#espresso martini mix

[jagadishbirajdar]

Frozen Espresso Martini | Cool and Caffeinated Elixir

[radiant-reid]

Reunion

Summary: JJ never knew you were dating one of her teammates and that you broke up because of her, but seeing him at JJ's wedding years later changes things.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst then smutttt)

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of a breeding kink)

Word Count: 2.1k

"So, how's mystery boy?"

After skipping your usual Tuesday night plans twice, thanks to JJ being away on cases, you're finally back in your best friend's living room having a glass of wine and a cheese platter.

It's been an abnormal amount of time to go without seeing each other since you both ended up in DC after moving out of East Allegheny to different colleges. Even with men in the mix now, you both make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. However, her busy schedule and frequent flights to New Orleans have meant you've spent some time apart.

Unknown to her, she knows the so-called mystery boy. Very well, in fact. "He's well." You say slyly, unable not to grin widely.

JJ throws her head back dramatically. "Come on, Y/n! Some detail would be nice."

"It's good." You try again. "He's the sweetest. I'm very happy."

She smirks, letting you know an interesting question is coming your way. "How's the sex?"

It never takes more than a glass of wine for her to be that loose. You don't miss a beat in your answer. "Fabulous."

"Okay, so can I meet him soon?" She pushes like she has been for quite some time.

You wonder what she would think. What would her expression do if you were to say his name out loud right here? Maybe it's not that deep but getting with JJ's closest colleague is dangerous. It was a concern at the start, a reason not to start, but you fell in love with Spencer Reid quicker than you could ever imagine.

"Sure, JJ." You agree, trying to look positively about it. You can only assume she's thinking about the worst possible scenario about your mystery man. He's a criminal or he's far too old for you or he's an ex you promised not to get back with. There are too many options.

She looks triumphant. "Yes!"

You just smile, sending the conversation in a different direction by asking about her boyfriend. He sounds like a great guy and you can tell she's happier than ever before.

Three months ago you met Spencer Reid. It was JJ's birthday and your duty as her best friend to throw her a fun surprise party. That took some coordination with a friend from work. Firstly, that was Penelope, but in order to lure JJ, you needed Spencer Reid. He was a little slow with replying to your texts, but lovely. And after you met him, you were hooked.

Spencer was perfect. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent. His incredible shyness had you confused when he asked you out for dinner the next morning.

Too many espresso martinis provide an explanation for why JJ has no recollection of you flirting with him all night.

You see Spencer as much as you can, but similar to JJ's, his schedule often doesn't allow for consistent visits. So whatever time you do have, you make the most of it. He's still the most amazing boyfriend you've had. Kind, caring, witty, fun, and playful.

He gets whisked away on a case to Miami not long after being home. You didn't know things would be so different the next time you saw him.

He goes quiet on you. You know their cases are intense but you haven't heard from him in an entire week and that's not right.

Can I come over? He finally texts you and you're guessing he's back in DC.

It sounds a little ominous and the message sends a chill down your spine. Sure. I can't wait to see you. There isn't a reply and you sit in limbo in your apartment for almost an hour before he knocks at the door.

You smile when you open it, although you're slightly annoyed there was zero communication or ETA from him. "Hey, Spence, how was it?"

"You knew." He says in a cold, accusatory tone. It's nothing you've ever heard from him.

"Sorry?" You repeat, moving to the side so he can come into your apartment.

He steps in, barely looking at you. "About JJ and Will." He explains.

A little frown takes over your expression. Surely he's not angry that he only just found out. An awkward laugh leaves your lips. "Sorry, Spence. She didn't want anyone knowing."

"I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

"I didn't." You join the offensive, crossing your arms. You're not enthused about what he's accusing you of. It wasn't even your secret to tell him.

He looks disappointed, face dropping. "Come on." He sighs. "How am I meant to be with you if you don't trust me enough to tell me who our friend is dating?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell." You try to talk some reason into him, pushing down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you that he's breaking up with you.

Spencer shakes his head, his decision- as much as it's killing him- completely made. "I can't do this."

His words make your world come crashing down and you almost can't believe it. You slump to the couch while he makes his way to the door with sad, slow footsteps.

He's looking at you, waiting for you to ask him to say. "Can we not tell JJ?" You ask softly.

"Fine." That's the last thing he tells you before walking out the door, shutting it firmly.

That's it.

The last thing Spencer tells you.

Then he's gone from your life. You talk about him less to JJ and she picks up on what happened and stops asking about him.

You expect to see him when Henry's born, or even at a point in his life. Somehow, you don't. Your schedules never line up and then JJ switches jobs. There's a myriad of reasons but it doesn't happen. You both go on with separate lives.

And then JJ and Will are getting married. You get a frantic call from your best friend's soon-to-be-husband who whispers secret plans to you over the phone. It's perfect, you know JJ will adore the simplicity and elegance of a backyard wedding.

You're there as soon as you can be, helping set up Rossi's backyard so it's gorgeous for the most gorgeous person you know.

You're the maid of honor, of sorts. And you don't get a chance to ask who the best man is before JJ arrives and the ceremony begins.

You strike out as soon as you spot a tall brunette. A tall brunette who made you the happiest you've ever been with a man. And he's still just as handsome.

His eyes bulge when he sees you but he keeps a straight face and clenches his teeth while the ceremony continues. You're mostly focused on how beautiful JJ looks and how sweet their wedding is, but you can't help your mind drifting to Spencer.

You hadn't seen him dressed up like this when you were dating and the tuxedo is a perfect look on him.

"Y/n." He comes up to you when you're getting yourself a glass of champagne.

"Spencer." You reply. His tone doesn't let much about how he's feeling on. All you get is a glimmer of shock.

He stands against the table. "Maid of honor?"

You shrug, a little confused at his question. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you all these years." You admit, letting some honesty slip.

"It was slightly intentional." He offers.

You don't let it offend you. "Best man?"

"I think that means we're supposed to sleep together."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine. There's no way the shy Spencer Reid you once knew just said that.

"We've done that." You reply, trying to keep a straight face after the out-of-pocket comment.

Spencer tilts his head to the side. "You're right."

You really don't know how it happens. Maybe it's a few too many drinks. There's definitely not enough alcohol in your bloodstream to solely blame that. Spencer Reid is as hot as they get. And it's been... longer than you're willing to admit since you've had sex. Even longer since it was good sex.

So there isn't anything telling you to stop when Spencer pushes you up against the door of a room in Rossi's house, lips firmly against yours.

Your dress is hiked up around your waist while his fingers trace up and down your thigh before he even thinks about locking the door. Both of you are far too wrapped up in the moment to think securely.

His hands are quick to the zip of your dress, sliding it down effortlessly and letting it pool at your feet. He takes a moment to look at you and you have to admit, you're a little worried about his reaction. You don't doubt Spencer Reid can pull beautiful women.

"God, you're gorgeous." He says softly, juxtaposing the way he's practically clawing your clothes off you.

"Are you going to compliment me or fuck me like you promised you would?" You ask him, waltzing over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Spencer smirks at your smart mouth. "You asked for it."

He's kneeling on the floor in front of the bed in seconds, with no regard for his suit pants being wrinkled, just on his knees. There's a sense of urgency that doesn't allow for the time for him to take your panties off so he opts for shifting them to the side.

There's also no time to waste as his tongue melds with your folds, tracing patterns. No one has ever come close to giving head like Spencer does. It's truly mindblowing, the pressure of his tongue and the suction method he uses. You're instantly in bliss, head thrown back against the covers as you moan.

You've lost it when his fingers enter you, pushing past with little resistance. "Holy shit, Spencer. You're incredible."

"Sing my praises." He says against your pussy.

You do. Not even possessing the ability to be embarrassed about it.

And you don't stop. You're withering and moaning on the bed, tugging his curls while he continues pleasing you. Eventually, it's too much. His fingers pumping in and out of you combined with his tongue wrapped around your clit have you finishing in no time.

"Still as good as I remember." As if he couldn't get any hotter, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Spencer rises from his knees, now much taller than you. You tug your underwear off before unclipping your bra. "Fuck me, Spencer." You reach out for his belt buckle, toying with it. "Please."

Spencer has lost the shy, timid nature he had the first few times you had sex and he quickly takes off his belt and pants. Once his suit jacket is tossed across the room, Spencer pulls your legs to the end of the bed, making sure you wrap your ankles around his waist. His hands rest on either side of your head and you're precisely where you want to be.

"You're so hot." You tell him with a smirk.

He grins, spreading your legs and inching inside you. The look on his face is an instant confidence boost. Clearly, he's a man in bliss, head thrown back and tongue parting his lips.

"Fuck." He pants.

You agree, barely able to speak from how hard he's pounding you and how good it feels. Although it's annoying to admit, you've never had as good sex as with Spencer.

Your hands wrap around his forearms, noticeably bigger than last time. "Spencer." You moan. "Please. So good."

He caresses your chest, paying attention to your boobs like he hadn't before. "Y/n." He groans, not slowing his pace up. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. "Can I?" He asks.

It's unlike you to have even let him start without protection but you're not thinking straight enough. All you know is you need Spencer. "Please."

He finishes as deep inside you as he can get, leaning down to kiss you softly. You're breathless like he is when he flops down next to you.

One of Spencer's palms touches your cheek, forcing you to look at him rather than the ceiling. "Hey, pretty girl." He says softly and it makes your heart flip in a way it shouldn't. "Can I take you on a date, Y/n?"

The smile creeping onto your face can't be helped. "Yes. Please."

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[eggyrocks]

anyways here’s the yn’s from my fic as alcoholic drinks

on repeat: she’s a bottle of strawberry soju. she chugs half of it all at once and then slows down & starts sipping but then the bottle starts to get lukewarm and she doesn’t finish it. lightweight. kageyama takes her makeup off for her once she falls asleep on the couch.

calloused hands: an entire 6-pack of pbr. she drank the whole thing and isn’t even tipsy. kuroo’s completely shitfaced and he fell asleep on her shoulder while she was playing her guitar. seemingly drinks beer like it’s water but somehow no one had ever seen her drunk. except that one time.

syrup: an espresso martini. and then another espresso martini. and then another espresso martini. she’s going drink for drink with oikawa and they’re both obliterated. they lean on each other the whole way home and sing songs and iwa hates them. she thinks she’s not a lightweight bc she doesn’t get drunk at first but they catch up to her fast.

inked: sour ipa. she’s pretentious about it when explaining ipas to lev but then when kiyoko asks she gets embarrassed. has a pretty good tolerance but skips the tipsy phase and just immediately gets drunk. makes it to four before she’s a goner. drunken tells kiyoko how pretty she is.

bruised: jack and coke. never learned how to order alcohol properly so she always just orders a jack and coke bc it’s simple. sometimes alisa will order her something fruity and she downs it. very low alcohol tolerance since she never really drinks due to being like. an olympic athlete. sometimes forgets how to stand properly so by the end of the night iwa’s just holding her up by the waist.

35mm: aperol spritz. feels fancy when she orders it even if she lwky hates the way it tastes. at a certain point in the she abandons all pretenses and just starts drinking the prosecco until akaashi just starts putting soda water in her glass.

static: weed. every once in a while she’ll try a beer and hate it. usually just takes a few tequila shots if everyone else is drinking but prefers smoking. will be stoned out of her mind on the kitchen floor with noya’s head in her lap (he’s dead after his fourth shot of vodka)

count your losses: red wine. drinks almost a whole bottle and causes arguments. waves that glass around like it’s a talking point and atsumu just watches in awe.

get back: dark & stormy. feels like a lighthouse keeper when she drinks it. exteme lightweight. she has one and she’s staring at hinata’s contact in her phone.

maneater: vodka redbull. of course. forgets that you can have redbull without the vodka. if she’s drinking a vodka redbull it’s a crazy ass night at the club. iwa makes fun of her for mixing them together (“it’s not good for your heart that shits gonna kill you”) and she calls him a loser virgin.

[whatislovevavy]

Tia Maria and Whiskey on the Rocks

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC (Cherry)

Masterlist

Author's Note: hey y'all, apologies for the extremely late posting, I've been going through some life transitions and finding time and motivation to write has been difficult, but here it is now :) This is part two of Most of Freedom and Of Pleasure, and is apart of @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison Writing Challenge with the prompt being Espresso Martinis I'm glad I got to include one of my favorite drinks with one of my favorite songs with a character I love writing for <3 I'm most likely going to do a third part with smut in it, so let me know if that would be something you lovely people would like to read :)

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Fluff, Alcohol, Pilots catching feelings

WC: 5.2k

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Goddamn it. 

You slid the end call button as Phoenix didn’t pick up, fighting with the raindrops that fell and streaked down your phone screen, and trying to keep your jacket secure around your frame that didn’t seem to be saving your red dress from being soaked by the rain. The overwhelming damp and cold feeling seeped into your scalp and made the floodgates that held your tears back crack and crumble all the more. 

You regretted this date, much more than all of the others. 

A shaky sigh left your lips, frustration, and anger forming its potent mix in your mind. 

You tried to keep your eyes on your phone and to stay calm; you didn’t need the people eyeing you on the sidewalk feeling sorry for you. They had nothing to feel sorry for anyway.  You were just a person that had a disaster of a date and was stuck out in the rain trying to get home. Absolutely nothing to feel sorry for. You huffed, tensing your jaw as you found cover under an awning of a bookstore. Trying not to look at anyone that gave you that characteristic look of pity as they walked by. Biting your lip, you contemplated calling the last number you wanted to be calling late on a Friday night. 

Just get it over with, you thought. 

You quickly tapped the call button next to the infuriating little contact icon. Biting into your lip harder, finding the puddle reflecting the San Diego city lights more appealing than attempting to meet any passerbyers gaze as each tone brought you closer to a ride home. Or the teasing of a lifetime. Maybe both. 

“Cherry.”

That familiar silk laced drawl made you shut your eyes and wish anyone else had picked up when you called. But alas, here you were.

“Wasn’t expectin’ to hear from you. I thought you were busy entertainin’ what’s his name, Dylan? Derrick?” 

The humor in his voice brought a hot surge of frustration to the tips of your fingers as you gripped your phone harder, jaw tensing. 

“Look, I’m not in the mood for this right now…” Your voice losing its bite, but only by a little, “I’ve had a really shitty night, and,” you took a shaky breath, the frustration of the evening coming in full force on your psyche, “I need a ride home.” Jake's teasing grin wilted. You never would have called him, unless it was serious. He licked his lower lip, turning to look back at his friends finishing up a game of pool from the corner near the bathrooms, the steadily growing chatter in the bar making it more difficult to hear you as the seconds passed. He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing. “Ok, sit tight, sweets. I'll come get you, you're still at Benny’s?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. That’s…odd. You never told him where you were going. The wind and rain made you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. The evening rain makes you shiver, jaw chittering. Taking a deep breath, “yeah, I'm outside,” eyes diverting from the passing traffic to the worn, gold tinged cursive on the window, “Clara’s bookstore.“Your eyes trained on the rain soaked overhead awning dripping to the sidewalk in front of your painted toes peeking from your heels as you waited for his response. 

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, eyes diverting from his phone screen to the rain streaked windows facing the beach. That's a decent walk from where you ate, he thought, eyebrows raising. Must've been quite a guy to make you leave early. And in the pouring rain, no less.

“I'll be there soon, Cher. Are you somewhere safe? Somewhere out of the rain?”

If you didn't know any better, you'd say the insufferable, look-out-for-number-one-only, selfish, arrogant  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who spent each free moment he wasn't peacocking around base, making your nerves burn and fray, sounded concerned about your well being. 

As soon as Jake heard your dreary, evidently rain soaked confirmation, he opted out of the game, forcing Bob to take his place with little to no explanation besides that  a commitment came up,”  striding down the Hard Deck steps to his parked truck. 

He's not ditching you. He wouldn't do that. You repeated what felt like mantras as the minutes ticked by. Hot tears started to brew at the corners of your eyes. You clutched your now soaked jacket over your dress, your toes sinking into the soggy faux leather of your heels as you leaned back against the concrete column of the closed store. The amber overhead lights making warped reflections in the puddles of the buildings and cars passing by.

Your breathing was ragged as you felt the familiar flames of frustration lick at your brain, something that had only stopped when Jake said he was going to go come get you. 

You felt so stupid. Wearing this dress. These heels. Your smudged make-up that, at one point, looked presentable. You just wanted to go home and eat a pint of ice cream. 

God, why hadn't Phoenix picked up?

You clenched your eyes in frustration, a rigid breath leaving your throat as you leaned your head back against the column. 

The familiar hum of Jake's truck brought your teary gaze up to the almost barely visible silhouette in the driver's seat. 

Jake's door flew open, jogging with a jacket clutched in hand. Your eyes widened as he got closer to you, wrapping you up in his jacket. 

By the time he reached you, his hair was drenched, now a more dull golden hue. His charm remained, unfortunately, in the city’s downpour. 

“Come on sweets, let's get you inside.” Your mouth parted slightly. The sight of his shirt clinging to his biceps and broad shoulders, and the subtle scent of sweat, his natural musk, and rain almost made you miss his statement. 

His rich jade eyes traced the soft reflection of the street light off of your soaked hair, to your smudged make up, to the drenched portions of your dress and jacket to your slight shiver you were evidently trying to repress. 

His lips curved into a slight frown. You didn't deserve to be treated this way on a date. Especially not when you looked so-

His eyes returned to your deep brown ones, undertoned by your smudged mascara, finding them already on his; sharper than a moment ago, daring him to pity you. 

He carefully wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger door of his truck, headlights still blinding, and refracting with the incoming rain.

The car ride was silent except for the quiet sounds from the radio. Jake would take occasional glances your way at stop lights, but your gaze remained on the road ahead; head leaned against the side rest of his car, body still wrapped in his jacket. You had to stop yourself from unintentionally cocooning yourself deeper into it. 

“You want me to drop you off at your apartment?” 

You glanced at him, “yeah.” 

His frown curved deeper. Your tone lacked the usual spitfire attitude you always bared him, instead replaced by a sense of accepted defeat. A few beats of silence passed before Jake cleared his throat. “This Dylan guy must've been some date…you want to talk about it?” Your lip quirked up a bit. His name was Derrick, but you didn't have the heart to correct him. 

You adjusted closer to the side of the passenger seat, leaning your head on the window. 

“Not really.” 

There was that same defeated tone again, the one that made Jake's heartache in a way he had never felt before for you. Or for anyone for that matter. 

Jake brought his truck from a coast to a stop in front of your apartment building. His comforting gaze settled on your face, gaze still avoiding his. “Thanks for the ride home.” Your cherrywood eyes met his, giving him a tight smile before grabbing your purse, soaked coat, and leaving his jacket on the leather seat. His frown deepened, jaw tensing a bit as he watched you open his truck door. How dare this pathetic excuse of a man bring you to this state, a complete 180 to how he saw you every day since he met you. 

“Wait,” you looked back towards him, expecting some usual hangman-esque comment that would surely make you throw your soaked shoe at him. “Look, Hangman, I appreciate the ride home, but I'm not in the mood to sleep with you as a ‘thank you’.” His eyebrows pinched. Did you really think that low of him? And in that same defeated tone? “That,” he sighed, “that’s not what I was going to say,” he reassured, pushing his hair back with his hand. Opposing hand still on the steering wheel, watch gleaming in the glow of the radio. 

“Let me buy you some food and a drink, I know you like the Cajun fries at that bar downtown.” 

You were taken aback by the offer. Frankly, you weren't in the mood if this was a joke. “It'd be my treat,” he lightly pressed with a comforting tone. You bit the inside of your lip, examining his face for any sign of ill intent, but you found nothing in his warm sea glass eyes or the defined features of his nose and jaw. 

Cajun fries sounded nice. 

Really nice.

And a drink sounded even better. 

“Plus, I heard your stomach grumbling so you can't lie to me.”  A smile almost broke out across your lips. 

Almost. 

“I don't know, Hang,” you sighed.  The thought of snuggling up on your couch in a warm blanket, with a pint of ice cream and watching some trash reality show sounded appealing. But you were hungry and you had yet to go grocery shopping. And you had no booze.

“I promise, I'll make it worth your while…” 

You bit your lip, “a drink does sound really nice…”

His lips twitched into a smile, eyes twinkling. 

“Don't make me regret this, Hang…”the familiar spark in your voice slowly returned, making his heart skip a beat, “let me just change shoes first.” You grimaced as you remembered just how soaked your shoes were as the rain finally let up. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, Sweets,” he reassured as you left him towards your front door, a concealed smile on your face that cracked with each stride to your door. He let his eyes skim from your bare back to your concealed hips with an appreciative gaze as the red material of your dress flowed around your bare thighs. His view closed off as you shut your front door. 

You let your eyes drift across the interior of the bar at your booth, leaning your cheek on your hand. Jake had left you at the booth to get you a drink. You tried to give him a request, but he left before he could hear you. At least whatever concoction he brought you would be free. You let your eyes drift shut, listening to the sound of the bar top and the music player in the corner. 

“One Tia Maria Espresso Martini for the lovely lady, and the fries are on their way.” You opened your eyes to see the almost onyx colored elixir with a layer of frothy foam in the glass, a triage of espresso beans that looked almost weightless on the foam layer. 

How did he know this was your favorite? You had never ordered them at Penny’s since she didn't have Tia Maria. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, expecting some sort of explanation for how he knew about this. 

“I remember you tried to order one of these at Penny's and thought you'd like it,” he said with a subtle tone of shyness, like he was apprehensive that he had overstepped, making your eyebrows knit together.

“I don't fully understand why you like them,” he teased, stirring his whiskey on the rocks in his glass, an effortlessly charming smile beginning to form on his lips, “but it makes sense.” 

Your eyes narrowed at his playful ones, “what's that supposed to mean?” 

He leaned back against the booth, eyes tracing the pretty features of your face and caramel skin tone, the neon lights above your seat adding to the gleam of your wavy, soft, dark hair. 

Taking a sip from his glass, you tried to focus on his face and not the subtle bob of his adam’s apple as he took a warming sip of the amber liquid. 

“You're kind of an acquired taste,” he took another sip, “bitter, but have a sweet side deep down.” Your eyes narrowed, “I'm not an acquired taste, you're just annoying and insufferable 99% of the time, so you never see my sweet side,” you clipped, eyes slowly sharpening. His lip quirked. To anyone else it would seem like you hated his guts. But he knew better, knew you better. He playfully put his hand over his heart, “Oh, Sweets, annoying and insufferable? You wound me.”  You rolled your eyes, a smile slipping around the rim of your martini glass. The bittersweet elixir flowing down your throat. His grin widened, “there's that smile,” he teased. Before you could quip him back, the root of your culinary desire was placed on the table with a soft tap and a gentle "enjoy" from the waitress. The savory, warm smell of the spices and fries almost made you moan, only now realizing just how hungry you were. You had left your date just as you were barely through your starting salad. 

“Easy there, Sweets, don't want you to choke,” he teased, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at the poorly disguised innuendo, “don't tell me how to eat my fries, Bagman.” 

He barely held back his laugh at what was essentially a growl. He contemplated telling you that technically they were his fries, but he opted to keep them to himself. If having three sisters had taught him anything, it's to never get between a woman and her food. 

A comfortable silence fell over the table as he glanced around the bar and back to you, still picking at your fries. Eyes tracing over the defined round edges of your sinful red colored nails that he tried to not think about how they would feel pressed into his shoulder blades, to your necklace that dipped teasingly between your breasts. The subtle rise of your chest. The sprinkle of freckles and gentle flutter of your eyelashes on your cheeks. The touched-up mascara on your eyelashes. The soft flush of your cheeks. The cute curve of your nose. The gentle slope of your lips. 

“You listening?”

His eyes shot to your own, his face a bit pink after having been caught. 

“Of course, Sweets,” 

Your eyes narrowed as you put your fry down in the basket, scoffing. 

“I asked,” you leaned forward, arms crossing on the table, his eyes doing their damnedest to not dart down to your cleavage, “why you brought me here, because I don't buy it was only because my stomach was making noises.”

Your tone wasn't sharp or accusatory, but it still put him a bit on edge. 

He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to get comfortable in his seat. You had a habit of putting him on edge, but in a way that made him crave more. It was almost adrenaline inducing. 

“Just wanted to treat you a little, that not allowed?” 

His collected, charismatic answer made you narrow your eyes. 

“You're not a very good liar.”

His lip quirked into a grin, diverting his gaze down to his empty glass before bringing his warm eyes up to your own again. His grin settling into a thin line. It wasn't exactly a lie.

“I didn't want you to wallow on your couch thinking about that Danny guy. You don't deserve to feel that way.” 

Your eyebrows rose, lip quirking. That definitely wasn't the answer you were expecting and it was still the wrong name, again. 

His eyes dart away from yours to the bar top. Clearing his throat, “you want another martini?”

You blink, breaking your thoughts, toying with the empty glass,  “yeah, I'll take another.”

Your eyes followed the way his body moved under his button up shirt that exposed a delicious amount of chest hair, and his worn, rich burnt sienna leather jacket. The way his stride exuded a rare sense of carefree confidence. The broadness of his shoulders under his jacket. The thickness of his fingers around the delicate glass of your martini. The way his golden locks of hair reflected the overhead lights of the bar and various neon signs on the wall you both were seated at. 

It made you almost forget that you knew what it felt like to have his bare skin against your own. It made you forget, for just a moment, that you’d been fucking this man with no strings attached. 

“Here you are, Sweets,”His smooth drawl derailed your train of thought that would have surely made you clench your thighs. 

He placed the martini on the table with an almost silent clank against the table, eyes bright and playful, the rich green color added by the neon cloverleaf above his head. 

Your lip quirked, “thank you…. You know I don't like it when you call me, Sweets, Hang.”

A smirk grew on his lips, “I think it suits you,” his gentle gaze on yours. 

You scowled, trying to repress the smile that threatened to break through. He didn't need more encouragement to call you these…you wanted to say demeaning titles, but that felt a bit cruel. It was more like a pet name, a source of teasing that wore your nerves down faster than any other trick he had in his well developed arsenal. He'd always been something akin to a wart. Once you caught him, he was hard to leave. 

“Fries any good?”

You looked down to the near-empty basket to his teasing features.  A small smile broke through as you gently pushed the basket to him. After all, he did pay for them.

You watched as he took a few and brought them between his perfect teeth, eyes darting between the sight of him dipping a few more in ketchup, to picking at your red manicured nails. A comfortable silence fell over the table and quiet conversation followed, from what plans were set for their work colleagues to hang out next, to whether Bob was going to ask Admiral Simpson’s new secretary out.

“I don’t think he’s gonna do it.” Jake said confidently as he leaned back against the booth, his arm over the back, his other hand holding his near empty glass of whiskey. Your eyebrows rose, feeling a bit more loose and warm since first sitting down, mostly attributed to the fact you were finishing up your third martini. You cracked a smile, eyes comfortably heavy, “you don’t know Floyd very well then.” His eyebrows rose, encouraging you to go on. You leaned forward, eyes bright and intense, just how Jake liked them, “you do know what Bob stands for don’t you?” His lip quirked, eyes bright and mirthful, “of course, baby on board.” You took a sip from your glass, rolling your eyes at his typical cocksure tone, “No, it stands for…” His brow quirked waiting for you to finish, his grin starting to form as he watched your eyes dance across the ceiling looking for the words in your impaired state. 

You leaned forward closer across the table, putting your pointer fingers up, biting at the inside of your cheek, losing your battle with the grin that wanted to gleam on your face, “it stands for Big Ol’ Balls.” His own laughter bubbled up in his throat as he watched you crumble into near hysterics at what had just left your mouth. 

His laughter settled while yours continued, failing to do anything else but just listen to the sweet noise. He had heard your laugh before, but he’d never had any significant part of bringing it out of you. He let a smile grace his lips at the sweet noise. As your laughter died down, he let his eyes wander to the jukebox in the corner and the thinning out crowd at the bar. He bit the inside of his cheek, the creases of his forehead showing as he listened to the song emulating from the speakers. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jake asks, not fully thinking about the question. 

Your espresso martini almost did a full stop in your throat. Tonight had been a series of firsts with Hangman; sharing fries, him buying you drinks, and seeing you in your romantic element. Dancing together was an oddly intimate first. Sure, you’d both fucked each other’s brains out almost every other day, but dancing, well, dancing was something that seemed to be a step further than that. It didn’t involve a physical closeness attributed to taking your frustrations out on each other; it was two people flowing together, not trying to wrack each other’s physical resolve. It completely contradicted the original purpose of getting physically close to this insufferable, arrogant man; an outlet for pent up frustration through deeply satisfying, carnal escapades. 

Before you could stop yourself, you nodded. 

He rose up out of the booth first with a squeak, offering you his hand. Your deep brown eyes looking up at him, then darting to his outstretched hand, your lips parting. 

This was new, uncharted territory.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he reassured with a smile. He tried to not think about the way your red dress hugged your curves so deliciously, or how your cleavage almost spilled over the top of your garment. You had already had three martinis, and were definitely feeling the effects of them. He didn’t want to make you feel pressured into anything that you both typically took part in when you were this close physically. But he still wanted to be close to you. 

You bit the inside of your lip and, for reasons only God could tell you, you took his hand. 

He led you to the corner near the jukebox that was otherwise mostly emptied out. The beginning of England Dan and John Ford Coley’s I'd really love to see you tonight flowed from the speakers as Jake settled his hands on your waist, your own apprehensively around his neck, keeping your body upright as you let the initial beats flow through you in your relaxed state. His evergreen eyes traced over your melted brown ones, admiring the subtle flush of your cheeks to your low, lidded eyes. 

Hello, yeah, it's been a while

Not much, how about you?

Your eyes darted around his face, avoiding his eyes that seemed to solely focus on your own. His hands squeezed your hips. In attraction or comfort, you couldn’t quite tell. 

I'm not sure why I called

I guess I really just wanted to talk to you

You should have felt more alarmed by the close proximity and unorthodox reason behind it, but, and you didn’t want to admit it, the proximity felt nice. Maybe it was because of the drinks? It had to be  because of the drinks.

And I was thinking maybe later on

We could get together for a while

One of his hands left your hip to softly, ever so softly, to lift your chin up to meet his eyes. “What are you getting shy about?” The gentle smirk on his lips paired perfectly with his rich green eyes.

It's been such a long time

And I really do miss your smile

You swallowed, eyes trapped in a jade coated trance. “I think I just had too much to drink.” His lip quirked at your soft, almost whispered tone, holding you as you both swayed to the music. He knew you could hold more alcohol, but didn’t press. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He brought you closer to him, resting his head against the side of your own. Savoring the soft smell of citrus from your hair and the warm skin of your lower back against the palm of his hand, and the silk texture of your hand in his own. 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

This felt like the most alien and natural thing he had done with you. It almost made him forget that within only the last few hours, he was fucking you against the hunter green lockers, feeling you cum on his cock. 

We could go walking through a windy park

Or take a drive along the beach

He tried to not ruin the delicate moment he was having with you, and he figured his dick pressing into you might make you forget about all the good the night has brought between you two. A larger part of him than he cared to admit didn’t want to go back to the no-strings-attached arrangement he’d had with you for the past few months. 

Or stay at home and watch TV

You see it really doesn't matter much to me

He wanted more moments like this with you. But he could feel the apprehension that, as much as he didn’t want to admit, was mostly attributed to his reputation. In the months since first feeling you fall apart under him, he hadn’t slept with anyone else. Not even the desperate tag chasers in form-fitting maxi dresses at the Hard Deck. And that had to count for something. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He couldn’t help the pang in his chest; you were definitely open to dating other men. Could he really change your mind about him? 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

You had to admit, if someone had told you months ago that you would be slow dancing with Hangman in a nearly empty bar, and you wouldn't be trying to claw his throat out, you would have told them they’d been breathing in too much jet fuel. As much as you hated to admit it, it felt nice and, dare say, comforting being here with him. 

I won't ask for promises

So you don't have to lie

The soft texture of his jacket, warm hold, and soothing scent around his neck made you sigh. It was different from his usual mix of jet fuel, sweat, bergamot, and cedarwood. A part of you really hated how anything looked good on him and that he smelled amazing in whatever scent wafted off of him. 

We've both played that game before

Say I love you and say goodbye

“I’m sorry your date didn’t go well tonight,” You gently leaned back from his head, eyes meeting his own. Your eyes drooped comfortably as you looked over his face, trying to detect any sense of pity or ridicule. But all you found were warm, soulful, malachite eyes looking back into your burnt sienna ones under the neon lights. If your mind was clearer, you’d say it was romantic. But this was Hangman, and what he did best was no-commitment hookups in the dead of night. Not romance. It would take more than three martinis to make you forget that. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

“Yeah, me too,” you muttered before leaning your head back on his shoulder. He swallowed gently, afraid that the movement would disturb you. 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

Jake continued to hold you close as slow songs continued to ebb and flow from the speaker, one after the other; trying to not let his mind drift to how this would play out tomorrow in your more sober mind, until he could feel your weight grow heavier against his body as you swayed gently. 

“Hey, Sweets,” he whispered against your hair. You hummed, eyes fluttered closed. “I should get you home.” You hummed in agreement, not having the strength to fight him on the pet name. Your sequoia-colored eyes peeking open, making him smile. 

He settled the tab, placing his leather jacket around your shoulders that wrapped you in warmth and the soothing smell of cedarwood and cinnamon. 

He walked you back to his truck, opening the door for you and making sure you were settled before closing the door. 

The car ride back was silent as you tried to stay awake, listening to the slow country song on the radio, your eyes drifting shut. The smooth stall of the truck made your eyes flutter open. Jake gently reached out to you, gingerly rubbing the knuckle of his forefinger against your exposed forearm to get your attention. You flinched at the unexpected, soft, almost non-existent contact, body tensing. “We’re here, Sweets,” his gentle tone letting your body ease back into the seat. 

Before your mind thought to open the door, he was already on the other side opening it for you, and offering you his hand to step down. It was truly unfair how good he looked under the streetlights outside your apartment, with his unbuttoned shirt, sunglasses hooked in the front, and slightly disheveled hair. It made you wonder how you came to hate this man in the first place. But then again, hate was a strong word and maybe he didn’t deserve to have it placed on him. Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis he bought you, tinting your vision of who he was tonight. 

Jake didn’t ask if you wanted him to walk you to your door. He held your hand gently in a way that seemed unusual for him as he walked with you up the stone steps to your front door. “Thanks for tonight. I really needed it.” His face broke out into a soft, sincere smile, “anytime, Cherry.” Your lips tugged into a smile, diverting your eyes to the house keys in your hand. His eyes couldn't stop drawing to the strand of dark hair that kept getting in your eyes. Your gaze shot to him as he let his forefinger sweep the hair behind your ear. 

“You deserve to have fun every once in a while.”He murmured, eyes tracing over the fine features of your face and the rich color of your hair under the porch light. His soft eyes brought a certain warmth that you'd never experienced with him. 

You gave him a smile, as you fiddled with your keys, fighting off the blush that threatened to break through. 

“Do you think,” you swallowed, “that you could not tell anyone about my really shitty date?” Jake, putting on a small smile, nodded, “yeah, of course, Sweets. I mean, I think I did a pretty good job at rectifying the experience.” 

His gentle, carefree smirk made your lip tip up into a small smile and shake your head. 

You let go of his hand, resisting to admit that you missed the contact already. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Hang,” you bid farewell. 

He watched with a gentle smile and warm eyes as you closed the door behind you, giving him a soft wave. 

His lips pursed, morphing back into a smile as he walked back to his truck. The night seemed to fulfill him more than all of your trysts combined.

It had to count for something that you didn't ask him to never mention your... date? if he could even call it that...

You leaned back against your shut front door, a smile on your lips that he had never brought past your lips. 

Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis and this haze would lift in the morning, and he’d go back to being Hangman. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he truly wasn't as bad as you thought. 

People who may be interested <3

@roosterforme @sebsxphia @mamachasesmayhem @withahappyrefrain @entertainmentgirl80 @teacupsandtopgun @seresinhangmanjake @goldenseresinretriever @sailor-aviator @hello7442 @gigisimsonmars @yepyeahuhhuh @tess-lecter-blog@hookslove1592 @86laura11 @seresinsbrat @isabelstardis @shamelessghostwagonwobbler @emma8895eb @taytaylala12 @kmc1989 @h-ngm-ns @hangmans-wingman @marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @potato-girl99981  @a-beaverhausen   @callmemana@joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath @djs8891 @novastories@urmom-999 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30@shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @slippinginto-theairwaves

[bratbby333]

the jjk men + their drink of choice

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

blurb/brain dump

sfw; mentions of alcohol, obvi

feat: suguru, yuuji, megumi, satoru, nanami, sukuna, toji, ++ choso

author notes: i've been bartending for three years now and i can safely say ive gotten pretty good at reading people and guessing their go-to drinks,,so here's the jjk men!

-suguru: a whiskey coke. probably jack or maker's mark. simple, straightforward, and gets the job done. suguru is too laid back to be picky and is definitely the most patient person sitting at the bar. his intuitive and observant nature has him scanning the other patrons at the bar; he's a people watcher for entertainment, paying no mind to the tv's. he speaks to the bartender with a smile on his face, joking around with them, making small talk and sarcastic remarks. he's just so sassy and violently intelligent; his soft, healing energy rubbing off on everyone around him. he's a breath of fresh air in a busy bar environment. he tips well, too.

-yuuji: a piña colada (rum, coconut cream, pineapple juice; blended and served in a hurricane glass, garnished with a slice of pineapple and a maraschino cherry). freshly 21 years old, this would be his first legal drink. "look, you even get snacks with it!!" he'd say, referring to the garnishes, his age definitely showing with this drink. he attempts to chug it, getting a brain freeze in the process.

-megumi: an espresso martini. classy, bold, and strong; this drink is definitely for someone who wants to appear more mature and sophisticated than they actually are. megumi is mature, but he's overcompensating for the fact that his best friend just ordered the fruitiest drink possible. the caffeine mixing with the liquor makes meg more talkative than usual, and his reserved nature and unreadable face is left at the door and replaced with soft smiles and the occasional chuckle at his goofy friends. he'd also definitely makes fun of yuuji for ordering that piña colada.

-satoru: a tequila sunrise (tequila, orange juice, grenadine, layered to make a gradient). extra af, sweet, and fruity. orders it with a triple shot cause he's grown. "it's just so pretty, isn't it?" he'd giggle, kicking his feet under the bar like he isn't a fully grown man or the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world. oh, satoru. filled with such child-like wonder. with enough drinks in his system (although, he'd definitely do this without the liquor), he would work his way around the bar trying to make conversation with anyone and everyone, not caring if they didn't participate- no biggie, he'd just talk at them.

-nanami: a manhattan or an old fashioned, but only with top-shelf bourbon. it'd be a waste to have the bartender craft this perfect cocktail and use shitty liquor. he sips it slow, savoring the caramel notes of the bourbon. the perfect drink for a stoic and reserved man. nanami definitely has a sophisticated palate and never settles for low quality liquor. he goes to more upscale bars, enjoying the smooth jazz that pours through the speakers, occasionally snacking on small h'ordeurves, but more often than not working his way through a pile of paperwork.

-sukuna: liquid cocaine shots (equal parts goldschlager, jager, and rumple minze). absolutely unhinged and vile, but if you like them, you love them. and sukuna loooves them. he takes the shots like they're water and still manages to out drink everyone else; he'll even offer to buy shots for everyone at the bar, the other patrons cheering and thanking him, expecting it to be shots of vodka or tequila. with a maniacal smile plastered across his face, he watches as everyone's faces contort in disgust when they realize it's a liquid cocaine shot. sukuna just grins as they struggle to get them down. such a sadist. an absolute menace.

-toji: an adios motherfucker (equal parts tequila, vodka, gin, rum, and blue curaçao, with sour mix and sprite). "but that's such a lame drink!" his friends say, but toji would roll his eyes and state that it's a funny drink name and that it gets him drunker quicker; promptly chugging it and ordering another. the glass looks so small in his giant hands, other bar patrons casting judgmental gazes in his direction at the scene in front of them; giant, scary-looking man and his fruity little drink, but he couldn't care less. it's not like they have the balls to say anything to his face, any way.

-choso: a little overwhelmed by bar culture but happy to be invited anyway, he'd sneak a straw into his brother's piña colada, even though yuuji would be more than happy to share. choso would eventually branch out on his own after feeling a bit more confident (and after googling the most popular drinks around the world) settling on a mojito, not realizing it was one of the more laborious drinks a bartender could make. he'd feel bad when he realized it and wouldn't order one again, apologizing profusely to the bartender.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: this took me way longer to write than it should have solely because i couldn't stop laughing over some of the scenarios. also,,i just want to thank each and every one of y'all for liking, commenting, and reblogging my stories...it means so so so much to me and i wish i could give all y'all a big ole smooch on the forehead (consensually). my inbox is open n ready for ur suggestions...please feel free to drop a request♡

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[toomuchracket]

Hear me out barista matty . either coworkers or ur his regular someting about those new pics in his glasses makes me need to see this

ok i am NOT doing another au but i do like the sound of barista matty actually. he owns and runs the coffee shop near your new job, and he's so hot and really very good at making coffee and just the right mix of flirty and sweet that you end up going in before work every morning and you get to a point where you honestly can't tell if it's because you're caffeine-dependent or matty-dependent. as he gets to know you better, he tailors your order ever so slightly to make it better for your taste (and makes the latte art extra pretty), and ends up christening you "cookie" because of your job (he whistles and calls you "smart cookie" when he learns about it) and also your penchant for the chocolate chip gloriousness stocked in the display cabinet - like, you're later than usual one morning, frazzled because you slept in, and when you run through the door of the coffee shop after the morning rush matty (looking relieved) is like "there she is! was starting to worry that you weren't coming in, cookie. saved you the last choc chip. and i'll get you a latte now, darling". even on your mornings off, you make a point of getting up early and going in for a coffee, sitting at the cosy little window armchair with a book, people-watching and doing your best not to be too obvious ogling matty's arms as he makes drinks and clears tables and (and this murders you) holds a toddler for like two seconds while her mum gets her purse from her bag to pay. it's on these days that you become really friendly, chatting to each other about anything and everything as he stops by your table while he's cleaning up - you offhandedly tell him when your birthday is, and on the day itself he presents you with your usual AND a muffin with a candle in it AND a really quite adorable blush on his face like "this is all on the house. obv. happy birthday, darling", and you cannot help kissing him on the cheek and making him blush even more. actually, you run into him that night in a bar, when you're both out with friends - you're ordering and you just hear a familiar voice from behind you say "cookie, if you've just asked for an espresso martini i will literally be heartbroken", and you BEAM and turn round to see matty looking ridiculously hot in a half-open white shirt and you say "never. can't drink coffee unless you make it anymore. you've spoiled me, matthew". he slings an arm around your shoulders and says "that's what i like to hear" and tells the bartender he'll pay for your drink alongside his wine, and when you thank him he shrugs like "s'your birthday. and i just got to buy a drink for a pretty girl, so, win-win"; before you can reply, though, he leans in and says "honestly, darling, i haven't been able to stop thinking about you kissing my cheek this morning", and you grin like "neither have i. liked it. and, to be honest... i like you". matty just beams and says "yeah, i like you too, cookie. i'd like to take you out, if you'd be up for that. you free for dinner tomorrow?", and you nod enthusiastically like "i'd love that". so yes! that's that. cute <3

[cryptidcr3ature]

Rdr as cocktails I think they’d enjoy (as a non drinker)

Dutch- Cosmopolitan

Hosea-Margarita (blended)

Arthur- Old Fashioned

John- Moscow Mule

Javier- Espresso Martini

Charles-Bloody Mary

Bill- Tom Collins

Sean- Jägerbomb

Lenny-Strawberry Daiquiri

Pearson- Tequila Sunrise

Trelawny-Gin Martini

Abigail-Margarita (on the rocks)

Sadie-Negroni Sbagliato (with Prosecco in it.)

Mary-Beth- Mai Tai

Karen- Long Island Iced Tea

Tilly-Bellini

Molly- Mimosa

Grimahaw-Whiskey Sour

Micah is not on this list because his fragile masculinity couldn’t handle a mixed drink.



[tropical-fruit-mx]

Smith family coffee order HCs, courtesy of yours truly, a former barista

@hazelnut-u-out posted a poll yesterday about whether or not Rick Sanchez is an iced coffee drinker (short answer: yes, but nuance to come) and I realized that I never came up with HCs for the family's coffee orders. I love doing this for fandoms I'm in because I barista-ed for A While and low key miss it sometimes. Anyway, headcanons!!

Rick

So in his tough guy-tortured loner-vigilante phase he was obviously an avid black coffee drinker (usually spiked). Being on the run/not having a place to call one's own he develops a taste for practicality and simplicity. Thus, he likes an easy drink you can get anywhere that is impossible to mess up. However, in a post-"Analyze Piss", post-Prime, 'Rick Sanchez is experiencing new levels of DGAF' world we get into the chaotic beverage enjoyer phase. First off, he has 100% tried every single new special drink that Starbucks rolls out. The summer skies boba thing, the oleato, everything. (He's a big fan of the Irish cream flavor when it comes out seasonally and was pissed the first time when he realized it didn't have alcohol in it.) Because Rick is hugely dopamine seeking so fun colored, fun flavored things always catch his eye. I also feel like he would majorly enjoy specialty coffee shops that do elaborate coffee drinks, like this man would fuck up a cereal milk latte. I also will contend that in this phase he has no regular order, he literally gets a different thing every time just to experiment with as many drinks as possible.

Beth

Drinks flat whites because she thinks they're classy and it's easier to have a simple coffee order for the intern at the vet to take down. I also think that she generally likes mixing caffeine and alcohol (huge espresso martini fan) and probably lost her mind on vodka red bulls in college. She also definitely had a red bull addiction to get through vet school but now she only drinks them as a guilty pleasure.

Space Beth

In honor of the fact that she's recreating her dad's 30s I think she has the same taste in coffee as a young Rick, which means she drinks it black and strong. She seems like an avid French press user and most likely has sourced fancy beans from somewhere in space (Venusian coffee probably fucks)

Jerry

Hot caramel macchiato, but he's convinced that this is the traditional way macchiatos are made and despite multiple arguments about the origins of macchiatos he is staunchly of the opinion that the actual drink is an upside down latte with fuck tons of caramel.

Summer

Pink drink purist, maybe gets matcha cold foam on top when she's feeling fancy. Although I could also see her getting vanilla iced lattes when she wants more caffeine. And if she's with Rick I can imagine her joining him in ordering crazy coffees just for fun.

Morty

Morty Smith is a fourteen year old boy, the Mocha Cookie Crumble Frap was basically made for him. It's just a fucking milkshake with caffeine, although I think that when he's with Beth and Jerry they make him get the crème version.

[mayariviolet]

How They Drink Alcohol (AoT Men)

ft. Jean, Eren, Connie, Reiner and Armin.

Summary: What they drink when they go out partying or just attending social functions! Also, how they got introduced to alcohol in the first place!

a/n: General headcanons, but these characterizations are primarily for my upcoming Jean Kirstein x Reader fic! I will upload some WIP for the fic soon because I need to be held accountable to keep writing (help me, haha). Slight toxic masculinity from Eren and Jean?

Pro-Taking Shots: Connie and Eren.

Anti-Taking Shots: Reiner, Armin and Jean (he’s lying).

✧˖°.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✧˖°.✧˖°.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✧˖°.✧˖°.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✧˖°

Jean:

When he first started drinking, it started with skimming the top of his dad’s liquor before sneaking out to a house party. He watered down some rum before buying some coke at a corner store. Since then, it has been his go-to (and beer, specifically a corona). He doesn’t like ‘jungle juice’ concoctions, no matter how much Connie shoves them down his throat. However, he once went clubbing with your friends, and Connie convinced him to try this cocktail (lime mojito). At first, he was apprehensive, but he was like, “How fucking drunk can this chick drink get me?” and took a sip. Jean got belligerent that night that he didn’t know how many he ordered because it was so good. His credit card company sent him a message asking if his card had been stolen, and he had to explain that it was not a series of suspicious purchases. He is now a massive advocate for fancy cocktails (ESPECIALLY AN ESPRESSO MARTINI), so he’ll splurge on that when he’s out drinking. I can see him getting into whisky when he’s older. A lover of vodka soda, too.

Eren:

At a wedding when he was younger, his dad offered him a tequila shot (his mom found out and got mad later), and it caused him to vomit so badly that he didn’t drink again until his last year of high school. Eren is a huge beer drinker and ONLY A BEER DRINKER. (Or so he says). He is not very particular about brands, although he likes things more ‘hoppy’ to feel like a man. Eren is the kind of guy to get mad at you for not knowing how to pour beer properly and getting more foam than anything. He won’t admit it, but he had some sips of the lime mojito Jean was having. He got drunk and was over the moon. Eren tried other cocktails, but besides a Long Island iced tea, he’s not a huge fan of other cocktails. When he gets really drunk at the club (he's a lightweight but does a really good job of concealing how inebriated he is), he and Connie will coerce Jean into buying a STUPID AMOUNT OF ALCOHOL TO GET A TABLE (see Jean's suspicious credit card purchases). Think $50 Mango Ciroc and Patron!

Connie:

When he went on a family cruise at the age of nine, he ordered a “Shirley Temple” (virgin), and he was “drunk.” Fast forward to a shitty date he went on; he ordered a Shirley Temple again. Connie got belligerent, and his date had to take him home. He did not hear from her again. This man is a nut. He loves cocktails so much that he bought a cocktail kit, but he barely measures, so it’s just 90% alcohol and 10% any discernable flavour profile. Connie is the kind of friend who mixes you a drink and says: "It's mostly juice! Just Try it!" but it straight up tastes like pure gasoline. He’ll happily drink anything else but prefers cocktails and mixed drinks over beer, shots, etc. Connie is the type of guy to order “Blow Job” shots as a joke but then gets way drunker than everyone. Surprisingly, he’s a huge Reisingling fan. Unsurprisingly, he and Sasha got blackout at your birthday party after downing half a bottle of Pink Whitney (they snuck away to take turns throwing up in the guest washroom).

Reiner:

Huge whiskey nut and wine snob. He’ll talk your ear off about various wines he’s into, and he actually knows what he’s talking about. Reiner is the kind of guy who will bring a bottle of wine to a friend's birthday dinner, and he gets it RIGHT! He’ll drink beer (not particular about the brand). He only started drinking when he was legal, so there’s no crazy story other than the one time he and Bertolt went to a daytime wine tasting, and by the time they sobered up, it was nighttime, and they were 45 minutes outside of the city. Most times, if Reiner is in a work setting, he’ll drink what other people are drinking, too (but he’ll opt for a vodka seltzer). He’s tried cocktails before, but he’s not a fan.

Armin:

He hates beer. His grandfather offered him a swig when he kept looking at him, and he never drank again until he was legal. This man is a cider fan, and no one can tell me otherwise. Specifically blackberry and green apple. Armin enjoys wine (red > white) and will listen to Reiner babble on about the best ones. But his drink of choice is a bit pricey: champagne! But if he’s at a party, he’ll just settle for drinking a vodka cranberry. He mentioned to Connie that he likes “Shirley Temples” ONCE, and whenever they all go out, Connie will buy him one. Armin is too shy to decline, so he'll take a couple sips before giving it to either Eren or Jean (they will fight amongst themselves as to who gets to finish it).

✧˖°.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✧˖°.✧˖°.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✧˖°.✧˖°.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✧˖°

a/n: I included Armin and Reiner because I love them so much, but they're most likely not going to be in my upcoming fic! WAH. Specifically Reiner... I'm sorry, my beloved.

══════════════════

© Please do not copy or replicate my work. Inspiration is appreciated, but credit properly! ♡

[curioscurio]

The Fellowship based on their alcohol preferences:

Frodo: a wine man no question. him and bilbo are constantly being annoying about the delicate aftertones and nutty aromas of wine and whatnot. They really do have excellent taste though, and Gandalf's go-to Yuletide gift is a bottle of Hobbit Wine. Despite how he looks, Frodo isn't a lightweight, and will happily drink whatevers on tap if the wine isn't to his liking.

Sam: He's a fan of a stout ale and local brews. Most wine is too dry and sweet for him, though he'll have a glass if Frodo asks him to try it because he wants Sam's valued opinion. Also not a lightweight and handles his alcohol better than Frodo. Unfortunately has a habit of drinking whatever someone hands him as the night goes on and Merry and Pippin love to see how drunk they can get him.

Merry: Loves fruity and refreshing cocktails. Likes to get fancy with it. Probably would LOVE an espresso martini. Drinks that high quality Brandybuck distilled spirits and has spent a LOT of time researching fancy drinks and how to make them. Probably bartends occasionally and likes to show off. Alcohol Nerd. Get him drunk enough and he'll start infodumping about the difference between Shire-grown Old Toby and the stuff that grows all over Gondor.

Pippin: GARBAGE TASTE. he has college student alcohol preferences. like the guy is a Took so he can hold his liquor well but often overdoes it. vodka and fruity soda white girl wasted bull shit. He sometimes just mixes random shit with alcohol and calls it a day which infuriates Merry to no end. Someone once saw him mix together unsteeped tea, tomato juice, 4 warm olives from his pocket, and bud light. Calls it Pippin's Surprise as the olives get substituted with whatever he has in his pockets at the moment (that's what makes it a surprise). He has a tendency to get cut off and then steals other people's drinks when they're not looking. He is the one who wanderers off.

Gandalf: The man loves Hobbit Wine. Also mostly a wine guy. It's not that he can't drink, he just has a wizards constitution (lightweight) and doesn't like to get drunk often. He gets pleasantly tipsy on special occasions, though. He also has exquisite taste in fancy liquor even if he doesn't like them. Merry has for sure talked his ear off about different types of alcohol and the drinks they can make; and even though Gandalf pretends to be annoyed by it, he's always listening intently.

Aragorn: Old Fashioned. Whiskey on the rocks. Also really loves a high quality nigori sake. He travels a lot so he has a diverse pallete but forgets the names of certain drinks and spirits so he goes for what he can remember. Only let's himself get proper drunk at celebrations or occasionally by himself when he's brooding. He likes to loiter in bar corners as we know, but he's a really good listener if you give him a chance.

Legolas: In Mirkwood, Legolas has some chronic alcoholic tendencies. Being a prince is stressful and hard, and when you have access to the finest of alcohol you damn well drink it. He's used to fancy and complicated cocktails, (which he and Merry bond over) and thinks beer is piss. Shotguns beer for attention though FOR SURE but then he'll go and raid your parents expensive whiskey cabinet or something. His dad was the kind of guy to let him drink wine with dinner when he was young. Absolutely will drink you under the table. Forgets you at the bar for a one night stand.

Gimli: He enjoys the occasional sweet port wine, bourbon whiskey, Dwarven Spirits, and ale. Needless to say, Dwarven Moonshine will end you, though Gimli dislikes the taste (except for root beer flavor). He won't back down from a drinking challenge, as we know, but isn't always very good at them. He didn't like the "frou-frou" cocktails that Legolas drinks for a long time until Merry and Legolas introduced him to a Moscow Mule. A joy to drink with tbh he's the life of the party alongside Merry and Pippin.

Boromir: Doesn't drink because he dislikes the way it makes him feel. Will sip a Coors light at the bar or share a toast with his men. If he does drink, he drinks to forget. Usually the DD. Alcohol sparks his temper easily, so he avoids the flames as much as possible. He has a great time going out with the Fellowship though, and is basically the Mom friend. He makes all the Hobbits drink water and makes sure Aragorn has some food in him, and that Legolas has all his clothes on, and that Gimli is still breathing. Occasionally he has to go find Gandalf, who is in the basement, cleaning 5 bitter Rhorrim out of their entire stock of imported Hobbit pipeweed from a game of cards.

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[catchingdaydreams]

Wrong Summoning

Peter B Parker (demon) x reader

NSFW Warning

Imagine trying to summon an incubus but you don't have the correct material and summon a gluttony demon instead.

Don't worry he's very gluttonous for the taste of you!

( if it gets popular I'll do part two of just pure smut)

It was a cool summers night. The night was still young, many people were littered along one of the main streets, chasing fun and dancing to the music to various pubs and clubs alike. Rambunctious laughter could be heard echoing outside your apartment.

Your friends loved the nightlife, you though....not so much. No matter how much they try to plead and bribed you tonight it all fell short. You glance back at your window, seeing them hobble to a club across the street, you sighed. Partying wasn't your scene, tired it once and never again. Left a bad taste in your mouth. But you digress. A good book was better than being in a dark lit room, bumping against sweaty strangers.

Besides you had other plans today. You see the only good thing about a club compared to a book was that a book couldn't get you dicked down. Sure you have an entire shelf filled with nothing but erotica and your old reliable toys to keep your horny fill. However, it wasn't enough anymore. No matter how much you read, how much you fantasized, how hard you played with yourself, it only led with two outcomes.

1. You couldn't cum.

2. You didn't feel satisfied no matter how much you fucked yourself silly.

You weren't left with many choices either . You were too shy and meek to really be interested in a relationship. Even when it came to flings you felt awkward about it. Mostly cause you live in the heart of the city's party district and the last time you tried a one night stand with some flirtatious hunk it ended badly. You kept seeing him around to the point you started to freak out that he was stalking you. You really didn't want to be riddled with paranoia once more.

Your last option was stupid, but decided that this somehow was better than the rest.

You aligned a summoning circle with finishing touches. Brushing your timber wooden floors with blood and rosemary mix, you wrote the incarnation that was in the book beside you.

Oh yes you were reduce to this. Summoning an incubus. While you don't really believe in the supernatural, you thought why not. It's not like anything bad will happen. A lot of smut that you read, well not a good source of factual material, was maybe influencing your horny mind too much right now. And if nothing happens, well at least you had your own version of a wild night to tell your friends about , low key going insane and becoming a blood version of Picasso (yeah probably shouldn't tell them that...).

The book beside you, you found it at a little second hand bookstore. You were looking for a new mystery novel when you saw the old thing slip of the top shelf and landed right on your head before falling on the floor. Its pages directly landed on how to summon a lust demon. It was like fate. And you willingly accepted it.

The old book was hard to encrypt. Most of the summoning list was layered in vagueness and rhyming its ingredient and steps. But you think you got the gist of it. You may have substituted some items with things you could easily get your hands on at your local supermarket. You hope the demon wasn't picky that you used your espresso martinie scented candles instead of votive candles, among other things you used.

Your last key piece was lighting up the candles under moonlight. You light each one and read out the chant that was in your book. A slight breeze swept through your apartment despite having all your windows closed. It cause you to shiver on instinct. The flames of the candles flickerd but remained intact.

"Did it work?" You thought to yourself, skeptical at your handy work. "Maybe I said it wrong", You question yourself further. You had to use Google translate to understand how to pronounce the Latin words, maybe you should have used a more reliable translator?

"No didn't work, the incubus is suppose to come out of the summoning circle." You correct yourself, looking over the illustration of the old book once more before trying to summon it once more. And again. And again.

It wasn't working.

You slapped your face, muffling a desperate scream with your hand, you chucked the damn book at the summoning circle. Walking to your kitchen you grabbed a bottle of wine. Not even bothering with a glass you took a swig at it. You sigh glancing back at the contents of your fridge. You had a whole bag filled with pigs blood. 'Great what are you going to do with that!?'

"Your fucking stupid y/n!!! Believing that this was real. Get your damn head of the clouds, now I've gotta spend my Saturday night cleaning blood, chalk and other shit off my floor!" You slammed you fridge shut in anger. The light if the fridge disappeared, leaving you in complete darkness. That's odd, the candles gave off-

You looked over to your lounge room. You had to double take the situation. Your candles were completely out. Not even a wick of puffed out smoke filtered through the air. What was even weirder was that the moonlight no longer shined down onto your floors, despite no clouds blocking the moon. Your room was blanketed in darkness.

You gulped.

Oh it definitely worked.

You look a step into the room, inspecting your room closer.

"Hello?" Your voice was meek, practically a whisper. Yet you were only met by the unnatural coldness of the room. If it wasn't so dark you could probably see your breath. What you also noticed was that the outside music and laughter was pretty much drowned out in complete silence. Not a peep or a creek. Only your heart beat that thumbed through your ear drums.

Just then a ominous red glow came from the summing circle. You relied on instinct pretty much at this point, running behind the couch to hide. You were terrified but still curious, you peaked from the armrest.

The glow from the circle swirled forming ominous red smoke. The ground cracked open with a mighty shake, cries from the damned within bled into your room. A black claw came out first, reaching to the sky before landing itself on your floor, digging it's nails on the wood as it clawed towards itself. It was hard to see the full picture of this beast as the smoke covered most of its body but what was clear was his black obsidian-like ram horns that glistened despite no natural light. His eyes glowed deep crimson red as he stared into nothingness. His mouth opened, giving you a side view of his small but sharp incisors. He seemed lost in thought, like confused as to why he was here. That was that until he stopped and found you .He's eyes felt it bore into your soul, as of he was judging your sins.

You involuntarily gasped as you fully hid behind the couch now. Your skin was riddled with goosebumps, hair sticking on ends as you shake in place.

'Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope ,nope , fuck this shit' you stressed out, clearly having a internal struggle with yourself with the whole situation Infront of you. You regret being too horny that you summoned a fucking demon. And demons are real??? Oh God it's gonna kill you.

You anticipated for the worst.

But nothing happened.

You remained in the same place and so did the demon.

What you didn't expect was a throaty chuckle.

"Heh, sorry about the floor." The demon said with a hint of regret in his tone.

"And it's hard wood too. Damn really gone fooled this up already. Ah we could probably smooth out the scratch marks out. Maybe through a rug over it. If it can't be seen it's not there, yeah ? Yeah! That could work. Rugs bright out a room more-" He kept rambleing on to much of your confusion.

The demon looked about at the couch that you hid behind, taking notice that you haven't said anything or pretty much ignored his suggestions. He could sense he already stuffed up his introduction with you. So he tried again. Properly this time.

He coughed to clear his throat and began to speak once more. " Where are my manners." He clicked his fingers, re-lighting the candles around him, burning even brighter with his magic that it lit up the room, all still be a bit dimly.

"My name is Peter. How can I be of service to you Master" he says placing his hand over his chest as he kneel before you."

Peter could hear you shuffle behind , but still you didn't allow him to see your presence. He was even more confused, tilting his head to the side. He was so confident that you were the one that summoned him, he could feel the summoning pact from you. He looked around the small room . It was certainly a lot different from his last summons. More homely, warm even. He notices that everywhere he looked the walls there littered with books shelves stacked with both new and old books. 'So my master is a reader, huh?' He thought, thinking the likely reasons for his summons tonight.

"You have quite the collection of books don't ya?" He tries once more to start a conversation. " Gosh it's giving me cozy library in the middle of a country side vibes if I do say so myself. Bet you take pride in your collection, I can tell" he gleems a cheeky smile as he glaces some of the titles he hasn't seen before.

You really has no ideas what to say. One moment your terrified of him, then he's saying sorry and complimenting your books. That last part surprised you the most. Most people who you met would bring up the subject but then say nothing else. Your friends thought it was a boring hobby. Made jokes about being an old woman and all that.

You thanked the demon in a whisper.

"No problem!!" The demon chimed.

"Soooo am I able to see you, I mean I can pretty much do my job just right here perfectly fine but I wouldn't miiiiiiinnnnd , seeing my Master". He asked in a playful tone.

You debated over this, he looks scary but seems nice? Kinda awkward but nice. Removing yourself from your crappy hiding spot wouldnt put you in danger anyway. Regaining your thoughts You did make sure to salt the circle to prevent the demon moving outside of it. So even if he could try to harm you, he can't.

You slowly emerge and stand in front of the demon that you summoned. Now with the light of the candles and no fog you could get a better look at him properly. Along with the features you described before , he was tall, like bean pole tall. Certainly towered over your small frame.

He has the classic small black bat like wings on his back and an imps tail. His face featured that of a man in his mid 30s, a bit of scruff and distinct crooked nose. He was shirtless, but wore thin cotton robes. He looked very odd to be a incubus. Certainly you must have gotten the short end of the stick. He wasn't really your type.But you weren't complaining. He looked goofy. Major DILF vibes from him. Certainly was showing it through his dad bod. He was toned but not too much. Has a bit of chub with his gut that looked kinda cute hanging out-

Oh maybe he was your type. Wow okay then. You learn something new every day.

You felt too hot underneath his gaze, you hope that he couldn't see how bush was already forming. Your shyness was already creeping up on you once more as you looked away. The wine from before wasn't helping you.

But the demon kept staring at you. Finally, he broke the silence first.

"Huh?" Peter said out of disbelief, tilting his head the other side.

You looked back at him with confusion on your face. "What ?"

"Oh nothing, I just didn't know my master would look well like you." He says, gesturing his hands to you . This caused you to raise your brow. 'Did he notice your blushing or something. Was there something on your face ?' You thought, touching your cheek.

He took notice of your hand movement, quickly trying to resolve the situation once more

"Ah no I didn't mean it a bad way kid. It's just most of the time it's old men who summon me. Not that I'm saying I prefer that, it was a surprise, a nice one. No ,no you look lovely, oh gosh Peter stop messing this up again." He rambles on with apologies one after another.

It was a sight to see him jumble up with his words. He whole thing was so comical it gave yourself a chuckle.

He pause momentarily, looking back at you once more. His guilty face relaxed at your laughter. He signed out of relief.

A crooked smile was on his face as he relaxed a bit and started to speck without a speck of worry this time. "I'm really sorry can we start again?"

You nodded.

"My name is Peter!" He introduced himself, giving a small curtsy, chuckling at his actions. You matched his laughter. He beemed at your response, his wings flapping with glee as his tail wagged and hit your floor with each thump.

To you he looked like a golden retriever at this moment.

The tension in the room was no longer there. The coldness started to slowly dissipate, as a warmth grew between you two.

"It's nice to meet you" you say.

"Likewise~" he hummed, fiddling with his fingers he continued. "Soooo what gluttonous desires do you request of me?" He gets down to the point now.

Your face was stricken with confusion and he noticed. "gluttonous desires?". You repeat back his words.

"Yep that's what I was summoned for. I am a Glutton demon after all" he chimed, puffing his chest with pride.

You didn't really didn't know how to react. You were literally dumbfounded. Clearly you fucked up big time. You didn't respond to him for quite some time. He notices the stress riddled on your face.

"Master?" Peter called out to you. He grew concerned at your sudden change of expression.

He calls for you once more but you ignored him. You collapsed on the couch, placing your hands on your head you quietly sweard underneath your breath. You drag your hands on your face, hiding most of it from him.

He awaited for some sort of answer. And you gave it.

"I think I summoned the wrong demon" you state, not even bothering to look at him.

"You think you summoned the wrong demon". He repeats back dumbfounded.

Silence once again were between you two. Peter took upon himself to speak up.

"Ah okay not a problem, things like this happen" he says with a convincing voice. He flaps his hand in an 'no worries' movement.

"Really?" You ask, looking at him in shock and relief.

"Well no" He commented.

Fuck

" Well best no the beat around the bush, you got me curious now. What were you trying to summon then" he asks curiously, a bit too happy about all this.

You really didn't know if you even should say it. It was bloody embarrassing now. You were red as a beetroot and he certainly looks noticed that now. His eyes gleams at you with such delight. He took pleasure from your internal anguish.

"Well...you see...it's a funny story". You start to explain.

"Mmm, oh I love funny stories. Do tell ~" he says, plopping himself down on the floor, his hands cupped his face as his tail once more flickered back and forth.

"But maybe keep it to, 'long story short', it looks like my Master is turning red as hells fire itself!" He snorts at his own joke, wrinkling his face with a wicked smile as he slaps his knee.

You don't know how you could possibly go more red.

"I was ..."

You looked back at him but quickly looked down to the floor. You couldn't see his face right, hes being a right smug bastard.

"You were?" He trys to push for you to continue.

You sighed, shutting your eyes as you spoke next.

"I was trying to summon.....an incubus"

....

....

He snorts

And breaks in full laughter.

Peter looked absolutely enthralled by this whole ordeal. He would have never expected a little cutie like you would be summoning a demon of that caliber. He found you too shy and gentle for you wanting to experience raw an untamed lust. But he really shouldn't judge a character by the book. No, this whole meeting with you he found you blushing from ear to toe, first thinking it was out of embarrassment. Now he knows why. And now you piped his interests even more. A bit of him felt flattered that you even thought he was an incubus. His chest swelled with an unknown feeling. Not bad, and not good. It was a pleasant warmth. But he pushed that feeling away fast. He needs to focus on this little minx who summoned him. And oh boy, does he really have a lot to handle at the moment.

Peter wipes a tear from his eye as he tries to get a hold of himself. "Sorry sorry, heheh.. It's just..hahehe" he keeps laughing between.

"Okay okay. I'm fine now sorry. Tell me, you didn't substitute anything, beside the candles that smell heavily right now." He says, taking notice of the candles coffee scents.

"I used pigs blood. Didn't have sage nor Peony so used rosemary and hydrangeas instead", listed.You didn't even bother to look at him. You were too shamed of yourself.

"You're supposed to use your own blood. Creates a greater emotional connection between the incubus and the summoner. Pigs blood is the go to, to call a glutton demon. As for the other item, I have no clue how it affected the summoning but yeah. You botched it missy." He rants.

"I can see that" you sign. "So I'm really sorry but I don't really need your services, so you can just-" you point at the cracks of your floor boards " go back".

"Doesn't work like that kid" he mumbled.

"What!!!" You finally looked at him. "what do you mean, can't you go back?".

"Nope! I am here until a gluttonous desire has been filled. If you read that book correctly you should have known this already, tisk, tisk" He sings, clearly taking pleasure in your pain right now.

Peter slowly gets up from the floor, he stands in front of you as you were sitting, towering over you. He draws back a devilish smile, his fangs protrude out as his forked tongue slowly licks them. You sit in horror. The man before you, who joked and teased you looked down right sinful. You felt small, powerless despite him being caged right now. You gulped as your eyes met his teeth. You wondered how his teeth would feel on your skin, sinking into your neck. You were far too stressed out and humiliated right now, but a familiar warmth spreads down to your groin. You squeeze you legs together as you felt the start of your arousal. God you were pathetic. You hoped he didn't notice, but ooooh this demon did.

Peter chuckled lowly, he was enjoying the sight of ya. Your struggles was so fascinating to him. He never had someone interested in him. Sexually he means. He was always summoned by the power of greed, obsession. Powerful men wanted more power that a mere mortal can hold. Being the demon brought from gluttony, overindulgence was his way of life. And being the selfless demon that he is he doesn't mind sharing his way to others. Certainly doesn't mind when all his Masters, one by one are ruined from it. All their belongings, their pride and worth stripped away by the very thing that they wanted more of. He took great pleasure from it. And in turn kept his own gluttonous desires satisfied.

But now he has an opportunity to try something new. You brought it upon yourself to him on a silver platter. He first thought when he took a look at the situation that he was in was that something on the topic of books was your desire. Your link with him was not completed since you messed up his summoning, so he couldn't get a feel of his masters connection with him. No sense of obsession or greedy need from you. But Peter didn't need any of that.

You were an open book.

You wanted him.

And how can he neny that.

Certainly not when he too felt hungry.He didn't want just a nibble, or a taste. No, Peter wanted to devour you whole. He is gluttonous after all.

"Oooh Master~?" He practically purs towards you. He leans down at much he could with the barrier blocking him. You could feel his breath on your face.

"Were you really that dick hungry that you couldn't think straight with the summons. That eager to be fucked like the good girl that you are, that you couldn't even read the simplest of instructions. Now look at what it left you with. Nothing. Poor baby, noones here to please you, worship this gorgeous body until you cry out to God. Oh but he won't respond to sinners the likes of you love. Your too fucking gone now, tainted by lust."

You whined.

You really should be ashamed of yourself, but the way Peter spoke to your felt so right to you. Your panties were damp, and he hasn't done anything to you yet. You grew more needy for him, from just his teasing alone. You wanted to reach out and touch his pale and blackened skin. But you couldn't.Be damned, you were scared. Not getting cold feet or anything but he wasn't even an incubus. Your mind went a mile a minute, ending up with self doubt and negativity. He was just teasing you? Of course he was, you made a fool of yourself, he's just doing that for kicks.

"You know, I'm a pretty generous fella. I could help you. I believe this gluttonous desire would be more than enough to finish this ritual. What do you say Master~" he drags the last word as of he's breathless. He was getting ahead of himself with his eagerness.

"But your a glutton demon" you state.

"Mmm?" Peter responded, clearly not understanding what was going on with your mind.

"I thought gluttony was when your over eating." You say.

*Gasp*

"Certainly not. That's a harmful stereotype". He says in a shocked tone, crossing his arms, he looks away from you, he pouts.

"Ah shit sorry I-I didn't meant tha-"

But then quickly laughs it off, drowning out your apology. "Nah I'm just pulling your leg". He hums as he continues. " Gluttony is overindulgence." he corrects.

"Oh" you responded.

"And right now I want to indulge eating out your pretty little pussy~" Peter moans.

"Oh?...."

"Oh?" Again is puzzled by your reluctance.

'You're not messing with me, are you serious about this?" You questioned, still not sure if this demon is making fun of you.

"Yes~" Peter purred.

...

"If you don't believe I can beg fo-" " Ah that won't be necessary" You object but he does so anyway.

Peter instantly drops to his knees with a loud bang. His breath escapes him in a needy whine as he stared right at your with painful want. "Please, please Master let me taste you, I want to taste your pussy. Let drink from your sweet nectar. I can be your good demon for you. So good. If you let me. Use me. Order me master. To feast upon you. Let me devour you until you cry out for no more, to finally be satisfied. Please Master. Let me out."

Holy fuck. This man has no shame. Your left speechless as he just he smirks with such admiration. His body is shaking as if he wants to pounce on you, but the salt circle is imstill intact, preventing him to. All doubt has left your body when you noticed a tent that formed under his robes.

"You sure you aren't an incubus?" You laugh. He laughs back.

"Not sure, you know, might be one on my mother's side. Wanna find out together?"

[rachalixie]

happy mistake

who would have thought that sending the wrong text would lead here?

warnings: alcohol mention, minho x gender neutral reader, consensual workplace relationship

genre: office romance

word count: 1150+

ever since you got your very first phone, you’ve been putting in contacts with people’s first and last name. even your closest friends, the ones whose numbers you know by heart, have their last names stored in your contacts. you suppose you do it because you like uniformity of it, but you never really gave much attention to that habit of yours. until right now. 

maybe it was the universe’s wicked way of messing with you to have your sweet best friend and your utilitarian boss have the same last name. you’re usually so, so careful sending things to each of them because of it. you know that lee felix wouldn’t mind a mix-up but lee minho would probably end your existence with his steely stare if you sent him a text meant for someone else. 

really, you could have avoided this whole thing if you had just consistently paid a little more attention to the name of the person you were sending things to before you sent it. but no one ever said you were observant. 

you’re a little more than tipsy, having been at a work happy hour event for the past hour, and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking advantage of the drink deals. your job pays decently but not enough for you to want to pay fully for overpriced drinks. as a lull in the conversation around you has you pulling out your phone and opening twitter, idly scrolling with your thumb as you sip on your third espresso martini. 

when your boss is so hot but he’s so married, a tweet reads, making you snort under your breath. this tweet has felix written all over it, with his mount everest sized crush on his boss chan that he vehemently denies every time you bring it up. 

you tap the share button to send it to felix, just as your favorite coworker hyunjin frantically taps on your shoulder to get your attention. you quickly tap the first contact you see under “lee” and send it, locking your phone to give hyunjin your full attention. if you didn’t, he would cause a scene and you weren’t equipped to deal with that right now. 

a few minutes later your phone buzzes in your hand and you peek at your notifications below the table. 

“i’m not often at a loss for words but you’ve managed to render me speechless.” a text from lee minho, your boss, reads. your brow furrows as you think about what it could mean; you haven’t spoken to minho all night, you’ve barely texted him ever, he’s all the way across the bar from you. you unlock your phone to see if you missed any messages from him, but you freeze in your tracks once the app pulls up. 

right above his text is the tweet you sent to felix. or, by the looks of it, to minho. 

“oh god,” you groan, putting your head in your hands to hide the blush that was furiously making itself known. hyunjin casts a curious look your way, but you look up to meet minho’s eyes and you have to get out of there. you mumble to hyunjin that you’ll pay him back for your drinks and rush out of the bar, almost tripping over your chair in your haste to leave. 

you’re almost at your car when you hear an annoyingly smug voice call out your name. 

“aren’t you a little too drunk to be driving right now?” minho says, catching up to you with long, graceful strides and leaning against the trunk of a car. your car. what the hell. “sending a text like that means you can’t be sober.”

“mr. lee, sir, i’m so sorry,” you start, your blush creeping your way up to your ears as this your breaths quicken. you’re so losing your job right now. “that text wasn’t meant for you, i don’t even know how this happened. it wasn’t even about you! not that i don’t think you’re hot! i mean- that’s not what i meant, i just meant you’re not unattractive-“

“hey, it’s okay,” he says, his demeanor changing as your anxiety increased, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard it. his eyes were wide and his hands were held out as if he wanted to comfort you but didn’t know how. “i was just teasing you.” you look up at his face for the second time tonight and see- compassion? concern? “i figured it was a mistake.”

“oh,” you stammer, heart rate slowing down to a less concerning pace. lee minho is being nice to you? tough, hard, hot, unattainable lee minho is being nice to you?

“but for the record, i don’t think you’re unattractive either,” he says, his soft smirk mixing with his warm eyes. all you can do is squeak at his words, resisting the urge to hide your face in your hands as the blood rushed to your cheeks. 

“let me drive you home,” he says, already tugging your hand in the direction of his car. you aren’t drunk, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.

you let him drive you home. 

he lets you pick the music.

and then you let him inside. 

—

hours later, you’re both sitting on opposite ends of your couch with drying hair, drinking coffee in companionable silence that should be much more awkward than it is. your lips are red, bite marks mark your collar, and you feel more satisfied than you have in forever.

“i-“ you start, wincing at how hoarse your voice sounded and clearing your throat a little. “i’m a bit surprised. i thought you didn’t like me, to be honest. i thought you didn’t like any of us.” you’re trying to piece together this person in front of you, the tough and cold boss at work not seeming to mesh with the teasing yet shy and caring man in front of you, in your home, and a welcome presence at that. the way he’s taken care of you tonight, exceptionally attentive like you’re something to be protected, has broken any conceptions you had about him and it’s making your head spin. 

“i never meant to make you feel that way,” he starts, serious, setting his coffee down after taking a sip. he turns and folds his legs under himself to face you on the couch and you’re instantly endeared by how much he resembles a cat. maybe he has cats? you want to ask if he has cats. you want to know everything about him. “i just, wanted to be respected, i guess. sometimes i care too much and people walk all over me and i didn’t want that to happen again. i do really like you and our team, who do you think buys bagels and leaves them in the break room every week?” he smiles insecurely, not quite meeting your eyes, and the look on his face makes your heart melt. you want to kiss that soft smile off his face.

“i thought they just appeared there,” you say, voice teasing and soft, and the conversation lulls off as you both sip on your coffee in silence. a moment passes, and you’re almost tempted to ask him if he wants to stay the night-

“but,” he starts, voice loud and awkward as he ducks his head down bashfully. “i think i like you a little more than the others.”

—

masterlist

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[scealaiscoite]

*ೃ༄ cocktail-inspired otp prompts ˚◞♡ ⃗

[ moscow mule ] - one muse fixes the other a drink to take their mind off of the day past

[ tokyo tea ] - one muse drags the other out for a drink, with the intent of getting absolutely hammered

[ negroni ] - for date night, they head to a more upscale establishment than usual and dress up for the occasion

[ cosmopolitan] - one muse offers to doll the other up, and they begrudgingly agree (because they know how happy it will make their s/o)

[ mojito ] - to cap off an arduous day, they hit up a club to go dancing

[ espresso martini ] - one muse recounts a memory to the other; writer’s choice on whether it’s a favourable one or not

[ amaretto sour ] - one muse brings their partner a sweet treat to cheer them up

[ long island ] - one muse picks the other from a bar, late at night

[ margarita ] - after a night of partying, one muse prepares a comforting breakfast for their hungover partner

[ strawberry daiquiri ] - they decide to stay in for the night, and mix some drinks of their own; with varying levels of success

[ manhattan ] - when they kiss, one muse can taste the alcohol off their partner’s lips and it only makes them want more

[ piña colada ] - one muse is forced to soften up as they take care of the other after they had too much to drink

[ death in the afternoon ] - after an adrenaline-fuelled task, they unwind together and blow off some steam

[ bloody mary ] - they meet for breakfast after having to spend the night apart

[ tequila sunrise ] - while on holiday, the two lounge on a sun-soaked beach and enjoy one another’s company