#tw drunk sex

[arcanepactguile]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

@spidrboots ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ — "18 ᴏʀ 25?"

“Now that's more like it,” Alastor's quick to console Angel Dust; who's presently pushed up against a wardrobe in the arachnid’s bedroom, the door quickly slammed shut with a kick as soon as the two had cleared the threshold.

The resounded bang down the Hotel's hallway was dismissed as indirect casualty. They were still safe, undiscovered. A risk of getting an audience to witness their (drunken?) rendezvous just because they were desperate to retire in the addict's ‘private’ rooms was worth it.

Confident Vox hadn't implanted any livestreaming video feeds inside Angel's room, at the behest of his second half Valentino, Alastor felt more comfortable fumbling with Angel's clothes and his own on the suspicion his own quarters weren't as secured.

That bungling train of thought hadn't lasted the time it took to shove his impromptu lover up against the cupboard, nearly tripping over the boots and things littering the floor. Panting hard, the aroma of bourbon on his breath, the Radio Demon had pinned Angel — one hand squeezing his throat, claws pinching the back, whilst his other hand had been busy working at the spider's belt and fly, jerking one side down over a hip to grant access.

Alastor's fingers, at least two, were crooked inside the warm hole the tipsy buck had made a bid for the second he had smeared some sparse lube over his fingertips. The tube was commandeered, one of a handful of items left on the nightstand; it's lewd label clearly depicting it's purpose.

Angel was just lucky Alastor's vision wasn't bleary, or imagining things, the Overlord's sense swimming with liquor, to wind up grabbing a cream not meant for internal use.

The tube rolling away on the floor once dropped, possibly to freedom under Angel's bed, Alastor had pressed the length of his fevered body into the taller demon's, his busier arm wrapped around his lover's frame to frisk him. It was a gamble to rush ahead — judging by their escalating ardour in the bar, then the staircase… then the landing, the Radio Demon was fairly confident the more experienced demon had no reason to balk.

Ears angled back, lids lowered, Alastor grunted; sliding his digits to circle Angel's slicked ring, the deer demon grinded his hips into his partner's thigh, the hardness of his growing erection evident. The Overlord's clothes were in a shambles, his coat shrugged off to pool at their feet, suspenders hanging, cuffs unbuttoned but the shirt's collar still up and bowtie fastened.

“Can you moan for me again?

What would I do to hear you scream?"

[chronic-claire-universe]

Me definitely accepting the offer for strip poker:

Pulling up with some tequila 😘, and orange juice for the champagne so we can make mimosas

Although I must warn you that me and Ran drunk we're not a handful duo 😙

[the-midnight-feline]

Got a few drinks in my system and now I feel touchy, like I wanna touch anyone and everyone around me 😣nsfw thoughts under the cut

But what I really want is Tendou babying my intoxicated ass in bed, softly cooing in my ear how I can't handle alcohol anymore and how complaint I get after a few drinks while a hand of his finds its way down my shorts and plays with my sopping cunt, his thumb brushing ever so close to clit, teasing me, making me buck against his hand begging him for more 🥵

[waka-chan-out]

prompt 28 (i think??) with atsumu and maybe like a bar to hookup situation?? honestly anything is fine but that’s just the idea i had

300 Follower Event

Miya Atsumu

Prompt 28: “You’re hot, you’re just intolerable”

this fic was part of my 300 follower event. check out the rest of the submissions here.

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: this is a genuine drunk hookup. if that makes you uncomfy please do not read. other than that, car sex. that’s about it.

the number of bar flirting scenes i’ve written goes up every single day and i enjoy each one more than the last.

really though, he is who i wrote this prompt for. thank you so much.

He was looking at you again.

The artificial blond with the dazzling laugh that you couldn’t get out of your head, who had been nursing mixed drink after mixed drink all night, was staring at you with dark eyes even as his friends continued yelling back and forth. He was handsome, you had to admit, but he looked like trouble. The good kind, but trouble nonetheless.

You turned back to the glass in front of you. You honestly didn’t remember what was in it, or how many had come before it. You were just very warm, very giggly, and very happy to be there. You glanced at the corner where another woman was fully mounted on one of the blond’s friends. It brought a goofy smile to your lips, but you shook your head and threw back the rest of your drink. The bartender looked up at you expectantly.

“Can I just have, like --” You gestured in a way that you were sure made no logical sense. “A big water?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You want a water?”

You grinned.

“Yes please.”

“I’ll have what they’re havin’,” a voice said beside you. You turned and had to lurch back because of how close the face was. It was, of course, the blond. His breath smelled like whatever lime flavored concoction he had left at his table and his eyes were a dark brown up close. Shit, he really was good looking.

“Get ready for a big cup of nothing, buddy,” you said. He grinned at the juvenile nickname and leaned his head on his hand.

“Nothin’ is everything in good company.”

“That’s not a real saying.”

“No. No it is not.” He smirked at you as the bartender set two bottled waters on the counter. You thanked him and the blond shot him a smile. You cracked open the water and took a sip, eyes not leaving his.

“So,” he said, plopping down on the barstool next to you. “What’s yer deal? You’ve been checkin’ me out all night.”

“If looking back at the creep staring at me counts as ‘checking him out’ then I guess you’re right.”

“Aw, come on. If I really was a creep ya would’ve told me off hours ago.”

“That’s true. I hadn’t talked to you yet so I didn’t want to make too many assumptions.”

“Yet? So ya were plannin’ on approaching me?”

You rolled your eyes.

“It wasn’t high on my to-do list. With how you were staring I figured I just had to wait.”

“I guess you were right about that.” He smiled and took a long sip of his water. “Tryin’ to sober up with this, then?

“I was, but now that you’re here I think I need another drink.”

“Yeah? Am I that bad of company?”

“I just don’t want to be able to clearly see that ugly mug of yours.” You tried to phrase it like an insult, but your smile didn’t make make it very convincing.

He wasn’t even phased.

“Lying will get ya nowhere.”

“Yeah? Could probably get me home if I made up a good excuse.”

“Don’t need an excuse. I can walk away anytime. Ya want me to leave?”

You held your water to your lips to keep from answering.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. He studied your face for a moment, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “I’ll buy ya a shot if you really want another.”

“You gonna do it with me?”

“F’course. Why else would I be sittin’ here?”

You sighed and swirled to face him.

“What were you thinking?”

“Somethin’ sweet-ish for you."

You shrugged.

“You’re buying.”

He grinned and waved down the bartender. You watched him as he ordered. He was actually remarkably polite and his wide smile seemed to work magic. The bartender who had hardly looked at you for an hour was laughing right with him.

With the blond no longer paying attention to you, you let your eyes scan the rest of his body. Your attention fixed on his legs, where his slacks were remarkably tight around his thighs. You had to wonder if he played a sport of some kind, because you couldn’t bring yourself to stop staring.

A moment later, two short glasses were sitting in front of you and he was ducking his head into your line of vision to get your attention.

“See somethin’ ya like?” he teased. You shoved his face away.

“Don’t start that.”

“Come on, sweetheart, I know ya think I’m hot.”

“You’re hot, you’re just intolerable.”

“Yet you’re still sittin’ here.”

“What can I say? I have bad taste.”

“I can’t say the same.”

“Is that why you’re still sitting here?”

“Only because you haven’t invited me anywhere else.”

“Oh? Think you’re getting lucky?”

“That’s not for me to decide. But for the record, you could tell me to follow you in front of a moving train right now and I’d probably say yes.”

You stared at each other for a little too long. Your brain couldn’t focus on anything but his face. It was pulled into a permanent smile and could see the tip of his tongue resting behind one canine. He probably thought the expression was attractive and, jesus, he was right. He broke your train of thought by lifting his glass in your direction.

“What should we toast to?” he asked.

“I’d say to good company, but it’d hardly be accurate.”

He grinned and clinked your glass.

“To horrible, obnoxious, very handsome company.”

You smiled and raised your own shot.

“I can drink to that.”

He winked and you both threw your heads back. As you set down your glass he winced and he stuck out his tongue.

“I’ve had too much to drink for that to be pleasant,” he choked out.

“Poor baby. Maybe you should head home.”

“If yer invitin’ me over, I might consider it.”

You wanted to glare but a giggle rose from your throat instead.

“You can sure run your mouth,” you said.

“I’ve been told before.”

“You think it’s charming?”

“Do you?”

“Unfortunately.”

He tipped his head into his palm and stared at you. The shot felt like it went right to your head. Somehow he was even more handsome the hazier you felt, but it might have been you were just more willing to admit it. You were about to make the mistake of complimenting him when he tapped his foot against your leg.

“I just realized I don’t know your name.”

“Do you deserve to know?” you teased. He scrunched up his nose and hooked his foot on the bar of your seat.

“Come on, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off of your face.

“Y/n,” you said. He looked tired but grinned anyway.

“Miya Atsumu,” he said. He made a show of gesturing to himself. “You c’n just call me Atsumu, if you want.”

You shrugged.

"Maybe.”

He sighed dramatically and leaned father forward.

“Have I told ya you’re incredibly attractive?” he asked, gaze fixed on your lips.

“Not in those words,” you said.

“Well I’m telling’ ya now.” He poked at your leg. “I like the way yer face looks. I’d like to see it closer, but only if ya wanna see mine too.” His hand squeezed your thigh instead of poking at it and he looked up at you. He was still smiling, but there was a hazy adoration in his dark eyes that you just couldn’t look away from.

Fuck it.

You threw a few bills on the bar and stood.

“You drive here, Miya?”

“Nah. Did you?”

“Yep. Come on.” You began walking toward the door but Atsumu clumsily caught your arm.

“Nuh-uh. No drivin’ right now.”

You turned back around and leaned down to look him in the eye.

“Did I say anything about actually driving?”

You waited one, two, three seconds and his face lit up in understanding. He scrambled out of his chair and grabbed his coat. He didn’t even say goodbye to his friends as he rushed in front of you to hold the door, then eagerly followed you outside.

“I knew ya’d see the light,” he said, lightly bumping against your shoulder.

“You sure? You seemed pretty surprised.”

“I was just lookin’ at ya. A pretty face that close would shock anyone.”

“Sure it would.” You got to your car and after more than one try managed to unlock the door. You switched off the automatic lights and shut the door again.

“Can I call shotgun or does the backseat have the best view?” he said, leaning down to peer through the window.

“I could just send you back inside, you know.”

He hopped in front of you, nearly tipping over in the process, and leaned against the car door.

“But ya won’t.” You glared at him for a moment. He just grinned back.

“Backseat,” you whispered.

He made an excited noise that sounded a lot like a slurred “yay.” He popped open the door and slid inside, leaning too far onto the leather before pushing himself upright again. You climbed in after him and locked the door.

“Alrighty. Where do ya want me?” he asked, making a show of holding his hands up by his head. You laughed despite yourself and threw a leg over his lap.

“Shut the fuck up, Miya.” You grabbed him by the front of the shirt and crashed your lips into his. He smiled into the kiss, one hand rising to cup the side of your face. It was a little sloppy, or a lot sloppy, or maybe you just didn’t care. His tongue was in your mouth and yours was probably in his, but all you could think to do was push him farther into the back of the seat and tighten your legs around him.

His hands fell to your hips, then slipped lower, squeezing lightly and causing you to grind into his lap. He let out a short laugh that you were pretty sure was meant to be a sigh. You chuckled and bit his lower lip, then immediately returned to kissing him. He groaned into your mouth and pulled you closer. You dropped your lips to his jaw. He inhaled sharply and his fingers dug into your skin. You could feel that he was hard, and it was only becoming more apparent the more you kissed down his throat.

“Fuck,” he breathed. You laughed and returned to kissing his lips. You pulled at his belt, fumbling for a moment due to the haziness still sitting in your brain. He reached down to help you, hands only serving to get in the way. He broke the kiss, a small frown on his face.

“Wait. Hold on,” he said. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he carefully undid his pants. “S’that okay?” he asked, looking back up at you. You pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“I think it’s okay, yeah,” you said, unable to hold back your laughter. He started smiling back, then stopped.

“Yer clothes are still on,” he said matter of factly. You looked down.

“They are.”

He looked back up at your face.

“Can they not be?”

You grinned and leaned out of his lap, undoing your pants and tugging them off. You discarded them on the floor and got back into his lap.

“Is that better?” you asked. He nodded and closed his eyes, waiting for another kiss. You humored him, pressing your lips to his quickly before pulling away. He grinned as you leaned back, opening the center console.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked. You pulled out a condom and he burst out laughing.

“What?” you said, rolling your eyes.

“M’sorry. I don’ know why I’m laughin’.”

“You know your accent gets stronger when you drink?” you asked, amused.

“I don’ have an accent.”

“Sure you don’t, Miya.”

He laughed again and leaned his face against your chest.

“Shhh,” you cooed, lifting his chin up and pressing a kiss to his lips. Both of you were still grinning. His eyes grew wide as you ripped open the wrapper with your teeth. You tugged down his boxers and slid the condom on quickly. He inhaled sharply, staring at your face as you reached between your legs, pulling fabric aside and lining him up with your entrance.

You wrapped a hand tightly around his neck as you sunk down. He sighed loudly into your ear and braced his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. You smiled and pressed your lips to his. His kiss was messy and desperate and graced with the occasional giggle, but he seemed to forget what was funny whenever you shifted your hips.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Hold on.” You stilled and he grabbed your ass. “Hold on. Let me.” He steadied himself and thrust up into you. You gasped and buried your face into his hair. Groans and pants and curses fell from his lips as he fucked into you as fast as his inebriated brain would let him. Your gasping in his ear only spurred him on.

“Jesus, you feel good. Look at you,” he mumbled. He wasn't looking, but he didn’t seem to care. You laughed against his face, bringing a smile to his lips.

“You’ve got a pretty smile,” you whispered. A noise left his lips that almost sounded like a giggle.

“Keep it up and I’m gonna go home with ya.” He hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of you and you moaned. He laughed. “Doesn’t sound like ya’d be too upset about that.”

“Shut up,” you breathed. He hummed and gripped you tighter.

“No promises.”

He was already noisy, but his voice seemed to get even louder as he got closer. You grabbed his face and kissed him, swallowing his breath as it turned into panting. His hips lost their rhythm and his fingertips dug into you.

“Fuck,” he grunted. His voice was harsh and desperate. He let out one last strained groan against as he held you against him and spilled into the condom. He was completely tense for a moment, then his body melted back into the seat. You let out a breathy laugh and kissed his forehead. Both of your chests heaved and you checked out the window for the first time. They were fogged up, but the only person outside seemed to be an older man, stumbling around and clearly absolutely wasted.

Atsumu leaned close, lips spread in a grin.

“Is it weird to say I think I love you?” he asked. You pushed his face away and laughed.

“You’re drunk, Miya.”

“So’re you! Let’s get married.”

“I’m ordering you a car.”

“Only if you come with me.”

You looked at him carefully. He may as well have had heart eyes. You sighed and pulled out your phone.

“Fine.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and hugged you close, laying his face on your chest as you looked for a ride to take you both home.

[seijorhi]

That new Bokuto concept is ?!?!?!? Especially if Akaashi's girlfriend is initially so trusting, so willing to head back to Bokuto's house because its cheaper and closer than ubering back to hers. Of course Bokuto is going to want to sleep in the same bed as her, who knows what kind of trouble she'll get up to wandering around his house drunk? Akaashi would be okay with them sleeping together naked, he trusts them. Don't you trust him?

As if I could resist adding more ♥️

TW dub/non con, drunk sex, cheating

It’s not fair that Akaashi gets to keep you for himself, not when Bokuto saw you first.

And he’s just being a good friend - you’re clearly drunk, otherwise you would have called Akaashi to come pick you up instead of calling his phone by accident.

“‘Kaaaashi, I wanna come home, ‘m tired. Can you come get me, pleeease?’

You sound adorable, with your voice all slurred and whining. If he shuts his eyes he can almost imagine it’s his name instead...

Koutarou, I need you, please hurry.

Yeah, he likes the sound of that.

“On my way. Stray right where you are, babe.”

If you pick up that the voice on the other end of the line isn’t your boyfriend’s, you don’t mention it. Akaashi’s working late tonight, no doubt why he isn’t there with you right now, keeping an eye on you. So really, Bo’s doing the both of you a favour, he thinks as he grabs his keys and all but sprints to his car.

And the way your eyes widen in gleeful surprise when he rocks up, starring daggers at the asshole standing just a little too close to you for his liking, makes it all worthwhile.

“Bokuto, what’re you doin’ here?” you ask, already throwing your arms around his broad frame and clinging to him like you haven’t seen him in years. And if his hand slides possessively along your lower back, holding you against him for just a second longer than really necessary, well you certainly don’t protest.

Oh, you feel like heaven in his arms. It takes every ounce of willpower not to bury his face into the crook of your neck and just hold you for a little while. You smell so good, why do you always smell so nice? But you’re already pulling away, looking at him expectantly with those wide, glazed over eyes.

“Akaashi’s busy, sweetheart, sent me to come pick you up.” Not exactly the truth, but close enough to.

You’ve known Bo for years, longer than you’ve been with his best friend, so of course you just give him a dopey smile, “Oh-kay.”

It’s hard work to keep his own grin from his face as you relax against his side, letting him wrap an arm around your waist and lead you out of the party. You’re such a good girl for him.

You’re so out of it, it’s almost too easy to get you back inside his aparment and out of that pretty dress of yours (does Akaashi know you’re going out looking like that? Naughty little thing). He doesn’t really think you know where you are, cause you keep asking for Akaashi, even as Bokuto sheds his shirt and basketball shorts, grabbing you by the hand and leading you back to the bed.

“Shh, sweetheart. I gotcha. Gonna make you feel so good, promise.”

Just a taste, he just wants to know what it feels like to fuck you, just once. He liked you first, he likes you best, please, just let him have this.

You trust him, don’t you? You know he’d never dream of hurting you. He loves you, fuck, he loves you so much.

And yeah, maybe there’s a flicker of guilt as he draws you into a kiss and you flinch, and try to push him away (not that drunk, apparently) but once he has the taste of you on his tongue, baby it’s all too easy to shove that deep down and ignore it. Bokuto needs this, and Akaashi’s a good friend. If he knew how Bokuto truly felt about you, he wouldn’t mind.

Don’t cry, baby. He’s only doing this because he loves you - now be a good girl and open up for him.