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lordprettyflackotara · 6 days

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Chapter Seven || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

tw: everyone’s confused asf, spooky dream sequence, pistol whipping (you guys are not prepared for the next chapter i promise you. im looking at YOU masky girls)

Masky had to applaud you.

You really put on quite a show.

He wasn’t like Hoodie, he didn’t intend on watching Toby screw your brains out. Masky wanted to observe you. He wanted to understand why Tim chose you. Why all of his fantasies and plans were now centered around you. Tim’s infatuation was bad enough, but Toby’s, Brian’s, and Hoodie’s? Masky couldn’t handle it. He needed to understand not only their emotions, but his own.

His protectiveness of you came slowly and unexpectedly. He couldn’t understand what came over him in the kitchen that day, snapping at Brian the way he did. Not like it was necessarily his fault anyway. Hoodie had particular habits, ones that Masky found distasteful. Or better said, fucking disgusting. Masky watched over you in your apartment, Hoodie and Toby passed out in the living room. He watched you as you slept, your face delicately presenting peace and joy.

Your expression only made Masky angry. How could you be so blissfully oblivious? So unaware? He was a trained killer standing over you. They all were. Out of the three of them Masky would give you the quickest death. He could do it now, with no interruptions. Although you were intriguing, you were a flight risk. After Nova’s outburst they now knew where her office was. You were no longer useful. Disposable. For your own good he had to think this way. He slid his hand into his jacket, his fingers wrapping around his all too familiar revolver.

Masky rose the gun, holding its end to your head.

He froze as you shuffled in your sleep, rolling over. He was now facing the back of your head, annoyance washing over him. He needed to see your face. He needed to do this. He trudged to the other side of your bed, gripping the metal in his hand. With his hands at his sides, your eyes slowly blinked open. Masky quickly held the gun behind his back, alarmed at your sudden awakening.

“Tim?” You mumbled. Nervously Masky discreetly shoved his gun into the back of his jeans. You yawned, rubbing one of your eyes. “Cmere,” You murmured. You reached forward, grabbing one of Masky’s wrist and attempting to drag him towards you. He stumbled as he allowed you to pull him forward. “What are you doing?” Masky whispered, cautious of his partners waking up. After all, he had left your bedroom door open. You sleepily tried to tug his wrist again. “Come cuddle,” You requested, your eyes shut and consciousness barely awake. Masky’s eyes widened, fear washing over him.

“I uh, I don’t think so princess,” He huffed awkwardly. He yanked him hand away. A whine escaped your lips, similar to the sound of what Masky thought to be a kicked puppy. “Why notttt?” You groaned. You threw your comforter away, your body only now covered by a thin sheet. Masky could see the outline of your curves through the thin material. He swallowed, his adams apple bobbing visibly. “Well that’s because I um, had a different plan,” Masky said, scrambling to put together words. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, the killer beside you visibly nervous.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” You asked softly. He watched the way your lips curled up in a flirtatious smile. Masky wasn’t the type to feel flustered. He hadn’t felt that way in ages and he was in absolute denial you were making him feel that way now. “There’s a late night cupcake store down the street. I wanted to take you to it,” Masky rambled. He hoped he was right, only having seen the shop once in a newspaper ad. You sat up, your hair frizzy and tangled. “Alright just let me get dressed,” You hummed, stretching your arms. Masky quickly walked out of the room. Somehow the idea of seeing you naked made him flustered, despite him having seen you get literally fucked the day before.

Masky felt conflicted. He wanted to protect you but he also wanted to put a bullet through your skull. Why was that? Was the solution to every problem really killing someone? His mind was in a whirl wind. How long had he been thinking this way for? It wasn’t that Masky was afraid of killing people. That’s why he was created after all. His lack of fear and rough exterior was leader material, the kind The Operator needed to evoke out of Tim. Yet you, with your bubbly personality and caring nature. Masky had never wanted necessarily anything. He didn’t have wants. He was designated to lead and kill targets. But yet, he finally had something he wanted. He didn’t want to kill you.

You had thrown your hair in a lazy ponytail, dressed in sweatpants and a wife beater (Masky could’ve swore was Toby’s). “Ready?” He whispered, careful to not wake up Toby or Hoodie. Masky knew The Operator was getting close and closer to them. His and Hoodie’s ability to front for so long clear evidence. The only thing Masky could hope was that he was observing them and them alone, not you. He hadn’t shown any signs of interest in you. You hadn’t mentioned anything out of the ordinary. As far as Masky was concerned, you were in the clear. You nodded, the two of you quietly exiting your apartment.

Once you both started walking on the side of the street, you shoved your hands in your pockets. Masky noticed your lack of a bra, the cold winter air causing your nipples to be perky. “So, late night munchies?” You asked. Masky didn’t look your way, avoiding accidentally looking at your breast. “Huh?” Masky hummed. He noticed your breath was visible when you exhaled. What was it with you and your refusal to wear jackets? “I assumed you ate an edible or something. It’s two in the morning. No one craves cupcakes that badly,” You say. You tried to ignore the goosebumps dancing across your skin. Masky hummed, digging in his pocket for his box of cigarettes.

“I have insomnia. I never sleep, ever,” Masky said flatly. You raised your eyebrows, watching him fish out his box of cigarettes. “Ever? That’s not humanly possible,” You told him. Masky refrained from rolling his eyes. Yeah, not a lot of things in his life were supposed to be humanly possible. “Maybe one to three hours at a time every few days,” Masky estimated, bringing his cigarette to his lips. The two of you continued down the sidewalk, your bedroom shoes causing you to shuffle against the pavement. “That doesn’t sound healthy,” You commented. Masky glanced over at you as he lit his cigarette, your shaking from the cold visible.

“Neither is your absolute denial to wear a jacket,” Masky grumbled. He sighed, sliding off his mustard jacket and holding it out to you. “What-? I can’t-” You began. Masky shoved it at your chest, cutting you off. “Shut up and put on the damn thing,” He huffed. You did as instructed, the jacket oversized on you. You zipped up the zipper, looking over at your companion. “Thanks Tim,” You say softly. Masky inhaled his cigarette, a sense of relief washing over him as the tobacco swirled around his lungs. “Dont mention it princess,” He muttered. The two of you walked in silence for a moment, the streets empty and street lights dim.

A street light was in your way, causing you to step closer towards Masky to continue walking straight. Masky stumbled over his own feet, flustered by your unexpected closeness. “Sorry,” You murmured. You couldn’t understand why Tim was acting so weird. Masky sighed, realizing the inevitable. If they were to stay, you were going to have to know. About him and Hoodie at the very least. Toby’s schizophrenia and CIPA. His tourette’s was obvious. You didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe you’d be fine with everything else too. The more Masky thought about it, you’d need to know everything if they were to stick around.

Kate. The Operator. The Proxy Symbol and what it truly meant.

You seemed loyal. Maybe it would go over well. Maybe they’d be able to have something nice for once.

You both reached the bakery, Masky digging in his pocket and handing you a wad of bills. “Just get me a vanilla one,” He told you. Hesitantly you took the cash, eyeing it suspiciously. You wanted to ask why they didn’t have credit or debit cards. Or why they always seemed loaded with straight cash. Instead you nodded once you noticed Masky’s raised eyebrow. Masky continued to smoke his cigarette outside of the shop, the bell ringing as you opened the shops door. His gaze landed on Davidson Park, which sat across the street from the little strip of shopping centers.

He couldn’t help but remember Tim’s softness with you. Masky would’ve kissed you right then and there if it had been him. He exhaled the smoke, watching it drift away in the night air. His eyes narrowed as he was able to make out a figure in between the trees. He straightened his back as he stared at the ominous figure. He inhaled, taking a singular step forward on the sidewalk. The moment his foot hit the pavement, a wave of static crashed over him. He could hear it all around him, his cigarette falling out of his fingertips.

The bakery’s little bell chimed, breaking him out of his shocked trance. Masky quickly turned around, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “We need to go home, now,” He said roughly. You glanced over your shoulder, not understanding the rush. In your hands you held a box with your cupcakes, your fingers now wrapped around the pink container tightly. “I-I got you vanilla with buttercream icing, I hope that’s alright,” You stuttered, the brunettes suddenness catching you off guard. His arm was around your shoulders in an assertive manner, forcing you to continue walking.

Paranoid, Masky continued to look over his shoulder. The static wasn’t fading. He looked down at you, your doe eyes widened with fear. It made Masky stop dead in his tracks. “You can hear that, can’t you?” He asked. You nodded affirmatively. You wanted to tell him everything, his arm now forcing you to continue walking once more. It didn’t matter who, what, where, why, or how. The Operator was interested in you. He had shown his interest loud and clear. He didn’t need to communicate, Masky knew the pattern. This is how it started. He wasn’t having it.

The Operator couldn’t have you. He wouldn’t allow it. Swiftly Masky steered you both off of the path from your apartment, down a dark alley. “Tim what’s going on? I’m scared,” You say, your voice cracking. Masky was beginning to panic. He began to walk behind you, the Operators static growing closer and closer. He reached around and grabbed his gun, yanking the metal piece out of his pants.

“I’m so sorry.”

And with that, everything around you screeched to a sudden halt. Your vision went black, your senses slipping away with it.

Your bare feet stood in freshly cut grass, the bright green field around you stretching on for miles. Your hair flew around with the soft warm breezes as they danced past you. You looked around, your skin soaking in the sunshine as it beamed down on you. The warmth was comforting, your body seemingly in a state of bliss. The sound of footsteps made you turn around, the four people you cared about most before you. Your white sundress swayed in the wind as your eyes soaked in the scene.

On the left stood Tim, Brian, and Toby. They stood side by side, unmoving. They were dressed as they usually were, Toby giving you a small wave. To your right stood Nova, the circles from around her eyes vanished. She looked just as happy as she was before the Winston case. “Nova?” You say. You went to take a step towards her, an invisible force preventing you from taking a step towards her. You raised your hand, pressing it against the see through force field. “What is this?” You whispered. You marched over to the boys, walking straight into another invisible force field.

You yelped as you rubbed your nose, a few drops of blood noticeable on your fingertips. “Thats not from the force field,” Brian stated plainly. Your eyebrows furrowed as an impossibly tall figure stepped into view. It walked between Nova and the boys, its hands laced behind its back. You estimated its height to be around eight feet tall, at least. A suit decorated its eerily human like body, its skin as white as snow. You began to walk backwards, tripping over your own feet as your gaze landed on its face. The shape of a human head shaped its skull, no facial features visible.

Swallowing, you tried to make sense of the creature. There was no nose, eyes, ears, mouth, hair. Any human like details beyond its body shape seized to exist. “W-who are you?” You stuttered. The creature seemed to walk with ease, its black business shoes crunching the grass below it. You recognized the shoes as the ones that stood outside of your bathroom stall. “I go by many names. The Operator. Slenderman. I am a tale as old as time. You may call me whichever you please.” The creature informed you. Its voice was deep and assertive, the sound echoing through out your mind.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening, falling backwards onto the grass. You noticed the color fading, a dull gray beginning to take its place. “What do you want?” You asked. You tried to crawl backwards, the Operator placing its shoe in between your exposed legs. You watched frozen in terror as the Operator reached down, his freakishly long fingers wrapping around the collar of your sundress.

“You.”

You shot up, the beeping of the hospital monitor flooding your ears. “Woah woah woah slow down. Hey it’s okay,” Novas soft voice cooed. You looked over, your brain processing your surroundings. Wires and needles protruded your skin, oxygen tubes hooked into your nose. “What the fuck,” You muttered. A hospital gown covered your otherwise naked body, your head throbbing. The shooting pain made you cringe, your hand flying to the back of your head. “You need to lay back down, here,” Nova instructed. She grabbed a pillow from the end of the bed, propping it underneath your head.

“What am I doing here?” You asked. Your throat was unusually dry, your lips cracked. Nova brushed a stray hair behind your ear, giving you a sorrowful look. “I couldn’t tell you. You’ve sustained a head injury of some sort. I got a call that you were lying in front of the doors. Doctors want to think you fell then crawled here,” She explained. You swallowed, trying to moisturize your throat to talk. “What do you think?” You asked cautiously. For the first time it looked like Nova had slept, a large oversized cream sweater and black jeans protecting her from the powerful ac of the hospital room.

“My opinion? You look like you got pistol whipped in the back of the head,” Nova told you honestly. Her chocolate eyes were full of worry. The memories began to slowly come back to you. Tim. The cupcakes. The static. Tim’s panic. The alley. “Do you have any recollection of anything at all? You know we can investigate this for you,” Nova reassured you. She propped herself up on the side of the hospital bed, giving your hand a squeeze. You returned it, licking your cracked lips. “You have enough going on with the Winston case. Besides, I probably did trip and fall,” You say slowly. In the background you could see a clock on the wall, the time three in the morning.

“Wait, how long have I been here?” You questioned. Nova gave you a sad smile. “About five days. They did a bunch of scans and stuff. They said everything looks normal. Recovering is just going to be a bitch,” She said, giving you a half smile. Your face twisted in horror at her answer. Your head was throbbing, the pain making it hard to think. “Five days? I’ve gotta go,” You say. You attempted to get up, Novas firm hands landing on your shoulders. “You need to rest is what you need to do,” She insisted, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your eyes flickered around the room, noting her bag was the only sign someone else had been there.

“Have the boys been here? Toby? Brian? Tim?” You asked. Nova cleared her throat, avoiding your gaze. She readjusted your blanket, ensuring it covered you. “I haven’t seen them,” She answered quietly. Your brain felt like it was spinning. “Well maybe they came by when you weren’t here,” You rattled off. Nova shook her head. “Sweetheart I hate to break it to you but i’ve been here from the moment the hospital called me. I haven’t seen any sign of them,” She told you. You needed to get out of there. You needed to get back to your apartment. To curse Tim out. To punch him.

But you knew under Nova’s watchful eye you’d never be able to. You nodded. “Okay. That hurts, but okay,” You say as calmly as you can muster. Nova slid off of the bed, giving your hand one last squeeze. “Your stay here has helped me get some sleep you know. Good call,” She joked. You gave her a stale chuckle. The quicker she went to sleep the quicker you could make your great escape. “I’m sorry about your hitchhikers. But at least you’ll always have me,” She said softly. You froze as she placed a kiss on your forehead, the same spot Tim did. What was that? Nova had never been so affectionate before.

You tried to act nonchalant as she pulled away, returning to a guest chair she was curled in before. “I’m right here if you need me, just holler,” Nova told you. You watched as she curled up into a ball, tugging her blanket towards her. “Goodnight Nov. Thanks for being here,” You say. Once Nova shut her eyes you kept an eye on the clock. It was about 3:20, your mind now wide awake. You were overloaded with thoughts. Many about Tim, but also your nightmare. Was the Operator behind all of this? The symbol? You glanced over at Nova, who for once looked peaceful as she drifted off to sleep.

Something was wrong. Besides the fact you were pretty sure Tim knocked you out, you couldn’t get your nightmare out of your head. You understood why Nova was there. She was investigating the symbol. But what about Toby, Brian, and Tim? Why were they there? A chill ran up your spine as you quietly yanked the needles out of your arm. You had a creeping suspicion that Nova was right about your hitchhikers all along. Would they really do that? Use you for information? Kill Winston? You quietly slipped out of bed, grabbing your previously discarded clothes.

They wouldn’t do that to you, right? Right? There was only one way to find out.

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lordprettyflackotara · 2 months

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noise || hoody

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. remember when i talked about this hoody fic 509 years ago? yeah here it is. also yeS i am aware masky & hoody belong to marble hornets this is the only time im going to address this💀 we are in 2024 in this fandom WE KNOW. anyways enjoy !! <3

If there was anything you could’ve changed about your life, you had a particular decision in mind.

Being a desperate college student for cash, babysitting and dog walking wasn’t paying the off the debt you were accumulating.

You had scoured Craigslist, confident that there would be an odd job you’d be able to accomplish for quick cash.

Looking back you wish you had known quick cash wouldn’t come easy.

A posting offering $5k a week fell into your lap about a week later. The details seemed easy enough. The ability to clean an older mansion, whilst keeping the identities of the multiple infamous residents that resided there a secret seemed like a piece of cake.

What the posting didn’t list, was that the infamous residents were unhinged killers. Some of which you couldn’t even categorize as human.

It also didn’t list that your position would be residing in the mansion, permanently.

Being a maid in the Slenderman mansion was, in lack of better words: fucking terrifying.

The residents operated at odd hours. No matter what time you cleaned, you always received the displeasure of running into someone.

The longer you stayed, the longer paranoia began to settle in. Ben Drowned, the poster of the Craigslist ad, was a perv. You learned to stray away from electronic devices he could peep his head through. Jeff the killer, one of the most unhinged, had a short temper. He was one of the first ones to opt out of having his room cleaned by you, a decision you silently praised after walking by and seeing how filthy it was.

The next to opt out with a demonic creature named Eyeless Jack, one who specifically requested you stay out of his medical lab. Given all of the blood and goop you had mopped up at this point, a fear of being eaten led you to offering to clean it regardless. EJ knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, given his ‘hobbies’ were the most gore filled of the mansions residents. It didn’t surprise him when you left the lab green, puking immediately in a bucket he had placed beside the door for you.

The other members whose names you were obligated to memorize, Jane, Clockwork, Jason the something maker, all were rarely home. You learned to steer clear of Jason’s workshop, the dolls he made often speaking to you as if they had souls. The only three other residents who lived in the mansion full time (minus its owner), were what you learned to be proxies. These proxies, two of them at least, seemed to be human just like you.

Ticci Toby’s mortality was still up in the air for you. He once had tripped and fallen after you had mopped the floors, landing on the marble face first. He got up like nothing happened, giggling to himself about ‘how wet you made the floor’. After observing him throw axes in the training room, you decided to steer clear of him.

Masky seemed to be the trio’s leader, his face consistently hidden behind a doll resembling mask. He avoided you like the plague, skipping the formalities and acting as if you didn’t exist. You never asked questions, not knowing how long anyone had truly been here. But Masky in particular seemed a bit older than everyone, when you accidentally stumbled upon him coming home late one night from a mission. His nose was trailing blood, his mask broken in half. You ensured to avoid eye contact, but extended a wet washcloth to him so he could attend to his nose.

After that your dynamic remained the same for the most part. Except when both of you occupied a room together, neither of you made an effort to beeline to the door.

Hoody was the last proxy, the one that made you more at ease than the others. Hoody had spoken a grand total of maybe ten words to you, introducing himself and Masky before dashing out of the back door. The only time you really saw him was when you cleaned his room, the man doing a poor job of pretending to read magazines while you cleaned. Other than that, you only caught glimpses of the proxies when they came home in the late hours of the night from missions.

Most of the time they were soaked in blood. In a couple of odd occasions you had to assist them in carrying one another up to Eyeless Jack’s medical lab. You couldn’t figure out why the proxies were here, two humans not seeming to fit in with the rest of misfits that resided here. You had no idea soon enough you’d be up close and personal.

Late night was when you preferred to clean, most of the killers away from the mansion and out hunting. The existence of the residents here only existed because of their dedication to keep their identities a secret. Night time was the perfect cover, for them and for you. You were leaning over the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a particular stubborn pot when you heard the back door open. You tried very hard not to stare, not wanting to gain unwanted attention.

You glanced up briefly, catching a glance of Toby’s and Masky’s familiar figures as they trudged upstairs. “He cost us that fucking mission, Slender’s gonna be so pissed off,” Masky growled, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Toby trailed behind him, an axe dripping blood slung over his shoulder. “Y-yeah, what w-w-was he thinking?!” Toby exclaimed, his stuttering something you had grown accustomed to. You noted Hoody’s absence, your eyebrows raising as you returned your gaze to the pot.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through out the other wise quiet mansion, the silence fulfilling you with some sort of ease. It didn’t take long for the final proxy to stumble into frame, his hand cupping his face. You weren’t forbidden from interacting with the mansions residents, your urge to help sweeping over you. Hoody was awkwardly stumbling, immediately leaning onto you for support as you helped him stay standing.

“I got it,” He huffed. His usual ski mask was half raised, the bottom half of his face revealed to you for the first time. His chin and upper lip had surprisingly clean cut facial hair, kept to a minimum. You guided him around the counter, helping him sit onto the kitchen counter by the sink. Hastily he shoved his yellow hood off of his head, yanking the ski mask off with it. You were surprised a normal human being stared back at you, a large gash sliced across his cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered. You grabbed a clean wash cloth, running it under cold water. “Didnt ask for your commentary doll,” Hoody said dryly. You swallowed, wringing out the excess water. You could’ve done what you did with Masky, handing him the washcloth and wishing him a silent farewell. But instead you didn’t. “Sorry,” You mumbled. You craved human contact, any kind of human contact. Brushing off your skirt you stepped in between his legs, leaning forward.

You were careful to avoid eye contact, focusing on dabbing the wound. Hoody silently winched under the feeling, inhaling through his teeth. As gently as you could you dabbed away the blood. “Do you want me to get EJ?” You asked. Hoody’s face was stone cold, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye anyways. “Dont bother, i’m sure he’s sick of patching us up all the time,” He grumbled. The wound didn’t look deep, just very long. Thankfully most of the blood was gone, the rest of his face covered in specs of dry blood (that you presumed to not be his) and dirt.

Turning on the sink you washed out the washcloth, the crimson paint drifting off down the drain with the water. You then returned to Hoody, wiping off his face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to be so compassionate, Hoody’s eyes fluttering shut. He took a deep breath, his shoulders seemingly relaxing. You were gentle of course, not wanting to piss the killer in front of you off. But even Hoody knew your action wasn’t callous.

Once you were done you awkwardly stepped aside, putting the rag in the sink. “You want a cig?” Hoody asked. He dug in his jeans, pulling out a beat up cigarette box. “Is this your way of showing gratitude?” You asked. The man in front of you smiled, extending you the box. “This right here is the only kind of buzz you’re getting around here doll,” He explained, allowing himself to half smile. You had never smoked a cigarette before, nor had you really planned on it. Not like it mattered now.

You put one to your lips like people did in movies, watching Hoody do the same. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it and igniting the end of his cigarette. You leaned forward, watching Hoody attempt to flick the lighter again. The flame refused to ignite, the sight of small sparks making him sigh. “Masky always takes the good lighters,” He muttered. He inhaled his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the right. You found the gesture of attempting to not violate you with smoke a little sweet.

“Well I appreciate the offer. I’ve never smoked a cigarette anyways,” You admit. Hoody shook his head. “That just won’t do then. Put it to your lips and stay still,” He ordered. You did as instructed, watching him lean closer to you. His fingers went under your chin, keeping your head held high. You felt your face beginning to burn, the end of his cigarette lighting yours as you inhaled. You both avoided each others gazes, until the second he began to back away.

For a brief moment you shared eye contact, searching each other’s eyes. For what? You didn’t know. You properly inhaled, coughing immediately. “You guys like this stuff?” You asked in between coughs, continuing to choke. Hoody nonchalantly took another drag of his, watching you struggle. “It’ll grow on you, trust me. I didn’t like it at first either,” He confessed. Once you regained strength in your lungs you properly stood up. Hoody remained seated on the kitchen counter, with you standing beside him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked curiously. You were stepping over a hundred boundaries, ones you could die for if you stepped over the line too far. “A while,” Hoody answered honestly. You took another drag of your cigarette, the taste of tobacco growing on you. “How long are you going to be here?” Hoody countered. You exhaled, glancing back at the proxy. He had exhaled through his nose, boldly making eye contact with you.

“A while.”

You found the courage to turn around, facing him fully. “You aren’t lonely?” You asked. Hoody gave you a smile, tossing the bud of his cigarette into the nearby trashcan. “I am, are you?” He asked curiously. You followed his lead, tossing the bud of the cigarette into the trashcan. If it set the kitchen on fire, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Yeah I am,” You admit. Hoody slid off of the counter, his tall height towering over you.

“Do you uh, wanna change that?” He asked. For a killer who had a victims blood splattered across his face moments ago, he seemed so awkward. You wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman. How long would it be before you could be with a man again? “Please,” You sighed. Hoody kissed you just as rough as you expected, both of you melting into the other. Both of you were undeniably needy, touch depraved and lonely. You were sure this was forbidden for both of you but as his tongue slid into your mouth, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“Call me Brian but only when it’s us, okay? Thats not who I am anymore but that’s who I want to be with you, okay?” Hoody asked. You nodded, the normal name bringing your comfort. Brian’s hand snaked down your waist, squeezing and kneading at the flesh of your ass. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound only making him harder. There was no telling how much longer you’d be around, the residents of the mansion unhinged enough to snap at any moment.

You couldn’t fully undress here and going upstairs was out of the question. “This has to be quick, we can’t get caught,” You whispered. Brian nodded, slipping his hand up your skirt. He rubbed against your wet cunt, your panties preventing any further stimulation. Brian had zero control over his life but he did right here, right now. You had no control over yours either, the decision to fuck each other to release steam the only free will decision either of you could make. You palmed him through his jeans, his cock practically busting through the fabric.

He guided you to the counter, grabbing the sides of your panties and yanking them down to your ankles. He shoved them into his pocket for what you thought to be safe temporary keeping. But Brian had other ideas.

“Fuck, please, wanna feel you Brian,” You whispered, trying hard to not groan loudly. Brian quickly undid his belt bringing his lips back to yours. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, your soft lips driving him mad. It wasn’t long before his cock was at your entrance, awkwardly shuffling with his jeans at his ankles. He fell a bit backwards, causing you to laugh. “Fucking hell, sorry-” He began apologizing. You giggled, hopping off of the counter.

You brought him fully to the ground, pushing his back against the oven. “This might work better,” You replied, lowering yourself down onto his cock. Brian’s cock felt like heaven, your mouth falling open. Both of you let out a sigh of relief. You had no way to masturbate, no way to possibly release the stressful tension building inside of you. As you pressed your forehead against Brian’s, you realized that this was what you got. This was your outlet.

Brian’s gloved hands met your waist, helping you roll your hips. You let out a loud groan, one of his hands flying to your mouth. “Shh, you can’t make any noise,” Brian warned, your inability to stay composed only making him more hot and bothered. He took control, guiding your hips to ride him at a pace that worked for both of you. You were as wet as a virgin, your body yearning for more as Brian abused your g spot. Your sinful moans were muffled by his gloved hand, his other attempting to guide you.

He brought himself close to your ear. “If you wanna get off, you’re gonna have to ride me by yourself mkay? Do that and i’ll play with that pretty clit of yours doll,” He huffed, trying to control his own noises. You nodded yes profusely, trying to concentrate on grinding your hips against his. With his spare hand he found your clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. For a brief moment he was worried about his ‘skills’ not having slept with a woman in years. Whether he was good or bad at it, you didn’t appear to give a shit. You were still a panting mess, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Your walls clenched tighter around Brian as you felt yourself closer to euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut. With your forehead pressed to his you pawed at his hoodie, grabbing handfuls as your orgasm washed over you. Your sinful noises were muted by Brian’s hand, the muffled sounds music to his ears that he had made you feel that good. Your walls fluttering around him triggered his own orgasm, his cum flooding inside of you. He dropped his hand from your mouth, both of you taking a moment to breathe.

In a moment of true loneliness you leaned against Brian’s shoulder, ignoring the faint smell of dried blood and sweat. Unsurely Brian stroked your hair, trying to remember if that was comforting or not. He licked his dry lips, a bold question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wanna share a cigarette again tomorrow?”

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