ex for a reason : 21 when he gets nerdy about physics 😍
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : when you lowk come to the realisation you have a crush on each other at the same time #goals #soulmates. i can’t believe WE just learned random physics facts through a smau.
i have recently started watcing BNHA (very late, i know) and the amount of fuckboy dabi fics the fandom have is pissing me off. he is a virgin loser who has never felt the touch of another, fight me on this
scary, silently brooding type of men who people gossip and speculate to be a total beast in bed. bonus points if he has muscles or just broad in physique, he looks like the ‘dom daddy’ type to the swooning people looking at him. the speculations only grows worse if they see you two walking together and you’re shorter than him, even by a single centimeter. he must treat you so roughly in bed, how does one even keep up with his monstrous stamina?
oh yes, how indeed..
“u-uuunngcc… sh-soowryy” whining in your ears, the so called ‘dom daddy’ was close to sobbing as his knees shook under his weight, strong arms wrapped deathly tight around your shoulders as he sniffles into your shirt like a pathetic mutt.
“m-missed yoouu.. guufck♡︎ pl-pleashe… lemme..” full on out sobbing now, your beefy boyfriend bucks his hips into your hand again, his earlier cum coating your palms that ended up squelching in a filthy manner as his legs shook. it was just one round, a few little tugs at his half hard cock and rubbing him over his pants and he had ended up cumming like an inexperienced teen. it was embarrassing, it should be embarrassing, but right now, your boyfriend was more happy being a cute needy little thing with you.
“let you what?” your hand tightens around the sensitive tip of his cock, making him blabber about how cruel you were unintelligibly. he couldn’t even bring his head up from where he had hidden them into your neck, shaky hands pawing at the material of your shirt to ground his melting brain. squeezing his cock head a bit tighter, you place your thumb over his weeping slit, feeling his cock twitch in your grasp, “let you what, my pretty boy?”
your boyfriend whines loudly at that, hearing that nickname that makes him melt like a puddy in your hands within seconds. he was a pretty boy, your pretty boy and you loved him. you loved your pretty boy. yours. only yours. he was always your pretty boy.
“let meengc..” trailing off, he found himself growing uncharacteristically shy as he swallows a moan. he had asked plenty of dirty requests from you before. sucking your strap under your table, getting fucked in an alley, even slipping up and calling you master during one of your anniversary sex nights.
“l-let me… cum.. on your hands..” he manages to whisper his requests after struggling to say it aloud, refusing to look you in the face in fear of cumming the moment he saw that hungry look in your eyes. feeling your thumb swipe harshly over his slit, he remembers his manners, adding in a squeaky, “p-please!” afterwards.
“good boy. my pretty boy is a good boy who knows his manners, ain’t that right?” you coo, unable to help yourself as you hear the shaky tone of his voice. look at him, a man bigger than you, who probably has some criminal record lying somewhere and yet he couldn’t even being himself to look you in the face to properly beg for attention, shaking and whining like some dog in heat.
“unnh—! uh-hhuuhh…” his hair tickles your neck as he nods, teeth nibbling on your collarbone as your hand starts to move again, squeezing at the tip and rolling your palm over his base to get his legs kicking.
“g-good… ‘m a good boyyy.. y-your! y-yours… your good boy, your prettyyynng..! ah! aanggh♡︎!!” blabbering against your skin, his legs occasionally kick under his weight as his back arches, pushing his heaving chest flush against yours. you could smell his sweat this close, but you didn’t care when he was crying so cutely in your ears.
rubbing the spot under his tip, occasionally smoothing your palm over his slit, it doesn’t take long for your sensitive boyfriend to be cumming on your hands just like he asked. digging his nails tightly into your shoulders over your shirt, his knees buckled under him as he sobbed your name. your hand was soiled in his cum now, and your shirt was stained as he cried into your stomach to ride out his high.
patting his soft hair, you feel how he preens under your touch like some needy cat, pushing his head into your palm. as much as you would like to fist his locks, he was just so cute today, you couldn’t bring yourself to act mean to him. at least, not now. instead, you push his head away from yours stomach just a bit, pushing your cum stained hand in front of his gasping mouth.
he didn’t needed to be told twice. opening his mouth bigger, taking your fingers into his mouth and sucking at them. lapping at your palms, looking up at you through tears stained lashes as he bobs his head against your fingers. such a pretty boyfriend. not a ‘dom daddy’ type at all.
➭ dabi (written with him in mind obv), aizawa, edgeshot, capitano, zandik, jiyan, geshu lin, quiyuan, calcharo, varka, jing yuan, blade, dan feng, phainon, ashveil, gepard, diavolo, beelzebub, muriel + honestly, whoever you like♡︎
content: fluff, sub!clark, slightly smutty, reader is a rich ceo bosswoman ofc, hints of praise kink, mommy kink
househusband!clark would:
get up way earlier in the morning so that he’ll have plenty of time to make your delicious, specially curated breakfast which would include heart shape pancakes or french toast with freshly cut up fruit.
He’d wear his kitchen apron, one of many aprons you have bought for him, and it has his embroidered initials in Superman coloring. He’ll sometimes only wear his apron and pajama pants, knowing how much you like to see his form on display.
househusband! clark would:
Have the dining table set with all the tableware and utensils, perfectly placed for breakfast and all meals, of course. But if you’re feeling unwell or not going into work, he brings you breakfast in bed with the cutest smile on his face.
househusband!clark would:
help you get ready for work every morning without fail, although you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself. He’d have your suits, dress pants, pencil skirts, etc., all thoroughly cleaned and ironed for you. He’d have your outfit laid out in the huge, walk-in closet all ready to wear the next day.
If you’re going with a suit jacket, he’d be quick to help you put it on and adjust it for you. If you’re wearing a skirt or dress, he’ll carefully zip up the back for you while pressing soft kisses along your neck because he can’t help himself.
He’ll urge you to sit on the ottoman in the closet as he goes down on his knees to help put on your sharp Louboutin heels, which he definitely polishes every month. Before he slips on a heel, he’ll take your manicured foot and give it a gentle smooch. Oh, how he loves to worship you.
househusband!clark would:
admire you once you’re done getting dressed and grow flustered as a string of compliments fly out of his mouth.
“Gosh, honey, you look so gorgeous as always.” “Oh golly, that skirt makes you look so sexy.” “Gee, when I see you dressed like this, I feel like I’m dreamin’.”
househusband!clark would:
feel himself grow hard at the praises you’d give him in those moments. Every “thank you, baby” and “that’s my good boy” would make him melt.
He’d fix your tie for you as well and use the proximity to finally kiss you on the lips. He’s always so desperate for your affection, and you give in a little before assuring him he’ll have your undivided attention after work.
househusband!clark would:
spend the day handling Superman duties, then use his lightning speed to finish all chores before you return home. Not that you needed him to do all the grocery shopping and cleaning because you could easily afford a maid and a personal chef. However, he insisted that all he truly desired was to be a dedicated househusband to you. Completely and utterly obedient to your every word.
househusband!clark would:
wait for you ever so patiently every time and give you a warm welcome as soon as you set foot inside your luxury home.
he’d immediately take your purse and coat, helping you discard anything preventing you from being comfortable at the moment.
“Long day, honey?” he’d ask while he’s already taking off your heels and massaging your legs and feet.
househusband! clark would:
jump for joy after you say he can shower with you, even though you let him every time. How could you say no to your cutie pie of a husband?
Once you're in, he’s using his big hands to wash your scalp and cup your curves covered in soap. He would beg to eat you out, telling you how much it would help you relax after a long day of running the company. Telling you how much he wants to take care of you and make his mommy feel good.
househusband!clark would:
help you dry off afterward and get ready for bed. He’d curl up beside you on the comfy mattress and lie his head on your chest while you do your nightly reading.
And finally, he would try to wait to fall asleep with you, but always ends up dozing off first when you start giving him head scratches.
In hindsight, your type in men was always extraordinary. So when something starts slamming doors in your home, you get curious. A stray hand print and one closet void later—
It was love at first haunt.
!! Laughing Jack x F! Reader !! W/C: 4.5k
-> Including: Riding, overstim, slight sub/dom dynamics, choking, sadist adjacent reader, perv! LJ, pathetic LJ and brain washing that clown into a boyfriend :p this is also the lore for how LJ met his reader in my smaus HAHA ->
────୨ৎ────
— ^ ^ —
You think the monster in your closet has a crush on you.
The sentence would’ve sent you into hysterics a month ago, but now? You were completely, utterly and unshakably sure that it was the truth.
You’d moved in about a year earlier, choosing the old house for its affordability. The wallpaper had been peeling, the wood panelling on the brink of decay, and the roof rickety. It sat on the very end of your street, separated from the neighbouring houses by a rusted metal fence. Definitely a fixer-upper, but it’d fit in your budget. Simply a home in need of some loving.
What they hadn’t told you was that it came with a resident poltergeist—
Clown?
Or something.
Well, you actually didn’t know what he was or what category he belonged to, but he made his presence known the first night.
You had been brushing your teeth when the lights overhead flickered.
The bulbs' hum grew louder, then they burst, leaving you in darkness. You were frozen in the spot, with all sorts of scary images flashing in your mind.
However, you were always quite the logical one, and you brushed it off. The wiring was ancient- was it really that surprising if it didn’t run like brand new? So you moved on, only to be bothered the next weekend by creaky footsteps in the hall.
Then it was your papers scattering randomly. A door slammed, an attic hatch swung open, followed by a loud crash.
Yet you stayed.
The deal you’d gotten was far too good for you to give up, and where else would you find a place with amenities included at this price? Though whatever was haunting you seemed determined to scare you off.
From nightmares to shadows in your periphery, he used every trick in the book. Except that over time, there had been a shift in his tactics.
You couldn’t say exactly when it happened, but one day- he just… stopped. No more sleep paralysis, no weird dread that sparked randomly either. For a moment, you thought you’d somehow scared him off.
During the transition period of your move, you’d met his intimidation with obliviousness. Ignoring his silhouette, sleeping in the daytime, and taking night shifts. When that didn’t work, you tried befriending him.
Attempting to make peace with the house by talking to him as if he were an odd roommate, on top of leaving out little snacks for him. And that’s how you got here.
He’d ceased his reign of terror on you for about two weeks before raising the stakes. This time, with a strangely romantic edge.
It began with a single daisy being placed on your bedside table. Naturally, you assumed it wasn’t the resident demon and that you’d gotten too drunk the previous night. Except that way of thinking flew out the window when he became much more straightforward.
The fogged mirror would serve as a canvas, with the words “Pretty” or “Hello, doll !! :)” He’d also roll unlabeled candies through your ajar closet door and scutter back into the darkness when you checked. Speaking of your closet, you didn’t understand how the thing functioned.
When the lights were off, it appeared like there was a void behind your clothing rack. A never-ending pitch black that you could fall into. If the lights were on, you’d be able to touch the back wall in one stretch. It hurt your head, and you decided not to investigate. That didn’t mean it didn’t exist, though.
He used that portal for all kinds of antics.
If you were digging for a sock, it’d only appear slightly out of reach when your room was dim. You’d have to crouch down, crawl from the barely lit space on the carpet to snag it. Sometimes he’d let you grab it; other times he’d continuously tug it farther and farther until you yelled from frustration.
It’d always be returned to you eventually, with you finding the stray sock at the foot of your bed a day later. Or it’d be thrown at the back of your head when you’d given up and stepped away.
At this point, he was more of an annoyance than a life-altering evil. Yet one thing was clear, and it was that he liked you.
Last month, you discovered his name was Jack. Specifically, “Laughing Jack In The Box.”
You’d finally gathered enough motivation to clean out your neglected attic and stumbled upon a music box.
It sat tucked into the corner, layered with dust and looking as cursed as ever. The object was evidently the source of whatever he was, so you were as respectful as you could be. Placing it neatly aside while you tidied the room. This is also when you learned about his clown situation.
While you were elbow-deep in mop water and disinfectant wipes, the music player rattled to life. The handle whirred, the chipped wood jolting as an off-tune melody filled your ears.
You were idle until the song came to a slow, and jumped a tad when the lid popped open. Inside, a porcelain monochrome jester was attached to a spring, about the size of a fist.
Upon further inspection, there was a photo lying at the bottom. An old portrait of what you assumed was him. The edges were faded, his form blurry, and he stood next to a popcorn stand. At first glance, it appeared normal enough- but if you stared, everything in the image was off.
He was too tall, with arms stretching past his knees. The popcorn stand, even in black and white, seemed like a prop. Not one on a movie set or anything of the sort, but as if it were desperately trying to blend in yet failing.
The background seemed almost flat, and his features sat unnaturally on his face. Too sharp, ill-fitting around his jagged teeth. He looked like he was only smiling because that's what people were supposed to do in photographs.
You had called out to him, saying you liked his get-up. Then you got back to work. Wiping down the floors with a Swiffer, organizing the aged boxes from previous owners, and by sunset, you were finished.
He hadn’t done anything else after the music box, so you were left to your own devices. Not a single noise or knocked-over cup in sight.
All that being said, he did a very bad job of staying quiet when it actually mattered.
And he was a pervert.
With the moon lit brightly over the clouds, you were getting ready for some much-deserved relaxation. Your love life was lacklustre, to put it mildly, and your vibrator was luring you in like a siren. You were sure most people would be uncomfortable being explicit in a haunted house, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to care.
The guy had to be at least a hundred. If he was going to loom threateningly in your halls and hide your socks, then he’d have to deal with your bookmarked tabs.
Opening your laptop, you clicked play on a recent favourite. It was basic, yet it fuelled your imagination just enough. The display lit up with a video of a man slouching against his couch, head out of frame.
He undid the drawstrings of his sweats, and you settled against the pillows. Your shirt was already off, panties pulled to the side as you spread your legs.
An important note: your bed was facing the closet.
Another important note: the closet doors were panelled and definitely did not cover the view in the slightest.
You would remember that fact when the glossy toy breached your cunt, and a very scandalized gasp echoed from beyond your wardrobe.
At first, you ignored it. Maybe he was a prude- he was ancient after all. Choosing to pretend you hadn’t noticed anything, you thrust the silicone deeper, sighing. It wasn’t as big as you’d prefer, but you hadn’t had the time to shop for another since your move. It would do for now, and you fixated on the screen. Trying to time your hand with his.
Though only a minute later, shuffling came from the other side of your closet.
Accompanied by panting, you could practically hear him swallow. Now that you were thinking about it, he was tall with big hands. His nose was pointy too, and he was clearly a sexually repressed loser of a demon. He probably hasn’t ever even kissed anybody- which could only mean one thing.
‘Laughing Jack’ had to be packing.
Puffing out your nose, you tossed your toy aside after pausing the video, and the room went dead silent. It was evident that he was attempting to conceal his presence.
Unfortunately for him, you were horny. Swinging your feet off the mattress, you padded over to the closet. Acting clueless so he wouldn’t flee. You moved as if you were reaching for your drawers, just to swing the wardrobe doors open. And there he was.
Scrunched up on the floor, his arms hovered awkwardly, legs folded under him, while he gawked up at you. His hair was longer than in the photo, his neck almost swallowed by a feather ruffle. However, it was the large tent in his patchwork trousers that caught your attention.
He stuttered, shocked. “W-Well, this is quite the first impression-” You dropped to your knees, crawling onto his lap. “Totally.” The purr of your voice wiped the smile clean off his face, and he stumbled back. Propped on his elbows when he tittered nervously.
“You’re very- uh- forward! Has anyone told you that?” His swirled pupils were glued to your face. He was a bashful pervert- who would’ve guessed?
Not answering his question, you hummed. “You ever fucked anyone, Jackie?” Trailing a finger down his broad chest, the nickname had him gulping. “Not particularly, no. Being a full-time entertainer takes work, I’ll have you know.” Attempting to joke, he was in disarray.
Jack had never been so out of his element in his life.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. You were straddling his thighs, bare-chested with only a thin layer of cotton separating your cores.
In all honesty, he hadn’t even touched himself before this, and the weight of you pressing down on his bulge was making his brain reboot. You were so warm- you couldn’t seriously blame him for being dazed, could you?
“Do you want to?” You hummed, running your tongue along your teeth. The faint glow of your lamp gave you a halo, far too angelic for the lust that swam in your gaze.
He stammered. “I’d definitely be open to it. Seems like quite the activi- mmph.” Your lips crashed into his. Jack’s nervous tittering had you soaked, and your patience had run out. You were going to milk this motherfucker dry.
Mouths slotting together, he tasted like watered-down hard candy. The sugar that was left over after you’d finished a lollipop. Your tongues swirled around each other, and he jolted under you.
The sensations made the wire ends spark in his head. Your hands were roaming his chest, his shoulders, up to cup his jaw.
You were squeezing everything there was to squeeze, releasing him with drool stringing between your lips. “Since it’s your first time, you can pick where we start. ‘Kay?” He nodded in response, hyperfocused on your touch. This was fine; he could handle this.
He’d been trapped in a box for years, dealt with horrific violence and mental strain- how intense could physical contact really be? However, as his self-assured pep talk settled, you ground your hips down—
Very intense. Physical contact was really, really intense.
He could feel your cunt mold around his cock, and he borderline choked. “Oh my! Hah, how enthusiastic of you, little human.” Claws shaking by his sides, you grinned.
Ignoring his rambles. “I could suck you off. Use my mouth to ease you into it.” You ran your thumb against his tip, continuing whilst he tried his best to keep eye contact.
“Or I could use my hands, touch you like this-” Your palm pressed against his length, making him gasp. You’d barely done anything, and the imagery was sending him reeling. “Or...”
Lowering your mouth near his ear, “I could just let you fuck me raw, fill me up till you can’t even think straight.” Your breath grazed him only slightly, but that was enough.
You didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. His eyebrows knotted together, lashes fluttering as he whined through gritted teeth. Jack’s spine curved off the wood, and he shuddered beneath you. “Haah- shit.” It was without a doubt that he’d cum untouched; the wetness leaking from his slacks was undeniable.
Slumping after a beat, he panted. “I didn’t- I don’t know what, ngh, happened.” Squinting at you, he looked like he’d genuinely fought for his life.
His hair stuck up in every direction, spit dribbling from his lips when you snickered. “You’re too cute- but I’m not riding you on the floor.” The confusion on his face was obvious, yet you didn’t explain further. Riding? What did that have to do with sex?
Though before he could question you, you rose to your feet, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon-” You stood at the foot of the bed.
“Let me see you, Jackie.”
Sweat lined his back. Jesus, when was the last time he took off this thing? He didn’t need to shower, use the bathroom or anything of the sort, so undressing wasn’t really necessary.
Gulping, he gave you a strained smile. Undoing the straps over his chest, then his belt, he coughed awkwardly. It was funny to witness someone so uncannily unsettling be so shy, and you chuckled when he hopped to remove his pants.
Jack towered before you, completely bare. His lanky arms faded from an off-white to black at his fingertips, a sparse, happy trail lining his pelvis down to his cock. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes- you knew he was big, but this was something else.
A full nine inches, hanging heavy between his legs, the tip blushed a muted lavender. Your mouth was watering.
Plopping onto the mattress's ledge, you crawled backwards, holding out your arms as you lay against the pillows.
“Come here, gorgeous.” Cheeky, his face flushed, and he climbed over you. Hovering as you cupped his jaw. “You wanna’ help me take these off?” He nodded slightly, holding his breath, gaze flicking down. He hooked a thumb under your panties, tugging them down while you wiggled your hips.
You were being so nice, and your attention overwhelmed him. He’d been ready for you to scream, run, and cry in response. Fear him like everyone else- have him chase you to confess his obsession. He had gone over the scenario time and time again.
You’d see him in his carnage glory, screech at the top of your lungs before begging for your life. He’d be forced to hold you down.
Explain that you just didn’t understand, but you would once he showed you how much you meant to him. He prepped a speech, his persuasion and romance tactics. Yet, you didn’t react in any way close to what he assumed.
You kept giggling, flirty, when you caught him watching you like a degenerate. You called him gorgeous, and now you were offering yourself on a silver platter. He was not prepared for this. At all.
With your underwear removed, you circled his neck, bringing him close. “Do you know what to do?” He sputtered. “Hah- of course I do, my sweet! Just... um.” The pet name felt foreign on his tongue, but you had done the same. He really hopes it didn’t sound weird—
No. Focus.
He was going to ace this if it was the last thing he did.
Wracking his brain for memories, he had seen people participate in the act prior. He was sure of it! This couldn’t be too difficult. He was supposed to go inside you, then move back and forth... he thinks.
The last couple that moved in were decently touchy with each other; it’s just that he was never interested in staying for the whole experience.
He cursed himself. He was blowing the whole charming-you thing, and he couldn’t risk embarrassing himself further. What’s that saying? Fake it till you make it, right? “Okay, I’ll- ah. I’m going to... enter you... now?” Cringing, he lined himself up with your cunt, hissing from his own touch.
Okay, the dirty talk definitely needed work- but he was hot, and you needed the clown in tears.
You spread your thighs wider to make room, and his blunt tip nudged against your folds. Jack was huffing, attempting to find the opening. He missed twice more before you sighed, reaching down to guide him. “Now, push in-” You didn’t expect him to take it as a “slam forward without saying anything”, and you arched sharply.
He was only about a third of the way inside, yet the stretch had you dizzy. “Oh- fuck. Slowly, Jack.” You gasped while he shook above you. Nothing on earth could’ve prepared him for this. You were so tight. It felt like he could barely move, the pulses of your cunt making his eyes roll.
“You’re squeezing me, I- nngh-” He buried his face into your shoulder. “S-sorry, sorry, I can’t.” Then he forced his length deeper, biting down as you screamed. It was as if sopping velvet had enveloped him entirely, the squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears. “I didn’t think it’d feel so- haah-” He keened, his hands scrambling to grasp onto your waist.
His rhythm was sporadic. Moving too quickly, his pelvis thwacking against your mound thrice, before he’d become overwhelmed. His hips stuttered, his body freezing completely. You whined, palms flat against the plains of his back.
“Fuck me, Jackie- c’mon.” You had been pent up for too long, and his pathetic grunts next to your ear had you leaking onto the sheets.
Shivering atop you, he nodded shakily. Desperately trying to please you as he began humping into your cunt. Short, unsteady thrusts, with the pleasure making his eyes water. “Ah- ah- shit. Does it f-feel good? Please, want it to feel good- please.” He dragged his head out from the hollow of your throat, resting his forehead on yours.
You bit down on your lip, moans forced out with every thump against your cervix. “Mhm, so good. Keep- oh- keep going.” The praise made him twitch inside you, his cock weeping an inhuman amount.
Jack’s biology was a mystery to himself- he didn’t know why whoever created him even gave him genitals. The lubricant pouring out of him was constant, thin and milky, making you beyond slick. He couldn’t control it, his voice heightening in pitch when you clenched around him.
It was too good, too overpowering all at once. He wanted to hold it back, stave off the building tightness in his gut, but his willpower was laughably weak. “Sorry- 'm sorry, can’t—” Gasping, his tongue lolled out, pressing against yours as you panted wetly.
Not quite a kiss, your lips simply smushed together. Mouths hanging open, with your saliva mixing and dripping down your chin.
He shuddered violently, muscles tensing from head to toe. His cum painted your tunnel thickly, and you mewled, your nails raking down his back. There was so much.
Blisteringly hot inside you, spilling out to coat his base in an off-white. “Jack-” He slumped into you before you could finish your sentence, hips still faintly jolting. “Too much, sorry- ngh.” He slurred, his limbs boneless. You pouted, huffing. “Mmph, okay.” You should have just done this from the beginning.
You pushed at his chest, and he withdrew by an inch. “I- um, I’ll try again! I promise I’m-”
However, his maw snapped shut the moment you squinted at him. “Get on your back.” An order he rushed to obey, he shuffled to flip over, and you were swift to climb onto him.
Straddling his hips, you slid your sopping slit along his length. “We’ll work on it, but I wanna’ cum, so you’re just gonna’ be good for me and take it, okay?”
You cooed at his quiet sniffling. “I’ll take care of you, gorgeous. Don’t worry.” With that, you nudged his tip to sit against your entrance, sinking down on him only a second later.
The fullness had a blissed-out sigh escaping you, your clit now flush to his happytrail. He whimpered like a dog beneath you, and his claws sank into the fat of your ass.
Head thrown back, he squirmed. The new angle made it feel as if he barely fit, overly snug inside your walls and cramped enough to have his climax already stirring. His eyes rolled up into his skull when you started working yourself open on his girth. “Fuck.”
You were bouncing quickly, not wasting any time to let him adjust. Your pussy slammed onto his girth, and the lewd sounds of skin smacking echoed loudly. You giggled, drunk, while you used him. He hit the spot just right, stretching your hole in a way that had you addicted to the friction.
The ridges of his cock, the veins running up the length, would catch on your opening. Dragging in and out as you fucked down onto him. “Yeah- huuh- mm, yeah.” You moaned, drinking in his ruined expression. Jack was a mess.
Tears streaming down his cheeks, makeup smeared on your pillows. Babbling half-syllables and practically incoherent. He writhed nonstop, turning his face to one side just to jerk his head in the other direction.
“Don’t s-stop- please- pleaseplease- ngh.” His shoulders bowed, brows scrunched up, he bared his canines. His jaw clenched like he was in pain.
For an evil clown, he sure was a pretty crier. Trembling to the point his teeth chattered, tits squished together and dewy with perspiration. It made you greedy, had your hips slowing to a lazy grind before you trailed your touch up his chest. You snickered when a sad whine escaped him, his pout adorable.
“You wanna’ be mine, Jackie?” You murmured, and he nodded in return. “Mmh- y-yes- wanna’ be yours.” His bottom lip wobbling, his hiccups were quiet. Little soft sniffles that seeped into you like a drug.
You grinned. “How bad?” The sudden grip on his pec was firm, making him gasp. “So-! So bad, please.” You were groping him everywhere.
Kneading at his tits, his biceps, feeling him up to your heart's content. You were ravenous, your hunger never-ending and insatiable.
“Ugh, so cute. I’m totally keeping you.” Then you wrapped a hand around his throat, an iron hold on his windpipe. “Open your mouth, pretty boy.” His tongue swirled out, glistening while you pitched forward.
You spit a fat glob into his mouth and moaned when he gulped, picking up the pace without a word. He practically arched off the linen. “Fuck- please- huh, f-fuck me please- so good. Feels s’good.” Jack had no idea what the fuck he was saying, the begs clawing their way up, driven by pure need alone.
His whines were lewd, pornographic, like he’d never heard. He had no idea he could even sound like this. Raw and visceral as he watched you ride him to Heaven's gate.
Your pussy was so wet, your arousal coating his hilt- he choked. “Cumming- cumming- nngh—” Running out of air, he garbled, drool bubbling at the corners of his mouth.
But you were a sadist, and his pathetic nature was too beautiful to end now. You had to stretch it out, savour his tears as if you were parched.
You began humping his cock roughly, molding your lips to his. He laced your tongues together, the striped muscle elongating to explore your mouth.
His glowing pupils had formed hearts when you finally released him with a syrupy smack, and you hummed, cooing. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me.” You clamped around him, ensnaring him with your cunt.
“You’re so fucking big- I gotta’ milk your pretty cock to make up for how selfish you are, Jackie.” He sobbed at that, the pleasure having his head spinning like a carousel. He’d just poured a load inside you, and you were already forcing another one out of him.
He thinks he’s dying. Jack genuinely believed you were going to send him to the afterlife with your cunt. Immortality be damned, this would be his demise.
Sensations he didn’t know existed had him gagging on his own saliva like a whore, his body going haywire at every corner.
“Oh, haah- look at me.” You gasped, palm pushing down even harder. His gaze snapped to meet yours, his lids fighting to stay open. It felt like he was going to explode, the mattress squeaking, the headboard battering into the wall.
His face paint had stained your skin, white and black slathered across your cheek and lips, proof of how you ravaged him. You were ruthless, abusing his oversensitive length with abandon. “Uh- mmh-” The noises you made weren’t helping his restraint at all.
Sickeningly sugary, filthy as you chased your own high. Your free hand joined the one at his neck, a collar crafted out of lust and possession. His legs shook, his abdomen painfully tight. “Who’s pussy is this?” You drawled, constricting his airways, and he slurred in response. “Ah- nnh- wha-?”
You slammed your cunt down, extra punishing. “Who’s fucking pussy is this, Jackie?” Your eyes were ice-cold, hips mean. He thrashed, his struggle to escape the stimulation useless. “I- nngh- uh- uh- m-mine?” You sneered.
Ramming your heat up and down his cock hard enough to make him convulse. “Say it like you mean it, big boy-” You snarled, making him scratch at your thighs. His lungs were about to collapse- and he could’ve sworn he didn’t need those. “I’m yours- you own this perfect fucking cunt.” Mercy was not a name you knew well, and he keened.
Panting, his vision blurred, the pressure in his skull a centimetre away from bursting. He flailed under you, slurring. “Y-Yes, ma’am! Huuh- fuck- fuckfuck-” His broken cries sent you over the edge, and you gasped.
Tensing, with your spine curving, you squirted around his girth. Soaking his pelvis and thighs, climax hitting you like lightning. He spurted gluey ropes inside your tunnel, stuffing you to the fucking brink- then he went limp. Chest heaving when you released his throat, he blinked slowly, dazed.
You pecked his jaw, dragging kisses up to his cheekbone. “Good boy. You’re like- so cutesy, y’know?” He exhaled shakily, his massive frame a dead weight.
Jack could barely reply, yet his weak attempt made you giggle anyway. “Mm, you’re super boyfriend material. I’ve been needing a strong man to help me relax.” He didn’t really understand what that meant, but he was glad you were happy.
His breathing slowed bit by bit while you spoke, an exhaustion he hadn’t felt in decades cementing him in place. The last time he was even close to this tire was when he went on that killing spree back in two thousand eight. And that was a full day of slaughter.
You must be a succubus. A higher-level demon. Some all-powerful monster with a pussy made out of soul-draining diamond.
“We should get matching PJ’s! It’d be fun, we can have a movie night tomorrow cause I’m off till Monday—”
And apparently, he was now your boyfriend. Jack supposed the weird human sayings were true after all.
Usually in bed, the most you get is heavy breathing and grunts if he’s dominant. Degrading with a sprinkle of praise, maybe a dragged out groan if it’s good.
But if you’re riding him with his wrists tied above his head, he gets whiny real fast. Especially if you’re edging him. He gets impatient, the denial getting to him about an hour in. His willpower isn’t weak exactly, it’s just that being inside you and knowing you can give him what he wants at any second makes him snappy.
After a certain point he loses his rasp a bit, too.
The base of it slowly becomes shaky, his once rough baritone cracking. His brows knot up when he glares at you, irritated. “You’re such a cunt.” He’ll snarl, bark orders- but you know he doesn’t mean it.
Because slowly but surely, his resistance will chip. His insults will begin to dampen, going from cussing you out to trying to bargain for you to move. He’ll start squirming, bucking his hips up with an unsteady huff.
“C’mon- just fucking move-“ Face flushed, his cocky persona crumbling by the second. He’s so hard it hurts, and you’ve been edging him for hours. Humping his cock just right, and squeezing him the way you know he likes best.
He’ll go from laughing at you to pouting and denying it. You can see it so clearly on his face. The internal fight in his head.
He hates begging, so he’ll try convincing you every time. He’ll offer you head, tell you that if you let him cum, he’ll make it worth your while. Jeff will debate his own skills in bed with his eyes half-lidded, chest heaving and his muscles tensing against the restraints.
Then his pitch raises, his words tilt up at the end. He gets breathier, quieter and more needy. More restless and you’ll feel his thighs twitch under you.
His head tips further back, eyes struggling to stay open. Huffing faster and faster until it sounds like he’s on the brink of hysteria. And when you finally lift your hips to sink down on him to the hilt, his pupils roll up into his skull.
Jeff’s jaw falls slack, lips bitten red and parted as he pants. He says the things he usually does, but this time, they don’t seem as nearly as demanding. His voice comes out too soft, too unstable to carry the weight it normally holds.
“Y-Yeah, like that- fuck.” More of a hitched sigh than an instruction. His gaze is unfocused, spine arching off the mattress by an inch before he slumps back down. Like he so desperately wants to appear unbothered.
“Take it so good- keep going. Ah- shit.” It’s barely praise, talking just to talk. He’s rambling because if he doesn’t, the noises forcing up his throat will be too obvious. Because if he does, his desperation won’t make you hungry.
“Gonna’ cum. Mm- g-gonna’- hah- I’m-fuckfuck—“ It’s a plea and a warning in one. There’s a part of him that’s hooked on the withheld release, high off the power you have over him. He wants to fill you so badly it’s painful, yet there’s a whisper at the back of his head that begs you to hold off just a little longer.
When you’ve passed the fifth round of edging him, his speech grows incoherent. He turns almost silent, the only sounds escaping him clipped and slurred. Then, during the peak of it, mercy finally appetizing to you. The slam of your cunt not ceasing even though it’s clear his ability to stave off his climax is near its end— he’ll moan so loud his cadence becomes unrecognizable.
Throaty and wanton, his eyes cross before scrunching shut. “Shit- b-baby.” He’ll bite his lower lip just to gasp as his shoulders bow, head thrown back while he trembles. His pale skin has tinted with blush all over, his shoulders and chest dusted in pink.
Drool collects at the slits of his cheeks, mouth forming an ‘O when you grind down onto him. You fuck him through the orgasm, making it last until he’s writhing. He’ll hum into the kiss, but his tongue is halfway limp.
He’s too overwhelmed to properly reciprocate, and his lips aren’t closed enough to lock on yours. It’s sloppy, spit smearing everywhere. He’ll watch you through bleary eyes and try to chase you back up.
In those moments, he forgets to ignore how much he needs you. Forgets to suppress how terribly he wants you close. Jeff will whine openly if you pull away too soon, pout without trying to hide his face if you get “mean.”
He’ll rub his cheek against your palm when you cup his face, slurring something along the lines of “Why’d y’stop?” With the most doe-eyed expression you’ve ever witnessed. Sub space for him is rare, but when it settles in, it always shocks you.
He acts so uncharacteristically vulnerable, asking for your touch with such raw hope it makes your heart hurt. It’s a slip of his mask, and you get to see less of Jeff, the unfeeling, barbaric weapon- and more of the boy before the fire.
Someone exposed and in need of grounding. Wanting to be handled with warmth and care. His stamina remains high though, so you finish him off slowly.
No harsh riding or bouncing yourself to make him scream- instead, you roll your hips gently. Rocking yourself on his cock with your nose brushing his. Your palms cradle his cheeks, and you tell him all the sappy things he claims to hate.
You tell him he makes you feel good. You whisper that you love him against his lips, letting your breath mingle with his when he nods in response. You soothe your thumbs along the scars on his skin, and he angles his head to attempt to kiss you, even if he barely has the energy for it.
When he cums, it’s muted. A stuttered exhale, his voice cracking a tad. His lids flutter closed, and he’ll lean into you, mumbling inaudibly. He bucks up into you once, twice, before he goes boneless.
His eyes follow you while you slip off of him, pupils blown wide as you peck his forehead, settling onto your side to undo the rope. His arms slink down, Jeff immediately reaching for you.
You can’t even get up to grab a rag because he’s burying himself into your chest. He’ll lie there silent for at least twenty minutes before he regains self awareness, simply listening to your heart beat and humming once in a while if you talk.
He’ll scoot back a smidge after, still slightly dazed, and raise a brow at you like you were the one who did something unexpected.
“What?” As if you didn’t just feel him curl into you and sniffle. Yet you know him, and you’re aware that if you call him out, he’ll scoff.
You swipe the hair sticking to his forehead out of the way, toying with the ends, while he stares. It’s a special intimacy that arrives once in a blue moon, and on those nights, Jeff tells you things he promised to never say out loud.
Sometimes it’s memories of his mom, sometimes it’s a stupid fight he had with brother. Sometimes it’s random things he noticed about you.
Facts that you don’t remember talking about, habits you didn’t know you had. It makes you realize how perceptive he is, how much he actually pays attention to details that most people deemed unimportant.
He’ll draw shapes on your bare hip, and mutter dumb jokes into your hair. A lightness that doesn’t exist elsewhere, the walls he built absent.
Jeff doesn’t verbally say it back, but he’ll trace a heart onto your back when you tell him you love him without heat between you. His mouth won’t form the syllables, but he’ll kiss your crown longer than necessary, and exhale like he’s trying to breathe his intentions into you.
With fondness, allowing his sentiment to seep into your mind as you fall asleep. He loves you, too.
drunk!gojo who cannot keep a single thought to himself once he’s tipsy.
you know he’s drunk because he’s unusually quiet. you’re walking home together, his hand lazily intertwined with yours, his sunglasses hanging crooked from the collar of his shirt even though it’s midnight.
“i’m gonna propose to you at the top of that hill by the ocean.” he says it casually, out of nowhere.
you blink. “…what?”
he looks at you completely seriously. “the one in kamakura. the one with the little wooden railing and the view of the water.”
you stare. “satoru.”
“i already planned it.”
“you planned it?”
“yeah.” he nods like this is obvious information. “i’m gonna wear the black suit you like. not the blue one, you said the black one makes me look ‘annoyingly handsome.’”
your face heats up. “you remember that?”
“course i do.” he squeezes your hand. “and you’re gonna be wearing that little dress you wore on our third date. the one you thought i didn’t notice.”
“you noticed?”
“baby, i notice everything about you.”
you’re officially speechless, but he keeps going. “and i’m gonna get down on one knee when the sun’s setting, because you like sunsets.”
“satoru…”
“and i’m gonna say somethin’ that’s probably corny, and really romantic cause you like that stuff. and i’ll say please.”
you smile, patting his head. “how long have you had this planned?”
“long time, baby. also the ring’s in my sock drawer.”
you freeze. both of you stare at each other.
“…you have the ring already?”
gojo’s eyes widen. a beat passes. “i don’t think i was supposed to say that.”
How about a simping Izuku who bends over backwards for reader, and his simping finally pays off when reader kisses him in his room after he gave them a new book they had been wanting for quite a while.
i love this idea he is such a giver omg, i hope you enjoy this!
WC: 0.8k
-izuku is deadass so in love; he will 100% go the extra mile for you!!
-he ends up writing an extra set of notes instead of sending you pictures of his when you are sick, and you giggle at the little doodles scattered on the page as you read the sections he highlighted for you
-your shoe is untied?? no no no dont worry about it izuku is already gently bringing your foot to his knee to tie them, being very cautious as to not tie them too tight or loose (his face blooms pink as he accidentally caresses your ankle when he ties the laces)
-you NEVER have to worry about carrying your bags or opening your own door around him, he is truly a gentleman and will make sure you are taken care of
-when the weekend arrives, izuku likes to take you on "friendly outings", but ends up paying for all of the items you wanted, shrugging his shoulders and blushing when you question him (he makes up some BULLSHIT)
-“I just figured it would be a hassle to get your wallet out of your purse and-”
-he meticulously paints the nails on your dominant hand so you don't have to struggle, adding whatever designs or colors you pick with extreme focus and precision
-and the best part is…he definitely does all of this with the biggest smile on his face: it brings izuku so much joy to see that you feel so relaxed and cared for in his presence ;D
-but…at the end of the day he is still a tad shy, so this is his way of showing his love for you as he physically cannot say out loud that he has a huge crush on you (he has practiced in the mirror multiple times and always stumbles over his words when he thinks about you too much)
-you take notice of the ways izuku cares for you and can’t help but develop your own crush on him as the more he does for you, the more you want to squish his cheeks together and give him a big fat kiss (which is what you do when he goes above and beyond with his next gift…)
after a very long and arduous day of shopping with izuku, you both finally make it back to your dorm room. immediately crashing onto your bed, you groan about your legs being tired as izuku sets down the shopping bags he carried for you all day as you bounced from store to store (not that he minded). as you look over at him, you notice something on your desk that wasn’t there when you left this morning.
“izukuuuu..? why is there a copy of the book i’ve been wanting on my desk?" you question him, knowing that he had some part in this.
“huh? -oh! i heard you mention that you have been wanting to read it for a while, so i bought it for you while you were in another store! " he cheerfully answers as if it's the most casual thing in the world. you whip your head around to fully face him, staring in shock and deep thought. he really got it for me? I only mentioned it once, and he remembered?? god i wanna kiss him so bad #needthat
his face turns pink at your prolonged staring as he goes on "...yeah, it was a bit hard to find as the art for the cover is limited edition, but I got it for a fairly good price and-"
izuku is cut off as your lips softly meet his and your arms sling around his shoulders, hands tangling in his hair. his face burns a bright red as you pull away, his body stiff as a board and processing what just happened. You, overly excited about your new book, bounce on the heels of your toes as you thank him over and over again for being so thoughtful and getting you such a lovely surprise.
“thank you so much izu! i really appreciate you going out of your way to take such good care of me!” you exclaim, before realizing he is still frozen in shock.
“izuku..? Are you okay?” your smile falters, eyeing his nervous stance and bright red face “i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable, i shouldn't have been so rash and kissed you without asking,” you apologize, thinking that the reason he froze up was because he didn’t like it.
“…again..?” he mumbles, and you can barely pick up on what he is saying.
“sorry? i didn’t catch that,” you try to meet his eyes which are currently glued to the floor.
“...can we do that again?”
(You end up reading your book while laying on his shoulder as he daydreams with kiss marks all over his face…)
Hope you guys enjoyed this one!! I had so much fun writing it :3 Please give me more requests if you have any!!
✦ . Note: Jealous Brian jealous Brian jealous Brian!!! Amen! This one's a little freaky, so gird your loins, but please enjoy!! Also slight Brim, so excuse that hahahahaahahahaahah
─────────────────────────────────────────────
As the bottle whipped around, your brain scrambled for a valid excuse to get away, looking for anything to save you from your own fate.
Feeling sick? Gotta pee? Could you fake puke? Maybe just sneak away to your room—But before you could settle on anything useful, the bottle neck drifted to a stop.
It pointed straight at Brian.
A loud whistle cut through the room. Toby was sprawled across the loveseat between Natalie and Jack, clearly more drunk than he’d realized or cared to acknowledge. His wonky grin took up the majority of his face as he pointed his finger at Brian like he’d just won the lottery.
Brian stood up slowly, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders like he had all the time in the world. The picture of calm. Toby scrambled up after him, wobbling on his feet before slinging an arm around Brian’s shoulders and smacking his chest.
“C’mon, man! T-This is perfect,” Toby slurred, grinning at you. “Brian’s a great guy. R-Re-Real stand-up. You should give him a chance, he’s got thh-that whole good guy vibe going on. Suuuuper reliable. Never le-leaves dishes in the sink or n-nothin’!”
Tim, leaning against the wall behind them with a beer in hand, tried (and failed) to hide his grin behind the bottle. His shoulders shook with silent laughter as he watched the whole thing unfold, having to look away to get a grip.
Brian let out a short laugh and pushed Toby off of him with a playful, “Fuck off, kid.”
Toby dramatically stumbled backward and collapsed back onto the loveseat, landing right in Natalie and Jack’s laps. Natalie ruffled his hair while Jack just sighed, all resigned as he took Toby’s legs atop his lap. The rest of the room stumbled into teasing whistles and catcalls. Jeff yelled something crude about Brian finally getting lucky, and Nina clapped like she was watching a sports game, but everybody was slowly turning their attention to you—who was still sitting on the floor, dumbfounded.
Brian ignored all of them. He waved the noise off with one hand and walked over to you, stopping right in front. He held his hand out for you to take with a grin on his face.
“I’m a gentleman,” he made sure to emphasize, “unlike these freaks. You ready?”
You stared at his hand for a second, your nerves wobbling in your chest. It felt more awkward to just sit here and stare at him, so you stomped down your hopes of escape. After a beat, you took his hand.
Brian’s fingers closed around yours. He gave you a gentle tug to help you up, then kept hold of your hand as he led you down the hallway toward the closet. The music got louder behind you as someone, probably Ben, cranked it up again, right before you heard Toby yell something about ‘more beer.’
When you reached the closet door, he opened it for you first, releasing your hand.
“Go on in,” he said easily.
You stepped inside. Brian was right behind you, but just as he moved to follow, he paused like he’d forgotten something.
“Hold on a second,” he told you, leaving the door cracked open. “I’ll be right back.”
You watched him disappear back down the hall. With a sigh, you reached up and tugged the pull chain. The single bulb clicked on, casting a weak yellow glow over everything. The closet was crammed with old coats hanging on the rod and stacks of dusty boxes shoved against the walls. It was tight, but not suffocating, with enough room that you wouldn’t be stepping on each other’s feet.
That wouldn’t make it any less awkward, however.
A moment later, you heard footsteps coming back. Brian reappeared in the doorway, two cold beer necks clutched between his fingers. He stepped inside, ducking slightly under the low frame, and pulled the door shut behind him with a tug. The loud music from the living room instantly dulled to a distant thump.
He held one of the beers out to you with a sheepish smile, showcasing the gap between his teeth.
“Figured we could use these,” he said. “Didn’t want to spend the whole time sober while everyone else is losing their minds out there.”
You took the cold bottle from him, the chill biting pleasantly against your palm. Brian leaned back against the wall across from you, twisting the cap off his own beer with a hiss from the air-tight seal. He took a sip, then looked at you, his eyes giving you a quick up-down.
You gave him a quick once-over as well. Brian was dressed like he always was, but somehow it looked a little nicer tonight, if only because of the lighting—worn jeans, a baggy black t-shirt, and a gray zip-up jacket thrown over top. His usual work boots were on, scuffed and familiar. No mask, though. Nobody was wearing one tonight, which was an extremely pleasant change from the usual Halloween-ish nightmare you all lived in. His short brown-blond hair was a little messy, and the unkempt stubble on his jaw made his already tired, sad-looking eyes seem even more downturned. Still, it worked with the constant grin he was wearing right now—definitely helped along by the alcohol.
You popped the cap off your beer and took a sip. The cold liquid felt nice going down, but the bitter taste made you cringe. Brian must have noticed and let out an amused chuckle.
“Yeah, it’s not great,” he said, taking a sip of his own. “But who drinks for the flavor anyway?”
He leaned back against the wall, looking comfortable even despite the little space. For a moment it was quiet, just the muffled thump of music and distant laughter filtering through the door.
“So,” Brian kept his voice casual, “how’s your night been so far? Besides getting dragged into this whole game, I mean.”
You let out a laugh, shrugging. “It’s been… loud. Before we kicked everyone out, I was mainly just crowd-watching. Other than that, I’ve mostly been trying to stay out of the worst of it.”
Brian nodded, smiling a little. “Smart. I saw Jeff spike the punch with a couple of different things. Not sure what he put in it, but I’m staying far away.” He took another sip, eyes flicking back to you. “Who else have you talked to tonight? Anyone give you trouble?”
It was kind of like he was cataloging what you’d done tonight.
You shook your head. “Not really. Toby tried to get me to shotgun a beer with him, but I managed to dodge that one. Other than that… just floating around, I guess.”
He hummed, “Floating around isn’t bad— Which reminds me.”
Brian cut himself off, reaching around into his back jean pocket. He fished out a small, slim handheld camcorder, tucking his beer against his side as he flipped the screen open and turned it on. You leaned in a little, curious as to what he was doing. The tiny screen lit up, glowing a dim blue across his face.
“Have you been recording all night?” you asked, watching as he tapped through the menu.
Brian nodded, a little mischievous smile pulling at his lips. “Secretly. I like to collect blackmail. Never know when it’ll come in handy.”
He pressed his back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him. He pulled his legs to the side to give you room.
“C’mere. Sit with me.”
You hesitated for half a second before sliding down the wall opposite him, knees tucked up against your chest. It felt better sitting like this, more relaxed and less like you were trapped in here. Brian’s calm energy was contagious.
He took a sip from his beer and started flipping through the clips, thumb clicking the side buttons as he searched for something. The screen flashed with blurry moments from the night, and you’d catch familiar faces and rooms, but he’d click onto the next one before you could really register any of them. Brian chuckled under his breath at one clip, then paused immediately on the next.
“Mmh— here,” he said, turning the screen toward you.
You took the camcorder from Brian’s hand, the small device surprisingly heavy for its size. You clicked the play button.
It was Tim.
He was out on the back porch, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his teeth, just like always. The camera shook a little as Brian’s voice came through the speaker behind the screen, teasing the shorter man.
“Smile for the camera, Timothy.”
Tim turned his head, eyes narrowing with irritation. “Get that thing out of my face.”
Brian’s laugh crackled through. “Relax, man. It’s just for posterity.”
In the background, Jeff and Ben came strolling into frame, both of them already looking pretty gone. Jeff shoulder-checked Tim as he walked past, not even trying to be subtle.
“’Scuse me, old man,” Jeff headed toward the far end of the porch.
Tim grumbled something under his breath, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Jeff set his red Solo cup—probably full of tequila or vodka, knowing him—down on the railing next to him. He and Ben started rolling a joint, laughing about something stupid as they looked out towards the yard and away from their cups.
Brian leaned in closer on the recording, whispering something to Tim that the camera mic didn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, it made Tim’s mouth pull into a grin.
You watched as Tim casually reached over, picked up the ashtray he had sitting on the railing, and tipped it straight into Jeff’s cup. The ashes and cigarette butts settled into the liquor without a sound.
The clip ended with Jeff reaching for his drink, completely oblivious, as Tim and Brian briskly walked away and fumbled the camera off.
You let out a surprised laugh, looking up from the screen. Brian was grinning at you, clearly pleased with himself.
“He drank the whole thing,” he said, his tone warm with amusement. “Didn’t even notice until his entire drink was about gone”
You shook your head, “You two are evil.”
Brian shrugged, “I could always do worse.”
You rolled your eyes. “Can I look at some others?”
Brian nodded, satisfied to sit back and nurse his bottle.
You flipped through the library. There were dozens of short clips—some familiar faces, some you didn’t recognize at all. A lot of them were exactly what you’d expect from a party like this: full of blurry footage of people slamming drinks, someone throwing up into a plant, Jeff doing something stupid. Toby doing something stupid. You skipped past most of those pretty quickly.
Then you landed on one that made you pause. It was Toby.
He was standing in the kitchen, his head tilted back as he chugged a beer straight through the gash in his cheek. At the same time, he was trying to take a shot with his actual mouth. Beer and liquor both spilled messily down his chin and neck while he laughed. You cringed, nose wrinkling at the thought of the taste and the burn he wouldn’t feel.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, moving on to a clip of Kate.
She was curled up in the corner of the dining room, her arms wrapped tightly around Smile Dog like he was a giant stuffed animal. The massive canine looked surprisingly content, his tongue lolling out as she drunkenly scratched behind the husky’s ears. Kate’s voice came through the speaker, slurred and grumpy as it had been earlier.
“Go away, Brian… Leave us alone.”
Brian’s voice filtered through the speaker again. “Kate, you can’t bring him down here. Jeff’s gonna lose his shit if he sees you snuck him out of his room.”
Kate just hugged the dog tighter and flipped Brian off without looking up.
You flipped through a few more clips, skipping until your attention was caught again.
Brian was walking up the stairs, the camera pointed forward as he pushed past a few people crowding the hallway. He reached the bathroom door and tried the handle. It was unlocked. The camera pushed in as the door swung open.
Inside, Jane stood between Nina’s legs, Nina perched on the sink counter. The two of them were kissing, lost in the other and clearly not expecting company. Nina gasped against Jane’s mouth when she heard the door open, then goofily waved at the camera with a tipsy little grin. Jane whipped around and slammed the door shut so hard the camera shook.
Brian’s laugh crackled through the speaker right before the clip cut off.
You looked up at him, eyes wide with shock, but Brian just nodded. “Can’t wait to use that one later,” he grinned.
You let out a stunned laugh and shut the camcorder, handing it back to him. Brian took it and slid it into his back pocket again before draining the rest of his beer in one go.
“I never thought about how many people probably sneak around at parties like this,” you said, still a little amazed. “Or how many weird pairs end up together once everyone gets drunk.”
Brian set his empty bottle on the floor beside him and leaned his head back against the wall, looking at you down the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah. You’d be surprised. People get loose when there’s not a big boss around. All the tension, all the pretending… it comes out eventually.” He gave a shrug. “Sometimes it’s just for the night. Sometimes it sticks around longer than you meant for it to.”
He just eyed your expression as he spoke.
“Doesn’t always make sense,” he added, almost like he was talking to himself. “But that’s half the fun, I guess.”
You leaned your head back against the wall too, letting out a breath as you thought about what he said.
It was funny, really. Tonight felt different. People weren’t just tolerating each other like they usually did for the sake of missions and appearances with Slender. They were actually with the people they liked. EJ, Toby, and Natalie had been glued together all night, moving from room to room together like it was the most natural thing in the world for them. Jeff and Ben hanging out for more than ten minutes without fighting. And then there was Jane and Nina in that clip—which was clearly not their first time.
You let out a laugh.
“What?” Brian grinned.
“Nothing, just… thinking about how many weird pairs there are tonight,” you rambled. “Like, people are really hanging out with who they actually want to be around instead of who they’re forced to work with. It’s kind of nice.”
Brian hummed in agreement.
You kept going, the thought unfolding as you spoke. “And now here we are. You and me. That’s pretty unusual too, right? It could’ve been anyone in here with me. Could’ve been Tim. Or Jeff.” You shivered visibly at the last one and laughed. “God, imagine being stuck in here with him right now.”
Brian sat up a little straighter, keeping his speaking tone level.
“Would you have preferred it to be Jeff?” He kept his expression blank.
You shook your head quickly. “Nah. He’s too full of himself tonight. I don’t think I could’ve had an actual conversation with him without wanting to smack him.”
Brian chuckled at that, leaning back again. “Fair enough.” He then paused, before asking, “Is there anyone else you would’ve preferred it to be?”
You weighed the question for a second, staring at the dusty boxes across from you. Then you looked back at him.
“No,” you said honestly. “This is… nice. A lot less awkward than I thought it was gonna be.”
Brian’s demeanor softened. He looked at you for a long moment, before his tone evened out to a nice hum.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “It is.”
You felt your cheeks warm a little and quickly tried to push the feeling down, focusing on picking at the beer label in your hands instead. You went to ask how much time he thought was left when—
A loud slam echoed through the walls, followed immediately by the sharp shatter of glass. The floorboards vibrated under you. It sounded like someone had taken a hard fall.
You went to speak—
Then another slam, this time quickly followed by loud voices and the thumping music cutting off. You sat up straighter. “Should we go check that out?”
Before Brian could answer, two voices rose above the rest—one of them unmistakably Toby’s, which was very loud and very angry. Brian was already climbing to his feet.
“Yeah,” he held out a hand to you, hauling you up when you took it. “Come on.”
The two of you pushed out of the closet and hurried down the hall. The moment you rounded the corner into the living room, the mess became clear. The lamp that used to sit on the coffee table was now in pieces across the floor, shards of glass scattered everywhere across the rug. Playing cards and half-empty bottles were scattered everywhere, like someone had swept an entire game off the table in one angry motion.
You looked left, finding Toby storming toward the front door, his shoulders up and tight, yelling at someone just ahead of him. Whoever it was yelled right back. The rest of the group was already spilling outside after them, the screen door slamming again and again.
You and Brian followed, stepping out into the brisk night air.
The night air hit you immediately, cool and refreshing after the stuffy warmth of the house and the intense amounts of cigarette smoke in the air. At the uproar, the party had migrated onto the front lawn and porch, forming a loose, noisy circle around whatever was happening out in the yard. You stepped down the porch steps with Brian right behind you, both of you pushing through the loose crowd.
In the center of it all stood Toby, his shoulders squared and fists clenched, looking mad as hell. And across from him, of course, was Jeff. Because who else would it be?
Brian came up beside you and let out a long, exhausted groan at the sight. “Every damn time. This kid.”
Before you could say anything, someone else slid up to your other side. You turned to see a worn out looking Tim with an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, chewing tensely on the filter.
You opened your mouth to ask what happened, but Tim beat you to it, his tone drenched with irritation. “Tell your boy to give me my lighter back.”
Brian chuckled under his breath and reached into his pocket, pulling out the lighter with a sly, “Sorry, man. Must’ve slipped in there.” He handed it over, and Tim snatched it, lighting his cigarette quickly.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke and muttered, “This is the second fight tonight. Christ.”
You glanced between them. “What happened?”
Tim took another long pull from his cigarette, his tired eyes roaming the scene before you. “They were playing King’s Cup. Jeff made some nasty fucking comment about Natalie. Called her Toby’s ‘sleeve,’ said he could show her a much better time and wouldn’t ghost her at the end of the night like Toby does.”
He shook his head, smoke pushing through his nose.
“I watched Toby fly across that table like a goddamn dog. That’s when I told them both to take it outside before they break anything else in the house. If they wanna fight, they can fight out here.”
Brian sighed beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Should’ve known it was gonna end up like this.”
Tim just continued to nurse his cigarette, muttering under his breath, “Idiots.”
Jeff went first.
With a big smile splitting his face, he launched himself at Toby like an animal. The collision was a very heavy thud of bodies hitting each other, then the grass. Toby hit the ground on his back under the weight of Jeff, but he didn’t stay down. Within seconds they were a mess of limbs, fists, and grunts, rolling and scrambling for the upper hand as they slapped and punched at the other.
Jeff got the first real swing in first, clipping Toby’s jaw just enough to make his head snap to the side. Everyone flinched at the sight, but Toby couldn't feel the pain of the impact. Instead, he drove his elbow straight into Jeff’s ribs, shoving hard and fast enough that you heard the impact. Jeff made a shrill noise, like a pained laugh, before grabbing a fistful of Toby’s hoodie and yanking him forward, cracking his forehead into Toby’s nose.
Brian crossed his arms beside you, shaking his head. “Not a smart idea to get into a punching match with a guy who can’t feel your punches,” he muttered dryly.
You nodded, eyes glued to the fight. Toby was landing hits one after the other, sending punches that looked like they should’ve hurt way more than Jeff made them seem like they did. Jeff was faster and more careless, smiling through every hit like the pain fueled him. Blood was already starting to show through a cut above Toby’s eyebrow from Jeff, and a nasty split in Jeff’s lip that had opened and was now dripping down his chin.
It was incredibly interesting to see how they fought now that they were impaired with alcohol and other things. Toby, who tonight had been nothing but a funny drunk, was now the embodiment of hatred. You don’t think you’ve seen his face this dead set on someone before, let alone this passionate about a fight. And Jeff? He just seemed like he was having more fun. All over a stupid comment about a stupid problem.
You scanned the crowd quickly. Natalie was nowhere in sight. At least not near the fight.
“Nat’s not here,” you said quietly.
Brian shrugged. “If somebody called out my weird cookout relationship like that, I probably wouldn’t want to stick around for the fight either.”
He nudged your side with his elbow, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out his camcorder. He held it out to you expectantly.
You lit up a little, rolling your eyes even as you took it. “You’re terrible.”
Still, you flipped it open, turned it on, and angled it discreetly toward the fight, pretending you were just holding it casually. The little screen flickered to life as you started recording. You captured it all. On the lawn, Jeff had finagled his way on top of Toby and was raining down punches. Toby blocked some with his forearms, then suddenly bucked his hips and flipped them over, slamming Jeff into the dirt. He got a solid hit in—a nasty right hook that snapped Jeff’s head to the side and sent blood spraying from his already split lip and now his nose too.
“You talk about her like that again and I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to your mutt.” Toby growled, snarling his teeth.
Jeff just laughed, kicking at the other. “What’s the matter, twitchy? Can’t handle the truth? She deserves better than your defective ass—”
Toby cut off his sentence with a punch to the jaw.
The crowd reacted in waves—some cheering them on, others groaning or shouting for them to stop. You caught Ben and Nina in the crowd, both of them onlooking the fight and cringing every time Jeff got hit. Alternatively, Kate was drunkenly yelling for Toby to smear Jeff’s face on the pavement.
Toby let out a furious shout and shoved Jeff off him with both hands, sending the other boy scrambling backward across the grass. Jeff’s grin never faltered. He shuffled back on his hands until his fingers closed around something on the ground. You couldn’t quite make it out through the camcorder screen at first, but when you looked up, your stomach turned a little in your gut.
Jeff had grabbed a discarded beer bottle someone littered in the yard. In one sharp motion, he smashed it against the ground. Glass shattered, broken shards shooting out into the grass. He rose back to his feet holding the broken neck, the jagged shards pointing outward like a crude knife.
Tim dropped his cigarette from his mouth and stomped it out. “Alright, that’s enough,” he grumbled. “Someone’s gonna end up killed.”
Brian groaned beside you, clearly disappointed that the entertainment was ending. “I wanted to see who wins, though…” He shot you a gapped toothy grin. Tim shot him a withering look instead and started forward. Brian sighed but followed, both of them pushing through the circle of onlookers to break it up.
But the second Jeff saw them coming, his wild eyes lit up as he spun around, brandishing the broken bottle toward Tim and Brian like it was a real weapon.
Toby was panting on the ground, but grabbed a handful on dirt and flung it at the two approaching, “I don’t need your fu-fucking help.”
But when did Tim and Brian listen to anyone but Slender?
Jeff lunged at Brian with the glass, swiping wildly to try and get a hit in. Brian took a last-minute step to the side, grabbing Jeff’s wrist to keep the jagged edge away from his face. At the same time, Toby scrambled up and threw himself at Tim, who cursed loudly as he tried to restrain the boy without hurting the both of them.
You kept the camcorder going.
Toby was swinging at Tim with reckless abandon, screaming something about not needing babysitters. He’d seemingly forgotten about Jeff, who was now trying to stab at Brian, the two of them grappling at each other and trying to get a good hold. Brian was clearly trying to de-escalate while also not getting sliced open, while Tim was using his size to pin Toby down, grumbling the whole time about “goddamn children,” and their “dicks for brains.”
Fiddling with the camera to try and find the zoom button, you felt someone step up beside you and turned your head. EJ looked thoroughly bored by the whole spectacle unfolding before him, seemingly coming from inside the house.
“Where’s Nat?” you asked.
Jack let out a tired grumble. “She ran off somewhere with a bottle of whiskey. Probably doesn’t want to be disturbed right now.”
You nodded, turning your attention back to the fight just in time to see Toby land a solid punch on Tim’s jaw. Tim had been trying to pull him off Jeff, but the hit made him stagger back a step, cursing before he stepped back in.
You glanced at EJ again. “Why aren’t you getting in on this too?”
He grinned, showcasing the sharp points of his teeth. “I fight my own battles.”
You went to laugh, but the sound hadn’t even fully left your mouth before a blur of movement slammed into you from the side. The camcorder flew from your hands, clattering somewhere in the grass. The impact knocked the air straight out of your lungs as your back hit the hard ground. A heavy weight landed on top of you, pinning you down.
You grabbed at the body instinctively—and found yourself staring up at Jeff’s bloodied, grinning face inches from yours.
“Whoops,” his voice sounded hoarse. “Hi, pretty.”
He panted as he hovered above you, droplets of blood sliding down his chin and the front of his shirt. One hand braced beside your head, the other fisted in the front of your shirt from the collision. He looked completely unrepentant—and way too pleased with himself.
You cringed, but were too stunned and out of breath to shove him off of you the way you wanted to. His tangled hair fell like a curtain around his face. “Didn’t mean to knock you over like that,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Though… I’m not complaining about the view.”
You tried to scramble Jeff off of you, shoving at his chest with avail, but before you could get any leverage, Tim’s voice cut through the noise like a whip, “Brian—!”
Behind Jeff’s shoulder, you saw Brian—the picture of absolute hatred. He grabbed a fistful of Jeff’s hair and hauled him upright in one brutal motion, then slammed him down into the dirt in the opposite direction.
You scrambled up as quickly as you could. Jack steadied you with a hand on your arm as you both watched the fight explode into something much messier than what it was previously.
You think Brian might kill him.
He didn’t hold back. His fists came down hard and fast, knuckles cracking against Jeff’s face with wet, ugly sounds. Jeff laughed at first, like he always does, but it soon turned into grunts and curses as Brian kept swinging. Toby and Tim rushed in, trying to pull Brian off, but Brian was furious, locked in on nothing else. He shook them off like they weighed nothing, landing another heavy punch that split Jeff’s cheek open.
You wiped dirt and grass from your clothes, your heart hammering in your chest, when Jeff suddenly snatched the broken beer bottle again. He swung blindly, catching Brian across the shoulder and then the side. Blood immediately soaked through Brian’s shirt, dark stains spreading across the fabric.
You yelled out, cringing at every thunk of fist on flesh.
Eventually Jeff struggled his way out from under the brunet, his nose clearly broken but going completely ignored. He looked feral, if anything.
You watched as EJ moved from his spot next to you.
The tall figure walked straight into the fray, grabbed Jeff by the back of the neck with one large hand, and shoved his head down toward the ground. Jeff struggled, snarling and swinging, but EJ’s strength was undeniable. He held him in place like a disobedient dog, guiding him away from Brian with terrifying ease.
You rushed over to Brian. He was still on one knee, breathing hard, blood seeping through the rips in his clothes. You grabbed his arm and helped pull him up, ducking under his shoulder so he could lean his weight on you.
“I’ve got you,” you said, acting as a crutch while he steadied himself. Brian winced but didn’t complain, one hand pressing against the cut on his side. His face was tight with pain and lingering anger, but he let you support most of his weight.
Around you, the yard was loud with overlapping voices of laughter and conversation, but you couldn’t focus elsewhere at the moment. Tim had finally gotten a solid hold on Toby, who was still whirring with adrenaline and spitting curses. Jack kept Jeff held next to him. He gave Toby and Brian a quick once-over before turning to Tim.
“Take Toby on a walk,” he said firmly. “Get him away from here.”
Tim nodded without argument, grabbing Toby by the back of his hoodie and steering him toward the treeline. Toby was still muttering curses under his breath, but he let himself be led away.
Jack’s gaze shifted to you and Brian. “There are spare bandages and stuff in the laundry room. Take him there. I’ll handle Jeff.”
Jeff immediately started cursing. “The fuck you will, you freak—”
But EJ was already moving, hauling Jeff toward the house without a word. The two of them disappeared inside, Jeff still spitting insults the whole way.
You slipped your arm more securely around Brian’s torso. “Come on.”
Brian winced as you helped him up the porch steps, but he didn’t complain. Halfway across the yard he paused you, bending down with a small groan to scoop up his camcorder from the grass. He tucked it into his pocket.
The house felt strangely quiet after all the yelling outside. You guided Brian down the hall, pushed open the laundry room door, and flipped on the light. The fluorescent bulb buzzed to life overhead as you shut the door behind you, cutting off the distant noise from outside. Brian leaned against the dryer and tried catching his breath. His gray zip-up was dark with blood in a couple places, it having soaked through his shirt now. You turned to the cabinets and started rifling through them, looking for the first aid supplies.
“You alright?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder as you pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a box of medical wrap and bandages. Brian let out a tired huff and started shrugging off his jacket, wincing when the fabric pulled at the cuts on his shoulder and side.
“I’ve had worse,” he strained. “Jeff’s got a mean swing when he’s pissed, but he’s sloppy. Mostly got my shoulder and side.”
You set the supplies on the counter and turned to look at him properly. The cuts weren’t too deep, but they were bleeding steadily, and bruises were already starting to bloom across his skin. You grabbed a clean towel from one of the shelves and stepped closer.
“You’re gonna have to take your shirt off,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I can’t clean them properly like this.”
Brian smiled at you, which turned into a chuckle. “If you just wanted to get my shirt off, you could’ve asked nicely.”
You swatted at his arm, your cheeks burning hotter with every second. “Shut up and take it off.”
He obliged with a small hiss of pain, reaching back to pull the black t-shirt over his head. The fabric dragged against the cuts, making him grimace.
Your eyes betrayed you the second the shirt came off.
Brian was… unfairly built. Neat, blond hair dusted across his chest, trailing down over the defined lines of his abs. His shoulders and arms were strong and corded from years of rough work, and a sharp V-line disappearing beneath his belt buckle made your mouth go a little dry. The happy trail that led downward only made it worse. He wasn’t even doing anything, and yet just looking at him felt vulgar.
You had to physically blink yourself out of it before stepping closer.
You pressed the clean towel against the worst of the bleeding on his side. Being this close to him made the already small laundry room feel more cramped than the closet, which definitely had significantly less room. You could feel the heat rolling off his skin, could almost see steam rising where the cool air met his body. The bleeding had mostly slowed, but the cuts were still open enough that they needed covering to prevent any infection. You dabbed carefully, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“Sorry,” you whispered when he groaned.
“It’s okay,” Brian teased. “I can take it. I’m tough.”
You rolled your eyes, but smiled despite yourself. Once the area was as clean as you could get it with the towel, you picked up a rag from the same laundry stack and wetted it with the hydrogen peroxide.
“This might burn,” you warned.
He nodded, tightening his jaw as you pressed the rag to the cuts. He hissed through his teeth but stayed still, one hand gripping the edge of the dryer for support.
You worked in silence for a moment before the question slipped out. “Why did you fight Jeff like that?” you dabbed at a particularly nasty slice on his shoulder.
Brian didn’t answer right away. You glanced up at his face. His gaze was softer now, more focused on your face than on the pain.
“Is it because he fell on me?” you asked quietly. “It was an accident, Brian.”
He shook his head, eyes fixed somewhere above your head now. “It wasn’t.”
You paused, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”
Brian let out a deep breath. “Jeff saw you weren’t looking. He crashed into you on purpose. He knew it would piss me off.”
You blinked, processing his words. Your hand stilled against his side. “Are you… jealous?”
Brian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted slightly so you could reach the cut under his arm better, ignoring your question. “He hurt you on purpose,” that was the only thing that mattered.
You didn’t push the jealousy question. “Still… nobody else reacted the way you did.”
Brian stayed silent as you finished cleaning the last of the cuts. You tore open a few bandage packets and started placing the squares over the worst ones, smoothing medical tape over them with careful fingers. He moved when you needed him to, lifting his arm or turning slightly without complaint.
When you were almost done, he spoke again, startling you a bit.
“He didn’t hurt you at all, did he?”
You shook your head. “Just knocked me down. I’m fine.”
“I’ll kill him.”
You let out a surprised laugh. “Why are you so mad?”
He didn’t answer.
You pressed another bandage into place, then looked up at him. “You’re dodging my questions. That’s three tonight.”
Brian huffed, exasperated that you’d called him out. “I’m not dodging. You’re just asking very difficult things.”
You raised an eyebrow, wiping your hands on the towel. “Okay. Fine. Simple questions only.” You smoothed one last piece of tape over his ribs. “What made you get so mad at Jeff?”
Brian watched you for a long moment. “Because he hurt you,” was all he said.
You sighed. “I’m not hurt.”
“You could’ve been.”
The words hung between you. You leaned back a little, studying him as you crossed your arms and reviewed your work. Brian’s bare chest rose and fell steadily under your gaze, the fresh bandages standing out against his skin, but staying secure nonetheless. It was a hack job, but at least he wasn’t bleeding anymore.
“Okay. You so many questions. My turn.” Brian crossed his arms. “Jeff hit you. Why aren’t you angry?”
You thought about it, then shrugged. “Because I know he’s an idiot. He does stuff like that to get a rise out of people, to get attention. If he actually wanted to hurt me, he would’ve been. It wasn’t about me. It was about getting under your skin.”
Brian looked at you for a long second, then glanced down at the fresh bandages on his side. He smoothed his fingers over one of them absently.
You crossed your arms too. “Why didn’t you haul Jeff off of Toby in the first place instead of jumping in?”
“Because Toby needed to get a little of his own back,” Brian said. “And he had a reason to fight.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t?”
Brian shook his head, a little smile tugging at his mouth. “My turn.”
You grumbled but let him have it.
“Did I look cool fighting Jeff?” he asked, completely serious.
You couldn’t help but laugh, the question breaking your faux seriousness. “Yeah. You looked awesome.”
Brian’s grin widened, pleased with himself. But you quickly got back on track. “Why do you keep asking me questions about Jeff?”
He shrugged. “Just want to know your opinions on him.”
You opened your mouth to ask another, but Brian was already speaking again.
“Why are you being such an interrogator tonight?”
“I’m not,” you said, a little defensive. Then you turned it back on him. “Why are you being so defensive? You literally fought for me in front of everyone, but now you won’t even answer my questions about why?”
Brian blew out a long breath and ran a hand over his face. He looked tired all of a sudden, but more of a restless type.
You pressed anyway, asking the same question from before. “Are you jealous of Jeff?”
He didn’t answer right away. The feeling of this silence was more thick than the cigarette smoke outside. Then Brian pushed off the dryer and stepped forward, crowding your space until your hips were nearly against the dryer. He looked down at you, grumbling as he spoke.
“No.”
You swallowed. “Liar.”
Brian’s eyes stayed on yours. For a moment, the only sound was your own heartbeat in your ears. When he spoke, he basically mumbled it.
“I don’t want anyone’s hands touching you but mine.”
It was around that moment that you began to smell the dried blood and peroxide in the air, and it made you a bit dizzy. Paired with the intense rush of adrenaline that shot through your gut at those words, you couldn’t do anything but blink at him. You could feel the warmth coming off his bare chest. Your hands itched to reach out, but you kept them at your sides, your heart racing as you looked up at him.
The outside world felt very far away now.
“Was that too forward?” His eyes looked all over your face, eyeing any expression you’d make.
You swallowed, throat suddenly very dry. “No.” The word came out quieter than you meant it to.
Brian let out a deep breath. Then his hands moved. They came up from his sides and settled on the edge of the dryer on either side of your hips, effectively pinning you back against the machine. The heat of his bare skin radiated toward you close enough that you could feel it even without him fully touching you.
Your heart kicked into a wild pace. Your eyes couldn’t decide where to settle—darting between his face and the toned lines of his chest, the sheen of sweat drying on his skin from the fight, the fresh bandages you’d just put on him. It was all so close.
It was your turn to ask something. You forced the words out.
“Why did you get so mad at Jeff… really?”
Brian breathed in deeply, his chest rising and falling right in front of you. For a moment he didn’t answer. Then his gaze dropped to your mouth for half a second before returning to your eyes.
“Because it made me so fucking mad,” he admitted, his voice turning a little gritty, “seeing him on you like that. He was so careless. Like you were just something to push around. He wouldn’t know how to handle you. He wouldn’t know what to do with you if he tried.”
The words hit you square in the chest. You stared at him, stunned into silence again. Brian watched your expression carefully, like he was bracing for you to pull away or tell him to stop.
Then, “Is this okay?”
He slid one hand from the edge of the dryer to rest on your hip. His palm was warm but rough from years of hauling weapons and bodies. The skin underneath erupted with goosebumps. His thumb brushed an absent circle over the fabric of your shirt.
You nodded, barely trusting your voice. Your hand came up slowly, your fingers wrapping around the forearm of the hand he still had braced on the dryer. Brian’s eyes flicked down to where you touched him, watching for a moment before his other hand slid from your hip up to the small of your waist, settling just atop your ribs. He leaned in just a tad closer.
You swallowed around the question you needed to ask. “Are you only doing this because you’re drunk and you want to hook up?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it. Your mind flashed back to your talk earlier—all those drunken pairs, Nina and Jane in the bathroom, the way people get when they’re under substances and lonely.
But Brian shook his head, giving you a certain look. “I’m not drunk.”
You blinked at him. “I’m… not either.”
He grinned just a bit. His thumb swept slowly across your side, catching just under the curve of your breast. The feeling made you gasp.
Brain looked at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”
You didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah,” you whispered.
You both leaned in at the same time.
Your hand slid from his forearm up to his jaw, cupping his face as your lips met. Brian’s mouth was soft against yours, tasting faintly of beer and cigarette ash. Then he tilted his head slightly, deepening it, and everything seemed to melt in your brain and your nerves.
His hand on your waist pulled you closer, pressing your hips against his as his jaw worked to kiss you as deep as he could. You sighed into his mouth, your fingers sliding into the short hair at the nape of his neck and gripping there. Brian made a quiet sound in response and gripped at your waist a little harder.
When you finally pulled back for air, your foreheads stayed pressed together. Brian’s eyes were half-lidded, breathing a little uneven as his thumb continued its soothing stroke along your side.
“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted.
You let out a shaky laugh, still cupping his jaw. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pecked at your lips. “Way longer than just tonight.”
Brian kissed you again. Both of his hands settled on your waist, sliding slowly over the fabric of your shirt, exploring the curves he found. “I was so happy when the bottle landed on me,” he admitted between kisses. “I wanted to tell you. Wanted to kiss you the second we stepped in here. But you seemed content to just hang out and talk… so I was okay with that too.”
“You should’ve.”
Brian shook his head. “But when Jeff hit you… I was so mad. I just wanted to tear him to pieces. I didn’t know what to do with it.”
He leaned down a little, his hands sliding behind your thighs. In one smooth motion, he hauled you upward. You gripped his shoulders for balance, careful of his bandages, as he lifted you onto the top of the dryer, stepping between your legs. His hands splayed over your thighs, pushing them open just a little wider so he could press in as close as possible.
Then he kissed you again.
Your hands came up to cup either side of his jaw, and Brian made a frustrated noise as he spoke between more kisses.
“Jeff wouldn’t know how to touch you,” he murmured against your mouth. “Wouldn’t know how to be gentle. Wouldn’t know what you like… how you sound when you’re feeling good.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow at his statements. “And you do?”
He nodded very seriously, as if that were even a question.
“I can show you,” he mumbled. “If you’ll let me.”
Before you could answer, his hands slid down to your thighs, tugging you forward until you were sitting right on the edge of the dryer. He stepped in closer, pressing his hips between your spread legs.
You felt him immediately—felt the hard, unmistakable outline of his cock pushing against you through both your jeans. You couldn’t help but gasp. Your hand flew down to his abdomen, your palm pressing flat against his warm skin to keep him from pressing any harder. You didn’t know if you could handle it right now. You let your other hand fall behind you, bracing your weight up. His abs were firm under your fingers, and the heat of him made your head spin.
“We shouldn’t do this in here,” you whispered.
Brian’s eyes stayed locked on yours.
“But you want to,” he hummed. “I can see it.”
You shivered, glancing over his shoulder at the closed laundry room door. “Someone could come in… there’s not even a lock on that door.”
Brian didn’t answer with words. Instead, he rolled his hips forward in the barest grind against your clothed center. Your eyes fluttered shut at the friction, a quiet groan catching in your throat. When you opened them again, Brian was looking down between your bodies, watching the way he pressed against you with heavy-lidded eyes.
The sight of him like that made something hot twist in your stomach.
Your hand slid from his abs down to the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers curled into the hem, gripping his belt. Then, almost without thinking, you tugged him forward, pulling his hips firmer against yours.
Brian’s eyes rolled back slightly as he grabbed your hips, letting you guide the rhythm while he ground against your clothed cunt. Sparks shot through your entire body with every slow roll of his hips against yours.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Your resolve was dissolving by the second, and as Brian began to speak endlessly, it didn’t help in the slightest.
“That’s it… feels so good already,” he breathed. “Look at that cute face. You feel good, don’t you?”
He pulled back just enough to give a little faux thrust between your legs, bumping his hard cock right against your center through your jeans. The quick bump made you jump, a sharp whine escaping you. Brian grinned against your lips as he leaned in, clearly enjoying your reaction, and did it again. And again.
He kept that rhythm—grinding hard when your hips met, then pulling back to give those teasing thrusts that made your thighs tremble. Somewhere in the middle of it, one of his hands slid up from your hip, cupping your chest over your shirt. His thumb brushed across your nipple through the fabric, and your head fell back against the wall.
“Brian—” you whined as quietly as you could.
“Tell me how you feel,” he murmured.
You swallowed, trying to catch your breath. “It feels good… really good. But you have to talk quieter. Please.”
Brian laughed quietly. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered. “Nobody’s coming in here.”
Before you could respond, he gripped your hips and tugged you off the dryer, setting you on your feet. He turned you around, pressing up behind you until your hips met the edge of the machine again. You braced your hands against the cool metal as he pushed forward, grinding his cock against your ass through your jeans.
Brian’s arms came around your waist, hugging your torso from behind as he pulled you back against his chest. His lips found your cheek, then your jaw, kissing you softly while he rolled his hips in little pushes.
“You okay?” his lips brushed against your ear. “I can stop if you want me to.”
You shook your head quickly. “No… just be easy.”
He hummed, “I’ll be so easy for you.”
His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt and his palms splayed across your stomach. He explored anything he could feel, his fingers tracing your skin as he pulled you tighter against him. Then his hands traveled higher, cupping your chest over your bra and squeezing handfuls.
You tried your best to push back against him, rolling your hips in time with his, but Brian was doing most of the work of guiding you with his hands and the rhythm of his body. Every grind against you made you feel the hard length of him, the friction sending heat curling up through your stomach.
“Can I finger you?” he whispered.
You barely had time to nod before his hands slid down your stomach, his fingers deftly popping the button of your jeans open. He tugged your zipper down, and you felt your face growing hotter by the second.
“Why do you have to be so vulgar?” you groaned.
Brian chuckled, “I like how you react.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and panties together and started pulling them down your hips. “Can I?”
You nodded quickly. “Yeah…”
He pushed your jeans down just past your hips, letting them bunch around your thighs. The cool air hit your exposed cunt and you shivered, but Brian made sure to quickly warm you up.
“These are cute,” he murmured, running his fingers along the waistband of your panties before tugging them the rest of the way down with your jeans. “But they’re in the way.”
His hands roamed over you—his palms sliding across your pelvis, your upper thighs, then between them. You pushed your hips back against him instinctively and Brian groaned when his fingers finally pushed between your folds, feeling just how wet you were.
“Fuck… you’re soaked,” His middle finger found your clit immediately and started rubbing eager, tight circles. You gripped his forearm as you whined, gritting your teeth.
“I should’ve done this sooner,” he groaned. “You clearly need it.”
His fingertips teased at your entrance, massaging the tight ring of muscle before swiping back up to your clit. You reached back with one hand, threading your fingers into his hair as he kissed and nipped at your neck, whispering filthy little comments between kisses.
“Would anybody else be able to make you feel this good? Nah, just me.”
Your hips rocked against his hand. Brian pressed his middle finger against your entrance and slowly pushed it inside.
You groaned, falling forward a little to brace against the dryer. The little stretch felt so good it made your head spin.
Brian hummed. “Ah, you can take more than that.”
Before you could respond, he pushed a second thick finger in alongside the first, stretching your cunt open. You clamped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that tried to escape, your eyes squeezing shut as pleasure flooded through you. His fingers curled and pressed against your insides.
“Brian—hold on—”
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He fingered you irritatingly slowly, letting his knuckles push in and out rhythmically. You felt every bit of it—the stretch, the drag, the way his fingers curled and pressed against your walls with intent. Your eyes rolled back each time his knuckles sank back into you.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Brian huffed. “Gonna stretch you out nice and slow, don’t you worry.”
“It feels good… really good—”
“You think Jeff could make you feel like this?” His fingers curled distinctly on each word, like he was making a point. “Think his fingers could do this?”
You let out a frustrated whine. “Can you not talk about another guy right now?”
Brian chuckled, “Sorry, hun. I just want you to know exactly who’s making you feel this good.”
You melted a little at the pet name. “You are,” you whispered.
“Yeah, I know,” he kissed your temple. “Let me hear how good it feels.”
He pumped his fingers a little faster, thrusting deeper and more thoroughly than before, the wet squelching sounds of his hand working between your legs filling the small room. You moaned openly now, unable to hold your voice back, your hips rocking back to meet every movement as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.
Brian’s free hand left the warmth under your shirt and moved behind you. You heard the clink and shuffle of his belt buckle coming undone, followed by the sound of his zipper. A fresh rush of anxiety hit you as he shoved the front of his jeans down against your ass, then pushed his boxers down too. Something hot, heavy, and wet pressed against your bare skin. You felt him grip himself, tapping the thick head of his cock against your ass a couple of times.
Your hand flew back, gripping his hip tightly.
“Wait— Brian, wait a minute,” you panted.
He tugged his fingers from your insides, taking to steadying you instead with his hand on your hip. “What’s the matter?”
You looked back over your shoulder at him. Your eyes trailed down his body—the strong shoulders, the defined chest, the sharp V-line and happy trail that led lower—and then you saw it.
Oh my god.
He was long. Nauseatingly. Thick enough to match the rest of his tall, toned frame. The flushed red tip glistened with pre and throbbed against your skin. It looked intimidating resting against your ass.
You faced forward again, whispering under your breath, “Oh my god…”
Brian made a funny “ahh” sound, like he understood immediately what was troubling you.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “If I’m gonna fuck you, it’s gonna be in a much better setting than this dusty old room.”
You felt a strange little pang of disappointment in your chest. You turned your head slightly, wanting to say something, but decided against it.
Brian noticed anyway. “What’s wrong?”
You stayed quiet. After a second, he let out another soft “ahhh,” like the realization had clicked. You wanted to flog him for saying “ahh” more than once at a time like this.
“I know what you like,” he murmured.
He pushed his flat hand on your back, guiding you to lean further over the dryer. You braced your hands on the cool metal as he tapped the thick head of his cock against your skin again, then angled it downward.
You opened your mouth to say “wait,” but Brian was already moving.
He slid the hot length of his cock between the gap in your thighs, pressing it up firmly against your soaked cunt from below. The thick shaft nestled perfectly between your folds, the head nudging out past your clit.
“Fuck… do you feel that?” Brian breathed against the back of your neck as he leaned over you. “Haha, you’re gonna kill me.”
He rolled his hips again, letting the thick length of him slide back and forth between your thighs, rubbing right against your clit with every pass. Paired with the slickness of you, it felt maddening.
Brian groaned happily. “That’s it… Here, here. Press your thighs together a bit more. Yeahh, like that.”
You did as you were told, and it pushed Brian’s cock against your cunt more firmly. The two of you sighed, holding onto anything and everything to stabilize yourselves as Brian began to shallowly fuck your thighs. The head of his cock would catch on your clit, then push through the front of your thighs, before retreating right back in.
You moaned as Brian’s fingertips dug into your hips, tugging you back against him with every pass. The friction of his cock sliding between your thighs and against your soaked cunt was driving you crazy.
“Fuck, listen to you,” he pantsd. “Soaking my cock like this… You’d love it if I just pushed into you right now, huh?”
You gave a little “yeah, yeah” pushing back against him. But you felt his pace falter and his hips turn a bit like he was reaching for something behind him. You turned to look over your shoulder, just to see Brian had fished out his camcorder and was turning it on.
You turned your head away quickly. “Brian—”
“Shh. I wanted to document all of tonight,” he muttered, flipping the screen open. He watched as the screen lit up and started recording. “This is arguably the most important moment.”
You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t stop him. Instead, you bent forward a little more over the dryer, arching your back and pushing your ass out toward him.
Brian groaned in approval. He kept one hand on the camcorder, angling it down to capture the sight of his cock sliding between your thighs, while his other hand returned to your hip. He started thrusting again, slower this time, letting the wet head of his cock drag along your folds and bump against your clit with every pass.
The new angle made your ass slap softly against his pelvis with each bump of his hips, a little rhythmic pat-pat-pat that filled the room alongside your shaky breaths.
“Goddamn… look at that,” Brian muttered. “On the camera it looks like I’m actually fucking you. Hnn, I wish I was inside you right now.”
You moaned louder, arching your back even more so the tip of his cock bumped harder against your clit on every thrust.
“You want that?” he played at the thought. “Just say the word and I’ll fuck you right here, hun.”
Filthy promises. Filthy promises that made your stomach flip over on itself.
“I think… I think I want to cum,” you whimpered, each thrust punching the words from your mouth.
You could hear him smile as he spoke, “That works too.”
He pulled the camcorder away from where he’d been filming your ass and reached around in front of you, setting it on the top of the dryer before you. The lens pointed directly at your torso and below. The little red recording light blinked rhythmically, capturing it all.
You suddenly felt very embarrassed about your compromising position. You brought both hands up to cover your face when you felt your cheeks begin to burn.
Brian didn’t like that much.
He caught your wrists and pulled them down, folding your arms behind your back. You felt his strong hand come to grasp your wrists, contorting your arms behind you. His other hand returned to your hip, an iron grip pressing into your skin as he fucked your legs.
You moaned out loud, pulling weakly against his grip, but it was useless. He was so much stronger than you. You wondered if anyone could hear the noises you were making, or at least the tink, tink of Brian’s belt buckle hitting against the back of your thighs every time he thrusted. Probably. The thought made your face burn even hotter.
Fuck… you were gonna cum.
You looked down between your pressed-together legs, watching the flushed, drooling tip of Brian’s cock thrust back and forth, breaching between your thighs before retreating back in. The sight was obscene. You couldn’t stop staring.
How did it look on camera? You thought through your dizzy haze. Was the lens catching your face right now? Would they be able to see your mouth falling open? Or how badly you were shaking? You couldn’t stop. Would Brian watch this back later? Would he jerk himself off to it in his room, replaying the sounds you made? Would he show it to Tim? To Toby? Would he use it as blackmail against you someday?
The thought should have horrified you.
It didn’t.
If it felt this good without him even fucking you yet… you’d probably let him do whatever he wanted.
Brian must have noticed how lost you were in your own head, because he suddenly wrapped both arms around your middle, hugging your body tight against his chest. The warmth of him surrounded you completely.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
You turned your head, and the moment you did, he caught your lips in a hungry kiss. Your arms were trapped between your back and his torso, feeling the flex and tension of his muscles as he moved. You pushed your hands lower, sliding them down until your fingers brushed the trail of hair on his pelvis, then wrapped around the thick base of his cock.
Brian hissed sharply against your mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment at your touch.
You could feel how wet he was—his length soaked from sliding between your folds, practically pulsing in your grip. He was rock hard.
“You feel how hard I am for you?” he smiled.
You nodded frantically, squeezing the base of his cock as he started thrusting between your thighs again, and now thrusting into your hand. The grip let you angle him so the head of his cock rubbed right against your clit directly instead of bumping it as it passed. Brian’s arms tightened around you, holding you up as your legs started to shake.
“If you keep doing that…” he panted, “I’m gonna cum. Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna cum.”
You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The pressure was too much, too good. Your climax snuck up on you suddenly, crashing over you without warning.
Your eyes clamped shut as your body went limp in his arms. Your walls clenched pitifully around nothing, pulsing as waves of pleasure ripped through you. You rode the length of his cock desperately, grinding your clit against him as you couldn’t do much more than whine.
Brian grunted, “Me too—me too, fuck—show the camera, hun. Tell ‘em how good you feel.”
You gasped, barely able to form words as your orgasm rolled through your muscles. “I’m cumming—Brian, I’m cuu-cumming—” you babbled. “Feels so good—oh god—mmhn—”
“Yeah, you are,” his words were slurred a bit. “I can feel it. Fuuuck, I feel you throbbing—”
His hips could barely stutter forward anymore. He hurriedly reached over and grabbed the towel you’d used earlier, pressing it against your thighs right where the head of his cock kept popping out between them.
“Gonna cum—” that was all the warning you got.
You felt him throb against you. Then he was spilling thick ropes of cum into the towel as he buried his hips as firmly as he could against your ass. His fingers dug into the skin of your waist, branding into your muscles.
You felt the warm stickiness of his cum press against the front of your thighs, soaking into the towel.
It felt like an eternity before Brian’s arms around you eventually loosened, and when they did, your legs gave out. You slumped forward, bracing yourself against the dryer with both hands as you lost all the strength you previously had.
Brian chuckled and reached past you to grab the camcorder. You blindly fumbled for it first, shutting the screen and ending the recording before he could think to capture anything else embarrassing of you. He took the device from your hand and set it aside, then grabbed a fresh towel from the stack of laundry. He was gentle as he cleaned you up, making sure to wipe the mess from between your thighs, along your skin, careful not to press too hard where you were still sensitive. Once you were clean, he took care of himself, wiping the bits of cum and your arousal from his cock and lower stomach before tossing the dirty towel aside.
You tried to push yourself upright, but Brian’s hands were already on your thighs and tugging your panties and jeans back up your legs. He helped you wiggle lthem over your hips before spinning you around to face him. He pressed your hips back against the dryer, caging you in with his body like he had before.
“Fuck you,” you muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.
Brian just smiled his little crooked smile that showed the little gap between his front teeth and reached down to zip and button your jeans for you. He cupped your jaw as he tilted your face up to his. He kissed you again, slower to savor the moment, or maybe something dumb like that.
“Thank you,” he hummed.
You blinked up at him, a little dazed. Then you reached behind you, grabbed the camcorder, and handed it back to him. Brian took it with a nod and slid it into his back pocket. “This will come in handy later.”
You rolled your eyes, but your gaze dropped to his shoulder and ribs. The fresh bandages you’d put on him were already blooming with red stains, the cuts having restarted their bleeding due to all the jostling and movement.
“Fuck, Brian,” you hissed, reaching out to gently touch the edge of one bandage that was peeling up a little. “They’re bleeding again.”
He glanced down at himself, then back up at you with an unrepentant grin.
“I didn’t want to stop,” he said simply with a shrug.
Now that your senses were starting to come back online, you could hear the music had restarted in the living room. Underneath it was the dull rumble of conversation, people laughing and shouting like the fight outside had already been forgotten and their quarrels were set aside.
You pressed off the dryer, testing the steadiness of your legs before deciding they were usable. Brian reached down and grabbed his torn shirt and blood-stained jacket off the floor. He pulled them over his head and cringed, the dried blood making the fabric stiff and uncomfortable against his fresh bandages.
“Someone definitely heard us,” you grumbled, smoothing your own shirt down.
Brian waved you off. “C’mon now. Nobody would care anyway.”
He reached for the door handle, cracked it open, and peeked out first. Then he let out a very dry laugh.
You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
Brian looked out at whoever was there and said, “How long have you been here for?”
Oh god.
A familiar voice answered from the hallway. “Long enough.”
Tim. Of course it was Tim. These two couldn’t stand to be more than ten feet apart at any given time.
“Somebody had to stand guard out here and make sure you didn’t get walked in on.”
Brian glanced over his shoulder at you, then opened the door wider so you could see each other. You gave an awkward little wave, wanting very much to disappear at this moment. Tim had his arms crossed, leaning against the opposite wall of the door. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes looked as bored and flat as ever.
You felt like you were about to get scolded, but instead Tim looked at Brian and said, dry as bone, “Only you’re allowed to touch, huh?”
Brian grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh c’mon man, you know I’ll always put out for you.”
Tim huffed a laugh and shook his head, pushing off the wall. You and Brian walked out and fell into step with him. You walked between them, standing just like when you went out looking for them earlier tonight.
You glanced up at Tim. “How’s Toby?”
“Threw up about twice. He’s somewhere with his little posse now. Probably getting babied.”
“And Jeff?”
“Jack’s relocating his nose downstairs,” Tim said flatly. “Might be a while.”
You shook your head. “Everyone should make those two clean up everything by themselves. Since they wanted to make more of a mess.”
Brian nodded beside you, his arm sliding around your shoulders as you walked. You turned your head to see him digging into his back pocket and pull out the camcorder, shaking it lightly toward Tim.
“And I’ve got a fun idea for a movie Tim should watch later,” he said, grinning.
Tim’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not watching your porno.”
“C’mon. You know… for posterity.”
You elbowed him, but not without smiling a little too.
Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!
ex for a reason : 20 No Texting Jake Challenge (failed)
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : back to back long chapters made me forget how this started with small chapters like why does this feel illegal. anyways jakeynation we’re back. jake is already missing talking to her and she broke no contact first #awww
“mmnh—“ peeta lets out sultry moans as you kiss his neck, biting and nipping at the soft skin.
“you like that?” you smile as you press your chest against his back, feeling him arch slightly.
so sensitive, you think to yourself.
your hand travels down to his pants, undoing the buckle and pulling them down to his ankles. the bed creaks under you as you begin stroking him at a slow pace.
“b-baby, i— haah~” he can’t even get the words out before you stroke faster, having to grip just a little tighter so his girth fits in your hand.
“use your words, peeta,” you say, pulling him into another kiss. the pad of your thumb circles his reddening tip and he jolts into you.
“c-could you be a little more gentle..?” he’s looking at you with those eyes, his big brown puppy-dog eyes. “i’m— ngh.. j-just a little s-sensitive right now..”
“awh, my poor baby,” you murmur, stroking his back alongside his cock. peeta shivers as your nails trace his well-defined traps. he throws himself into the crook of your shoulder.
“please.. help me cum,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. you chuckle, squeezing the base of his dick. peeta gasps and tries to move your hand.
“f-fuck..” he practically sobs. “i-i told you— agh~! to be gentle with me..”
“im sorry, peeta,” you say, mock sympathy in your voice as you watch tears drip down his cheeks. “i just wanna help you, that’s all. you do want me to help you, right?”
peeta looks up and immediately nods. “yes! please, m-mommy.. stroke me faster..”
“good boy.”
your pace quickens, base to tip and peeta’s squirming under your touch. he’s crying for you to slow down, but you have to help him cum, don’t you?
“m-mommy— oh, fuck—! i-i’m c-cumming—!” he clings to you as a string of white shoots out of his glistening tip.
you give him a kiss, praising him for being so obedient.
or rather, when he does cum, you’re always wide eyed at how much he releases—streams of thick, sticky ropes that plaster all over your face and tongue as choso’s hips buck desperately into the air, writhing in pleasure. his chest heaves once he finishes, pupils blown and eyes all glazed over, a hazy look passing over them as his gaze trails over the mess he’s made all over you.
so, choso’s learned not to let that mess go to waste. with his abnormal production of…nut (hyperspermia, his doctor had kindly told him after he’d nervously visited the clinic, thinking something may be wrong with him), choso figured it’d be a shame to let it all dry up on your face and chest.
as lovely as a sight it was.
like clockwork, three times a week, when you’re back from your late shift at work, choso’s got you on all fours, hair tugged back so he can look at that blissed out expression painted across your features.
maybe you’ll be on top, legs bracketing his hips, pussy sheathing his cock just right, or he’ll be holding you against the wall, strong arms keeping you up as he rams into you, face buried in your neck.
“gonna cum,” he slurs, the words heavy as he struggles to keep his pace consistent, and you nod feverishly, begging him to fill you up.
you moan in sync—his cum shooting deep inside you, warm and gooey and wet mixed with your own arousal. choso grunts, spilling and spilling his load, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches it coat the insides of your thighs and begin to cream around his base.
when you’re both spent (for now, anyway), he pushes his cum back inside with two fingers. “not a drop wasted,” he murmurs.
ex for a reason : 19 gc REACTS LIVE to hoony/n interacting
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : does this satisfy the population of people wanted them to finally interact 🤔 we had to make it about jake somehow heheheheh WE FINALLY ADDRESSED THE ELEPHANT.
ex tra flight tongue emote for reference in case anyone is curious
"baby please—please i'm sorry! i'll be good!" gojo was kneeling right at the entrance of your apartment, his blue eyes glistened with tears threatening to spill past his obnoxiously pretty lashes while he looked up at you like a sorry kicked down puppy.
"wha—what the fuck do you think you're doing?" you spat out, straitening your perfect dress while your heels slowly clinked on the floors. heels that he'd spent an absurd amount of money on to try to impress you.
you now stood right before him, with gojo trying to scoot closer to your legs, hugging your calves while he looked up at you with the most sorry look on his face.
"and why are you sorry, toru?" you patted him half heartedly on the head, rolling your eyes—with gojo letting out the most pathetic moan the second you pulled your hand away from his head.
he shifted closer towards you, completely flushed against your legs while you tried your hardest not to scoff at the absolutely pathetic display underneath you.
"for…for…" he was stuttering, his words catching in his throat before you lifted one of your feet—gojo's panic setting in, thinking you were going to walk away from him.
"i asked you a question, give me a fucking answer, gojo." you said, right before the point of your heel rested right above his crotch.
he gulped, looking up at you, right before you dug your heel right onto the tent on his dick.
"f—fuck w—wait it hurts, pretty, please—." he whimpered while you only increased the pressure on his cock, his sweats staining right at his tip. oh, he was enjoying this.
"oh you like this. you're disgusting, toru."
you could practically feel him pulsating, trying to hold back his tears again while you moved your heel up and down, teasing him, right before he wrapped his arms around your calf, trying to buck his hips up just the slightest bit before he came in his pants.
satoru gojo, frat president had just cum in his pants. while being stepped on. oh boy.
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
your bsf!yuji is an adorable airhead >< ! (repost)
bsf!yuji, who’s always so touchy with you—constantly clinging to you like a second skin, his big arms always wrapped around your waist, his cheek always pressed against yours, always hovering close to you whenever he can, ‘it’s what friends do!’ is all he says before pressed his lips at the crook of your neck slowly sniffing your perfume while tightening his grip around your body.
bsf!yuji, who always gets so jealous when you go on dates, constantly pouting when you get home with hickeys hidden under your shirt, staring at you like you did something criminal, still pressing his lips to the hickeys, all but fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your skin, marking you as his.
bsf!yuji, who doesn’t understand why would need anybody else’s help when he’s right there—willing to do absolutely anything for you, picking you up with flowers after shitty dates, taking you out on late night snack runs when you’re in on your head studying for your stupid exams, cuddling you to sleep during thunderstorms, your face smushed into his muscular chest, drowning out the noises outside while you drift away to sleep.
bsf!yuji, who doesn’t exactly understand why his heart beats faster when he’s around you—you’re just friends! buddies! platonic soulmates! or so he says, but he can’t ignore the way his chest tightens whenever you mention somebody you’re talking to, already trying to find ways to critique them and about how none of them are any good for you.
bsf!yuji, who kisses you for ‘practice’. it’s what friends do, right? he needs to know what he’s doing when he kisses someone! his hands are already planted around your waist while you straddle his lap, his soft moans spilling onto your lips while you slide your tongue against his lips, his hands moving closer and closer to your chest while his lips stay planted on yours.
bsf!yuji, who starts kissing you like it’s second nature—the two of you are used to it, after all! it’s completely platonic, or so he says. and your lips are just so soft and warm and fit so perfectly against his, he just can’t help it :c
bsf!yuji, who always shows up dishevelled, hair sticking up at awkward angles when he can’t fall asleep—flopping on your bed and sniffing your sheets, flipping over and pawing the air so he can cuddle you to sleep.
bsf!yuji, who massages your stomach when your period cramps start getting to you, his palms warm while he applies a consistent pressure to your stomach while you try not to curl in on yourself.
bsf!yuji, who’s always at your every beck and call—you could call him at the dead of night, and he’d be dressed and ready to show up at your place. need food? say less, he’s driving to the convenience store, stocking up on snacks, showing up at your door, the two of you sitting on the floor, twilight playing in the background while you stuffed your face with shitty ramen and chips.
bsf!yuji, who can’t help the way his sweats tighten whenever you dress in his clothes, his hoodies hung on your frame almost like a dress and he’s all but fighting the urge to want to tear it off of you.
bsf!yuji, who loves having you seated on his lap, the plush of your ass pressed up against his crotch—he really hopes you don’t notice how hard it is, or the way he keeps adjusting you in his lap so you won’t have to notice. and he sure as hell hopes you don’t hear his muffled moans in your bathroom, his nose pressed to one of your panties he stole from your drawers while jerking himself off frantically.
bsf!yuji, who cant bring himself to accept that he’s fallen in love with you. wholly and utterly down bad, and boy, he’d do anything to call you his, his girl but he’s petrified that you’d say no—that you’re better off as friends when he knows you guys could be so much better as something more.
i love him :3. no tags i need to update my taglist because it got a little overwhelming ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶
all works belong to @lilithkleia do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI, lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
"Ngh..." He grunted as you settled yourself on his dick. You two were on the bed of his dorm as third year students at UA.
He had been waiting for this. Every time you got close and made him blush, every silly joke, and when he asked to be your boyfriend. "It's tight." He panted out, his breath hot against your neck as he sat up on the edge of the bed.
You smirked, giving him a peck on the cheek., one hand ran through his hair and the other stilled on his neck.
He looked into your eyes with his green puppy irises and he just started to thrust his hips upward. You let out a surprised moan and he hummed. "Want more... it is so tight..." he choked out.
You responded with a giggle and started to match his body, thumping downward with pretty squelches and wet smacks. Eventually, the two of you started to make the pace progress. He gave you the softest whimpers and the hottest submissive moans. "Baby, g'na cum..." he breathed. "Let's do it together, hm? G'na be a good boy?" You asked, going a bit harder than he had been. He nodded. "Good- good boy, g'na... hangh-" He gasped, his seed shooting out in thick ropes. It stuck to the walls of your swollen pussy.
This is my first piece of smut... And it was rushed. 😿 plspls like if it was at least somewhat good😭
