As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)
Back to my roots as far as my Ao3 debut goes! Drifter was the first character I wrote for on Ao3, and I’ve since abandoned Destiny 2 altogether (since it became a p2p fomo trash fire), but damn if the Drifter isn’t still hot. I’d like to make it plain I have very little idea how Poker works outside of stuff like straights, flushes, etc, so my apologies to those who read my novel little game and find it highly inaccurate.
Summary Even being a bit of a sore loser can make for a good time.
Kinktober 2021, 28: S*x Games (Reader x The Drifter | Destiny 2)
You looked at your grip of cards with a tired groan, realizing you’d been dealt a poor hand… again. Slapping down the cards with a grimace, you grumbled under your breath, bemoaning the last several hands lost to you.
Your companion for the evening set down his cards with a flourish, a wide grin plastered across his face. Sure enough, when you crossly peered at your hand of cards compared to his, it beat you easily. Your face sank further, and you groused a bit more.
“Ah, c’mon, sister, don’t a sore loser like that,” Drifter said cheerily. It made you want to wipe the smirk off his face, but there was little in the universe that could manage that.
At the moment, you weren’t nearly as daunting as you often were, geared head to toe in combat armor and armed to the teeth. The friendly game of strip poker had seen to that, as had your losing streak. You were down to only your bra, underwear, and a glove, and you were grateful at least the room wasn’t cold. And now, with your latest hand lost, another piece of clothing had to go. You stripped off your glove, flinging it away angrily.
“I’d be less of a sore loser if you weren’t cheating,” you accused crankily, fixing him with a stare to match.
“Cheatin’? Me? That hurts,” he said, a feigned wounded tone coloring his voice. “Not my fault I’m on a lucky streak,” he carried on, his voice lifting playfully.
You rolled your eyes at his infuriating cheeriness, watching him shuffle a new hand for both of you. “Yeah, sure, luck. That’sit,” you grumbled again, picking up the new set of cards, watching Drifter for a moment to ensure he didn’t have anything hidden up his sleeves literally.
All you saw were bare fingers - the only signs of any losses he’d suffered in the evening so far. Satisfied, you looked at your hand, and you couldn’t help but grin yourself. Looking at him again, his face was the same, relaxed and cheeky.
You placed down the new hand, spreading the cards confidently across the tabletop. “Let’s see your luck beat that,” you challenged with a smirk. You had a winning hand this time, you were sure of it.
“Well, that isa pretty impressive hand,” he admitted, rubbing his beard thoughtfully for a moment. He languidly set down his own hand of cards, his thoughtfulness disappearing instantly into that shit-eating grin. “But my luck’s still better.”
Sure enough, he wasn’t lying, and the newest hand left your mouth agape for a second, stunned. “Again?! You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” you growled.
“Them’s the breaks, sister,” he told you, his tone completely unapologetic.
You pinned him with another glare, jumping to your feet and clenching your fists, looking as if the thing you wanted to do most at that moment was deck him.
“Hey, this game was youridea, darlin’,” Drifter reminded you, lifting his hands as if to hold you at bay.
You deflated a bit at his words. He was correct. It hadbeen your idea. But it wasn’tsupposed to have turned out quite so lopsided of a game. You debated copping out and leaving, abandoning the game you’d begun, but decided against it. Huffing a frustrated breath, you moved your hands to your bra. You unhooked it and slipped down the straps and pulled away the cups slowly as if you were loath to do so.
Drifter whistled appreciatively as you tossed your bra away. You rolled your eyes, feeling your face flush, and the heat spread out from your neck to your chest and your stomach. “Eyes on the cards, we’re not done here yet,” you scolded him dryly.
Drifter chuckled, but tore his eyes away from your breasts, fixing them on the deck of cards once again. “I think it’s myturn to shuffle that,” you insisted as he reached for the deck again.
“All yours,” he answered, remaining frustratingly confident and calm.
Sitting down and trying to ignore the subtle drifting glances from him, you went about shuffling the deck before dealing out another round. Your new hand was fine, nothing as amazing as the last one that had stilllet you down, but you could be certain at least the deck hadn’t been tampered with.
You both played out your hands again, and again Drifter was the victor. You cursed under your breath, an angry grimace drawn across your face. That was it, game over, no more hands. You rose from your seat again, begrudging hooking your thumbs beneath the waistband of your panties and dragging them down.
Drifter had no qualms about letting his gaze linger then, taking in the complete picture before him. It made you angry at the same time as it turned you on as if the two were linked to one another, As the feeling grew, you decided you might as well get something out of the evening, something more than just Drifter leering at your and crowing over his win.
Without another minute of hesitation, you crossed the space between you to Drifter, still set in his cheer, looking like the cat that ate the canary and relishing in his spoils. When you straddled his lap and braced your palms on his chest, an eager interest took over his grin.
“Well, well, here I thought you hated to lose,” he teased, his calm cockiness returning in spades as he placed his hands comfortably on your hips.
“Ido. Now shut up,” you demanded, leaning forward to silence him whether or not he liked it with a vicious kiss.
Drifter seemed content not to have the last word, at for a little while, returning your aggressive kiss eagerly, running his hands up and down your side greedily. The touch of rough fingertips on your skin sent a chill up your spine, a complement to the irritable rasp of his facial hair on your face.
You thrust your tongue forward just as demandingly as you devoured his lips, and Drifter chuckled against your mouth before he opened up. Though he’d given you access, his tongue met yours, tangling and refusing to be dominated. He groaned and you dug your fingers into his jacket, pulling him closer to you by it.
You ground your hips against his lap and his fingers pausing, clamping down on your hips for a moment reflexively before sweeping up your torso. He filled his palms with your breasts, kneading lazily, at least until you fought his tongue more fiercely. You gasped when his fingers pinched both nipples between them, making you pull back a bit. It happened again when you tried once more to win out your war of tongues, and you realized he was screwing with you again.
Again, frustration and arousal rose together, but you abandoned that particular battle in favor of dragging your hands down to his pants and fussing with them. It only took a minute before you’d undone them and gotten any other irksome clothes out of the way to free his cock.
You reached into them eagerly to grab him, not surprised to find him already standing hard and ready. He’d had plenty of time to eyeball you in various states of undress and seemed to get off on giving you a hard time. If you were lucky, maybe you could give him the ultimate hard time to pay him back for screwing with you all evening.
Putting the thought aside, you gave his cock a few quick strokes, swiping your thumb across his head and a thick pearl of pre-cum gathered there. He groaned again, rolling his hips up into your touch. Pulling away from the kiss, you could tell he was primed to say somethingirritating and decided not to give him the chance.
Quickly, you raised your hips and guided his head to your entrance before slamming your hips down on him. Whatever cheeky words had lingered on his lips melded into a blissful groan. His hands on your chest groped more roughly as you rode him, unashamed to voice your own pleasure. Anything was preferable to giving him a chance to open his mouth again. One hand abandoned your chest, moving around to squeeze the swell of your ass and encourage you to fuck him harder.
You obliged him, pausing only to shift your hips to reach for a more comfortable position. You bent forward, attacking his lips again, the motion sloppy and feral. Drifter made to put you off again, nipping your lip sharply as you pushed into the kiss, making you groan and open your mouth to him instead.
You made a low, muffled noise of complaint, but protested no further, focusing your energy on riding him. He made sure that wasn’t easy either, his hips rolling up to meet yours, the length of him rubbing hotly against just the right spot that made your gut clench and heat. You rode him more frantically, chasing the sparks in your gut in the pleasure they promised.
You tightened your grip on his jacket more, letting go of any coherent thought, letting your lust and frustration blend together to fuel the mounting heat. Your voice pitched louder, longer, though remained stifled. When you felt the peak of orgasm dawn on you, you tore your mouth from his, arching into him and letting your head tip back. Your climax burst over you, radiating out, electric and hot through you, making your thighs and cunt ache and clench around him.
For once, though his mouth was free at last, Drifter had little to say. Instead, he groaned like a wild beast, just like you, clearly close on the tail of his release. Though you paid little mind to tend to his pleasure, continuing to ride him thanks to how good it still felt for his cock to touch that perfect spot again and again as your cunt milked, begging him wordless to cum.
He cursed when he did, giving your ass a hard spank and then a harder squeeze, his hips stuttering as he pumped you full of cum. You only slowed your desperate pace when your orgasm faded off, panting and listening to your blood pound in your ears.
You had imagined he was in a similar state, breathless and speechless and drained from cumming. Though you shouldn’t have expected that, given who you were dealing with. “If that’s how you handle losing, I’m gonna have to set you up to lose a lot more,” he said with a husky, full laugh.
You rolled your eyes once more, leaning forward and letting your head drop against his neck. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re insufferable?”
(these are made using deathinheavens’ 5 colour palettes numbers 93, 96, 101, 102, 133, 116, 220, 221, 264, and 265, picked with random generator. i’m also working on some little animated dances with these puppets, stay tuned <3)
oh to be the idiot in denial who can’t resist falling in love with the same paranoid idiot who can’t refuse, as you both parade as different people, over and over and over again,
