#some fruity alcoholic drink

[tangledbeast]

So what was Spot going to order at The Bar With No Name? What would he drink?

[seenthisepisode]

i am experiencing the wine paradox. let me explain. i bought wine that tastes so good that i actually feel sad about drinking it becaue it will be gone and i will no longer be able to drink it. so i postpone drinking it. i microdose it and feel bad aboout it at the same time. at the same time i loe wine and i crave wine and i have a day off tomorrow.

[wickedhawtwexler]

rosé and sangria are my two go-to alcoholic beverages because A) i have the palate of a child and they're basically grown up fruit juice and B) i drink alcohol so infrequently that these are the only two wines i know by name

[drawing-myself-in-and2-death]

two of my favorite things : D made me genuinely smile

[To Be Clear : indie animation lackadaisy & Elvira->beer can get fucked I'll keep my rum and whiskey thanks lol]

rewatched her movies on Halloween after coming home from an outing. I love her wit and humor [also how she subverts the hot goth chick trope and accurately displays some of what goth/alt people experience but thats a movie review for another time]

Mitzi, Mistress of the Dark. One livestream request sketch from a pile of them recently posted for Patrons. Seemed fitting for the season. (Some folks asked why she was holding a Coors. Elvira did a ton of commercials for the brand in the 1980s-90s)

[c0nn0rb0t]

"I'm a Whisky guy thru and thru....but I'll admit, this Vodka is pretty tasty"

He's drinking UV Blue, Raspberry flavored Vodka

[femme-enby]

Birfday meal was ate.

I stuffed myself w stuffed ziti frittas? Bread, both dipped in Alfredo sauce, then some of the salad swimming in dressing & ofc the delicious peppers… mmmm Olive Garden salad peppers…

Then some of the chicken off my chicken Alfredo… and then 2 drinks bc 🤷‍♂️

[mageless]

!!!

tell me in the tags either the worse drink you've ever had or what you do to alcohol to make it palatable

[jehanjoltaires]

O yea I'm working as a bartender now too

[metyouinthehallway]

𝐋𝐚𝐩 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Stripper!Reader gives Bartender!Chris a lap dance.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sitting on the tufted barstool, you continuously swirl your cocktail. Watching as it tunnels in the glass, Chris pulls you out of your trance when he speaks.

“Looks like a lot more thinkin’ than drinkin’.” He pulls his mouth into a tight lipped smile, raising his brows at you.

The strip club was now vacant, other than the two of you and a few other girls cleaning up around the place. The rich purple and red hues casting a warm glow over you and Chris.

“Yeah, tonight wasn’t very good— money wise.” You exhale, letting the whirlpool of alcohol slowly come to a stop. Chris pours himself a glass of club soda, walking around to the other side of the bar and sitting next to you. “Club soda?” You question his drink choice.

“Mhm, I don’t drink.” He hums, nodding his head. Oh, the irony. A bartender who doesn’t indulge in the magic party juice. “Shit fucks you up. No offense to you, just… not my thing.” Chris explains himself, looking at you to ensure you didn’t take his comment as an insult.

You don’t. Actually, you understand why some people choose not to go out of their way to drink. But you? You’re a partier. Drinking, smoking, loud & obnoxious music. That’s your scene.

“None taken.” You sip the awkward tension that floats in the air away, biting the lemon wedge that hangs from the rim of your glass.

“Wasn’t that good of a night f’me either.” He looks around at the club. It was barely a mess, as if everyone disappeared. Not even a dozen men came in tonight and all of the dancers, including you, made just over one hundred dollars.

“So what? Should I make it a better night?” You ask him, a slight smirk pulling at your lips. Chris glares at you, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he does so.

“And how would you do that?” He leans his elbows against the bar top, turning to face you completely now. Sipping on your fruity drink, you communicate with your eyes.

“C’mon…” you stand, holding your hand out for him. He reluctantly takes it. Letting you lead him to one of the private rooms. You don’t notice it, but Chris is nearly sweating bullets. This was against all the club rules. He can’t help but eye you up and down, your skirt squeezing your curves, ass cheeks hanging out of the bottom of it. Your backless top showing off your shoulder blades.

“Sit.” You let go of his hand, gesturing to the suede couch in the dimly lit room. He nods, following your directions. His usual ‘tough’ persona faltering when he looks up at you.

A sultry beat starts to play throughout the speakers, you lean down, meeting his eyes. “You scared, bartender?” You smile. A genuine smile, not a fake performance smile. Chris feels a slight heat rise to his cheeks, a nervous lump forming in his throat. A completely unrelated bulge forming down south too.

“Little bit… but don’t worry ‘bout me. Do your thing pretty lady.” It’s barely a mutter. Is he allowed to touch you? Can he bare to look at you? Is this crossing a line? It certainly had to be.

“Well, you just tell me if you wanna stop, hm?” You reply with a hum, straddling his lap. You lower yourself just enough so he can feel your body heat but not completely sat on his lap, Chris’s eyes following your movements.

You run your own hands down your ribcage and down to your thighs, then back up. You can hear Chris let out a very subtle yet very frustrated groan. It’s clear he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

“You can touch me…” you lean in, your breath just barely grazing his earlobe. Chris lets out a sigh, his hands instinctually reaching for your hips. “You know, I don’t let anyone else touch me when I’m doing this.” Your voice is low, seductive even. Completely lowering yourself onto his lap, you roll your hips into his. Feeling just how much he’s absolutely loving this.

“R-really?” He tries to play it cool but there’s no hiding the fact that he’s completely and utterly in awe of you on top of him.

“Mhm… they don’t deserve to touch me.” His fingers dig deeper into your hipbones. A low grunt slipping past his lips. “You do though. Always so nice to me, hm?” You tease, running your hands up his chest and up to grip his shoulders.

“Just common courtesy. Respect, y’know?” His heart is pounding. You could practically see the cartoonish imprint of it beating in his chest.

“Really? This…” you grind against his hard length, your skirt riding higher up your thighs with each moment. “This doesn’t seem like respect.” Trailing your manicured nails to the nape of his neck, you run your fingers through his hair which causes him to buck his hips into yours.

You quite enjoy this actually. Not that you were dominant in bed- you were the complete opposite when you were off the clock. But being on the clock, getting paid to make men all flustered and nervous beneath you. It sends a jolt of electricity through your body each time.

“Eager, are we?” You breathe out, raising your self so you’re no longer sitting on his erection. Chris runs his hands up your body, his eyes burning holes into your chest which is only covered by a satin top that doesn’t leave much to the imagination as it’s all on show.

“Very,” Chris huffs, the room suddenly feeling much smaller than it did before. With you sat on his lap, he never realized just how much he needed you. And oh, did he need you.

“Why don’t you do somethin’ about it then?” You lean in, your lips hardly grazing his own and it’s the first time you’ve ever come in such intimate contact with him.

Chris hesitantly closes the distance between the two of you. It’s only a peck before he pulls away, gauging your reaction. You search his eyes, he’s doing the same to you, unspoken tension polluting the room.

Your lips curl into a smile before completely placing your weight on his lap and pulling him back in to your lips. Your hands rest on his t-shirt, his on the small of your back pulling you impossibly closer.

Other than the low hum of the music, the sound of lips smacking together and low groans bounce off the padded walls. Chris’s tongue glides over your bottom lip, his hand gripping your ass. “Are we really doing this?” He mutters against your lips. You can only hum in response, opening your mouth to allow him entry.

Chris wants to flip you over and take you right now on the small, ever uncomfortable conversation couch. But, this had already spiraled into a lewd scene for the workplace. He couldn’t do it. Not yet at least.

You regain your confidence, taking control, you lightly push him against the couch. Sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip to which Chris rolls your hips into his. The feeling of his jeans against his hard dick incredibly painful but oh, so pleasing.

You pull away, catching your breath. “Having a better night, bartender?” You ask as if nothing happened between the two of you just now.

“Much, much better. You?” Chris’s hands roam your body, resting back on your hips. You nod in response, getting up off of his lap. Your heels clicking against the tiled floor as you walk out of the room leaving Chris to wonder what the fuck had just taken place.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[tigerdragon1001]

I’m with prev here

Bonus! Please put in the tags where you are from and if your situation was common where you are from!

Thanks, Anon!

-submit your poll!-

[timmydraker]

Tim vapes.

To his friends, namely the ones at school and not so much in Young Justice, this ain’t anything surprising. It’s popular for his age group and given how he has various roles in life that cause anxiety and his poorly concealed PTSD from being Red Robin, it makes sense he’d turn to something for comfort.

That comfort just happens to be an addiction to the ‘cancer usb’s his brother Dick once went on a two hour rant about.

Jason once got grounded and forced to watch a PowerPoint video made by Dick and Bruce after he was caught with a cigarette while still Robin. Jason still kept up the bad habits, but he normally turned to a drink or smoke when things were really bad. It was both recreational and a treat that he only had a few times a year, or month in the case of alcohol.

Tim doesn’t take breaks unless he’s on patrol.

It started when he was thirteen and was so tired from starting work with Wayne Enterprise and Robin that he didn’t give his usual response to his friends offer of a hit.

The passion fruit guava flavour settled easily in his chest, most likely due to how he had a lot of self control with his body. He coughed a storm afterwards but quickly found himself coming back for a hit or two during school breaks.

It only took a month for him to buy his first one after some research. He bought the least damaging one for his body even if he knew that lessening such damage didn’t fully remove it.

He started with grape.

Then once that died, he bought sour apple.

Then fairyfloss.

Then strawberry mango.

Then birthday cake, which he genuinely didn’t think could be real but alas.

It took almost four years for anyone in his family to notice and by pure luck it was his actual father who would end up dying a few months later. Tim remembers how guilty he felt when he realised his father would no longer be yelling at him for his ‘fruity fucking stink’ and that such a thing gave him genuine relief. He shouldn’t want his dad to be dead, yet…

It was then Tim realised that maybe he should try slow down his usage, and challenged himself to go a whole hour before a hit, then two and then finally three before he decided that would be enough for a while.

It’s on a particularly bad patrol when he saw a kid get hurt and wasn’t in time to save her from some likely permanent damage that he forwent his rule of vaping in the suit and took several hits while against a wall in his Red Robin attire.

He was just stating to feel the calm fully settle in his bones as his last puff of sour rainbow exited his lunged when he heard a voice just a few feet away.

“How dare you disgrace the name of Robin with that filth!”

Tim jumps up immediately but no training would prepare him for how quickly Damian comes over and snatches the vape from his hand.

Damian is gone quicker than he can get himself together and he only just managed to shout and run after him with his growing panic.

Tim watches his youngest brother vanish from sight and knows he’s doomed.

When he gets back to the cave a few hours later after trying to hide away from his problems, he’s finished his second vape (star fruit grape) from pure stress.

He’s met with the entire family sans Jason giving him the most disappointed and concerned look he’s seen since he confessed he lost his spleen and didn’t tell anyone.

Damian won’t meet his eye but even then Tim can tell from years of studying his younger that even Damian feels a little guilty for outing him, but as Dick looks close to tears with how upset he is the others resolve clearly strengthens.

Tim doesn’t blame him, even if he’s mentally going over all the symptoms of nicotine withdrawal.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Hits Different

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: Reader gets jealous when some women start hitting on Aaron at the bar on their team night out

CW: drunk!Hotch, jealous!Reader, mentions of an unsub and murder, drinking, confessions, makeout, Hotch being handsy, kinda needy!Hotch?

a/n: I’m literally obsessed with Aaron Hotchner rn

~~~

“No— I can’t,” you opposed as your coworkers decided to order another round of shots. Cheeks glowing as the alcohol seeped into you. Smiling as Derek put his arm around you and J.J. reached across the table to encourage you.

It was a Thursday night. You all had just gotten back from a week long endeavor in Utah. Local killer had his sight on some local young women. Killing them in some ritual style way that the drinks helped you fuzz the memory of. Luckily after you had addressed the public, he grew sloppy and was easily caught.

And now, back in your home state, you all crowded into a local bar to relax. And when the BAU “relaxed” it usually involved some heavy drinking.

“Shots! Shots! Sh-Shots!” Penelope and Emily chanted to the tune of the Lil Jon song. You laughed, a subtle snort escaping you. Rossi came back with the tray, beginning to pass them out to everyone.

Aaron Hotchner hovered behind him. Already having downed three glasses of scotch and beaming with alcohol on his face. It was a rare occasion that Hotch got drunk. Usually he just sipped at one drink while everyone else got themselves into trouble. But tonight he decided to let loose. Taking two glasses off the tray and squeezing in next to you in the already tight booth. Sitting them down in front of the two of you. Hooded eyes squinted upward in a closed-mouth smile as his eyebrows raised at you.

And you felt your face completely flush. Since your time at the BAU, you had developed a crush on your superior. Even if it was inappropriate and the age gap was a bit large, you still harbored feelings for him. And moments like this did not help.

Completely engulfed by the aroma of his cologne. Trying not to make it obvious you were smelling him. Hotch wrapped his arm around you absentmindedly. Leaning in and holding one of the glasses up to you. “Are you gonna do a shot with me?” His slightly slurred words melted against your skin. His voice somehow deeper and sultrier than ever. Everyone else was too distracted by the giggling of drunken excitement for more drinks to notice what was happening. It was like you two were alone for a moment.

You smiled, nodding slowly as he passed you the shot in his hand. Picking up the other and wrapping his arm around yours. Intertwined so that your hands were back against your own mouths. You were beyond flustered with the contact he was making with you. Hotch began counting down, both of you throwing the alcohol back on three.

Sucking your teeth as it burned down your throat. Hotch blew his breath out. You watched as his nose scrunched up at the taste. Shaking off the strong taste as Hotch leaned in against you. His head bumping against yours for a moment. Lips pressing against your ear in his drunk state.

“Want me to go get us som’more drinks? You like something more fruity, right?” Hotch suggested, deep voice ringing in your ear. The feeling of his lips grazing your skin had you sweating.

“Only if you’re buying,” you pulled at his tie softly. Causing his eyes to lock into yours, corner of his mouth curving up. His eyes scanned your figure momentarily before getting up and strutting over to the bar.

“Oh. My. God.” J.J.’s voice pulled you back from your staring problem you had with Hotch. You whipped your neck to face her, adjusting your posture in the seat. Shaking your head slightly, “What?”

“What was that about?” J.J. grinned brightly, eyes bouncing from Hotch to you.

“We were just doing some shots together,” you felt your face heating up again. Tongue coming out to wet your lips as your mouth ran dry.

“The only other instances of Hotch getting that close to any of us was when we were hurt,” Spencer chimed in with his analytical sounding tone. Still as smart as ever even while drunk.

“Oh God, you guys,” you shook your head and scooted out of the booth. Stretching your legs for the first time tonight. Hands resting on the table as you got closer to the opposing side. Being eye-to-eye with J.J. and Spencer, “You guys know he acts different when he’s relaxed. It’s nothing.”

Spencer and J.J. exchanged a look of uncertainty. Neither of them believing what you had just said. Rolling your eyes at their smirking expressions. Catching on easily to the feelings you had for your boss.

Downside of having friends who are profilers.

“Drop it,” you pointed at them with two fingers. Your friends began snickering and laughing. You could not help but smile back at them. Laughter was contagious when you were intoxicated. You turned to meet your crush at the bar.

You froze.

Some woman was cuddled up with Hotch at the bar. Breasts peaking out of the top of her thin shirt, curled hair falling below her shoulders, and a beautiful face of makeup. Your heart sank down to your ankles. Watching as her hand trailed his chest. Watching how her perfectly glossed lips popped as she spoke to him inaudibly.

Worst of all: his smile.

SSA Hotchner tended to be gruff and stern. Brooding and unreadable. Purely business around you and the other members of the BAU. Stoic and distant. Something you all agreed was so he did not get overly attached, just in case something happened to one of you. Rarely smiling other than seeing his sweet son, Jack.

Guess tonight was different.

Rosey cheeks and perfect teeth painted his expression. Eyes locked in on the woman before him. Your hands began shaking at your sides. If it was not a cartoon cliche, you would have had smoke coming out of your ears. Teeth grinding together behind tightly pierced lips.

Rethinking any hints he may have given you. Feeling like you had fooled yourself into a crush. Angry that some random bitch woman was getting too friendly with Hotch.

Unable to take it anymore. Jealousy brewing inside you, ready to overflow. You marched up to the bar, immediately pulling Hotch’s attention from the woman.

“Sorry to interrupt—“

“Hi, Y/N,” Hotch smiled at you. Causing butterflies to flutter in your intestines. Especially with the casualty of your first name.

God, he was drunk.

“SSA Y/L/N,” you extended your hand out to the woman, lip twitching when she shined her perfect smile. Flaring your nostrils and locking your jaw when your hand met hers.

“Hi! I’m Hope,” her peppy attitude made you sick to your stomach. Trying your best to fake your expression. Anger causing a slight shake to your demeanor.

“Right…” you trailed off, looking at Hotch whose eyes had not left you yet, “Hotch—“

“C’mon, Y/N. You can call me Aaron here,” he leaned in and whispered to you. Chills ran down your entire body when the heat from his lips radiated against your skin. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

Oh, he was REALLY drunk.

“Aaron,” you started, watching him smile at you saying his first name, “Did you get my drink?”

Hotch’s hand came up cupping his cheek as his eyes squinted, “Oh my God. That’s why I came up here. I totally forgot—“

“Don’t worry about it, Hotch,” your frustration took over your attitude. Fists clinching at your sides. Feeling tears beginning to burn behind your eyes. Deciding to storm off without the drink. Heading towards the long corridor to the bathrooms.

“Y/N—“ Hotch reached out to you with a confusion behind his tone. Not caring enough to listen to whatever excuse his drunken self was gonna give you. Trying your best not to make a scene so none of your coworkers would notice and come after you. Really just needing to be alone.

You leaned against the cold wall, hands holding onto each of your arms. Head resting against the brick of the dimly lit hallway. Fighting your eyes that begged to leak with your feelings. And you felt stupid. Did you really think your own boss would be interested in you? Enough to not get distracted by the beautiful woman at the bar? Please.

Feeling suddenly sober at the heartbreak in your chest. Hands coming up to cover your redening face. Embarrassed that you had even toyed with the notion. Knowing it was completely against protocol to fraternize with coworkers. Let alone with your superior—

“Y/N?” Hotch’s somber voice broke you away from the thoughts filling your mind.

You blinked your eyes open. Manually breathing as your shoulders rose and fell. Controlling the water that begged to pour from your eyes. Clicking your tongue as you spoke, “Hotch.”

“I told you, you could call me Aaron here,” he leaned against the wall beside you. Arms folded over his broad chest. Pondering the informality before looking back to him.

“I thought you saved that for pretty girls at the bar,” you half-heartedly smiled. Flaring your nostrils as you contorted your face to hide your frown.

Hotch laughed, bearing that smile that had you seeing stars. Eyes closing for a moment, giving you the opportunity to linger in it. Enjoying him being this casual with you.

“Is that not what you are?” Hotch asked.

You whipped your head to look at him again. Brows furrowed tightly together as your mouth hung open in confusion. “What?”

Hotch rose a brow, “Are you not a pretty girl? At the bar with me right now?”

You blinked as you stammered, “I— Not like… I mean— not like that girl at the bar…” You trailed off completely dumbfounded by his statement. Hotch watched you with a smile. His own cheeks still red.

“You think I’m pretty?” You finally formed a cohesive sentence unable to stop your mouth from curving into a smile.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Hotch’s hooded eyes stared into yours. Taken aback by that. Questioning for a moment if he was mocking you. Realizing by his expression he was not.

“You’re drunk, Hotch—“

“Aaron,” he corrected, “And, yeah I am drunk. But just drunk enough to finally be honest with you about that.” Hotch’s tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lip. Hand coming up and rubbing his neck at his confession.

“You didn’t have to come back here just to try and make me feel better. You were having a good chat with that woman at the bar. She was so beautiful, and made you smile, and not a part of the BAU, and—“ you covered your mouth getting embarrassed and shameful.

Hotch’s hand caressed your cheek. Pulling you back to him. His brows laid flat against his eyes. Lips pressed firmly together, watching his throat bob with the swallow he took. Thumb rubbing circles into your warm cheek, swiping away the singular line of tears that streamed down.

“I’m sorry— it’s the alcohol, that’s why I’m crying—“

Hotch cut you off by pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. Your eyes flew open. Hand gently resting against his chest as you savored the feeling of his lips on yours. Feeling your breath hitch in your throat and heart swell.

“You taste so sweet,” Hotch groaned, both hands gripping your face now. The primal noises he made causing arousal to swirl around your belly. Feeling its residue stick to your panties. His lips trailed down your jaw to your neck. Nipping against your soft skin as his hands roamed down the backside of your body. Gasping when his large hands groped your ass.

“I get chit-chatty when I’m drunk. That girl at the bar didn’t matter at all,” Hotch promised against your skin with kisses breaking up his sentences.

“You won’t even remember this in the morning,” you giggled when he took your earlobe between his teeth. Feeling a somberness sinking into your gut.

“How could I forgot this?” Hotch breathed into your ear. Sounding like he was desperate and almost completely out of breath, “Forget about you?”

Hotch pulled back to look into your eyes. Really taking in your face before him. Your eyes kept darting between his and his lips. Smiling when you could still taste him on your lips.

You pressed up on your toes, lips meeting his again. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Sloppily intertwining together. Huffs and grunts coming from Hotch as he pulled your front flush against his. You blushed at the feeling of his bulge.

“What about the team?” You questioned as the weight of the situation became suddenly apparent.

“I don’t care about them right now,” Hotch pressed his lips back to yours. Kissing away any fear or dread that was in your mind. Completely consuming you. Smiling as you both allowed hands to roam the other’s body.

You broke the kiss momentarily, “So— wait— you mean Rossi thinks I’m pretty too?” You teased him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Watch it,” Hotch smiled with a playful aggression on his tone, capturing you back in a kiss. Laughing together as you pressed lips together.

~~~

[END//?]

// Thank you so much for reading! I’m having such a blast writing for Hotch right now. Honestly, I’m think about making a smutty part 2 to this fic if anyone was interested. If you have requests or want to be tagged in any future Fics, let me know! //

{tags}

@megangovier ~ @bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @boybandbaby ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @justyourusualash ~ @mrs-ssa-hotch ~

[kashverse]

gojo likes to tell everyone he’s a man of refined taste—wine, whiskey, the occasional fruity cocktail if he’s feeling fun. but beer? beer is where he draws the line. it tastes like piss, he says, and with the confidence of a man who’s actually done a side-by-side comparison. if you hand him a beer, he’ll take one whiff, gag dramatically, and proclaim that his standards are higher than this pedestrian swill.

nanami, on the other hand, has a history with beer. a dark, haunting history, the kind that leaves a man waking up in a random dorm bathroom with marker scribbles all over his face and no recollection of how he got there. he leaves beer in the past, along with his reckless university days. nowadays, if you so much as mention beer around him, he’ll sigh deeply, adjust his tie, and mutter something about how he's an adult with responsibilities now. no, he will not shotgun a beer with you. no, he will not “just take a sip.” he knows where that road leads, and he refuses to walk it again.

toji doesn’t drink beer either, but for entirely different reasons. it's not that he dislikes the taste—it's that he sees dollar signs instead. turns out, there’s a niche art community that loves decorating beer cans and selling them at exhibitions, and toji, ever the entrepreneur, has made a lucrative side hustle out of collecting them and selling them off. he doesn’t drink the beer inside, though. he finds the smell repulsive, the mere thought of it enough to make his stomach turn. but if some rich art kid wants to buy a can he found on the street for triple the price? that’s just good business.

geto likes to act like he’s above beer. too classy. too refined. too elegant to be seen drinking from a can like some common fool. but the moment someone offers it to him—especially in a fancy glass—he’ll take it. because if he’s drinking it out of an expensive glass, it’s not really beer anymore, it’s an experience. he swirls it like it's wine, sniffs it like he's judging its aroma, and takes slow, measured sips like he's contemplating the meaning of life. it’s all about appearances, after all.

choso is still figuring out alcohol. he’s trying his best, okay? beer is the only thing he can kind of handle because it doesn't hit him like a freight train immediately. but then it does. he always starts out okay, sipping cautiously, nodding along like he understands the appeal. then, somewhere along the line, his eyes glaze over, he starts slurring his words, and suddenly he’s lying on the couch, mumbling about the stars and how they’re actually just really old ghosts watching us.

sukuna takes offense to the very existence of beer. you handed him a can of beer once at your birthday party, and he looked at you like you’d personally spat in his face. then he turned to the unfortunate soul who had dared to offer it to him and, in a voice dripping with malice, said, “i should piss in this and hand it back to you. see if you can tell the difference.” the guy practically evaporated on the spot. nobody has ever offered sukuna beer since.

[minswriting]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS - A.H x Reader

About: Aaron is served divorce papers after getting back from a case. The team goes out for drinks to decompress and you end up going home with Aaron.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, angst, smut, oral (f), fingering (f), unprotected sex, p in v, cheating?, insecurity problems, again this is angst, slightly intoxicated smut, mentions of a case, boss/employee dynamics, clawing at Aaron’s back, overstimulation, etc.

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: Hello! Please comment and reblog to support your creators! Borders made by @cafekitsune and thank you to @aureatelys for proofreading for me!!

When the team arrived back at the Bureau after a pretty tough case which included the abduction, burning, and mutilation of women, everyone was ready to decompress. It had been a tough case, hitting a bit too close to home for some of the team members. And so, when someone mentioned going out for drinks, everyone was happy to agree. Before you guys could leave, however, someone had stopped Aaron and handed him an envelope.

“Haley’s filing for divorce,” Aaron clarified, looking at the team. His gaze met yours, lingering briefly before he opened the envelope. He looked at the papers, sighed, and put them into his bag. “Shall we go?”

And so, you all were, in O’Keefe’s and drinking some alcoholic beverages. You were next to Aaron, sipping on a fruity cocktail of some sort while he drank a disgusting beer. Derek was dancing with some random women as Penelope watched, JJ and Emily were playing darts with some guys while Spencer sat with a few people, talking about whatever came to mind, and Rossi was outside smoking a cigar, leaving you and Aaron alone.

You had a good relationship with your boss. You both respected one another on a professional level. You were good at what you did and Aaron appreciated that. Just as you appreciated his authority and his ability to lead the team. He had always been someone you admired. The way he would balance leading the team, filing all the paperwork, and dealing with the bureaucracy that came with the position, all while having a wife and a child at home. You always knew it had to be tough and stressful on the man.

As you and Aaron sat at the table, you couldn’t help but look at him. Perhaps it was the fact that he looked so exhausted and worn out or maybe it’s the fact you’re attracted to sad and older men, but you couldn’t help but look at him. Part of you has always been attracted to Hotch. With his dark brown eyes, dark short hair, broad shoulders, how tall he was, and the way he was just so fit. Not to mention the way he was able to dominate a room. It often had you thinking about what it would be like to have sex with him. Was he as dominant in the bedroom as he was at work? Your imagination was endless with images of Aaron and all of the possibilities.

You knew it was wrong. He was a married man or at least would remain so until he signed his divorce papers. Not to mention the fact that he was also your boss. It broke many, many Bureau policies to even think of your boss in such a way. There’s also the fact that he was sad, going through such a tough time without anyone there for him.

“I can feel your eyes on me,” Aaron spoke, taking a sip of his beer, and keeping his gaze on the atmosphere in the bar.

You couldn’t help the small jump as Aaron’s voice, so soft and velvety that it never failed to have you clenching your thighs, kicked you out of your thoughts. Your cheeks felt hot, whether, from the alcohol or the embarrassment of getting caught, you weren’t sure. “Sorry,” You said, grabbing your drink and taking a sip from it, keeping your gaze on the table. “I just-” You paused for a second before reworking your sentence. “Are you alright?”

Aaron took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair as he turned his gaze to look at you. “I’m fine,” He said, his voice disingenuous as he spoke. You knew he wasn’t fine, no one would be in such a situation. Here Aaron was, building walls and avoiding the fact that he was going through such an emotional time. He was always like this. Hiding his true emotions to not let anyone in because if he lets someone in, it means admitting he’s not alright, admitting he’s weak, sustained by the abuse he endured by his father at a young age.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” You said softly, eyes softening as you looked at Aaron. “I mean divorce is a hard thing to go through.”

Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you, silence overcoming the two of you before he broke it. “Do you always do this?” He asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head. “Do what?”

“Try to fix sad men because you lack that control in your life?” He asked before taking another sip of his drink.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. It was the way Aaron coped, a defense to divert the attention away from himself. Aaron was entirely right, of course. It was something you had a bit of a habit of doing. Your previous relationships were brought upon the need to fix damaged goods. This was certainly no different. “Maybe,” You sighed, taking another sip of your drink. “Regardless, my point still stands. It’s okay to not be okay, Hotch,” You exclaimed.

Aaron hummed, placing his glass down. He called down a waiter, ordering you both another round of drinks before looking at you once more. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes raked over your body but as quickly as you had noticed, his gaze was on yours as if nothing had happened. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I suppose you’re right,” He exclaimed. “I’ll be alright though. It was bound to happen at some point.”

You shrugged, finishing off your drink. “Did she give a reason as to why she was divorcing you?” You asked as you placed the glass down.

“Not really,” He stated. “We’ve only talked in regards to Jack but other than that, not much else.” The new round of drinks was set on the table by the waiter, the both of you thanked him before he walked away. Aaron placed your drink in front of you before grabbing his own and placing it in front of him. “I know it’s due to this job.”

You nodded your head in understanding, unsure of what to say in response. It made the most sense. This job, as fulfilling as it was to put away the bad guys, also drained the life out of you. Having to drop anything and everything you’re doing at any given moment to save another city from a serial killer, really affected your day-to-day personal relationships. You couldn’t imagine how bad it was for Aaron, especially with his son involved. “I’m sorry,” You managed to reply, not wanting to leave Aaron’s words unacknowledged.

Aaron was silent for a few moments, looking into his glass, deep in thought. “This job, what we do, it’s important. We catch killers, we save lives, we are heroes. Until the time we go home and then everything changes. Then, I am nothing more than the father and the husband that is never there,” He took a deep breath before sighing.

You listened intently with sympathy. Hearing Hotch open up for the first time was a bit of a shock, the man had way too many defenses up that it made it hard to know anything about his private life other than what he wanted to share. “It’s incredibly lonesome,” you began, glancing around the room as your gaze caught onto each of the team members. “We work and work, trying to protect the citizens of this country, to make it a better place, and yet, no one outside of this team understands what we really go through in order to protect everyone.” You paused for a second, turning your gaze back to Aaron. “At the end of the day, no one will ever truly understand.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he looked at you, taking in your words. “Which is why we find comfort in each other,” he replied softly.

“Which is why we find comfort in each other.” You repeated back, nodding your head. You glanced over at Spencer, who was on the other side of the bar talking very animatedly about something with Penelope and Derek, his hands moving wildly as he rambled on. JJ and Emily had walked over to them, joining in on the conversation and even Rossi joined in as well. Everyone gravitates back to one another eventually, it always happens.

“So how come, instead of talking with the others, you’ve spent the night sitting with me?” Aaron asked suddenly. “I can’t be too joyous to be around right now.”

You looked back over at Aaron, catching his knowing gaze. “You looked like you didn’t want to be alone tonight,” was your response.

“So it’s your savior complex,” Aaron replied with a faint smirk, amusement in his gorgeous brown eyes.

You laughed softly, nodding your head in agreement. “I guess so,” you exclaimed.

At that moment, as the two of you looked at each other, you weren’t boss and employee. You were simply Aaron and Y/N. Two souls, one shamed by his failed marriage and the other ridden with loneliness, finding solace in one another.

What was a seemingly innocent conversation in the bar had quickly turned into something much more than that when in the middle of your conversation, Aaron put his hand on your thigh. You should have stopped it right then and there, told him you both had to keep things professional. But the moment he breathed into your ear, asking you to keep him company for the night, you couldn’t resist. Not when it has been something you’ve been dreaming about since you joined the team.

And now, here you were, in the back of a taxi with Aaron, as the driver made their way through the city to Aaron’s new apartment. The two of you were sitting next to each other, Aaron’s legs were spread, causing his thigh to press up against yours. Other than that, however, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

That was until you arrived outside of Aaron’s apartment complex. The moment the two of you stepped out of the car, Aaron grabbed you by your hips, slightly tentative, as he looked at you. “We don’t have to do this,” He murmured. “We can just pretend this didn’t happen and I can send you home.”

You shook your head, putting your hands on Aaron’s shoulders. “I want to,” you replied softly. “I shouldn’t but I do.”

And that was all Aaron needed before leaning in, his breath fanning your face as his lips inched closer to yours. You were standing on the sidewalk outside of Aaron’s apartment building, about to kiss your boss. The thought should frighten you; yet, the moment he pressed his lips against yours, all thoughts and fears disappeared. You could taste the faint cheap beer that coated Aaron’s mouth as you kissed. Your heart was beating fast and yet, you were calm at the same time. And when you both eventually pulled away, you could see the fire in Aaron’s eyes in the way he looked at you and you were sure he could see it in yours as well.

It was wrong, you both knew it was. But none of that didn’t matter when Aaron was guiding you inside the building, feeling you up in the elevator, kissing you in such a way that it felt almost intoxicating. The drinks you guys had earlier could not compare to the way Aaron kissed you. It was almost dizzying and yet, you couldn’t get enough of it. Aaron had his hands firmly placed on your hips, kissing you hungrily. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling his muscles through the fabric of his dress shirt. One of his hands slipped down to your ass, causing you to let out a soft noise against his lips, which in turn caused Aaron to let out a low, soft chuckle that went straight to your cunt.

When the elevator dinged, the two of you pulled away, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves by any passersby who may want to use the elevator this late at night. Aaron put a hand on your lower back as the two of you walked to his apartment down the hall, stopping once you reached his door. You had never been to Hotch’s apartment, especially because it’s been so recent since his separation from Haley. You had expected it to be completely bare as soon as you walked in but instead, you were met with a relatively furnished apartment decorated with photos and small antiques. It wasn’t anything special but it showed the refined tastes of an older man, not a bachelor pad like you had expected.

As soon as you stepped in, Aaron closed the door behind you. He reached for you once more, pulling you in for another kiss. This one was more intense, and more passionate, showing the growing need between the two of you. You hadn’t expected Hotch to be much of a kisser but you certainly weren’t complaining as he guided you through his apartment with his lips attached to yours.

You placed your hands on Aaron’s suit jacket, pushing the fabric off of him. He removed his hands off of you for just a moment, shrugging off the jacket and tossing it somewhere in the apartment. You pulled away from the kiss for just a moment to speak. But Aaron had other thoughts. “We,” Aaron interrupted you by kissing you again. “Really, shouldn’t,” another kiss. “Be doing this.”

Aaron simply hummed “Mhm,” while still kissing you, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt and trailing it upwards. “I know,” He began but you interrupted him by kissing him. “It’s wrong,” You did so again. “As your boss-” His words fell flat when you pulled away just enough to pull your shirt off and toss it somewhere, revealing a simple black lace bra. “You’re so beautiful,” He murmured, taking you in.

You felt the heat in your cheeks as Aaron looked at you. “I think we are far past worrying about our professional dynamics,” You exclaimed, unable to help the smirk that formed on your lips.

“You’re right,” He confirmed, nodding his head. Aaron’s fingers moved to undo his tie, taking the material and throwing it wherever your shirt landed. He grabbed you again, his lips going from yours to your jawline, pressing soft feather-like kisses along your skin until he got to your neck. Your breath hitched as Aaron kissed your neck, the area being a bit sensitive to the touch. Aaron licked your pulse point, causing you to let out a soft noise. He nipped at it, leaving a small mark, though careful to not make it noticeable as a mark like that could cost you your positions if anyone were to find out who you had gotten it from.

After leaving the small mark, Aaron pulled away, placing his hands on your hips. He guided you to the couch, sitting you down on the leather material. You looked up at him with the prettiest eyes, almost causing Aaron to just say fuck it and take you right then and there. But he controlled himself, wanting to make this good for you both, even if it is for his satisfaction.

He got onto his knees, kneeling before you. “I want to taste you,” Aaron said, putting his hands on your knees. “Is that alright?”

You let out a breathless chuckle, unable to help it. It was sweet that Aaron asked, almost scared that you’d ever deny him anything. If there was one thing he should know about you, it’s that you’ve never denied any of Aaron’s demands. “Yes, please,” you said.

Aaron gave you a small smirk before unbuttoning your jeans. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing Aaron to pull them down completely as he threw them somewhere, leaving you in a pair of matching black lace panties. “Fuck,” Aaron breathed out, licking his lips. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?” You asked, your heart racing at the idea. “For how long?”

Aaron gently grabbed the hem of your panties, pulling them down. “For far much longer than I should admit,” he replied.

That thought made you feel a bit guilty. He likely had been harboring some sort of attraction to you for quite some time and the fact that he’s still technically married dawned upon you. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this and yet, that need you felt growing inside of you outweighed the guilt, especially when Aaron spread your legs and began kissing your inner thigh.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. “So perfect. I’m going to ravish you tonight.”

“Please,” you rasped softly, looking at Aaron with an almost pleading expression. You desperately wanted to feel him, to have him do something. You have wanted him for far too long and now that you had him, you didn’t want to let go. You knew that you were just a mere distraction. Perhaps that was your flaw. Being the woman that distracts men from their problems. But you couldn’t help it. Not when the man you’ve harbored an attraction to was sitting before you, on his knees, telling you how beautiful you were.

Without further hesitation, Aaron placed a kiss on your pubic bone before dipping his head lower. He pressed his lips against your cunt, causing you to gasp as he kissed your pussy lips. Then, he stuck his tongue out, licking a strip from your hole to your clit. You let out a moan, spreading your legs further for Aaron to give him better access. Aaron groaned against your pussy. “You’re so sweet,” he said before diving back in, running his tongue in figure eights around your pussy.

“Oh,” you moaned, bringing a hand to Aaron’s dark hair, entangling your fingers into it.

To say it was heavenly would be an understatement. The way Aaron’s tongue lapped around your cunt and how his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it gently. You were whining in pleasure, throwing your head back. You’ve had people go down on you before but it was always a chore to them. This, however, felt like Aaron truly loved going down on you, adoring your pussy. He wasn’t hesitant to dive right in, holding your thighs with his arms as he practically held your cunt against his face. This was a man who thrived eating pussy.

As Aaron sucked on your clit, he trailed his finger to your pussy, teasing your hole by spreading it around the wetness. You let out a whine, tugging at Aaron’s hair, eliciting a moan from the older man. He inserted a finger, thrusting it slowly in and out of you. “Oh fuck,” you moaned, breathing heavily. Aaron eventually added a second finger, curling them to hit your g-spot. You gave a choked moan, and an almost whiny “Aaron,” escaped your lips, causing him to groan against your cunt once more. The vibrations add to the pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you were cumming with your head thrown back against the leather of the couch, thighs clamping around Aaron’s face and hand, and toes curling. And when you finished and relaxed against the couch, Aaron pulled away. His face glistened with your juices, his pupils dilated, and his hair was tousled all over the place from your fingers. He looked so incredibly attractive.

Aaron licked his lips, looking up at you as he was still kneeling. You were breathing heavily, looking at him with a blissful expression on your face. And all of a sudden, Aaron dived back in, eating you out more like a starved and deprived man rather than with precision as he did before. It wasn’t a matter of whether you came or not, it was a matter of what Aaron wanted. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to live between your thighs. “Oh!” You moaned loudly, your hands going back to Aaron’s hair as he began licking your cunt all over.

You were whining and moaning, writhing around on the leather of Aaron’s couch as he ate you out desperately. He began sucking and slurping up your juices, burying his nose into your cunt. It wasn’t didn’t take long for you to cum all over his face once more as Aaron moaned against your cunt, relishing in the fact you were pulling his hair. This was the sign of a pussy drunk man. And you adored it.

When you finished a second time, Aaron pulled away completely, taking a second to gather his breath before standing up. You looked up at him, legs spread with just your bra still on. He began to undo his shirt, frantically undoing the buttons. He wanted you. He needed to be buried inside of your cunt. He threw his dress shirt somewhere in the living room, not caring as to where it landed. “Need you,” Aaron said hoarsely, moving to undo his pants.

You watched as Aaron moved with desperation you had never seen in such a normally composed man. You reached behind yourself, undoing your bra and tossing it next to you on the couch. Aaron kicked off his slacks, revealing his boxers and his obvious erection. The outline of his cock was seen perfectly and your mouth practically watered at the sight. He pulled down his boxers, stepping out of them as he made his way back to you. His cock was big, bigger than you’ve ever had, and it was girthy too. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips as your cunt fluttered around nothing at the idea of Aaron fucking you.

Aaron gave a deep chuckle as he saw the way you reacted to him. “Lay down for me,” He said, standing in front of you on the couch. You obeyed, moving your legs onto the couch as you lay down on your back on the cushions. Aaron crawled on top of you, taking a second to just look at you, really take you in. You, one of his best profilers, were lying underneath him, on his couch, ready for him to take you. All because you didn’t want him to be lonely tonight. Admittedly, he felt guilty. He felt as though he was using you with how his wife had just left him. But he couldn’t deny the attraction he has felt for you since you had joined the team. And now that he finally had an opportunity to have you, he wasn’t going to lose it.

“Beautiful,” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss onto your sternum before moving to kiss your boobs. He swirled his tongue along your nipple teasingly, eliciting a small moan from you, before kissing upwards to your neck and jawline. He reached between the two of you, gripping himself as he guided his cock to your folds. He rubbed the tip against your slit, spreading your wetness onto his cock before lining himself up against your hole. He slowly eased himself into you, causing both of your breaths to hitch.

“You’re so wet,” Aaron breathed out.

“Yeah, that tends to happen,” You replied, face contorting into slight pain as Aaron’s cock stretched you out. “You’re so big,” You whined slightly.

“I know, darling,” Aaron murmured, still taking his time to ease into you. When he was fully inside of you, he stayed still, giving you time to adjust.

After a few minutes, the pain subsided as you relaxed. The stretch turning from pain to pleasure. “Y-you can move,” you stuttered, looking up at Aaron as you bit your bottom lip.

Aaron didn’t hesitate to start moving his cock out of you before thrusting it back in, repeating those movements. “You’re so fucking tight,” He groaned.

You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as Aaron began moving his cock inside of you. The feeling was rather dizzying, more so than the kiss from earlier. The feeling was electrifying. He was so much bigger than anyone you had ever slept with and already so much better. You were sure that Aaron had ruined sex for you forever and you knew that this was likely going to be the only time you’d sleep with the man.

Aaron began picking up the pace, causing you to moan louder. “Aaron,” you said his name loudly, bringing your hands to his back, clawing at the skin. Not enough to hurt him but enough to cause Aaron to hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He groaned, fucking you deeply. To say he was feeling good would be an understatement. You were so warm, so wet, and so tight. He hadn’t felt something as amazing as your pussy in such a long time. At this moment, if Aaron died feeling your cunt wrapped around him, he would die a happy man. The fact his marriage failed couldn’t bother him when he was buried deep inside of you. “You feel incredible,” Aaron said, slamming his hips against yours as he fucked you.

“Just like that,” You whimpered as Aaron’s thrusts got more frantic. You could feel yourself getting close as Aaron’s cock grazed your sweet spot, making you see stars. “Am so close, Aaron.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He grunted, moving inside of you. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

And that was all you needed before you were whining, arching your back as you clamped around Aaron’s length, moaning his name so prettily that he could’ve busted right then and there. And he did as he buried himself so deep inside of you and came, filling you up with his cum.

When you both were done, you expected to be finished, for Aaron to toss you to the side and tell you to go home. Instead, however, he maneuvered you into his lap as he sat on the couch, inserting himself back into you and using his cum as lube as he thrusts up into you, fucking you both into overstimulation.

The night was spent fucking each other in so many positions all over Aaron’s apartment. And by the end of the night, you were both spent, fully satisfied from the amount of orgasms you had. You were in Aaron’s bed after he came inside of you once more, lying next to him as you both breathed heavily. Once you had calmed down, you sat up in the bed, ready to get up and gather your things. But just as you stood up, Aaron grabbed your hand. You turned to look at him, seeing the almost pleading expression on his face. “Stay? Just for tonight?” He asked.

And how were you ever going to say no to that? “Sure,” You whispered, lying back down in the bed.

Aaron pressed a kiss onto your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. “Thank you,” He murmured against your skin, burying his face in your neck as he held you. You hadn’t expected Aaron to be much of a cuddler after sex and yet, here you were.

“There’s no need to thank me,” You murmured back, placing your hand on top of Aaron’s.

Eventually, sleep consumed you both, the exhaustion from the case and that night’s vigorous activities finally catching up to you.

In the morning, the sound of Aaron’s cell phone ringing awoke the both of you from your slumber. Aaron inhaled sharply before removing the arm that was wrapped around you. He reached for his phone, answering it with a deep, raspy morning voice that sent a shiver down your body. “Hotchner,” He rasped out. You turned from your side onto your back, the blanket drifting off of you and revealing your chest, causing Aaron to not so subtly look.

After a few minutes, Aaron hung up the phone, placing it back on his nightstand. “We have a case,” He said before getting up and out of bed.

You followed suit, shivering as the crisp air touched your skin. You took a second to gather your surroundings, stretching as you did so as Aaron walked over to his closet.

Neither of you spoke, not quite knowing what to say after last night's endeavors. You made your way out of his bedroom, going to the living room and gathering your clothes, getting dressed. You knew you were just a means to forget about the hardships Aaron was going through, nothing more and nothing less. At the end of the day, he was still your boss above all else.

And when you were completely dressed in yesterday’s clothes, Aaron came out dressed in a fresh suit. He looked at you for a moment before speaking. “Last night can’t happen again,” He said, his face and voice void of emotion as his walls were built up once more. “It was nothing more than a moment of weakness.”

You nodded your head in understanding, feeling your heart drop. “Of course, sir.” You agreed. Because of course, it was nothing more than that. And you would always be there to help in a moment of weakness.

Yet, that night, back at the hotel while on a case in Chula Vista, California, you found yourself in Hotch’s hotel room as he ravished you once more. By the next morning, he said the same thing as he had said the previous day. “It was nothing more than a moment of weakness,” in that soft, velvety, stoic tone. And thus began a strange arrangement where you’d sleep with your boss whenever he wanted it and you allowed it because you wanted it too.

[kingkatsuki]

— come

Toge was always so careful and meticulous about using his cursed speech, not wanting to impact himself or his friends. But when you’re out getting drunk in an attempt to forget your asshole of an ex-boyfriend, and he’s trying to get you home a certain word slips out and it doesn’t quite have the intended effect.

Thanks to the cum/come discourse for sparking this idea.

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dubious consent (to be safe— Toge uses his cursed speech on reader without consent but she likes it), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public setting, unestablished relationship, intoxication.

Word Count: 3k.

You didn’t expect your weekend to end like this. Saturday evening you’d been happily planning a holiday with your boyfriend, and then by Sunday morning, you’d broken up. His speech had started with an “it’s not you, it’s me” before you’d ended up throwing him out of your house and calling your best friend Maki. 

And that’s how you’d found yourself in some shitty bar in a rough part of town on a fucking Sunday evening as you throw back drinks to try to numb the pain. It was surprisingly busy inside the dingy bar, and you were just glad it wasn’t one of the band nights they seemingly had each weekend if the obnoxious posters splashed all over the walls were anything to go by. The loud music pounding through the speakers was enough to set the vibe without being so overbearing that it vibrated through to your skull. 

Being with your friends arguably made things worse as you glanced across the table at Maki and Nobara who were so clearly in love— why couldn’t you have something like that? 

Lamenting softly you eyed your empty glass before honing in on the warm dregs for Yuuta’s fruity cocktail. Watered down by melting ice as you slurped the rest of it back through his straw, left making an irritating noise as you tried to get every last drop of alcohol from the bottom of the glass. 

“Yeah, I think you got it all.” Megumi groaned in irritation as he took the hurricane glass out of your grasp, placing it back in front of Yuuta as he rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get another one.” You huffed, tapping his thigh to let you out of the booth as he moved to stand. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Megumi countered but did not attempt to stop you as you approached the bar. Clumsily weaving through the other patrons who loitered around the area with drinks in hand, as you narrowly missed walking into a guy holding two beers. 

Toge watched you closely as you made a beeline for the bar. He was just happy to be here with you at first, nursing his beer as condensation began to ripple down the bottle as the liquid built to room temperature. The blunt nail on his thumb scratched at the damp silver Asahi label as he languidly peeled it from the bottle. His eyes focused on you as you leaned over the bar to order another round of shots, your skirt raised just enough that he could probably get a peek of the panties you were wearing tonight — not that he hadn’t accidentally snuck a glimpse when you’d crossed your legs on the train into the city earlier (pink, they were pink) — but this meant if he could see your panties now so could any other pervert in this dingy dive bar. 

Fuck. 

“Toge?” Yuuji calls, “Where are you going?” 

Toge waves him off as he moves on instinct. Abandoning his long-forgotten beer as he navigates himself through the crowd towards you, violet eyes glancing at a man who was clearly checking you out as his brows creased into a frown. Deliberately coming to stand behind you to hide your ass from the perverts in the room as he lays a gentle hand on the small of your back. 

It’s the way your eyes light up when you see him that has his heart thunderous in his chest, so loud he thinks you could probably hear it over the abrasive drum and bass track that was currently playing. 

“Toge!” You turn to greet him, as though you weren’t just sitting beside him in the booth moments earlier. 

“Takana?” He looked at you with concerned eyes as your smile faltered. 

You’d definitely had too much to drink.

“But I don’t wanna leave yet, Toge.” You pouted at his question, your arms immediately curled around his shoulders as he had to take a step back to prevent his increasingly evident bulge from pressing against your front, “And I just ordered us more shots!”

“Okaka.“ Toge frowned, already certain you wouldn’t be able to stand if you had much more. 

“Don’t be like that,” You pouted, “You said you were gonna come out with me tonight to make me forget him, but you haven’t even danced with me.”

If you’d thought Toge had any inclination to dance with you, you should’ve been sorely mistaken. But the thought of you going anywhere without him dressed like this had a rage burning in his chest as he thought about anyone else laying even just a finger on you. 

“Sujiko.” He motioned to leave, his warm palm splayed against your hip as his fingers pressed into you. Feeling the plush of your body dip beneath his hand as his thoughts ran rampant, thinking about how pretty you’d look beneath him while he palmed every curve. 

“You’re no fun,” You furrowed your brows, and your bottom lip jutted out so adorably that he had to physically restrain himself from leaning forward to kiss you. For the first time, he wished that his cursed speech worked on the user because he’d shout a resounding “Don’t do it!” just to get himself to stop. 

“Okaka.” He repeated, thankful you could barely see his face beneath his mask as a pastel pink dusted his cheeks. Toge never wanted you to think he was boring, the banter you’d managed to maintain even though you were dating a less favourable guy kept him close to you despite your relationship. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pleased that you’d finally broken up, even if it meant you were hurting now. 

“Oh, yeah— you are fun?” You teased. Toge could see the cogs in your head working as you motioned back to the bar, “Then do a shot with me.”

Toge sighed beneath his mask as he kept one of his arms poised around your waist in a subtle sign of possession as he came to stand beside you at the bar. Glaring at the bright blue liqueur that’s sat in a rather large-looking shot glass— just thankful it wasn’t whiskey again. 

He didn’t enjoy letting alcohol get the best of him, especially with his cursed speech. It lowered his inhibitions and made him more susceptible to talking, which could be a danger in itself. Texting someone to “go die” playfully during a game or banter was one thing, but actually saying it when he’s shitfaced would have dire consequences.

“Shake shake,” Toge replied. 

The delighted squeal you let out at his answer as he moved his arm from its position to pull his collar down made his lips curl into a smile as he reached out for the glass. Holding it gently as he waited for you to do the same as you leaned your body weight against him, your perfume invading his senses as he tried to remember to breathe. 

God, you’re so tipsy. 

“Three, two, one—” You practically sing as you throw the shot back. 

Toge mimics your movements, not expecting the shot to burn as much as it does as it travels down his throat. Tempted to pull out his cough medicine to try and alleviate the tension, but it’s quickly forgotten when he watches your reaction. Your face is scrunched up adorably in disgust as you stick your tongue out, slamming the glass back down on the bar as you make a cute sound of repulsion. 

“I thought it would taste nice because it’s blue,” You whine, “That was even worse than the last one— let me get us something else.”

Your words are slurred as you move to lean back over the bar, trying to get the barman’s attention as Toge tries to pull you back. 

“Okaka.” He shakes his head, moving his hand from around your waist in favour of wagging a finger in front of you. 

He wants to shout at you, remind you that you promised you’d leave after this, but he doesn’t. Pulling his mask back up around his lips to avoid temptation as he tries to move you away from the bar. 

“Tuna tuna.” He presses, as you move back to lean against him. Your arms back around his shoulders as you sway from side to side. 

“But I don’t wanna go yet, Toge,” You pout, “It’s still so early.” 

Toge ignores your statement as he manages to walk you far enough from the bar that you’re not in danger of ordering more shots. The guy behind the bar was giving you far more attention than necessary and he’s certain he would’ve left the bottle if you’d given him the option. 

“Tuna.” He murmurs as you pull his mask down to stare up at his face. Giving him the same childish pout as he mirrored your actions with a pout of his own, showing off his curse marks as you resist the urge to stroke them.

“You go home Toge, but I wanna stay,” You huff, you throw your head back childishly and Toge has to tighten his grip on your waist to prevent you from falling backwards, “Yuuji will take me home.”

Toge was smart enough to know that Yuuji would be completely incapable of getting you home after the sheer number of two-for-one strawberry daiquiris he’d consumed tonight as he gave you a deadpan look. 

“Shake shake.” He replied sarcastically, his voice oozing with ridicule. Keeping his grip on your hip as he tried to move you to leave but you kept your feet planted in place. 

“Come on, just one more shot and then we’ll go—” 

Of course, he should’ve known you wouldn’t be satisfied with one, and the adorable pout on your lips would usually have been enough to have him crumbling, but he needed to get you home. 

You shook your head immaturely when he tried again to pull you away from the bar, practically whining as you begged him to stay, causing a disgruntled grunt to vibrate in his chest as he tugged your arm. 

“Come.” The word left his lips before he’d even thought about the implication, already turning his body to leave. 

And it should’ve made you follow him— But that isn’t how his cursed speech decides to work, and that’s definitely not where your mind is right now. 

You can feel it before it happens, your body torn from your consciousness as you feel the familiar tingles of energy pulse through your veins as your climax builds in your pelvis— but this is different. The desire blooms so hard and fast that it’s impossible to fight it, as you try to clamp your thighs together to satiate the ache as your arms tighten around Toge’s shoulders. 

He knows what he’s done before he sees it happen. The pleasured look on your face as your thick lashes flutter and your glossy lips part in a shameless whine, manicured nails drag against the messy hair at the base of his skull as your legs become weak. Leaning more of your weight against his a debauched, desperate whine spills from your lips.

Oh, shit. It’s loud, and he’s certain someone has got to have heard it, protectively pulling you closer as though he’s afraid someone else might get to see you like this. 

Toge feels his cock respond, pulsing against his pants as it begs to be set free. To feel your trembling walls hug him tightly as he slides into you for the first time— he’s fucked his fist more times than he cares to count to this image, and somehow seeing it here and now could never compare to all those dirty fantasies he’s had about you. 

The pleasure is all-consuming and nothing compared to the orgasms you’ve had in the past. It feels as though an invisible energy has injected its way into your veins and has filled you with an inexplicable warmth as your climax surges through you in harsh waves. The intensity has you weak at the knees as you cling to Toge to stop yourself from buckling to the floor, burying your face in his neck as Toge wishes he could see the way your eyes roll as your lashes tickle his throat and your lipstick smears against his collar, not that he cares— 

It’s too much, too intense as your hole clenches around nothing and your clit pulses. Thankful for the loud music coming out through the speakers as a sinful whine spills from your lips, your hips jerk wildly as you feel Toge’s hard cock press against your tummy. His breath comes out in harsh pants as he tries to think of something, anything to stop himself from creaming his pants. Already feeling the fresh pre drooling out of his cockhead and soaking his boxers at the mere sight of you.

“Fu-uck, Toge.” You whimper, your nails drag against his scalp as your fingers weave into his messy hair to tug roughly. Stealing a sudden gasp from the back of his throat as he feels you press your body against his. 

Toge tries to commit the sound of your moans to memory. The sultry, debased sound of your voice crying out his name as he forced an orgasm from you that he’ll no doubt be fucking his fist to later tonight as he feels your breasts drag against his chest. He feels like a pervert for getting off on this, no better than the men who were loitering around the bar for a glimpse up your skirt. 

A real creep— but somehow this was worth it, he thinks. 

In all those nefarious thoughts he’s ever had about you while he’s stroking his cock, he’s never once imagined you’d look this good. Completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t even touched you. The corrupt whines he’d stolen from your lips continue well into the tremours of your orgasm as he clings to the sound of them, unabashedly shifting closer so he can hear the high-pitched breathy whines you make over the music playing through the speakers. 

He doesn’t even care if your friends can see at this point if he’ll be roasted in the group chat or vilified for it later. He reckons it would all be worth it having finally seen you fall apart for him like this. 

And little did Toge know that you didn’t seem to mind much either. Your ex had never made you cum like that— an all-encompassing climax that left you feeling like putty. Your legs quivered as you felt the aftershocks continue to trickle through you all the way down to the tips of your toes. An impassioned energy that had your mind hazy, laced with cheap alcohol as it managed to consume your consciousness. 

It’s embarrassing. Knowing that anyone could turn to watch you in the crowded bar, to see just how blissed out you are as you lose control of your body and your senses. The pleasure practically forced itself upon you as you drown in it, wishing he’d help you through it with his fingers against your clit or inside your empty cunt as it continued to flex completely empty. Wondering if this is what he could do with his cursed speech, what Toge would be able to do with his hand— with his cock. 

You were looking up at him with the most fucked out expression on your face, it made it difficult for Toge not to want to kiss you— especially with your lips so close.  

“Fucking hell, Toge,” You exhaled shakily as you clung to him, “That was—”

He locks his jaw to bite back the urge to cough, trying to swallow it in his throat as he moves to pull his mask back over his face. Hoping to shield his now crimson cheeks but your hand is quicker, reaching out to prevent him from pulling it up. 

Toge wraps your wrist in a rough palm to tug your hand away from his mask with a frown, feeling his thumb press into your pulse point as you practically whine at him. Your hips still gyrating as you start to come down from your bliss, his eyes flit out to see if anyone seems to have noticed but thankfully the bar is raucous as he holds you against him as you continue to ride the little aftershocks of pleasure. 

You use your grip on the back of his head to tug him down to your height, your glossy lips barely graze his as you press your lips together. A kiss that leaves him craving more as his tongue peeks out to swipe at the gloss, tasting the sugary hint of cherry as you go cross-eyed looking at the curse mark on his tongue. 

Toge can’t stop himself now, one taste and he’s addicted. His warm palm smooth along your side as he maps out the curves of your body, inching his way up until he finds your face. Cupping your cheek in his hand as he leans forward to kiss you, his lips press firmly against yours as you gasp softly, allowing his tongue to delve further as he strokes it against every crevice. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss as you brush your tongue against his gently, feeling yourself melt into him as your hand's ball into fists in the fabric of his shirt. 

He knows it’s wrong. You’re inebriated, he’s already taken advantage of you by using his cursed speech and yet he can’t stop himself. You’re like a drug and he’s addicted as he longs for one more taste, just another hit and then he’ll quit— except he never wants to quit you.  

Toge has never felt so much disdain for the basic human need to breathe as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, keeping his lips pressed against yours as he pants against you. Your warm breath fans his face as half-lidded eyes meet his, your lipstick now smeared across the sides of your lips and chin as you give him a sweet smile. 

“Toge,” You whine, “You didn’t have to use your cursed speech on me to make me cum.” 

“Ikura.” He curses beneath his breath at the sultry lilt to your tone. 

“Can you make me cum again without it?” You ask so sweetly it has his body reacting before his mind as his neglected cock throbs beneath his pants.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be the death of him.

[dearsnow]

12:29 AM

- your normally sober husband comes home drunk out of his mind after a party, and you can’t say that he’s any less sweet. (robert “bob” floyd x wife!reader, fluff, honestly one of the cutest things i’ve ever written, ⚠️ obviously heavy themes of alcohol and being drunk, sexual innuendos but nothing graphic)

word count: 1,502

a/n - i haven’t written a fic with a timestamp as the title in… (checks old blog) over three years?!? in any case, i hope you guys like drunk!bobby as much as i do <3 he’s definitely an emotional/clingy drunk imo.

It’s not often that your husband stays out late, and it’s not often that he doesn’t text you while he’s out, but you trust him. He’s not the type to get blackout drunk or come home stumbling through the doorframe. Robert Floyd is a clearheaded and strong man.

Well, he looks neither right now, as he’s supported by Jake and Javy’s arms, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose and a dopey smile brightening his face. Jake looks at you apologetically— as apologetic as he can get for a situation that’s likely his fault. “Sorry, hun.” He huffs, shifting around Bob’s weight. “There were a few too many fruity drinks ordered, and I guess he didn’t realize they were full of alcohol.”

“You guess?” You ask, rubbing the space between your eyebrows with your fingers. The two more sober men lead Bob into your bedroom, half-dragging him. They lay him down on your shared bed with a softened thump that has him groaning on top of the sheets. “I can’t believe you guys.”

Bob went out with the rest of the squad for some coworker’s promotion celebration, and he promised to come home perfectly sober, as always. He doesn’t even need to promise, if you’re being honest, because that’s just how he is; the most levelheaded person in the room. He would stay until it was socially acceptable for an acquaintance to leave, then he would head home and help you cook dinner to your favorite old school tunes. You never expected to see him shitfaced at 12:29 AM.

Javy shakes his head as he steps around you, taking Jake for a clean escape. “We tried to warn him. I hope he feels better in the morning, but until then, we’re gonna have to leave him with you.”

You sigh, eyebrows just as pinched as they were before. For the first time ever, you’re scared that Bob is going to die in his sleep, and the thought frustrates you to no end. “Thanks. It’s so great that he’s drunk out of his mind, but I have to give you credit for getting him here in one piece.” Your tone is sarcastic enough to get the two men cringing in shame, but you also know that without them, he might still be at that party.

Jake pats you on the shoulder. “Good luck, soldier. You’ll need it.”

With that, Javy and Jake walk out of your bedroom, past your living room, and out of your house like they couldn’t wait to leave. As you hear them close the door, you look down at your husband.

He’s still conscious, thankfully. His eyes are slightly unfocused, he’s blushing like a madman, and he’s groaning lightly, but he’s not completely gone yet. You brush the damp hair away from his forehead and he whines just a bit.

“Wife.”

You quirk your eyebrow in confusion. “Yes?”

“I… have a wife. Y’ can’t touch me like that.” He mumbles. It feels like he’s looking past you. Despite everything, you feel like laughing.

You adjust his glasses on his face and lean over him a little more, fully in his field of vision. “I am your wife.”

His eyes widen like he’s seeing you for the first time, and he smiles crookedly. He tries to sit up, but only manages to prop himself up on one arm as he takes in the sight of your face. “S’ pretty. You’re really my wife? My girl?” In combination with the slurred words of someone down in the cups, the slight southern accent he took so much time to push away is coming back as he speaks to you.

“Yes.” You confirm, kissing him on the cheek. He somehow smiles even wider and reaches out to touch the apples of your cheeks.

“Love you. I missed you.” He mumbles. “Spent that whole party wonderin’ when I could see you again.” He flops back down onto the springy mattress, throwing his arms up. He moves with the precision of a toddler, his limbs seemingly coated in lead. He almost smacks the glasses off his face as he motions to you with grabby hands.

“I missed you too, honey. Can we get you into your pajamas? I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans and a polo.” As you ask that question, his fingers are already attempting to pull the shirt off of his body. It doesn’t work very well, considering he’s still laying down, but you appreciate the effort. “Sit up, my love.”

He sits up, winking at you heavily. It’s more like a slow blink with how long it takes him to do it. “Can’t wait to get me naked?”

A laugh escapes your mouth, and you smother the rest of your giggles with the heel of your palm as you gaze at his slightly crestfallen face. He’s funny when drunk, apparently, even when he isn’t trying to be. It’s like seeing him completely unhinged with none of his usual, careful filters. “Sure. You need to be in some state of undress to get your pajamas on, anyways.”

His face falls into a slight pout as you help him unbutton the top of his polo and slide it up his chest. He seems to notice how your hands hesitate when meeting the warm, taut skin of his abs, and the pout fades instantly. “Like it?”

“I always do.” You hum. He does have a great body, one that you’ve found to be extraordinarily hot. Strong arms, tight muscles, and yet a gentleness in the way his hands hold yours. Right now, though, it’s a bit of a problem as you’re attempting to get his jeans off. He’s still sitting, and you think you could lift weights for ten years and not be able to pull them out from under him. “Can you stand, Bobby?”

“Gladly.” He sings. You help him stand, supporting a bit of his weight. He seems to find a little bit of his footing as his other arm presses into the wall, allowing the both of you to shimmy his pants down his legs and kick them to some unknown corner of the room.

You gather his neatly folded pajamas, a soft shirt and some plaid flannel pants, and help him put them on. Luckily for you, he’s been revitalized by your touch and is a little more helpful now. He’s still moving awkwardly and shifting around like he’s constantly trying to get his balance straightened out, but it’s better than nothing. It would be hell to get him to do anything other than dress, though, so you settle for just getting him in bed. His dental hygiene routine will have to wait.

You lay him back down after he’s dressed and pull the blankets up to his chin, kissing his forehead gently and tucking his glasses in your dresser drawer. You’re already ready for the night (the perks of thinking he would come home three hours ago), so you slip in bed next to him. He immediately pulls you into his arms, his body comfortingly warm. He’s always run just a little hot, which is amazing on cooler nights like this.

He sighs contentedly before moving to stare directly into your eyes. “Y’know,” he starts, “I can’t sleep without your arms ‘round me, and your legs ‘round me, and you breathing all sweet on my neck. ‘M up all night when I’m deployed, at first anyways. My carrier roommates hate it.”

You shift just enough as to where your body is clutching on to him as tight as possible, and he hums in relief. It’s like the little tension that he was holding dissipated entirely. “I’m sorry, baby. That must be hard.” You soothe.

“Payback gave me his pillow once so I could wrap it in my arms, but it didn’t help. He threatened to ‘come up there n’ cuddle me himself’ if I didn’t stop moving.” He scrunches his eyes closed at the memory. You do your best to suppress another bout of laughter, but he makes it even harder when he shivers like he isn’t covered in three layers of blankets and you.

“Did he ever follow through?” You ask, pressing your lips together to stop from smiling. Bob shakes his head.

“Thank god he didn’t.” He utters. You turn to shove your face into your pillow to muffle your expressions. He just keeps his eyes closed, completely unaware of the fact that you’re losing it next to him.

When you finally come up for air, he is drifting in and out of sleep. “Love ya. G’night.” He whispers. It’s so soft that you almost start laughing again.

“Good night, Bobby. Love you too.” You say, kissing his cheek. You click off the lamp on your bedside table and snuggle deeper into his grasp.

He’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. At least he’ll have his wife, breakfast in bed, and an aspirin to take care of him.

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