CW: Drunk Sex, Forced Drinking, Praise Kink, Rewarding, Dirty Talk, Strap-On, Exhibition
!Canon!
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It was loud, chaotic and fast-paced in the club tonight. 1989 was dancing with Lover and Reputation out on the dancefloor. Although it seemed more like she just happened to be with them with how Rep and Lover were practically dance-fucking each other. Flashing lights beamed over the tiles, leaving the bar, where Midnights sat, looking almost dead. To be quite honest, Midnights never was a dancer and with how uncontrolling it was she most definitely did not peak any interest now. She turned to the bartender, lifting her hand up in the air, "One old fashioned." She was snarky in her tone, not caring for much at the moment. The bartender, rolling his eyes, began to create the cocktail.
Midnights watched him, hands on her head circling the corners of her eyes. She groaned when the drink was handed to her, the orange slice being on the corner of the glass rather than in the liquid where it's supposed to be. "Fancy ass motherfuckers." She murmured under her breath before flicking the peel into the old fashioned and chugging it down. It was sweet but left a bitter taste in the back of her throat. She waves down the bartender again, asking for another... and another, all chugging them down like they were shots rather than actual drinks. Although, with the next one she ordered she sipped on it while watching the dancefloor, seeming to take an interest for once.
Taking the glass to her lips she watched 1989 do a zigzag motion on the platform. Biting the tip of the cup, she keeps her eyes on her girlfriend and crosses her legs. It was rather overstimulating to her, the whole premise of this club and god did she want to get out. Looking around Midnights found no comfort; so her mind went to the one thing she knew would help. Reaching into her purse she grabbed the pack of cigarettes and lighter at the bottom. Before taking it out she looked at the cluttered ashes and used cigarettes with the box. While she may not be the best person, Midnights isn't one to litter and throw her used drugs on the ground. Too bad her bag smells like shit now.
"Goddamnit. Isn't going to fucking work." She groans to herself and drops the half-used box of cigarettes, taking the rolling paper package out instead. Lots of people kept their weed more discreet like in a metal tin that used to be for makeup or even a plastic hello kitty container. But Midnights could give less of a shit about being 'discreet', she kept hers in a small ziploc bag for anyone to see and recognize. Not that it mattered of course with weed being legal here. Rolling the plant into the paper, she put it between her lips and let the flame do the rest, even if drinking and weed wasn't recommended together.
"Honeyyy?" The words were slurred when Midnights looked up to see 1989 rather drunk and wobbly, ready to fall face-flat at any given moment.
"Sit down." Even though Midnights was also drunk she's been drunk enough to know how to handle herself. 1989, however, did not. Midnights kept her rolled paper in her mouth and inhaled, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a while. Her girlfriend sat on the stool next to her and flew her arms around the other woman.
"You're s-soooo prettysss' 1989's slurred speech still didn't leave as she laughed when she complimented, hiccuping afterwards. Midnights chuckled, the smoke leaving her lungs and out into the alcohol fused air. "I think y-you-" The younger woman hiccuped again, "should kisssss me" Her s' seemed to be held on longer each time. Midnights smiled and inhaled her drug again before keeping it in. She lifted 1989's chin and exhaled right when they clashed their lips. She's done this plenty of times but each time didn't get much better when 1989 coughed into the kiss and pulled away. Her girlfriend pressed her lips between the paper and breathed in once more just to let the smoke go right in 1989's face, causing her to cough more rapidly.
