Drunk God Novels & Stories

Drinking The Swaying Immortal was a popular drunkard, so much so that in the past few years, not one person had ever seen him sober! It was said that when someone made a product as addictive as heroine or alcohol, that someone should refrain from taking it him or herself. Well, the Swaying Immortal did not abide by that rule. Although he belonged to the clan that created the alcohol that could sway the hearts of Beastmen Warriors, the Swaying Immortal was the number one customer for the Heavenly Fox Clan. He had become so accustomed to drinking that Clara doubted if he was able to get hangovers anymore. In fact, the man’s title was a great hint to his bad habit.

Blake said as he rose from his seat. “No, no. It’s not true. I was possessed, and I have, too, had been possessed. You, you did this. You made me say all those things.” Drake became agitated as Blake made his way to him. “Now, now. Why and how could I have done as you suggested? Am I a god? No. Not yet, at least, only a Saint.” Blake said, placing his hand on Drake’s head in a claw motion. Drake’s eyes rolled back, and he began to shake uncontrollably in Blake’s grasp. Blake felt it was better to deal with trouble before it returned to him. The punishment Drake was to receive was good, but it didn’t halt the burning desire for revenge.

“That child rarely lasts longer than me, he drinks too fast.” Darkous sat back, devouring bottle after bottle and the night drifted onwards. Goodwin was the next to pass out as he reached his sixth bottle of whiskey, crashing into the carpet. Michael followed closely behind the Corporal, barely finishing his seventh bottle of burning liquor before passing out; his head slamming back into the couch. The psychopathic lord lit another cigarette as he turned towards Dorian, each devouring the last of their ninth bottles. He laughed slightly as Joey plummeted into the carpet, rolling from the black couch. The animal-like immortal eventually sat on the ground, relaxing as the others remained uncon

He couldn't tell. Even though his blood had run cold at the approaching shadow, malformed and hunched, the spirit seemed excited. Waiting with tense expectancy for Babi to appear. It did not need to wait long. The God, ungainly he might be, was swift when needed. His dark eyes took in the wretched form, slowly trailing the body that was no longer inhabited by one he could call a slave. But that aside, the blood was still useful, even if the person was not. And, although he would not admit it, the taint of drugs in a human gave a rather splendid high. It could be grand fun when he was in the right mood, far more potent than opium.

He looked like he needed an exorcist. “Thersar, leave your stupid comments for those who find them funny. This god of dogs is already giving me enough of the heartburn with his drunken shit show.” I gritted through my teeth. Marlekeen remained expressionless. “Can you show me what he drank?” She asked, and I lifted the stupid bottle, which I still held in my hand for some unknown reason. “Lycan king looks like he had…well…few litres more…I would dare to say…of Darhana then he should have.” The creepy-eyed witch said.

"You bent a bit to mine. You and I know I am the only one who got you down on your knees. None other, demon or god can." "Shut it, proud sex god. Tsk. You are right though. Unlike you all, my head remains focused. I will have no problem." "We shall see about that. Anyways, no not bend for a deal. I do not want them thriving here. Prove to them who rules. If Serling is really behind him, he would make more trouble. He is a tricky demon." "And I am the god of tricksters." "I won't argue that with you. The hound is at the reception. Be prepared, he will be brought to you soon."

Left without a choice of a hiding spot, he rolled under the bed and heaved out a deep sigh. Michael stepped in, and from the way his legs made funny movements here and there, it was not hard for Harry to come to conclusions that his father was drunk — as always. Harry's heartbeats drummed death rhymes in his chest. He had never felt this way before, or maybe he had, but he just couldn't place any moment with the present. Not like he hadn't done bad all his life — far from it — but that, he felt like a criminal that would face a dreadful fate once detected.

DJ They made me sit there and meditate. It was so annoying. I kept almost falling asleep. I really shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night. It was a really good night, I hooked up with two of the hottest chicks at the party. Once I found out that Eros was my great grandfather, I started trying to affect the girls around me.

She craved to be chosen openly, shamelessly with no hesitation. When he entered her life, he gave her exactly that, intense affection, gentle touches, long conversations, and a kind of desire she had never known. For a sheltered girl who has always felt invisible, his warm affection always felt like a light at the end of a tunnel. But behind the desire lay something heavier. His temper, his violent stories, the weight of his complicated past, and the quiet way he consumed her emotionally began to drain her. Torn between the only man who made herpersonal story about the dangers of being intensely desired and the courage it takes to choose oneself over the person who makes you feel everyth