered, struggling with the clasp of her bra for a split second before it finally gave way. She flung it toward the door.

"Hey! If anyone outside, don't look!" she yelled at the empty room, making Rehman choke on a laugh despite his skyrocketing arousal.

She then turned her attention to his boxers. With a sudden, bold tug, she handled the fabric, stripping him until they were both utterly exposed ; flesh against flesh, heart against heart.

Now, there were no more barriers. Ulfat began her pilgrimage, and she was a thorough devotee. She started at his toes, tickling the arches of his feet with her tongue.

"Ulfat! What are you doing?" Rehman gasped, half-twisting in a mix of shock and pleasure.

"I am worshiping my kingdom, Rehman! Don't interrupt the priestess," she giggled, before migrating upward. She trailed her lips over his shins, his knees, and the hard planes of his thighs. She treated his body like a sacred map, pausing to blow cool air on his heated skin, then replacing it with the scorching heat of her mouth.

She reached his chest and stopped to admire the view. "Allah... itne muscles? Kya khaate ho? Pathar?" she whispered, before licking a slow, deliberate line from his navel to his collarbone.

Rehman’s hands dived into her hair, his knuckles white. He was being worshiped, stroked, and teased until his mind was a blur of static. She took him in her hand, her thumb tracing the length of his arousal with a firm, rhythmic pressure. "Mera Jaan... itna gussa kyun hai ye?" she whispered to his member stroking his full length, making Rehman let out a sound that was half-groan, half-sob of Need.

She didn't wait for permission. She straddled him, her knees flanking his torso. As she lowered herself onto him, taking him in inch by agonizing inch, they both let out a broken, collective gasp.

Ulfat began to ride him, her hips moving in a slow, torturous grind. She leaned down, her sweat-slicked breasts brushing his chest, and whispered into his ear, "You think you're the lion of the city? Well... tonight, the lion is a house cat."

She picked up the pace, her hair flying wild, her voice rising in a beautiful, jagged melody of poetry and nonsensical giggles. She was striking him with her rhythm, her body a weapon of pure pleasure.

As she moved her hips in a agonizingly deep grind, she leaned down, her nose brushing against his.

"Rehman..." she whispered, her voice hitching as the friction sent sparks through her.

"Yes, Jaan?" he groaned, his hands gripping her waist so hard his knuckles were white.

"Do you think... do you think Uzair hides the good biscuits in the top cabinet because he thinks I’m short?" she asked with sudden, intense seriousness, her hips never skipping a beat. "Because it’s rude. I am a tall woman... in my heart."

Rehman let out a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob of pure frustration. "Ulfat, focus," he managed to rasp out, but she was already onto the next thought, her rhythm becoming more frantic and demanding.

"And your eyelashes... why are they so long? It’s illegal. I’m going to report you to the shipment authorities for carrying... illegal... beauty..." She trailed off into a loud moan as he thrust upward, meeting her pace with a desperate intensity. For sometime he guided her his pace as he was reaching his climax, within a few minutes both convulsed as they reached their climax, ulfat collapsed on his chest they stayed there until their breaths became normal, his length was still inside her filling her completely with his nectar.

Finally, last shred of Rehman’s patience disintegrated. With a sudden surge of strength, he gripped her and flipped her onto the silk sheets, his body shadowing hers instantly.

He didn't just touch her, he worshiped her. He dived into a deep, soul-searing kiss, their tongues tangling in a wet, rhythmic slide that felt like an unspoken vow. He drank the very breath from her lungs, his hand coming up to cup her breast. He kneaded the soft weight of her, his thumb flicking against her nipple until it was hard, sensitive.

He moved his lips from her mouth to her throat, sucking gently on the pulse point before descending to her chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling in a slow, torturous circle while he teased the other with his fingers. Ulfat was a mess of tangled limbs and broken words , her head thrashing against the pillow.

"Rehman.... please..." she pleaded for fastening his pace.

"Not yet, Jaan," he growled against her skin.

He moved lower slowly, his lips tracing the line of her stomach until he reached the velvet heat of her inner thighs. He parted her with a reverence that was almost holy. He teased her clit with his tongue and then sucked it , he used his two fingers and thrust them deep inside her curling deliberately, using his sinful rhythm of his fingers and mouth he brought her to the very edge of the abyss. She was sobbing his name, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body arching off the bed in the throes of a powerful, earth-shattering climax.

Rehman, now completely driven by a primal need to finish what they had started, hovered over her. His muscles were corded, his arousal aching as he prepared to enter her and claim his own release.

He leaned down to whisper one last flirtatious promise into her ear, but instead of a moan, he heard something else.

Zzzzz... pffft... snort.

Rehman froze. He looked down. Ulfat’s eyes were tightly shut. Her mouth was slightly open, and a tiny, ungraceful snore escaped her lips. The 'Lioness' had left the building. The alcohol had finally won the war, knocking her out at the exact moment of her peak.

Rehman stayed there for a long moment, hovering over her, his body literally trembling with unspent energy. He let out a long, shaky sigh, a wry, defeated smile tugging at his lips.

"Of course," he whispered to the empty, freezing room. "Only you, Ulfat."

Carefully, he pulled his half-length out and moved away. Despite his own aching need, his first instinct was her comfort. He moved to the washroom, his footsteps heavy on the rug. He returned with a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth, tenderly cleaning the remnants of their intense encounter from her skin with the steady hands of a man who loved her more than his own pleasure.

After cleaning himself and putting on a pair of fresh drawers, he climbed back into bed. He tugged the heavy duvet over them, shielding them from the 16°C chill. He pulled her limp, snoring body against his chest, her head lolling into the crook of his neck.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling and waiting for his heart rate to slow down, he realized one thing: tomorrow morning was going to be the most entertaining breakfast of his life.

Ye kya likh diya maine 🙈, I have written a little bit of smut before but aisa kuch pheli bar try Kiya hai . I hope it didn't look cringe at some places ....

Tag list : @pavbhajisupremacist @shippingtheshippers @dc-reign @wan2bey-n @tannipartner @vcantwrite @desigurlie @misteriadare @angelllk1ssed @tere-naal-nachna @kidofmisfortune @cloudmast

@foxindarkness chosen again, lucky you

Gwaith-I-Mírdain mulled wine Battlefield Brew

There’s nothing like the taste of victory in the morning, or a f**k ton of rum