Multiverse Lovers - Part Three -Stuart Twombly
Title: The Happenings of Google
Pairing: Stuart Twombly/Reader
Word Count: 11,329
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Talking, Face Riding, Voyeurism, Strip Tease, Rough Cowgirl, Stuart Feeding You, Multiple Orgasms, Alcohol Use, Mentions of Strippers
Notes: I know this is quite a bit longer than Stiles’ chapter, but it’s due to the dialogue from the movie that is included. And legit, part of this was inspired by my deep love for @minhosmeanhoe and the things she loves. She knew I was putting this in here and knows it was because of her. Lemme know your thoughts yo.
A small groan slipped from your lips, your body shifting on the plush red couch you were laying on. Your arms wrapped around the first thing it could, waking up being the last thing on your mind. Your face dug further into the soft material – a pillow you assumed – trying to ignore the soft laughs of the other people in the room at the noises you made and their own witty banter about some unknown subject.
You knew you weren’t in the blue jeep anymore. You were fully clothed. A bright light hovered over your head, the sound of fingers clicking away on keyboards and people’s low mumbling hit your ears, making them twitch at the noise. Rushed footsteps were heard trudging around the small room, every footfall resonating off the walls.
Where am I? You asked yourself, willing your body to open your eyes slowly. The bright lights blinded you, a louder groan escaping your lips and your eyes closing again quickly. A few of the people in the room whispered to each other, catching the sound you made. Heavy steps raced towards you, the couch shifting slightly under the weight of the person leaning against it.
“Wake up already, sleepy head. We have the next intern challenge to complete,” their voice said, the underlying husky tone filling your ears. You shuffled on the couch, eyes cracking open once more to focus on the person hovering over you. The whiskey-brown eyes you met sparkled, though the twinkle was faintly caught between the thick, black-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. He smirked down at you, poking your forehead. “Wake up, loser. We need your small brain.”
Stuart fucking Twombly. Is. Truly. An ass.