Mlp Drunk Novels & Stories

pangungulit pa niyang muli. Pinasadahan ko ng tingin ang mga drinks na nasa fridge upang ipakita sa kaniyang abala ako sa pamimili. I don't care if he keeps on annoying me and begging me to talk to him again and again. Bwisit na ulan kasi, ayaw pang tumigil hindi tuloy kami makaalis. "Nasaan na ba 'yung Mogu-mogu. San Mig.. Cobra.. Pale Pilsen—" "Paano mo makikita 'yung Mogu-mogu diyan? Eh sa mga energy drinks at alcohols ka nagtitingin?" giit ni Fritz kaya naman bigla akong napatingin sa kaniya sa napagtanto.

Molly I wake up and I'm instantly groaning, fuck I feel rough! I try to sit up but the whole room spins forcing me to lie back down and wince as my eyes throb in my head. "Why the fuck did I drink so much last night? Oh, yeah, that's right, Tom and his bloody cocktails, they were insanely delicious and fucking dangerous. One minute I'm sober and sitting down like a lady the next thing I'm outside dancing on tables and singing I’m a Barbie girl, fuck my life! Although I must admit it was the best night that I've had since we had a crazy night out in Tokyo several months ago and I may be feeling rough but I don't regret it, I think I needed it.

The lights shone on their faces, making them look more handsome. Sometimes alcohol could make a man more charming. Malcolm knew why he drank. And he would not drink himself into oblivion. His life experiences helped him realize it was a fickle world. Unlike Julian, Sergio, and Terence, they grew up in happy families. They only knew to numb themselves with alcohol when they were unhappy! Malcolm always knew what he wanted from drinking. Malcolm said, "Sergio, don't tell anyone about this first, especially Terence." Sergio nodded. "I know!"

“Said I’m ‘too much’ and ‘emotionally exhausting.’ Can you believe that shit?” I grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Men are trash.” We drank straight from the bottle after the first glass. The conversation got messy fast — the way only drunk best friend talks can. “Actually, no,” Mila corrected drunkenly, pointing her wine glass at me. “Trash gets taken out eventually. Men just stay around ruining your mental health forever.” I snorted so hard wine almost came out of my nose. “That might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”

The ritual continued, with Maurice passing glass after glass to Martin, who complied with growing reluctance. By the fifth glass, Martin's brow furrowed in concern. Leaning closer to Maurice, he whispered, "What are you doing, giving me all the drinks? Are you trying to get me drunk?" Maurice's eyes glinted with amusement as he replied, "I can't drink. I have a wife and a baby waiting for me at home. I certainly can't go home drunk. But you can, after all, you’re a single man." Martin stared at the growing graveyard of empty glasses before him, his frustration bubbling like the fizz in the wine.

Of course not. I hear her voice before I see her. I’d recognise that cackle anywhere, full of life and mischief rolled together. The bar door creaks on its big old hinges and stumbles on a guy in a hoodie who used to be on our books a few years back. Raul Elf , son of a bricklayer who sold drugs from the back of his van over in Gloucester. Moona Avii stumbles in after him, and my beer catches in my throat. Her pale cheeks are flushed pink and her legs seem bandy. Drunk. She’s fucking drunk.

I laugh at my own humorless joke. Yes, the alcohol is indeed taking its effect. My communication skills improve tremendously when I drink, and it's something that I usually try to avoid. I'd rather be at my best faculty in order to wisely filter my words, which is far from the case at the moment. "Is that another innocent guess?" Malik asks, somewhat surprised. "What?" I squint my eyes. "Very few people know about that," he says earnestly, probably intrigued as his eyes gleam with wonder.

Still a goddamn myth. “Twelfth one,” Milo laughed. “Jesus, Mal, your liver’s built different.” Malachi grinned, wiping his mouth. “That’s what champions are made of.” “Yeah, champs and alcoholics,” Jake joked, clinking glasses with him. I leaned back on the booth seat, nursing my whiskey instead. The place was loud, music thumping, bodies pressed close, lights strobing red and gold. It wasn’t my scene anymore, but the guys needed to blow off steam. Four straight wins since my return. Coach was happy. The press was happy. The fans were obsessed again.

- I asked, sounding like a slut, I never thought I would say this when I was sober and away from myself. "Not tonight. I don't want to get you drunk, I want to fuck you conscious." The night was perfect, Mauricio was great company. We drank until we had had enough, I felt my head spinning and I only know that I must have said a lot of shit, it's typical of when I get drunk. (...)

He gave me a weird stare. “What?” he gave me a weird look. “Please! I need it!” “You need it… like… sex?” He asked making me freeze in silence. “Eww you are so annoying!” “hmn.” He hummed irritating me more. “But honestly, the best way to stop drunkenness is sex. And why do you wanna stop? What's the fun of drinking anyway if you ain't high?” “Fun of drinking?” I scowled. “There is no fun in drinking okay. It’s… idk.”