#drunky monkey!

Sackler doesn’t drink, but he doesn’t mind if you do; he thinks it’s great that you want to make time to get together with your friends. Plus, you’re fucking hilarious when you’re drunk. With that, please accept these thots:

(cw: alcohol/drunkenness - reader)

“GIRLS GONE WILD!” You explode through the front door of your apartment, thoroughly and joyously sloshed, to find two of Adam on the sofas reading books. No. One of Adam on the sofa reading book. 

He giggles and smiles a big, toothy grin as you bound over to him, gracefully knocking over the side table on your way. “Good night out with the gang?” he asks.

“GIRLS GONE WIIIIIIIIILD!” you repeat, pulling your shirt up by the hem and shaking your tits right in Adam’s face. You straddle his hips on the couch and shove a nipple in his mouth to stifle his laugh. 

Mmmphhf... mmm... he gives it a quick suck—irresistible—before he pops off and cups your face in both hands, kissing each of your cheeks. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he smirks.

You drape your arms around him and plant a sloppy kiss on his forehead. “Yyyyyyeah. Ihhtwasgreat. But I’mssoo happy to be home withhyyou.” Another sloppy kiss. 

“Me too, Pebbles,” he says, smoothing your hair out of your face. 

You roll your hips on his lap and bite your lip, leaning in close. “Adam, I want you to...” your voice trails off into a whisper in his ear. 

His eyebrows go up. “Right now?” he asks. 

“Right. Now.” Your tone is deadly serious—for being as drunk as you are—aaaaand then you promptly pass out on his chest. 

“How about in the morning,” he smiles into your hair as he scoops you up in his arms and carries you down the hall.

In the bathroom, he sets you down on the counter, gently leaning you up against the corner behind the sink. He pops open the medicine cabinet and rifles through your toiletries and cosmetics, finding the little pastel-blue package of wipes he’s seen you use when you’re too lazy to wash your face. 

He pulls a cloth from the package, gently cupping your chin in one hand, and swipes it over your cheeks, forehead, nose—taking the time to admire your sleeping face. Fuck, you’re so cute... even when you’ve tried to single-handedly drink every Negroni in Brooklyn and now you’re drooling on his thumb a little. He grabs the bottle of ibuprofen and stuffs it in his pocket before cradling you in his arms, tucking your head into his chest and carries you into the bedroom.

When you’re spread out on the bed, he leafs through your pj drawer and grabs your coziest shorts and top—but after reconsidering, he puts the top back and fetches one of his t-shirts. He knows you like ‘em better, anyway. He works off your boots, your jeans, your top, and helps your floppy-noodle frame into your jammies, tucking you in with a kiss on the forhead.

You wake up with a headache that feels like pots and pans clanging. Faaack. Sounds like pots and pans clanging. Wait. That is pots and pans clanging. Adam’s warm, spicy scent fills your nose as you roll over toward the nightstand, and you realize you’re wearing one of his shirts. Mmm. You’re embarrassed at the time when you check your phone, then you see the ibuprofen laid out next to your favorite mug—filled with fresh, cool water that you gulp down eagerly.

It’s then that another smell floats into the bedroom, sweet and fluffy and buttery and... there’s Adam, buck-ass naked in the doorway with a stack of pancakes. “Whhaaat the fuck, Sackler. You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, Adam sauntering over with his cock bobbing. “But you’re also great. Holy shit.”

“Well, is it everything you’ hoped for?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he sets down the stack. 

“What are you talking about?” you reply, confused.

“Last night—” he says, “it’s what you asked for. You told me you wanted me to cook you pancakes naked.” 🥞

                                               ............

ALSO Someone messaged to ask me about the ‘Negroni Season’ reference, so I am now compelled to share it, as I truly believe it is one of the funniest pieces of writing on the internet.