Otis Driftwood x Female reader
warnings: slight sexual themes, cursing, Otis being Otis
Otis is quite the ladies man. He wasn't sure if its the way that he could make any woman drip with need just by using a few select words or if it's being batshit crazy to the point where girls are somehow attracted to him like a moth to a flame. Mostly all of the women ended up falling for his words and onto his bed; all except you, (Y/f/n). Often, he wonders why he couldn't lure you into his bedroom; debating between you not being into men or you not being allured by him.
Watching you walk, the worn daisy- dukes made your legs long while your hips sway ever so provocatively as your worn flannel was completely unbuttoned, showing off your black bikini top; his orbs carefully watched your body- almost fully taking in your form. Otis was fascinated with you to say the least. Maybe it was the way you could easily make people turn against each other by saying very little. Or was it your firecracker temper, easily scaring anyone who decided to get on your nerves. He often wonders why does a girl like you has him craving a chase.
You know the way that Driftwood boy looked at you. At times, you had to force yourself to not lose control and start pulling him into the nearest room. Although you love his glances towards your body and lets not forget the stuff he whispers in your ears, you know his game. His game of how quickly can he get the next notch on his belt. You weren't a stupid girl by all means, yet it doesn't hurt to give in to the chase to see how much he could take before he gives in.
The thing is, you were the type of person who has always been good with people; comprehending what makes them tick and using that to benefit yourself. Life to you was an endless chess match, always thinking three steps ahead of everyone around you. That was until you met him, the perfect opponent for you, Otis Driftwood. Both of you know that you've picked out your outfit was because you wanted to push him farther into your little game.
Walking past him, you sat down at the tattered leather barstool, the smell of what one could possibly described was the scent of all of the bodily fluids you could produce in life lingered in the air of the dingy bar. You ordered your drink, giving the disinterested bar tender a twenty dollar bill.
"What's a beautiful girl like you doing in this shitty bar." The low, slurred rumble of a male's voice drew your attention besides you. 'Typical drunk.' You mentally rolled your eyes at the man. "Well I was enjoying a nice cold drink until some drunken perv decided to talk to me." Sarcasm spewed out of your mouth, giving the familiar smirk of knowing something that no one would ever know.
Just as the drunk was fixing to respond, Otis stood between the two of you with a look that almost could kill anyone within the 3 mile radius. His blue eyes had darken as he turns his head towards the intoxicated male. The familiar smell of the cheap cologne Otis wore lingered around you as he stood closer to your form. A look of carnage filled his eyes as his voice boomed. "If you dare speaking to my bitch again, you better think about your final words."
A mixture of arousal and aggravation flooded throughout your body, causing your core to drip with need. 'Fuck, he's hot when he's angry.' you started to think but stopped once you heard your name being called. "Y/N, let me get you home." Otis rolled his eyes as you followed behind him, leaving the bar. "What the fuck, Otis. I could handle him myself!" You scoffed at the male, obviously confused about his motives. Suddenly, you were pinned against the brick wall of the bar, his lips pressing against yours with an intense mixture of passion and lust; almost making you putty in his arms.
Pulling away, the two of you stared at each other for what seems to be an eternity; you admired his lips, softly stained with your lipgloss as the both of you softly breathed. Intoxicated by the kiss, Otis walked you to what you assumed was his hotel room for the night. He locked the door behind you as he spoke. "What a fucking catch you are, girlie." He smirk as he pushed you playfully on the mattress to continue what you started.