Story Time

Summary: You and Hoodie are like oil and water. You just don’t mix well. However your line of work requires you to be close to each other. What happens when hatred meets hunger? Words: 7.5K T.W: Blood, Near Death Experience, Oral Sex (Giving and Receiving), Fingering, Choking, Gagging,  Hair Pulling, Face-Fucking, Sex with Nonparticipating Party Asleep in the Room, Drunk Sex AN: This is MY version of Hoodie, so he may be OOC for many people.

It’s been years since your arrival at the mansion. Slenderman took you in instantly, and you didn’t know if it was out of pity or cruelty. Being a proxy was its own form of hell. Your life is constantly in danger. Tim and Toby fight all day long. The other non-proxies just live off their primal instincts to feed, fight, and fuck. And Hoodie… He hated you since you walked in all those years ago, but you were quick on your feet and could close the distance between enemies while Hoodie kept range. Because of this, you were often paired together for missions. Hoodie was able to get under your skin, unlike anyone else; every mission was loaded with fierce fights between you two. You’ve started to believe that Tim gets put with you just so everyone makes it back alive.

And you know Hoodie would leave you for dead. 

Two years ago, you got shot in the chest by cops, blood pumping out with every heartbeat. He took you to the small motel bathroom, picked you up, and placed you in the bathtub. You shivered, your body temperature dropping. Blood started pooling in the creases of your body. It was warm. Scared, you look up into his eyes for any amount of comfort. They were dark and lightless. He doesn’t say anything as he turns and leaves for the door.

“W-wait!” You choke out, blood mixed with your spit splattering the dingy vinyl floor. “You can’t just leave me here!” You place your bloody hands on the sides of the white bathtub and use all your remaining strength to lift yourself. “Hoodie!” Hearing the slam of the motel door, you chuckle softly. Your arms shake before finally giving out, and you crash into a tub of your own blood. The wound pumps more slowly now, and you feel a heaviness set over you. Closing your eyes, you think you hear something. It’s too far away, and you’re so tired, you’ve entered a deep ocean. The noises get louder, sharper, and crisper. Your name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You sluggishly swim through the sea of heaviness that is cast over you to open your eyes. Everything was blurry.

“We’re gonna get you better, okay?” That voice… Tim? You turn your head to the sound and focus your eyes. Tim leaned over the bathtub, applying a bandage to your bullet wound. Eyeless Jack was in the background, preparing various medical supplies. You let out a shaky breath. “We’re not gonna lose ya.” Tim smiles a soft but comforting smile, and you fade into the sea.

Supposedly, Hoodie got in trouble for that incident. Supposedly, he said in response, “I’m not keeping dead weight on my team.” Supposedly. 

You two weren’t put on missions together for a while. You often got put with Toby, which was alright. But Toby never did anything outside of work, so if he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Whenever you worked with Tim, he would commonly ask for a drink together to “celebrate a successful mission”. You obliged because when he wasn’t around Toby, he could be quite pleasant company.

That’s how it started…

“Man, that's some bullshit,” Tim grumbles, turning away from the screen and eyeing you. “I don’t think they should have voted her out.” You roll your eyes at the other end of the worn-out couch.

“I told you! Samantha was the glue holding the tribe together!” You clasp your hands together in front of you to drive the point home. Sighing, you place your empty can on the floor. “I need another drink.” Tim nods and stands to get more alcohol. 

This was your routine. After missions, you and Tim would get drunk and watch crappy reality TV until one of you can’t stand it anymore. And you loved it. You looked forward to going over and melting your brain with alcohol and Kardashians. Tim returns and hands you a can while cracking open his. As you begin to open your drink, the door opens.

Hoodie stands there, slightly out of breath, with his yellow hoodie covered in blood, his black boots caked with mud. He still wears his mask, and his gun hangs in the waistband of his charcoal jeans.

“You got a fuckin’ problem?” He snaps at you. You didn’t realize you had been staring. You turn your attention back to the TV and play with the pop tab on your drink.

“What are you doing here?” Tim slurs as he sits back down on the couch. Hoodie finally enters the room, closing the door behind him.

“It’s my room too.” He grumbles, taking his hoodie, shirt, and mask off in one movement. He tosses them to the floor.

“I know that!” Tim draws out the syllables of each word. “I mean, didn’t you have a mission?” Hoodie crosses to the dresser underneath the TV. You look down at your drink. It took everything in you not to gawk at the body in front of you, but you remembered the man it belonged to. 

“Finished it,” Hoodie said while grabbing a clean shirt from the dresser.

“That quick?” Tim raised his eyebrows. “Nice job.” Hoodie just gives him a small nod before putting on the shirt and coming to sit between you and Tim on the couch. You swallow hard and look at Tim, but he’s too drunk to notice anything. Hoodie shifts and leans back, spreading his legs out further. His thighs touch yours, and you inch closer and closer to the armrest, desperately trying to get away from the warmth that radiates from them. As nonchalantly as ever, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through a forum. 

Fever rose inside you, your heart pounding against your rib cage. The TV turned into dull droning in the background as you tried to take a sip from your drink, only to find you were shaking. Whether it be from fear or anger, you didn’t care. 

You found the ability to stand to be harder than it was before. “I gotta get going. Early patrols and stuff...” You move to the doorway.

Tim smiled a bright, drunken beam. “Okay, Y/n. Thanks for coming over!” As you reach the door, you see Tim’s wave and Hoodie’s cutting glare.

Hoodie’s missions seemed to be done quicker and quicker, meaning more time he spent between you and Tim on that worn-out sofa. Soon, he started drinking with you, but never indulged in the brain-rotting TV, preferring to scroll on his phone while he sips his beer. That’s where you all were when Tim’s phone vibrated. 

He picks up his phone from the armrest. “Damn, urgent mission,” He looked from his phone to the other people on the couch, Hoodie with his arm draped over the back of the couch and a bored expression on his face, and you sitting as far away from everyone as possible, clutching your drink with both hands. Tim scrunched his eyebrows together. “You two didn’t get a text?” You and Hoodie shook your heads. “Damn! That probably means I’m going with Toby.” He grumbles and downs the rest of his beer. 

Grabbing a duffel bag from under his bed, Tim leaves. The background noise of the television was all that occupied the room. No one says a word as Hoodie grabs the remote and clicks off the TV. Silence fills the air, and it's heavy. You dare a glance at him. Dirty blonde hair catches the light as he finishes his beer and sets it on the small table in front of you. As he leans back, you catch his haunting gaze. Again, the fever rose in you, but a large weight pressed on your chest, right where you’d been shot. The fever turned into a boiling rage.

“What?” You spit out. 

He doesn’t turn toward you. “You should go too.”

“Fuck you.” Slamming down your drink, you stand up and head to the door. Fire in your veins, your hands shake as you reach for the doorknob. ‘Bastard,’ you think to yourself.

Months had gone by, you and Hoodie were once again placed on missions together, and afterward would hang out with Tim. Hoodie didn’t mention it, but he could tell you had been training more. Quicker, stronger dashes and harder, faster swings. You cleared the house before he could get a shot in. Was he impressed? Of course not. He just appreciates having less work to do. Plus, you were bitching less, so that would always make him happy in his own way.

When you two walked through the door of Hoodie and Tim’s room, you noticed it was empty. You were still uneasy around Hoodie, and being alone in his room didn’t help. Taking a deep breath in, you make your way over to your spot on the couch.

Hoodie comes around from behind the couch, holding a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He’s taken his dirty hoodie, shirt, and mask off already. He takes his seat next to you, sitting just close enough that your thighs touch even with you scooted all the way back. Throwing you the remote, he says, “Here, pick something.” You scramble for it and stare as he fills both glasses with the dark liquid.

“Where’d you even get that?” You ask, nodding your head to the bottle in his hand.

“It’s mine, Tim isn’t here, so it’s my rules now,” Hoodie states, leaning back on the couch with his glass. He doesn’t pass you yours. Putting on a random comedy movie, you reach for your glass. You both nurse your glasses for some time. You can’t help but steal glances at him every so often. He notices. 

“What?” Eyes straight forward.

“Nothing, it’s just…” You sigh, unable to complete your words. He turns toward you, and you look up into those eyes again. Darkness. “Do you hate me?” The words lose their nerve as they come out. His eyes glaze over your body, he moves closer and leans into you.

“I like things that are useful.” He croons into your ear. A small smile spreads across his face, but there’s no kindness in it. Those eyes, there was something sinister in them. You push him away from you, hands on his bare chest. You risk a look down and see his toned but scarred body after many years of working under Slenderman.

“I’m not a thing, and that didn’t answer my question.” You huffed, crossing your arms. He chuckled, a low, deep noise that rumbled in your chest. The man in front of you sighed, then his face fell into one of loathing. Brown eyes cut and dark, his nose turned up, looking down at you from it.

“And I don’t like things that are difficult.” He sneered.

“Are you calling me difficult?”

“You are so much more than difficult.” Lowering his head, he softens his face, but his eyes remain slitted and dim. “But, you are proving to be more and more useful.” You almost scoff at that, so you settle for rolling your eyes. Hoodie leans in again, but not as close as last time. “And you can be even more useful to me…” 

That fever soared through you once again as his eyes raked over your body, drinking you in. Clutching the glass tighter, you try to hide the blush that grew on your cheeks once your eyes met. “H-how so?” You curse yourself for stuttering, but feel proud that you held his stare.

He slid his arm behind you on the back of the couch. “You could say I’m a simple man.” Placing his hand on your thigh, everything clicked.

“You’re disgusting.” Shoving off his hand, you go to stand, slamming your glass down on the table.

“Suit yourself,” Hoodie leans back into the couch, and you hesitate. Maybe he left you for dead, but you’ve heard the rumors about Hoodie. How he came back from the dead, but ever since then, he’s been… different. More aggressive, more cold, more lethal. You know that if it weren’t for the threat of Slenderman, Hoodie would’ve put a bullet in your skull that day in the motel without even thinking about it. But maybe this is the best way to get to know your partner, save from all the arguments you have.

Heartbeats go by as you stand there before softly saying, without turning to him, “When does Tim get back?” 

“Not until morning,”

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Biting your lip, you say a silent prayer to whoever is listening and turn to sit next to the murderer again. He had pulled out his phone and was scrolling, devoid of any emotion. You take a deep breath.

“I’ll ask again, how so?” Your voice had the tiniest of lilt in it. Tilting your head to the side, you watch as he locks his phone, places it in his pocket, and looks at you again. 

“I don’t kiss, so don’t get your hopes up.” He slides closer to you on the sofa, his arm going back behind you and his hand back on your thigh. He leans into your ear and breathes, “You seem a bit tense.” His hand made small circles where it was placed, and heat rushed to your core. You turn to look at him, heart pounding. Your faces were so close, with him glancing down at your lips once or twice, but he held to his word and leaned back without going for a kiss, his hand going higher, and your face blushing.

“Stop teasing me,” You whined, squirming in your seat. You feel fingers weave their way into your hair and make a fist. Forcing you to look Hoodie in the eyes, you notice something swimming behind the wickedness in them - hunger. Gulping down a small bit of fear that arose in your throat, you spread your legs a little further apart. Hoodie smiled a serpentine grin as his hand went to palm over your clothed cunt. Wiggling your hips, you feel the hand in your hair tighten. You feel the hot breath of Hoodie on your ear.

“This is the closest you’ll get to compassion from me.” His hand slips into your pants, rubbing you over your panties. You feel hot. Your breathing became faster. You shift in your seat once again and are met with a sharp yank by the strands. “Stay still, or we can stop.” He sounded almost bored, face a blank slate as he pulled your panties to the side and used his index and ring finger to spread apart your lips. His middle finger runs an exploratory length up your folds before he allows it to enter you. You gasp, blood boiling, and try your best to listen and stay still. He lazily pumps his finger in and out of you a few times before he shifts, hand loosening out of your hair and the other hand pulling out of you. You don’t have the time to be confused as he pulls off your pants and panties in one movement. He settles back next to you, hand going back between your legs.

Two fingers curl up into you, and you arch your back, careful to keep your hips unmoving. You could feel the buildup of pleasure in your core. His fingers find a rhythm that has you out of breath, and your hands look for something to grab a hold of. One hand finds purchase on the armrest, the other finds his shoulder, the skin warm under your touch. There was a split second of faltering in the man’s ministration as you touched him. You almost didn’t notice it. Almost.

One particular curl of his fingers sent electricity through your veins, and you moaned. “Fuck!” Hoodie finally looks up from your pussy to your face. Nails dug into the couch and his shoulder. He begins to curl his fingers in the specific way that sends shocks through your body over and over again. Panting and face burning, you moan. 

Hoodie’s free hand slams onto your mouth and pushes your head back into the couch. His fingers pick up speed, still hitting that one spot inside of you while his palm just barely grazes your clit. You’re lost in bliss. Closing your eyes, you feel the build-up in your gut reach a peak. Screaming into his palm, you cum, thrashing your body against his hand as he didn’t pause or slow down his motions. Clamping your legs tight, you clamber for his hand, trying desperately to ease the amount of pleasure within your body. The sparks of electricity turned into painful shocks coursing through you. Hoodie removes his hand from your mouth and grabs your wrists. 

“Easy…” He slows down just a little as he shifts, leaning over you, holding your wrists in his hands, his other hand still stuffed fully in your cunt. “We’re not done here.” Your eyes widened as you felt him begin his movements in his fingers once more. Slower, more deliberate. Once again, his eyes were on your cunt and not your face, watching his fingers pump in and out of you, glossy with your cum. You struggle against him half heartedly, forgetting the rule to be still. Moaning, you buck your hips up to meet his fingers. Waves of pleasure wash over you as you feel the familiar pressure build up inside you again. 

“Ngh, fuck… Hoodie…” The pleasure climbs to the crest of the mountain, and you come undone. Squeezing your legs together and throwing your head back, you cry out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” To your relief (or disappointment), Hoodie pulls out his hand from your overstimulated cunt. He unwraps his hand from your wrists and leans back, bringing his hand that was just inside you to his lips. He takes his two fingers and opens his mouth, sucking your juices off them as you try to remember how to breathe. 

Hoodie looks you in the eyes as he wipes the rest of you on his jeans. The unholiness within them cooled the sweat on your skin. You decided you spent enough time here. You pull up your pants and head to the door, eager to escape the mistake you made. Hoodie says nothing.

Neither of you said anything about that day. Sometimes you’d catch yourself dreaming about that instance, imagining the drag of his long fingers through the walls of your pussy. Sometimes you’d think about asking him for another go, but now, you were waist-deep into an argument with the masked murderer.

“Shut the fuck up, Y/n,” Hoodie growls at you. You, Tim, and Hoodie had just come back from an exceptionally difficult mission. The victims ended up getting the upper hand on you, causing you to get a stab wound to your side, and if it weren’t for Hoodie shooting the man, you’d probably be worse off. The three of you enter the boys’ room.

“You shut the fuck up! I fucked up once. God fucking sue me!” You exasperated, walking to the couch to take your seat. Hoodie takes off his hoodie and walks shirtless across the room to the dresser to grab one. You hold your side as you collapse onto the couch. It wasn’t too deep, EJ said, bandaging would be sufficient for it, no stitches required. 

“Fucking up in this line of work gets you killed.” Hoodie’s voice isn’t raised, but low and cold. He looks at your bloody side. “If you were alone, you’d be dead.” He turns to pull his shirt over his head.

You remain quiet, because he’s right. In all the years of being a proxy, you’ve never been given a solo mission. You can’t survive on your own. At least, that’s what everyone believes, and with the gash in your side, you start to believe they’re right. So you get angry.

“What, you want a thank you?” Poison drips from your words, and you narrow your eyes at the blond.

Silence. Tim looks between you and Hoodie while Hoodie casually grabs a beer. He pops it open and takes a long sip before he meets your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from you.” Your face burned.

“Can we please keep this civil?” Tim said, irritated, grabbing a beer for you and him and moving to the couch. You graciously accept the drink.

“I’m not the one whose panties are in a twist.” You grumble, casting your gaze over to Hoodie. He visibly tenses, hand almost crushing the aluminum can he holds. Tim sighs and settles down on the sofa. 

“Just. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Y/n.” The words come out of Hoodie in coats of seething rage. Too bad you didn’t know how to.

“Why? You just don’t wanna admit that you’re going too far with this. He got one up on me, and you got the killing blow.” Your legs moved on their own, and before you knew it, you had crossed the room and stood in front of Hoodie. “I could defend myself, I just didn’t have to with you there since you’re, ya know, backup?” A fierce stare between you and Hoodie. His eyes slitted and never broke eye contact. You felt your resolve falter under the intense pressure of his gaze. You were the one to look away first. As you break the stare, you feel a hand grasp around your neck. Stunned, fire goes straight to your core. You look back at him. The fire in his eyes was different, feral almost. 

“I don’t think you understand. You almost died today. I saved your life, but I’m not looking for gratitude, I’m looking for you to get your head out of your ass and learn!” He punctuates his point by slamming his open palm against your crimson side. You shout out in pain and double over. His hand on your throat tightens before roughly shoving you away. Coughing and choking, you hold your throat.

“Alright! That’s it!” Tim claps his hands together as he gets up from the couch. You give Hoodie a cutting glare before dashing to the door, holding your wounded side. You can hear Tim’s voice through the halls. He sounded angry.

You still remember the feel of Hoodie’s hand around your neck. It filled you with fury, and if you were being honest, lust. It was on your mind constantly; the hot, suffocating pressure drove you crazy. Your missions were suffering, and Hoodie was noticing. You stopped hanging out with the guys after work, claiming to be too tired to drink. Meanwhile, you know you can’t be in the same room as Hoodie unless you are working. Just his aura alone made your blood boil and heat pool in between your legs.

It was around midnight when you were in the kitchen getting a glass of water. Standing at the sink, you fill up the glass as you feel a presence behind you. You turn and are met with the honey brown eyes of Hoodie. You jump slightly, water spilling out of the glass. He wears a face of apathy while his eyes bore into you.

“Thought you were tired?” Hoodie drawled. The words turned to fire in your veins and set you ablaze. You turned from him, face burning.

“I got thirsty…” You mumble out. Hoodie looks you up and down with that vicious stare. He hummed low in his throat and straightened.

“Come on,” He turns to leave, not waiting for a response or even an acknowledgement. You leave the glass of water in the sink and follow behind him without a second thought.

He brings you to his room, and you bite your lip. “Is Tim-” You started.

“Don’t worry about him.” He doesn’t look behind himself as he talks, nor as he opens the door and strolls into the shabby room. Following a few steps behind, you come to his bed, a twin-size mattress with grey sheets and a random blanket thrown over top. It was made, unlike Tim’s bed across the room, which lay messy and sprawled out with multiple blankets. Hoodie takes a seat on the edge of his bed, placing both hands behind him. He leans back and looks expectantly at you. 

“What?” You twist your hands together. 

“Was thinking it was time for you to reciprocate.” One of his hands came to his belt. Your face burned, and you could feel the wetness between your legs. You try to squeeze them together to relieve some of the fire growing there. Hoodie glances down at your legs and hums again. “Come here,” He waves his hand to motion you over.

Your legs move independently of you. Before you realize it, you’re kneeling between his knees, his eyes never leaving you. Once you’re in position, he shifts, bringing both hands to his waistband. He tugs open his belt and the button of his pants.

“You ever suck dick before?” He asked. You glare up at him, not feeling the need to disclose your sexual history at this moment. “Guess I’ll find out.” He pulls down his pants along with his boxers. His cock springs free, half hard and already at an impressive length. He grips his cock in his hand and gives it a few half-hearted pumps before leaning back and watching you hungrily. You lick your lips and wrap your hand around him, giving him a few pumps and feeling him grow harder under your touch. Leaning forward, you take the tip of him into your mouth, tasting the salty musk of him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you run your tongue around the top. Slowly, you take more of him into your mouth before bobbing your head. You feel his hands grasp your hair and pull it into a ponytail that he holds with one of his hands. You take more of him into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Gagging, you go to lift your head but feel resistance. Hoodie’s hand in the hair tightened and pushed your head down further. Your nose buried in his pelvis and your throat stuffed full, you choke. He holds you there for a heartbeat, the longest moment you’ve ever lived, before releasing you. You come up off his cock, choking and gasping, tears in the corners of your eyes. His hand is still in your hair, and you look at him. His pupils were blown with lust, and he had a light dusting of red across his face. You catch your breath and cast your eyes back down to his dick. It was fully hard now, a striking length with just the slightest curve to it. Your mouth waters. You lean in to wrap your lips around him again, swirling your tongue around the tip of him.

Hoodie doesn’t make any noise, but his breathing picks up and staggers when you envelop him fully again. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back as you bob up and down on his length, sighing. You fold your hand around him and pump your fist while giving attention to the tip. You licked along the slit of his dick while sucking.

A heavy groan came from Hoodie. The first sound you were able to produce goes straight between your legs. That gave you a little motivation, sucking harder, ignoring the pain in your jaw. Your head and hand moved in conjunction with each other, working him to release.

Suddenly, he shifts, standing up. You take him out of your mouth to ask him what he’s doing when he places both hands on the sides of your head. He looks down at you, and you look up at him. For a moment, there’s something in between you, but it's gone before you could figure out what it was. 

“Grab onto my arm if you can’t handle it,” Hoodie says huskily. You don’t have time to ask any questions before he orders, “Open your mouth.” You do as you’re told. He slides his cock back into your mouth, then he starts moving his hips. Maybe the first three thrusts were gentle before he began thrusting more forcefully, more ravenous. You placed your hands on his hips, gripping for dear life onto the waistband of his jeans. It was hard to breathe, and tears were stinging the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall. You almost took Hoodie up on the offer and grabbed his arm, but the sounds coming out of him were too sweet to stop. Every time he hit the back of your throat, he let out a breathy groan that turned your legs into jelly. You glance up at him through the face-fucking. He was in total bliss, face flushed and panting. The rhythm of his hips faltered ever so slightly, and he took one hand to run through his blond locks, the other entangled in yours. Tears fell freely now, the ache in your jaw burning with every thrust. 

“Ugh, I’m close,” Hoodie rasps. You can feel his body tense under your touch before suddenly he pulls out. One hand still twisted in your tresses, holding you barely inches away, the other wrapped around his cock, stroking and pumping at a speed faster than when he was in your mouth. Sniffling, you wipe the tears off your face, watching the scene before you. 

“Ah~, open,” He pulls your head back to him, and you obey. Opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue, it isn’t long until you taste the salty flavor of him. He lets out a long groan as he cums, eyes rolling back. He gives his dick a few more lax strokes before untangling his fingers in your hair. Swallowing down the last bits of his cum, you sniffle again, throat raw and stinging. He doesn’t say anything as he stuffs himself back in his jeans and goes to the couch, leaving you there on the floor, red-eyed and puffy-lipped.

You didn’t stay. 

Missions became both harder and easier for you. Easy in the way Hoodie seemed to hold his tongue more. Harder in the ways that you couldn’t look Hoodie in the eye, and his hands started leaving lingering touches along your lower back and shoulders. Tim noticed something was off with you, seeing your pink cheeks and nervous tics around the other killer. He didn’t mention anything to you, thank god, but still noted the behaviors.

Currently, Tim was too busy blabbing about something you didn’t quite catch in the passenger seat of an old sedan with switched plates. Currently, you were too busy staring at the way Hoodie’s hands flex and wrap around the steering wheel in the back seat to hear a word of Tim’s ramble. You can recall the pressure around your throat from those hands. Unconsciously, you rub your legs together. Hoodie stares emotionless out the windshield to the dark roads outside, listening to Tim but giving zero feedback.

“You coming, Y/n?” Tim turns in his seat to look back at you. Snapping back to reality, you shake your head to clear it of the lewd thoughts.

“Um, sorry, what’s going on? I blocked out most of what you were talking about.” You tried to keep your voice casual. Tim pinches his eyebrows together and looks you up and down.

“Rude, but we all have tomorrow off for once, and I was thinking of getting shitfaced.” He wiggles his eyebrows at the last word. You smile softly.

“Gonna enjoy my day off with a hangover?” Chuckling, you cast a glance over to Hoodie. “Are you joining in?” 

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road when he shrugs. “Fuck it.” You take that as a ‘yes’ and look back over to Tim.

“Fuck it, I guess.” You smirk.

“Sweet! I’m pretty sure I got half a bottle of vodka in the room, and Jeff owes me a bottle so we can-” You don’t listen to everything Tim says, instead going back to watch the way Hoodie’s hands come across one another as he takes the turn to the mansion.

Hours later, YouTube played on the TV while cards lay splayed across the small table. Tim was serious about getting wasted with him spread out, head back against the couch, and a hand to his forehead. You sat cross-legged on the other side of the sofa, holding your almost empty glass. The liquor flowing through your veins tingled and made your head light. You were definitely feeling it, and you know the boys are. Trying to keep up with them would be a death sentence, so you stuck to sipping your drinks while they were shooting down shot after shot. 

Tim grumbles, slides down in his seat, and closes his eyes. Hoodie sat between you, scrolling on his phone, seemingly indifferent. A small noise comes from Tim, and you look over.

“Is he asleep?” You ask Hoodie, pointing to the slumped figure on the end of the couch. Hoodie looks up from his phone for a brief moment.

“Looks like it,” He replies, going back to his phone. Shaking your head, you finish off your drink and place the glass on the table. As you're reaching for the table, you hear Hoodie’s phone lock and feel hands around your waist.

The hands pull you back into a sturdy chest. Your eyes widen, and you wiggle against the grip. The hands tighten, and you feel hot breath on the shell of your ear.

“Turn around,” He says roughly. His voice and the liquor mix inside you and begin to pool between your legs. You turn in his lap to face him, straddling his lap. His hands rest on your sides. In the dim light of the TV, you can see the lust in his eyes. He holds your gaze for a moment before glancing down at your lips. His eyes flick back up to you. One hand leaves your side and finds purchase on the back of your neck. He leans in. His lips meet yours in a surprisingly soft kiss. Closing your eyes, you felt as though you’d burst out of your skin. He deepens the kiss, running his hand along your waist and down your leg. You feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, clashing your tongue with his. He pulls you closer, hand on your hip, encouraging you to move. Grinding your hips against his, you let out a breathy gasp, breaking the kiss. His hand on the back of your neck laces the fingers through your locks and pulls your head back.

With your neck exposed, Hoodie wastes no time connecting his lips to the skin, biting, sucking, and licking the fragile flesh. You pant out, bucking your hips into his, feeling the growing hardness in his pants. He growls against your neck and gives you a particularly sharp nip with his teeth. His hand moves up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft tissue. 

“Hoodie…” You breathe out his name, closing your eyes and feeling the sting in your hair, the bite of his teeth, the squeezing of your breast. Everything felt so amazing. The hand in your hair loosens its grip and comes to massage your other breast. You open your eyes to meet his. His pupils were blown so wide that you could barely see the brown iris surrounding them. “Thought you didn’t kiss?” You say sardonically, moving your hips pointedly against his.

A rough squeeze to your breasts, he moves his hands back down to your hips and leans in. “Don’t get used to it. I’m just drunk.” He captures your lips again in a desperate, starved kiss that leaves you breathless. His fingers run along the bottom of the hem of your shirt. He touches your stomach and runs his palms along your bare sides. Grabbing your shirt, he breaks the kiss and pulls off the fabric over your head. Immediately going for your bra, he unhooks it with a telling speed and tosses it somewhere in the room. His hands were on your naked breasts, kneading and caressing. He dips his head down to take a nipple into his mouth, giving attention to one nipple before turning to the other one and suckling on it too.

Your hands were woven into his hair, as you moaned and rocked your body against his. Hoodie releases your breasts and slides one hand down under you to hold your bottom. The other hand snakes its way to your back.

“Hold on,” he mutters before going to stand, lifting you up with him. You wrap your arms around his neck as you're raised off the couch. Hoodie picks you up with little resistance and moves over to his bed, dropping you on top of it. You let out a little huff as you make contact with the bed. You were only halfway on the mattress, with your legs hanging off the side. Hoodie steps between your legs and takes a moment to pull off his shirt before his fingers unbutton your pants. He gives you a quick kiss before pulling down your pants along with your panties. As you lie naked before him, you feel your nerves start to work up. His eyes swept over your nude body, greedily drinking you in. 

“Fuck,” He exhales, kneeling down in front of you. His hands roam over your hips and thighs before spreading your legs. In your drunken, lustful state, you somehow remember you weren’t alone in the room. 

You sit up on your elbows and look over to the slumped man on the couch, not 10 feet away. “Wait, what about-” You start until you feel a wet stripe swipe along your folds. You look down at Hoodie, who was inches from your cunt, and nearly break apart right there.

“Shut up and relax.” He mumbles as he hooks his hands under your knees and pushes your legs to your chest. Another long, wet swipe of his tongue lands on your cunt. You clamp a hand over your mouth, desperate to keep from waking the intoxicated third wheel. You feel his lips encase your clit, and you moan into your hand. Hoodie sucks the small bundle of nerves, grazing his teeth lightly over it as he pulls off. He takes one of his hands off your leg and brings two fingers to his mouth. 

Giving the fingers a quick suck, he moved your legs to either side of him. He looks you in the eye as his fingers enter you. Curling his digits inside of you, he seizes your clit in his mouth again, sucking and lapping. His free hand wrapped under your thigh, gripping the tender flesh. You arched your back off the bed, feeling the familiar electric shocks that shot through your body. You buck your hips up, and his grip on your thigh tightened. His fingers pump in and out of you as his tongue runs circles around your clit. You slap your other hand over your mouth, not trusting just one to contain your noises. Your hips buck and rock shamelessly against him, your eyes rolling back. 

Hoodie releases your clit, and without pausing his cadence, he gets up to his feet and looms over you. He takes a hand off your mouth and pumps his hand harder into your pussy, a filthy, squelching sound emanating from it. Your face flushes red at the noise, but it’s hard to focus on anything as you feel the pleasure inside of you swell.

He bends over to your ear, “Cum for me.” You do. Pleasure crashes over you in waves; you arch your back and throw your head back, not caring how loud you cried out. Constellations dance in your eyelids as you come back down from your high.

Panting, you barely register Hoodie pulling off his belt. Your eyes start to focus as he pulls his cock out. He strokes it a few times before grabbing your hips.

“Turn over,” He begins to turn you, and you follow through. On your stomach, you feel him behind you. Your heart hammers in your chest as you feel the head of him press against your entrance. With one hand on your hip, Hoodie lines up with you and slowly pushes in. You bite your lip as you feel your walls stretch to accommodate his size. As he bottoms out inside you, he leans over you to croon in your ear, “The safe word is operator. You got that?” You are trying your best not to fall apart right there. A sudden slap to your ass has you crying out. “Answer me.”

“I got it.” Your head was swimming.

“What’s the safe word?” He remained still. You needed him to move, with his body crushing yours, you’re unable to writhe and get the satisfaction you were looking for.

“Operator.” You answered curtly. He lifted off your back.

“So you can listen,” He grabs your arms and brings them behind your back. He ever so slowly pulls out, and it's hard to think. With a hand on your hips and a hand keeping your arms restrained, he slams his cock into you, earning him a yelp. He again pulls out slowly, going all the way to the tip before pounding into you once more. You cry out again, turning your head to the couch, Tim still collapsed in the same spot as before. Hoodie finds a tempo, and every time he bottoms out inside you, bursts of light flash in your eyes. 

“Fuck, Y/n,” Hoodie groaned. He takes his hand from your hip and slips it under your throat. His hand wraps around your throat and pulls you up to your feet. Your back flush against his chest, he releases your arms. The compression around your windpipe had you lightheaded, but you loved the feeling. His free hand snakes down your body to between your legs, rubbing small circles on your clit. The pleasure of his dick dragging through your walls mixed with his fingers swirling your clit had you almost screaming. The pressure building in your gut became too much.

“Ah, fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!” You moan out. His hand on your throat tightens, and black splotches appear in your vision. Waves of pleasure crash over you, and you rock your body against Hoodie. He fucks you through your orgasm, then unleashes your throat and clit. You fall forward onto the bed, arms out to catch yourself. Panting, you try to regain control over your breathing. You feel a hand interlacing itself in your hair, pulling your head back as Hoodie begins to pick up speed. Gasping at the bedsheets, you try to hold on to something, anything to ground yourself. Your scalp stung deliciously as his cock rammed into you. Lost in bliss, you moaned out, uncaring how loud you were. Behind you, Hoodie breathed heavily and cursed under his breath. Pressure once again builds inside of you, soaring to the peak.

“Fuck! Hoodie~” You whine, gripping the bedsheets for dear life.

“I know, I know,” He lets go of your locks to grasp your hips, your head falling forward. His thrusts become savage and wild. “Cum with me.” His voice is hoarse. You fall over the crest, crying out, and you scream into the bed to muffle your wails. Hoodie curses as his thrusts falter, spilling his seed into you. A couple more slow, languid thrusts before he pulls out of you with a sigh.

You whimper at the sudden emptiness in you. You hear Hoodie moving behind you, but you are trying to recover from the fucking you just received. After a few moments, your breathing evened out, and you lifted yourself up with your shaky arms. 

Looking around the room, Tim sat in his spot, head back, snoring loudly, and Hoodie was already dressed. Now that you had calmed down, you were very aware you were still naked. Grabbing your pants off the floor beside the bed, you feel your legs trembling. You unsteadily are able to put them on as you search the dark room for your shirt. Finding it by the couch, you cover yourself as you cross the space to reach for it. As you pull it over your head, you hear a grumble next to you.

“What time is it?” Tim groans, straightening up on the sofa.

Startled, you reply, “You were only out for a little bit, relax.” You hoped your nerves weren’t evident through your voice.

“Fuck,” Tim runs a hand through his dark hair. “I need a smoke. And sleep… But first, a cigarette.” He gets up from the couch and stretches, looking between you and Hoodie. “What’d you two do while I was out? You didn’t draw on my face, did you?”

Your face turns scarlet, “Nothing, just, uh, stayed to ourselves.” You catch his eye and pray he drops the topic. A heartbeat passes.

“Alright, well, I’m in need of some nicotine. Don’t get too crazy while I’m gone.” Tim grabs the pack of cigarettes off his nightstand and leaves.