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strang3lov3 · 8 months ago

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WAAAAAH! This is a gem. I was proud to see it become the masterpiece that it is. I love you DD!

Xerox

Pairing: 90sXerox!Pedro(Jamie Diaz) x f!reader

Summary: Jamie is a shy young man who doesn’t know what he’s in for.

Warnings/Tags: MDNI(18+ only), nervous Jamie, he really isn’t sure what he’s doing, flirting, fingering(f!receiving), unprotected PinV(be smart don’t do this), cumshots, copier shenanigans, if I missed anything that should be added let me know!

A/N: Thank you much to @beefrobeefcal and @strang3lov3 for their eyes and enthusiastic encouragement on this, without them this would not be a thing. Thank you @jay-zzle as always for the moodboard cause I was gonna cry not knowing how to add the GIF thing because I am canva dumb. Thank you to @merz-8 and Bug again for helping me come up with a name

@saradika-graphics for the dividers

Masterlist||AO3

It was just another day for Jamie. Get up, work at the copy shop, help people with their stacks of papers, and continue on like any other boring day. He was standing at the copier in the back, keeping track of the amount of papers coming out. He had been pinching pennies as best as he could to ensure he had enough for his books this coming semester. The last thing he needed was his boss, Kent, taking out copy fees from his paycheck like the last time he didn’t pay attention.

“Jamie!” Kent hollered, pulling his jacket on as he exited his office, “I’m heading out to lunch. Watch out!” He cackled, “Looks like the pretty lady’s on her way back here. Must want a piece of you, boy!” he added with a wink.

“Oh, I uh- I doubt that,” Jamie said, his cheeks and neck turning a bright red, “She just comes here 'cause it’s cheap.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Kent huffs a laugh, knocking his fist against the door frame, pointing a finger at Jamie, “Keep doing it.”

“Sure thing,” Jamie mutters, watching Kent leave the back office, “Sure thing.”

The bell above the door jingles as Kent makes his way outside with a morning ma’am as he holds the door open for you. The woman who has been inside this store more times than Jamie can count on his fingers and toes combined. You just started showing up, needing copies of the most random things. Fliers for a barbeque you were hosting, a missing cat flier for your dear friend, your boss demanding copies of a flier for half off on his wife's cheap crafts that she’s had a hard time selling, the list goes on and on.

You’re gorgeous but Jamie can’t tell if you like him or not. Surely a woman like you wouldn’t want anything to do with a guy like him. You’re older than him. He knows because you asked him his age once, then let out a boisterous laugh when he responded with a shy ‘twenty-four’ - commenting how you wouldn’t have pegged yourself as the type, whatever that was supposed to mean. Jamie always prays to whatever higher power there may be that he doesn’t pop a boner the moment you walk through the door, your clothes leave little to the imagination every single time you visit and the way you push your tits together makes him want to lean over the counter and place his head between them and never come up for air.

“How can I help you?” Jamie asks, approaching the front desk, trying not to stare at how much cleavage the simple sundress you're wearing shows off.

“Hello Jamie,” you purr, smiling at him and tapping your nails against the wooden countertop. “Today, I’m here for something a little more… personal.”

“Uh, okay,” he squeaks, eyes bouncing from your tits up to your face, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows nervously, “What uh- what that might be?”

You let out a sly smile, humming as you tilt your head, your eyes tracing over his features. His hair looks so soft- you bet it would feel like satin through your fingers, the cute dimple on his face when he lets a shy smile grace his lips, and the way his chest puffs out as he stands taller, trying to gain some confidence.

“Well,” you start, his eyes widening as you slink around the counter, heels clicking with every step, “I was thinking - and really, it’s just a thought - but maybe I could see how the copies are made?”

“Uhm,” Jamie hesitates, thick fingers scratching his head, “I don’t kn- I-I mean- m-my boss would probably get pretty mad about that.” He stutters out, as you inch closer to him.

“Is he here?”

Jamie shakes his head back and forth, flinching as your hands skate up his arms, looping your arms around his neck.

“Well then,” you grin, slipping your fingers between the curls at the nape of his neck, batting your lashes at him, “What could the harm be in showing me some behind the scenes?”

Jamie nods dumbly, his arms staying limp at his sides, “O-okay,” he stutters out, “J-just this once.”

—

“Well,” Jamie murmurs, flicking on the light of the backroom, “This is it.”

“Hmm… So this is where the magic happens, huh?” you ask, letting a faint giggle escape your lips as you walk towards the copy machine at the back of the room.

“Y-y-yeah,” Jamie laughs nervously, letting out a harsh snort that sounds eerily like a pig. He coughs roughly trying to cover up the sound of the piggy snort he’d just let out as his cheeks flamed like a tomato in the sun. You turn, looking him up and down with a grin. Oh, he’s cute.

“You gonna show me how to make a copy, Jamie?” You ask innocently, thrumming your fingers against the top of the white machine.

“Uhm,” Jamie swallows, stepping towards you like a scared animal, “S-sure.”

He grabs a manilla folder from the tray beside the copier, taking out a small stack of papers.

“So you just, uh, slide them in this tray,” Jamie says, carefully placing the papers into the top tray, “And then you press this button that says start,” he continues, pressing the button ever so gently as the machine hums to life, sucking the papers in, “And that’s it. Then you just stand here and wait for it to be done.”

“Fascinating!” You exclaim, bending over to watch as the papers shoot out below.

“Then you pull the originals out and place them back in their folder,” he explains, grabbing the folder again, keeping his eyes trained in front so he doesn’t look at you, “And then you grab the copies and place them in with the original. Usually, the copies are really warm.”

You reach your hand over, placing your palm against the warmth of the fresh paper, and let out a satisfied hum.

“Toasty!” you giggle, “So do you only make copies of the stuff you’re supposed to?”

“Yeah,” Jamie sighs, “My boss has some pretty strict rules.”

You pout, looking into Jamie’s big brown eyes. “Well that’s no fun.” You frown, “I bet you could make some interesting copies.”

“Interesting copies?” Jamie asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“Sure,” you say with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, “Don’t most copiers have a flat part on them? Not just this shoot thingy?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jamie says, gripping the thick plastic edge pushing it up with a small grunt, “Right here.”

“Perfect!” You clap, before inching the skirt of your dress up. Jamie’s eyes widen like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck as he sees the trimmed curls covering your mound.

“Uh…” Jamie hesitates, unable to tear his eyes away from the glorious site before him, jaw slack and eyebrows near the top of his skull, pointing to your crotch with a single finger, “I- uh- uhm- you.”

You let out a laugh, gripping his shoulder with one hand while the other holds the copier to hoist yourself up onto the flat surface, making sure to spread your thighs to give him a good look at your glistening pussy.

“Brrrr,” you let out a breath squirming, skin rippling with goosebumps as the cool glass hits your naked ass and thighs, “Little chilly.”

Jamie nervously steps back, unsure of what to do. His jeans growing tighter against his groin the longer he stares.

“Now where is that start button?” you huff, moving your legs to find it, “Ah-ha!” You announce, punching the button with your finger to start. The copier hums to life, a bright line of light scanning your ass and thighs, and swooshes out a perfect copy of your bottom half. You smile, admiring the copy of yourself, looking up at Jamie standing like a horny scared rabbit caught in a trap.

“Come here, cutie.” You curl your finger beckoning him closer. Jamie hesitantly moves forward. You smile as you flip the picture around for him to see. “Does it look good?”

Jamie lets out a pathetic, “Oh d-d-dear,” sounding almost identical to Piglet from Winnie the Pooh, and audibly gulps while furiously nodding his head.

“You ever fucked someone?”

“Uh- uhm-“ he starts, before you shush him, laying your hand gently on his forearm. “It’s okay if you haven’t,” you assure him.

“I have!” Jamie protests, wide panicked eyes bouncing back and forth between your own, “J-j-just not with s-someone like you.”

“No worries, sweetheart,” you smile, letting out a soft sigh and looping your fingers through his belt loops, pulling him closer to cage him in between your thighs, “I’ll help.”

His breath mingled with your own as those brown eyes glanced down at your lips, leaning in to brush his pouty lips against yours with a deep sigh. You smile into the kiss, nipping his bottom lip with your teeth causing him to gasp, allowing your tongue to glide into his warm mouth, easily taking the lead. Your hands slide up his torso to his shoulders, gripping the back of his neck deepening the kiss. Your lips trail down his jaw to the pulse point of his neck while he lets out a small whimper.

“You can touch,” you comment, sucking lightly against his neck, reaching for his hands that are still dangling at his sides unsure, leading them to your center. He lets out a harsh sigh when his fingers brush against your slick folds. You moan, guiding his fingers to that sensitive bundle of nerves, showing him the perfect amount of pressure to use that causes your toes to curl. “Oh fuck,” you sigh, as he slips two of his fingers into your wet hole. His breath becomes ragged, watching as your eyes gloss over from the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Feel good?” He asks with an awkward huskiness.

“Mhmm,” you nod, feeling the warmth spreading through your body, hands reaching to undo the button of his jeans, “Fuck,” you groan, feeling that band tightening in your core as his fingers begin to move faster, “Don’t forget the clit, baby,” you remind as his hand fumbles between your legs.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, swirling circles around your clit with his thumb. He helps you push his jeans and boxers down with his free hand, hard cock standing at attention, leaking from the flushed tip. You let out a frustrated whine when he removes his fingers, gripping his cock to swipe it along your entrance.

“Fuck,” you moan, growing impatient, “Just put it in already.”

Jamie nods dumbly, punching his length in like a straw going into a caprisun.

“Fuck!” he yelps, tightly wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. Gently, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him as his cock twitches bumping against your walls.

“Move, baby,” you whisper, softly kissing his cheek. Jamie takes a deep breath pulling out, letting out a sharp whine as he sinks back into you. “Just like that,” you hum, sliding one of your hands to where you’re both connected, swirling your fingers in steady circles around your clit, your walls tightening around his cock. “Oh god! Don’t stop,” you moan, your grip on the back of his neck getting tighter.

“Fuck,” Jamie hisses, his body trembling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over, thrusting his hips against you three more times before he pulls out. Ropes of his come shooting out onto the flat surface of the copier and your sex. You sigh sadly, looking at the streaky white mess he made covering your inner thighs and core. His hard length jutting out above the glass surface.

Perfect.

You giggle, pressing the start button, watching Jamie’s eyes trace the flash of light under you, hearing the swoosh of paper coming out. You grab it excitedly with a shimmy of your shoulders, pushing Jamie back a little to hop off the copier, come sliding down your inner thighs, leaning up you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for the keepsake, sugar,” you wink, walking out of the backroom.

Tagging some who seemed interested when I shared the WIP Wednesday of this 😅 @almostempty @ace-turned-confused @whocaresstillthelouvre @pedroswife69 @94namkooksworld

Thank you for reading! Let me know what y’all think! ❤️

#xerox!pedro #pedro pascal characters #turbo rec

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beefrobeefcal · 1 month ago

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🥩💜🥩

The Debt Collector feat. Clint Flood

Summary: Your boyfriend has a debt with a dangerous man that he skips out on. Then Clint is sent in to collect.

Clint x f!reader | Rating: 18+ MDNII | Word Count: 7,751

Content Warnings: clint is a mean man, buckets of sexism, p in the v - raw, oral (f!receiving), jerking off, face sitting, belly worship, derogatory name calling, power imbalance, slight coercion but all parties are consenting, weight appreciation, weight self consciousness, mentions of mafia/mob/gangs, criminal activity (no direct statements), cross contamination with another beef series, poor sandwich skills are really the catalyst, rough-ish sex, clint has a potty mouth - don't let him meet any family elders who you want respect from

Author's Notes: is beef back? well i never really went anywhere, but I have a full bodied offering for the public today. Thank you to @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @weregirlbyknight and @bitchesuntitled for their love and eyes! Thanks also to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You heard a car door close outside in the parking lot of the scummy motel your boyfriend, Jack, had dragged you to in a panic. You had no idea why he had, but as soon as you saw the blood drain from his face at the sound of the loud motor followed by a door slamming, you started to put the pieces together.

By the time you heard heavy footsteps reverberating through the shaky concrete and rusted metal staircase, your boyfriend was up and scrambling out the bathroom window. A loud thud from him hitting the dumpster below left you suddenly very aware of how alone you were. The knock at the door turned you away from the bathroom. You froze. If whatever was on the other side of the door was enough to send your, what you thought anyway, strong and mean boyfriend leap from a second storey bathroom window and bolt, you didn’t have a chance.

Another knock. Silence. You crouched behind the counter of the kitchenette, and sat in silence.

A loud bang and the door was flung open, crashing against the wall, no doubt wedging the doorknob in the softened and stained drywall. The sound of a low, huffed grunt broke through the ambient sound of traffic, followed by the doorknob being dislodged from the wall and the door closed. You could hear the creeks and splintering of the wood and drywall, and knew there was no way you’d be getting any part of your deposit back.

“I know yer here, ya fuckin’ puke.”

You knew that voice. Shit. No no no.

You knew your boyfriend was about as smart with money as you were with men, but this was a whole new level of bad. If Clint was here, this meant he owed the wrong men a lot of money that he didn’t have. God dammit, please don��t say…

“Big Fish don’t take too kindly to late payments, Jack.”

Fuck.

Big Fish Morales, head of the Frontiersmen, was notorious for getting really mean about money he was owed. Everyone thought the previous guy was bad until that one skid Steve didn’t pay. Not only did Big Fish have his face beaten in, he also took his sister and lord knows what he did to her. You’d heard a rumor that Steve washed up dead on the waterfront a few weeks later and you had no idea what happened to his sister.

As you sat in thought, you let out a bit too loud of a sigh and your head bumped against the particle board cabinet behind you. You heard a short, huffed chuckle and looked up to see Clint looking over the counter at you with a crooked grin.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

Your stomach dropped as you tried to smile sheepishly.

“Where’s Jack, gorgeous?” His tone was low and gruff, but you could tell he was trying to be at least a bit softer than if he was speaking with Jack himself.

“I- he’s not here.” You managed to stammer out, as Clint kept you in his eye sight while he made his way around the counter.

Your eyes widened when his large, heavy frame came into full view. Last time you saw Clint, it was from afar and you didn’t speak to him. It was at one of those underground poker rings almost two years ago, but his voice and press was ingrained into your brain at the time. However, you didn’t recall him being this big; his middle was definitely bigger, his belly rounded and bowing his belt in the front and pulling his shirt tight and you could see the divot from his belly button in the fabric.

One of his big hands came up and a thick finger beckoned you to him. “Come here, pretty girl.” His voice was like gravel and somewhat patronizing.

You stared up at him, brows furrowed and lips slightly parted; your brain was slow on the uptake in processing his request. The low huff he let out accompanied by a head tilt got you moving, your shaky legs standing you up clumsily. You apparently didn’t move quickly enough as you stood because Clint took two quick steps towards you and gripped your wrist, and you let out a surprised squeak. His other hand came up and a fat finger pointed up at your face as he tugged you towards him.

“Before you holler, ‘member I’m bein’ nice.”

He pulled you towards the couch and pushed you to sit on it, and he sat heavily next to you, hand snaking onto your thigh, his fat fingers gently kneading your skin.

He lowered his head, his eyes giving you a patronizingly stern look. “Now. I'm gonna ask you again: where is Jack?” His voice crackled like the last smoking embers of a campfire.

You furrowed your brows at him and shook your head, but he cut you off as you were about to respond.

“Now don’t go saying you don’t know again.”

You looked up at him, eyes darting around his face, trying to figure out another way to convey you had no idea where that rat bastard had gone. “I… know not?”

He tilted his head with an unimpressed face and sighed. “You’re really gonna do this?”, he asked flatly. “Fine. Go make me a sandwich. Be useful while I figure out what to do with you.”

“Uh… okay. Well, this is a hotel room and…”, you paused, waiting for him to catch on that this was more than likely going to be a pisspoor excuse for a sandwich.

When he didn’t respond with anything beyond a slight raise of his eyebrows, you huffed and stood up. “It’s not going to be great…”

You felt a swat on the back of your thigh. “Hey, knock it with the attitude. Get me my sandwich.”

In the kitchen, you pulled out all the food you’d brought with you and looked down at it. Clint had picked up a magazine Jack left strewn on the floor, and you could hear him huff a chuckle intermittently along with the sound of pages being turned.

This was going to be a horrible sandwich.

“Bon appetit.”, you mumbled, handing a paper plate with a loose interpretation of a sandwich on it to Clint.

He looked at it, face skewed in confusion, as he tried to make out what you had handed to him.

“What in the fuck, chickadee?”, he muttered, aghast. “What did you do?”

“It’s the best I could do, okay?”

“It’s thick ass apple slices with mustard and beef jerky between’em.”

Clint tossed the plate onto the stained coffee table with a scowl, and grunted as he hauled himself up off the couch. He stood over you, larger and imposing, and his hand came out quick, gripping your jaw between his meaty index finger and thumb. If it weren’t for the fact that you’d heard rumors of what Clint was capable of, his big, soft, dark brown eyes would have lulled you into a false sense of security, disarming you immediately. No wonder he was so good at his job; one look from those peepers would have just about anyone falling over themselves and into his fists of fury if they were none the wiser.

“So you’re useless….”

You glared at him in response to his biting words. His eyes narrowed in return and he nodded with a soft, “huh.”, and his tongue ran along the inside of his bottom lip as if he were mulling over something.

He released your chin and stepped back, eyes roaming down then back up your figure, then raised his brow, giving a nod in approval. “Maybe useless isn’t the right word.”

You felt a horrible mash up of butterflies and anxiety sprout in your stomach. “What?”

Clint offered you nothing short of a sweet smile that carried something more malevolent underneath.

“Jack’s got a debt.”, he stated softly, as if he were explaining this to a child.

You nodded, watching as he reached behind him. Your blood ran cold as you assumed he was getting his gun, but instead he pulled out his wallet. You watched, confused and curious, as Clint opened it and from the cash compartment, retrieved an off white and weathered, folded paper.

He felt the front of his jacket, clearing his throat, then pulled out his glasses and put them on. Unfolding the paper, he looked you over once more, and then read the paper. His lips moved slightly as his eyes skimmed over the faded text, and then he nodded, and folded the paper up, put it back in his wallet and took off his glasses.

“Okay sweetheart, you’re gonna pay off your fuckwad of a boyfriend’s debt.”, Clint said with a grin and raised brows.

Your head was still reeling. You were so mad at Jack right now, but you also knew he would find out how his debt was paid. That seemed to give you a brief moment of smugness, at least enough to get you over the anger long enough to cycle back to think about how you actually need to pay this debit… then the cycle started again.

Everything you willingly engaged in with Clint - sexually - held a price. Do enough of them, you could bring down Jack’s debt either entirely or to a degree that Big Fish would get off his case for a bit. You couldn’t help but make the connection to your landlord and the cleaning list he handed you when you signed the lease with him last year; everything had a cost that would come out of your security deposit if you didn’t do it. Except this was $150 for a handjob, $200 for a blowjob with a condom, $500 for sex with a condom, $500 for a blowjob bare, $1000 for bareback sex, $2500 for anal… and so on. Again, your mind spun through the numbers, trying to figure out how many times you could starfish under his fat body to pay off the $9k in debt.

“...not because I want this, sweetheart, but it’s the principle of the - are you still with me?”

Clint’s voice cut into your spiraling and you looked up, being met with his large brown eyes.

“Hey!”, he barked as he snapped his fingers. “I know this is transactional but I need your consent, baby.”

You blinked and nodded. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah, It’s good-I’m good.”

He nodded and then stood up straight and looked around, his mouth pulling into a frown. He grimaced at the hotel room. “Place is a fucking dump, sweetheart. You sure you wanna do this here?”

You too took a moment to look around the squalor that was apparently a hotel room, shitty excuse for a sandwich tossed on the table included, and you shrugged. “Where else?”

Clint’s mid-80’s Chevy Monte Carlo pulled up in front of a large, red brick warehouse looking… warehouse. It was a fortress, and there were armed men at the door. However, as soon as they saw who it was driving in, their weapons were lowered and friendly-ish looking grins spread on their faces.

“Uh.. where are we?”, you asked as Clint grabbed your arm and pulled you across the bench seat and out of the vehicle.

“Well, since that piss poor excuse for a hotel room wasn’t up to snuff, I brought you right to the debtor for our little… transaction.” He turned and looked at you for the final word, one side of his mouth was pulled into a smile.

“Hey. Clint, you fat old fuck.”, a shorter, dark haired asshole with brown eyes in a black leather bomber jacket called out. His thick brows made him look like Bert from Sesame Street, or even Sam the Eagle from The Muppets. His eyes shifted from Clint to you and the grin he pulled on his face made you feel sick. “And who do we have here?”

“Fuck you, Pope.”, Clint grunted, tugging you along into the building. “That’s who.”

As he guided you in his firm grip through the front doors, you could hear the one he called ‘Pope’ laugh. The hallway he led you down eventually led to a stairwell. Clint stopped you, already looking a little winded.

“Fuck..”, he huffed, letting you go and putting his hands on his hips. He caught you watching him, sensing a bit of concern in your gaze and he waved you off. “Haven’t done a hell of a lot of walking lately… and elevator’s out in this place…”

You nodded, attempting to show that you understood and sympathized, but really, you were completely confused as to where you were and when you were going to get fucked.

Clint nodded along with you. “You got no fucking clue…”, and he sighed then changed to shaking his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. We’ll get you sorted quick, then you can…”, his hand made a rolling motion. “...then you can get back to that fuckass boyfriend of yours.” He then widened his eyes and took a deep breath. “He’s gonna owe you big time - “

“Oh, I’m done with him. Yeah, no that’s not happening anymore.” You nodded for emphasis, and again Clint nodded with you, and huffed a chuckle with a grin.

“Good girl.”

It didn’t take Clint long to decide that he wasn’t going to traverse the stairs and then fuck the debt out of you. A tall, blond guy, maybe a bit older than you, led both you and Clint to a room on the main floor. It wasn’t much but it wasn’t anything requiring a tetanus shot like the hotel room you’d left. The bed was king sized and there was a small ensuite with a seafoam green tub-shower combo in it. None of the towels matched, nor did the bedding, but it had a bit of a homey feel.

You caught yourself feeling less threatened and more at ease, almost forgetting what you were doing here as he stayed back, letting you get comfortable. He meant it when he said he wanted your consent. He may be a mob enforcer but he’s not a monster - at least not like that. But he was also a man and you were a gorgeous woman. He hadn’t fucked anything that he didn’t have to pay since he lost his wife, so this was a welcome change. Sure, he was doing a bit more than asking in this circumstance, and he was using your shitrat boyfriend’s debt as a means to getting you on your back, but he knew he could at least show you a good time while he was at it. It also didn’t hurt that you didn’t seem repulsed by his weight. When he’d made the option available to you, you didn’t recoil, in horror, so that was a plus.

He reached over and locked the door, the soft click of the lock pulling you back to reality. You kept your back to the door, to Clint, looking out the window at the waterfront. It was dusk and you could hear him moving to the edge of the bed and sitting down, the frame and boxspring groaning under his weight.

“Striptease is $75.”, he said in a soft, measured voice.

You looked at him over your shoulder, and saw he’d taken his jacket off. His flannel shirt was pulled and puckered across his belly as he sat with his thighs open to accommodate his heavy middle.

“Come on, baby…”, he motioned softly. “Come on over and let’s start with that $75.”

You turned and stood in front of him, your brain going through any and all striptease from movies you’d watched but it only came up with Jamie Lee Curtis in True Lies, and that’s all you had to work with.

Worse than that, the only song you could hear in your head at that moment was ‘Duel of the Fates’ from Revenge of the Sith, so now you were doubly screwed. You took a deep breath and turned around, figuring that at least if Clint was staring at your ass, he wouldn’t see your face, twisted in embarrassment. You began to rock your hips, slowly at first, the sharp notes of the soundtrack in your head guiding your rhythm. Crossing your arms in front of your torso, you pulled your t-shirt above your head, and tossed it behind you. Closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost in the most intense part of the instrumental music in your mind, you hooked your thumbs in your leggings’ waistband and shimmed them down, then pulled them off entirely-

“Stop. Jesus, stop!”, Clint groaned.

Your brain went silent, and you turned around to look at Clint. “What?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary breath. “Stop. You look like you have a stick up your ass - your… very nice ass - but you have the grace of a scared pack of lemmings.”, he looked up at you. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I will call that $150 if you never do that again.”

“Oh… okay.”, you nodded, your cheeks heating up, and offered meekly with a shrug, “I never really was a-a dancer.”

“That’s- that’s apparent.”, Clint nodded, looking away and rolling his eyes. “I now know you won’t be on top.”

His eyes roamed all over your body and you remembered then that you were standing in front of him in nothing but your bra and thong underwear. He nodded in approval.

“Well, you got all that working for you. Come here.” He hooked his finger and necked you towards him. “You got some debt to work through.”

You stepped towards him, and he took your hand, gently tugging you closer. He kept his voice soft as he looked up at you. “Now, I am not the kind of guy who’ll make you work bareback, but doing it that way is worth more.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You wouldn't even let Jack cum in you, demanding that he either wore a condom or didn’t get to fuck you at all, but something about Clint and how this was so transactional… the risk and naughtiness of having this fat man cum in you being worth more against the debt was arousing. Unconsciously, you squeezed your thighs together and your sigh was made audible by the small whine that came with it.

His brow raised as he looked at you and his mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown that turned to a light grin. “Well, I guess I got my answer then. On your knees, sweetheart.”

Despite your earlier yearnings, you’d forgotten about everything but him fucking you raw. Blow jobs had completely slipped your mind, and your face fell a bit.

Clint chuckled. “What? You thought I’d just raw dog your pretty little snatch and be done? No, babycakes, you’re on the clock here and let's hope your mouth is better than your dance moves.”

“Yeah… okay fine. I guess that makes sense.”, you begrudgingly agreed with a slight eye roll. You dropped down to your knees and scooted closer to him. His belt was peeking from between the pulled flannel and you pushed it up, and tugged on the belt to get it open. You could see on the worn leather that there had been several holes added to lengthen the original belt size, more than likely to accommodate a growing figure. The hole he had his belt buckled to was at the very possible end of the strip of leather; any other hole made past it would probably rip the end and render the belt useless.

“You got a thing for belts or something?” Clint’s chipped tone cut through your musings and he moved his hand to your jaw tentatively, like he wanted to try touching you before fully committing.

You felt your cheeks heat up again under his touch and his gaze, but you couldn’t pull your eyes from his belt and the way it dug a bit into his rounded middle. You swallowed thickly and managed to spit out, “More like what the belt is on…”

Clint responded with a huffed laugh, causing you to look up at his face. He had a bit of a bashful smirk, his eyes darting around your face, as if he were trying to figure out if you were making fun of him.

His head tilted in a sideways nod, and he spoke in a low, gruff tone. “So, you’re one of those…”

You were sure what one of those was but you nodded anyway, and Clint chuckled and mused, running his thumb along your bottom lip, “Jack was just such a wirey fuck…”

It dawned on you what he meant; one of those girls who likes fat guys. You felt a little too exposed with that revelation. “Dick is dick.”, you tried to state coolly, but it came out in more of a choked grunt.

“I’m sure it is, sweetheart.”, he chuckled again. “But I guarantee Jack didn’t outgrow his belt like a fucking hog.”

You knew the moment you involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath between your teeth and squirmed on your knees ever so indelicately, Clint had your number.

“So Jack’s girl is a little minx with a - help me out here, honey. Is it the weight or the gut?” The smug grin on his face as he asked was almost too much and you tried to pull back from his grip.

“Uh-uh. No. This is too good, babycakes.”, Clint laughed. “Your dream come true!”

You didn’t have a leg to stand on, and you knew it. The only option you had left was to join in. Sucking back your pride - or what little there was of it left at this moment - you forced a smile. “Because I’m fucking you, is it worth more? Like pound for pound?”

Clint’s face hardened and his gentle hold on your jaw tightened on your face. “Funny… funny girl…”

He shoved you back and stood up with some effort and he unbuttoned his flannel, his eyes boring into yours with a cold glare. From the top down, as each button was released, more of his strained undershirt became visible. Then he unbuckled his belt and ripped it from his pants with a loud crack, making you jump while still on your knees. Your comment about his weight apparently had hit a sore spot, and you only slightly regretted it as he stood tall and loomed over you. He folded his belt in half, holding an end in each hand; he pulled it tight, causing a loud snap.

“You want to be funny, baby?...”

Good fucking god. You swallowed hard, as his large frame cast a shadow over you. He was backlit by the tit-looking light fixture on the ceiling.

“...or you want to be a good girl?”

Your mouth moved before your brain. “...both... “

As soon as you said it, you cringed. You’d never in a bajillion years been like this with anyone else. But you couldn’t help it! Clint was apparently a pro at bringing out your inner brat, that up until this very moment you didn’t know existed.

His mouth pulled into a tight line, and he undid his jeans, pulling them down enough to see the sizable bulge in his boxers underneath, pressing up against his belly.

“Now, I’m gonna level with you, sweetheart: you so much as tug a pube or knick me with one of those teeth in your mouth, I will use this belt. Got it?”

Fuck, the way his eyes stared you down while you were on the floor… It was humiliating and exhilarating.

Clint shimmied his jeans down far enough that they dropped to his ankles and he sat back on the bed heavily. “Come on over… get to work.”

Despite his earlier bravado, you could see the cracks in the facade. There was an insecurity now that bled from his presence in the room. Like that crack about his weight really did a number on his self esteem and even though the circumstance you were currently in with him didn’t demand niceties, you certainly didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

You awkwardly crawled over to him, and with your hands on his knees, you looked up, trying to keep your face as soft and sweet as you could. You made sure he was watching you as your hands slid up his thighs and to the waistband of his boxers that sat just below the red line his belt had wedged into his skin on his stomach.

“You figured me out pretty quick…”, you cooed softly, your hands tugging his boxers down under his belly then pushing his undershirt up. His stomach moved slightly with each breath, then tightened as you traced your fingers delicately over the skin. “It’s both…”

He cleared his throat.. “What-uh… what d’ya mean?”

“Weight and belly.”, you confessed lowly, your index finger circling his deep belly button with a whisper touch.

The sharp breath he sucked in caused his middle to twitch and shift in his lap, you felt emboldened, and to be frank, fucking hornier than a badger in heat. Leaning forward, your lips started with soft, slow kisses on his stomach.

“Fuck…”, he choked out, his hands fisting on either side of him on the bed.

One hand dropped between the two of you, and a finger hooked into his boxers, allowing his engorged and hard member to push out. Just the weight of his uncut cock in your hand was enough to bring out a soft sigh, and Clint groaned in response. His own hand came up and cupped your cheek.

“Sweetheart…”, he groaned. “Honey… no t-teasing… teasing gets you n-no money…”

“Not teasing…”, you murmured against his skin, now pressing wet, open mouth kisses on his stomach.

You gripped his cock and began to pump him while your mouth moved further down and your tongue circled the rim of his belly button.

The shudder and grunt Clint let out was music to you, encouragement to keep this up, and your tongue pressed in deep to the divot. The hand he had on your cheek shifted to your hair and he gripped it hard, pulling your head back.

“You’re a fucking belly slut, huh?”, he snarled as your hand continued to jerk him, tugging back the foreskin with each swipe.

You nodded, your mouth, cheeks and chin were wet with your saliva.

His brows twitched in and out of a furrow white your hand kept working.

“Stop… Fuck, stop…”, he grunted breathily. “Babygirl… stop… gonna make me cum… wanna… don’t wanna lose the chance to cum in your - “

“Where?” You didn’t recognize your own voice. “In my pussy?”

“Fuck… “ He licked his lips, his eyes fluttering closed. “Wanna eat your pussy first… call it $500 to lemme eat you, baby…”

You release your hold on his dick, but the hold he had on your hair didn’t let up. He tugged you up and against him. In a quick motion, you were on the bed on your back, your legs at the knee dangling off the edge of the bed.

His mouth was on yours quickly and his hand gruffly pushed your legs apart. His middle finger pressed against your panties, feeling how wet you were, and he groaned into your mouth as his tongue slid against yours.

Clint’s finger slipped under your panties, pushing them to the side. You squirmed against his body as it gently dipped into your hole and then circled up to your clit, then pressed down.

“Clint…”, you whined softly, your back aching slightly.

“Sh sh sh… I know…”, he cooed then sucked your lower lip between his, then released it with a pop. “You’re so wet, sweetheart… five hundred bucks…”

Your eyes were barely open but you could see the desperation in Clint’s. You knew you could demand just about any amount at this moment and he would agree if it meant he got to get his mouth on your pussy. But fuck, those big brown eyes, pleading and begging… It seemed that you were both well and truly fucked over for one another.

“Uh-huh.”, you managed to pant out.

His eyes were dark and zeroed in on yours while the meat of his palm pressed against your lips and clit. “Grind on me. Don’t got lube and I wanna make sure you're wet enough for me.”

You started to grind down on his hand, but he’d already pulled two orgasms out of you and you were normally a one or two and done kinda girl.

The sound of Clint’s wet mouth pulling into a smile gave you the hint that he was not done with you.

“Clint…”, you whined softly.

He pressed a little harder against you. “What do you need, baby?”

“Clint… fuck!”

“Use your words, beautiful.”

“Clint… t-talk…”

His brows raised slowly. “You want me to talk to you?”

You nodded, your hand reaching down and gripping the wrist of the hand planted firmly between your legs.

“Yeah? Want me to talk you into getting wet? Pussy won’t drool unless she’s talked nicely to? How’d Jack get you off, huh?”

You shook your head, eyes closed. “Don’t… no, don’t talk about him…”

He smiled. “What should I talk about then, baby?”

You rocked your hips against his hand, a soft moan careening out of your parted lips, your eyes closed. To Clint, you were a vision.

“Come on, sweetness… use your words. Tell me what you need to hear.”

“Need… just ta-talk… anything…”

He smiled to himself. Nothing was a bigger boost of confidence than watching a beautiful creature fall apart with such a small effort on his part.

“Tell you how pretty you are… how fucking good you look getting off on my hand. Makes me feel like kingshit, baby… so fucking perfect…”

If you weren’t already transfixed on the feeling of Clint’s hand, you’d think his words were based in reality, and not the circumstances you both found yourselves in together. The way his voice sounded was low, rough, yet soft and gentle, like if gravel was made out of bubbles.

The feeling was ripped away quickly when Clint’s hand disappeared and he crawled up on the bed. Clint rolled onto his back. He lifted his head and his hand felt around beside him until it found your hand. He pulled you up the bed and onto him.

“M’knees are bad.. Come on over and up you get.” Clint’s face was stone cold serious as he spoke. It was only the mischievous sparkle in his eyes that told you just how excited he was for this.

You should have said it would be worth more than $500.

Once you removed your underwear and climbed up, seating yourself on his face, you really regretted asking for it to be worth more. The way his hands clamped down on your hips and tugged you firmly down on his mouth, and you felt his lips part and his tongue swirl around your hole, you would be lucky if you were able to walk after this.

Clint was ravenous. He loved eating pussy, so much so that his marriage lasted an additional three years past what it should have based on that little fact alone; his ex had said as much during the divorce proceedings. And now with your weight on his face, your scent and musk enveloping him, he was in heaven. You were so pretty and the sounds he was pulling out of you made you even more so to him. He knew this was only a job and you were technically being coerced into this, he was happy to get lost under you, tasting you, and pretending for just a brief moment that he could pull a pretty thing like you.

As your thighs started to shake and squeeze his head, you leaned back and grabbed your ankles. Clint’s fingers dug deeper into your hips, keeping you firmly in place and he tongue-fucked your hole as his nose rubbed furiously against your bundle of nerves.

“Oh fu-fuck!”, you choked out, your orgasm washing over you. Against Clint’s hold, you tried to rut your cunt on his face.

As you started to come down, he tensed up his arms, his hands clamping down harder, holding you firmly in place. He tipped his chin up and his lips sucked hard on your clit, causing you to instinctively try and jerk away from him, but you couldn’t get away.

You let out a shrieking whine as his front teeth barely grazed your hooded nub as he sucked it between his lips, forcing another orgasm out of you.

“Cli-please! Fu-Clint! Shitfuck! Oh oh oh oh! Oh god dammit! Clint!”, you caterwailed, body shaking you through another wave of ecstasy.

It was almost perfect timing when he started to loosen his grip and your hips jerked, causing your whole wet cunt to swipe over his nose and onto his forehead. He let out a satisfied grunt and you heard him noisily lick his lips.

You panted and gracelessly fell beside him on the bed, your calf now draped heavily over his mouth. His hand gripped your ankle gently, lifted it and he pressed a kiss to the inside of your lower calf, and lowered it above his head. He stayed laying on his back.

“500 bucks…”, Clint huffed with a smile, nodding, sounding pleased with his good fortune.

You grinned despite still being able to feel your heartbeat in your cunt. “Now what?”

“Now -”, he said before letting out a grunt as he sat up. “Now, you’re gonna work a grand off that fucker’s debt.”

As much as it excited you to get railed raw but Clint, there was a flutter of disappointment at the reminder of what this was - purely a business transaction that you’d gotten caught in the crosshairs of; your body and what you could do with it was the currency.

Clint turned around, giving you a devilishly dark smirk. “You ready, sweetheart? I’m gonna fuck that tasty cunt raw.”

You took his outstretched hand and sat up, trying to shove down the hollow feeling that was bleeding through your body. “How do you want me?”

“Wet and gaping.”, he said in a soft, dark tone. He shifted his body and crawled up between your legs, his heavy, firm belly grazing against then pressing into your body.

Instinctively, one of your hands moved along his side and found his lovehandle, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“So heavy…”, you murmured as he lowered himself further against you and you buried your face into his neck.

He chuckled softly, and turned his face towards you. His nose nudged along your jaw, encouraging you to look at him. When you did, he smiled warmly. “You’re really into this shit, huh?”

You exhaled, slightly irritated at the call out. “Jesus…”, you scoffed, and with an eyeroll, you pushed yourself up on your elbows causing him to move off you.

“What’s with the attitude?”

The sharpness of his tone caught you off guard, and you froze. Looking up at him, Clint’s brows furrowed and his face stone cold and his large hand grabbed your chin firmly.

“Not sure what you think this is, sweetheart, but you’re in no fucking position to push me off you.” As he spoke, he jerked your chin slightly for emphasis on his words. “You don’t like what I say? Tough shit. Get fucking pissy over it later. Got it?”

You were once again reminded that Clint was someone who collected debts from all sorts of people by his whiplash-inducing attitude shift. You nodded, responding in a quiet, somewhat bewildered manner. “Yeah… I - I got it.”

He gave your chin a gentle squeeze before murmuring, “Good girl.”, then he rolled over onto his back again.

“Just for that, you’re on top.”, he grinned smugly. “You gotta do the work.”

You huffed quietly to yourself and gracelessly got on all fours and crawled on top, straddling his hips. His almost-hard cock jutted out between your mound and his belly, and Clint grinned, licking his lips, and his eyes were looking at the flimsy bra on your top. His hands were on your hips, fingers gently digging into you. “Come on… show me those tits… I’ll throw in another hundred bucks.”

Once your bra was off and cast carelessly to the floor behind you, Clint’s big hands were on your chest, kneading and groping you.

“Atta’ girl…”, he muttered under his breath. You could feel his member hardening against you.

Despite your momentary doubts caused by his shift just moments before, his warm, fat fingers worrying your nipples and watching his arousal for you grow right against you, you couldn’t deny how hot this actually was. A soft moan slipped out of you as your head dipped back and your eyes closed, and Clint responded with one in kind.

He took a deep breath, hands still on your tits, and spoke in too soft of a voice for what he was about to say. “I know I worked you over already, but if you want that debt down, you’re gonna do as I saw or else this is gonna hurt, sweetheart.”

Just knowing that he wasn’t planning on letting you off easy added to your arousal. “Yeah? You gonna be mean?”

The low, dark chuckle rumbled below you and he pinched your nipple much harder. “You could say that. Gonna get Big Fish’s money’s worth outta you.”

His hands moved off your chest and back down to your hips, digging in a little harder, and he encouraged you to go up then over him.

“You ever taken a dick this big, baby?”

If you hadn’t really gotten dicked down by less experienced men and knew that as soon as you started this with Clint, you may have rolled your eyes. But there was nothing green about him. Right now, he exuded the confidence only earned by fucking his way through some natural disaster to survive.

“No…”, you responded breathily.

“You gotta go slow, baby… ease him in…”, he cooed as his hands on your hips nudged you down.

The tip dipped into your hole, and pushed his foreskin back, causing Clint to suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. “That’s it…”

He must have a virgin kink… you thought to yourself with undeserved hubris, and then you sat down quickly, fully taking him in. Even though you were trying to be sexy and tease him, it was still a lot to take in one fell swoop - almost too much.

“Uh-oh fuck!”, you whined out. He was a lot all at once and you immediately regretted doing it.

“Shhhh… you can take it… you can’t go back now.”

You squirmed and your breathing kept hitching, but his hands held you firmly against him.

He chuckled lowly again. “Not so tough now, are you?”

“Cl-Clint… please… need to m-move!”

“Feel me in there? It’s a lot, huh?”, he cooed patronizingly. “Next time I tell you to listen, you listen, baby.”

He shifted his hips below you, forcing a whimpering moan from you. You’d never felt so full and so helpless and fuck, did it feel good.

“Relax, baby… I’m not letting you move until you relax. Relax that pussy for me.”

Some deep breaths later, Clint let you start to move up and down.

“Slowly… slowly now, baby… we’re in no rush.”

But there was clearly a need for some sort of rush.

You found a pace that worked with one of your hands on his belly, pushing down with every upswing. The other hand gripping his shoulder. Clint moved his hips in time with yours and his sounds were encouraging, but it wasn’t exciting. This wasn’t going to get you off and Clint could tell.

“Okay… enough. This pussy needs to be pounded. Off.”

He pushed you off him, rolled onto his side and swung his legs off the edge of the bed and sat up with a grunt. He stood and groaned, his back stiff from laying on it for that duration. He turned around, and looked you over as you laid back on the bed with your head up and legs open, with a questioning look on your face and your cunt feeling vacant and unsatisfied.

He smiled as he gripped his cock and pumped a few times. “Come’ere.”

You apparently didn’t move fast enough because he reached forward and grabbed your ankle, yanking you towards him.

“Hands and knees.”

Clumsily, you moved into position, then let out a yelp-turned-moan at the spank he gave your ass. “Fucking pretty, baby.”, he crooned, smoothing his hand over the tender area.

You whined out again, keening, “Clint… please…”

“Needy for this cock, baby? Need it hard?

“Yes… please!”

“Jack ever give it to you like this?”

Even if you hated him bringing Jack up, you couldn’t deny that in this context when you were this desperate it was hot. But he could have hollered a banana bread recipe at you right now and you would’ve probably felt just as resolute.

You shook your head, and Clint grinned. “Yeah… this little pussy needs someone to fuck her right. Not some shitrat.”

With that, he pulled you back against him with one hand as the other guided his cock into you. You hummed out in relief and contentment.

That peace lasted all of about three seconds before Clint began to pound into you. Harsh and fast, his hips slapped against the back of your thighs and his belly slammed into your ass cheeks. His weight made the force at which he fucked you so much more intense and exquisite.

“Come on, baby… gimme one…”, he panted.

You could only respond in jolted bleats, occasionally being about to actually enunciate his name.

One of his hands slinked down underneath you, pressing against your lower belly. “You gotta cum… gotta-fuck… come on, sweetheat…”

The pressure he was putting against you intensified the feeling of him and your arms gave out, dropping your lower half down onto your elbows. Clint was overwhelming every one of your senses and you truly had never been fucked like this.

The hand on your belly moved further down between your legs and felt where he was repeatedly pounding into you, collecting wetness on the tips of his fingers. You then felt him press down and rub your clit and you cried out, burying your face into your mattress.

“Tha-That’s it… gimme… gimme one… come on… cum for me, lemme feel it…”

Your walls fluttered and spasmed around him and you opened your mouth, forcing out a loud moan as your orgasm bled out from your core throughout your body.

“Oh fuck yes!”, he yelled out breathily.

His pace began to falter, movement falling out of rhythm, and a few pumps before he stilled, twitching in you and flooding your hole. His body remained pressed against you breathing hard.

He let out a deep breath and pulled out, eliciting a soft, pleading whine from you. He patted your back and hushed you, then hobbled to the bathroom. He returned with a warm, damp hand towel.

Upon his return, Clint nudged you to roll onto your back, and you couldn’t help but comment on the misuse of the hand towel. “That’s not what those are for… they’re for drying your hands, not cleaning up cum.”, you smiled, slightly hoarse.

He returned the same smile to you, and pressed the small, wet towel against you and wiped the insides of your thighs gently, minding his pressure.

“Yeah, but I’m sure this thing won’t mind being so close to this pretty snatch.” He kept his voice soft.

You couldn’t help but laugh and watch Clint be so sweet in his half-time aftercare.

“Does this gentility go for or against the debt?”

He snorted a small chuckle. “No, baby. Just seems decent. Plus, you really do have a very pretty pussy.” He tossed the hand towel over his shoulder and let his large hand cupped your mound. “Really pretty. Tasty, too.”

You stood out in the hallway while Clint was in Big Fish’s office, reviewing the debt and what you had managed to work off.

“...so that was $1,000, and then $150… and add another $100 for that. Oh and that was $500… and then - what else?... that’s right, $250 for the- the… you know… yeah, that.”

You couldn’t see Clint, but you could imagine how he was sitting back, ankle across his knee and belly on his lap, causally rattling off numbers.

Then you heard Big Fish interject. “You know, while you were fucking Jack’s girl, we found Jack. He’s downstairs in the basement right now.”

There was silence followed by a subdued, “Oh.”

“Yeah. So now that we have him, you owe this girl for her time.”

Silence again.

“I still get paid for the job, right?”

“You fuckin’ kidding me, Clint?”

“Hey! I’m not - a job is a job, Frank.”

There was a deep sigh followed by some low murmuring. The door then opened and Clint smiled at you before being pushed aside and there he was - Big Fish Morales.

“Jesus…”, you whispered wide-eyed, looking up at his imposing, fat body.

He coldly stared down at you, eyes raking over your body, then nodded subtly. “Jack fucked up. Too bad you’re Clint’s.”

You paused, tilting your head. “What?”

Clint grabbed your arm and tugged you away from Big Fish, down the hallway and back to his car, quickly pushing you into the passenger seat. Once he’d gotten in the driver’s side, you stared at him.

“What the fuck was all that about?”

He gripped the steering wheel and sighed, dipping his head down. “I know this is ass backwards…”

He raised his head and looked at you. “... but you’re cute as all get out and I hate this whole modern dating scene.”

Your eyes widened at his audacity. “Are you asking me out???”

“Yes, I am.”

He was staring back at you, neither of you daring to look away and concede. Truthfully, though, how bad could it be? He definitely couldn’t be worse than Jack.

You let out a deep breath and nodded. “Fuck. Sure. Why the fuck not.”

Clint smiled and put his key in the ignition. “And now, I’m taking you to my favourite sandwich place so you can see what a decent one looks like suchly.”

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