Friday The 13th Oneshots: Michael X Jason

Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason

Chapter 3: You Make Me Go Crazy (SMUT)

Michael, with a smug smirk plastered on his face beneath the mask, stared back unabashedly. After casting a suspicious glance back at the other man, Jason hesitantly squatted back down to fix up the cages.

By the time they had patrolled through the entire territory of Camp Crystal Lake, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange and red. Jason, ever watchful after the incident by the lake, kept Michael in his peripheral vision at all times. Michael, however, refused to give up. If anything the challenge excited him. He was, if not anything else, extremely patient. All he would have to do was to wait until Jason let his guard down, then he would strike.

It wasn't until after dinner did he finally get his chance. Jason stood with his back turned to him at the sink, obliviously washing the dishes, blind to the large figure stalking towards him.

A huge, rough hand clamped down on the counter, startling Jason so much he almost dropped the plate. The other hand came up to grope and knead at his ass, and a warm body pressed him against the furniture. In a surprising turn of events, Jason found himself leaning into his touch. A soft sigh whistled through the holes in his mask and a sudden warmth crept down his spine. Michael, who was never really gentle, began tearing at his clothes from the back, letting out an impatient snarl when the leather belt that wrapped around Jason's waist refused to unbuckle. Quickly, Jason batted Michael's hands away before he got irritated and tore it in half. He wasn't sure how many articles of clothing he'd lost to the Boogeyman, but Michael was insistent.

His belt clattered to the ground and Michael wasted no time to rip off his boxers and pants. It was freezing cold outside, but Jason felt so hot that he was surprised he didn't start smoking out his ears. He couldn't even be bothered to chide his lover about shredding another pair of underwear. The fire building in his stomach sank lower, turning into a small inferno in his groin. He was already fully erect before Michael had begun to touch him, the thick member jolting against his stomach as Michael unzipped his boiler suit out of sight.

A raspy whimper slipped through his hockey mask, and Jason could feel Michael's grip tighten on his hips. If it wasn't for Jason's abnormally high pain tolerance he was sure he would be cringing in pain. It almost seemed as if they were created for each other, a perfect match made in Hell. Something hard and wet prodded at his ass, jolting him back to reality and he flinched in surprise at the feeling.

Michael didn't give much warning before he roughly thrust in and buried himself to the hilt. Jason let out a deep groan at the painful intrusion and tried to move away, but was halted by the bruising grip on his hips. He scrabbled at the counter with both hands, the wood coming apart easily under his strong grip and he clenched his teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn't chip.

Michael growled at the feeling of Jason's warm, wet walls flexing around his cock, desperate to move but he knew he was already pushing it. If he pissed him off too much Jason would stubbornly refuse to have sex with him until he cooled off. And Michael wasn't about to go on another two-week-long drought. He waited irritably for Jason to adjust to his size, the seconds ticking by agonizingly slow.

After what felt like hours but was at most around a minute, Jason wriggled his hips back into Michael as a signal to move. He didn't wait another second, starting up a brutal pace that left Jason gripping at the crumbling counter edge.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, accompanied by the soft grunts and moans that slipped through their masks. A large, calloused hand came around Jason's side to grab his straining erection and began to steadily stroke the shaft. A thumb pressed down on his weeping slit and Michael could feel Jason clamp down around him harder than before. White spots swam across his vision at the sensation of Jason's velvety walls and he redoubled his pace. Michael could feel his dick pulsating hotly in his palm, begging for release. He angled his thrusts to find the spot that he knew Jason liked, pushing as deep as he could manage from his position. He was rewarded with a particularly loud moan from his lover, and he sped up to an impossible pace that only the Shape of Haddonfield could achieve.

Jason could feel the tight bundle in his pelvic area about to burst, and he pushed back desperately against Michael. A hard thrust into the exact spot had him howling, and he came so hard he saw white behind his eyelids. Thick ropes of cum painted his chest and stomach, and Michael barely managed to fuck him through his orgasm before following suit. Warmth filled Jason's insides and leaked out of his ass as Michael pulled out, and without Michael's support he collapsed halfway onto the counter.

They stood there panting for a while before Jason heard the distinct sound of Michael's zipper sliding up. Footsteps neared his exhausted body and pulled him out of his stupor as Michael, uncharacteristically gentle, helped him redress and disappeared into the night.

Attack on Titan Short Story Collection: Towels

               The thudding of many pairs of soggy boots clamored down the halls of the Survey Corps. Screams echoed loudly down the empty pathways; today was the mandatory legion-wide training day, which had ended up in a massive rainstorm. Despite the raging weather, Erwin refused to let anyone inside until all the drills were finished. Thus, they had trained hours into the torrent, which only seemed to get worse as it progressed. Everyone was soaked, recruits, squad leaders, Captain Levi, and even the Commander. And the moment the stubborn, blond-haired man announced that training was over, it was a free for all to the showers.

               The boys and girls had branched off, the females noticeably calmer than the males. Throwing aside rank, everyone stampeded to the restrooms, which there were only two of in the entire place. One for the girls and one for the boys. The doors were slammed open, Jean and Eren scrambling at each other to be first followed by the other recruits, the elder members of the Corps a little less eager than the newer soldiers to be drawn into a wild boxing match for a shower. Poor Armin was nearly stampeded over, only saved by Mike as he grabbed his arm before he could fall.

               “Hey! I got here first horse-face!” Eren snarled at Jean, pushing at him with his shoulder. They had both simultaneously chosen the same shower head. Most of the males clumped together with their familiar groups, leaving the 104th in the rightmost corner of the area.

               And of course, leaving a bunch of teenage boys to roam free to fight for a bath would end in nothing but chaos. There was only about one waterspout for every three heads, and everybody was chilled to the bone. Whoever was last would get no hot water. To save space, Erwin had torn down all the stalls, but being in a mass of drenched men arguing naked in front of each other didn’t seem to bother them as much as not being able to wash off all the filthy rainwater and mud.

               “I’m freezing!” Connie whimpered, covering himself.

               “Come on guys, why can’t we just all take turns?” Reiner tried to separate the Eren and Jean, who were about to start throwing punches.

               “He started it!”

               “Try that again, you suicidal maniac!”

               “What the Hell did you just call me?!”

               Meanwhile, the shy Bertholdt just tried to quietly sneak under a showerhead without being shoved into a wall, all the while pieces of soap started flying in the air as Jean and Eren started going at each other, ignoring Reiner and Armin. Connie, the shortest male there, was nearly trampled to death as other teenagers joined in, desperately brawling for a shower.

               The older soldiers weren’t having much better luck either.

               “Gunther! I got here first!” Olou growled as the two had a stare-off. Eld, who had managed to get there before either of them, just sighed as he water poured over his head watching them bicker.

               Captain Levi and Commander Erwin were the last to make it, though immediately two showers opened up since no one wanted to face the short man’s wrath. He already looked murderous, with deeper bags around his eyes than usual, probably from shouting at all the recruits and rescuing them from breaking their necks the entire day. Erwin didn’t look much better; his usually neat golden hair was in disarray, and he too looked exhausted. Neither of them even bothered to comment on the chaos. People were wrestling on the floor, and objects flew around smacking random people in the face.

               Mike, who was lucky enough to get a shower since he was so large no one wanted to fight him, stood gazing at the wall, not seeming to be leaving anytime soon. Another soldier, Gelgar, was in a heated debate with Hange’s assistant, Moblit, both under the same shower as another pair of soldiers tumbled at their feet.

               The younger soldiers were beginning to push into their superiors’ space, but Levi still didn’t spare them a second glance. As long as they stayed the Hell away from him he didn’t care, he just wanted to get out of the damn monkey house as quickly as possible. After watching a good portion of them fail in ways he never thought possible during training, he was more than ready to retreat to his private quarters and settle down with a steaming cup of tea. Their shrieking was tolerable, for now. Either way, he could just give them a punishment sometime later when he didn’t feel like collapsing under a flood of water. It had been so busy lately, preparing for their next expedition that he hadn’t slept a blink in four days. Most of the higher-level officers had barely slept, too.

               Their fighting still hadn’t reached him yet, since everyone gave him and Erwin a wide berth. Levi still had enough energy to glare at them after all. Still, there were other things he would have rather done than stand completely nude in the middle of a bunch of aggravated soldiers fighting each other for a goddamn shower. And the people who had won their showers didn’t seem to be wanting to leave anytime soon, since it had been a good fifty degrees outside, pouring frigid water on everyone. Eventually, the disagreements began to cease.

               Everything was de-escalating until someone had the genius idea to twist a wet towel and deliver a stinging blow to some unfortunate soul’s behind. Levi was still scrubbing the soap out of his hair with his eyes scrunched shut when a loud slap echoed across the bathhouse, seeming to emitted from the corner with Eren and the others. He wasn’t sure exactly who did it, but once he found out he was going to shove it so far up their ass that they’ll be shitting pieces of it for a week. The slap was immediately followed by a shrill screech, and then everything fell apart. Every boy under the age of seventeen decided that wet towel blows were the only way to go, and scrambled madly for their linen.

                “I’m not dying here!” Connie howled, waving it around him wildly, hitting a few people who couldn’t dodge fast enough. Unfortunately, Armin happened to be standing close enough with his back turned to be hit directly across the thighs, and he tumbled down wailing.

                Jean and Eren were still locked in battle, this time trying to strangle each other with towels instead of fists. Several unlucky people who were close enough got caught in the crossfire, and everyone began invading each other’s spaces. Moblit slipped as he was backing up, falling backwards onto Levi who was then pushed into Erwin, the latter who seemed to be dozing off under the showerhead.

                Hurling obscenities at the terrified assistant, the quick-tempered captain thrust him off and stormed towards the middle of the conflict, leaving Erwin extremely confused as to how he ended up flat on his back on the floor and Moblit on the verge of fainting.

                “Hey you pieces of horseshit, cut it out!” The senior members all shrunk back when he passed, but most of the younger ones didn’t seem to notice him over all the hollering. He was nearly knocked over when Bertholdt tumbled backwards, dragging Reiner with him when he stumbled over someone hunched on the floor.

                “I said,” Levi inhaled, and his squad all held their breaths, wincing as they prepared for what was coming. “SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I WILL GIVE ALL OF YOU SOMETHING TO SCREAM ABOUT!”

                That was when a sharp, stinging pain erupted on his ass, undoubtedly from someone’s stray towel.

                The entire room fell silent as he processed what the Hell just happened. Even Eren and Jean had stopped quarreling to gawk in horror at the fuming man standing in the middle of a pile of wet bodies. At that moment anyone in the room would have preferred to be devoured by a Titan than to wait for what was to inevitably come.

                We’re so screwed, was the only thing that flashed through everyone’s mind at that instant.

                “All of you shitheads,” He said dangerously low, anger radiating off him and killing every hope of survival they ever had. No one had thought it was possible that someone that small could ever hold that much terror. “ARE GOING TO BE SHITTING TOWELS FOR THE NEXT FUCKING MONTH!”

                None of the recruits from the 104th Cadet Core had ever felt the agony of being whipped by a wet towel going one hundred miles per hour, and no one ever would since that day.

***

                “Why are they all standing?” Christa whispered to Ymir, who just shrugged nonchalantly.

                “I dunno. When are they not being weird?”

                “And why is Captain Levi scowling like that?”

                The Titan-slayer had a good thirty feet radius around him, and even the Commander was a bit fearful to sit within that distance. They had seen horrors that would haunt their nightmares for all of eternity that night. Some of the older Scouts who had not been fast enough to escape his reach also fell under his rage, and most were grumbling cautiously to the ones lucky enough to be able to sit down without feeling like someone had set fire to their backsides. All the girls could only stare curiously at the males, most of whom were standing up with their meals and wincing with every move.

                “Hey Connie,” Sasha leaned over to him, talking softly. Even she was affected by the unusual atmosphere. “Why did most of you guys limp in here? What happened?”

                Connie could only mumble something about towels and the devil, and none of the other boys seemed any more responsive to the probing.

                “Let’s just say, none of those brats know how to really whip a towel,” Levi stalked past, smirking smugly as he went to go wash his plates.

                And no one dared to place their towel within his reach in the bathhouse since that day.

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 4: FishFace

A resounding splash sent the sparkling trout flying away from where the hunter stood, grumbling angrily as another splash sent water cascading through the air.

"Will you stop that, you bastard?"

"And who's gonna fucking make me, huh?" Kure Raian laughed maniacally as he launched another huge boulder across the lake like he was chucking a bawling newborn. (Assuming that any mother would let him within twenty feet of their children.)

Ohma exhaled irritably as his partner continued flinging rocks and even a few trees like an over-hyper child, creating massive waves in the lake possibly just to annoy him and disrupt his fishing.

After ten minutes, he was sure that there were no fish nor any edible aquatic creature within a quarter mile. A vein throbbed on his temple but he was determined not to give Raian what he wanted, instead heatedly shuffling to a new location further away to fish in peace. The sound of water sloshing in the distance behind made Ohma ground his teeth so hard he felt something shift in his jaw. The black-eyed douchebag must have followed him, confirmed by the rock glancing his ear.

Rocks tumbled underfoot as Raian charged at him.

Without missing a beat, Ohma grabbed a large, green trout and whipped his arm around where he assumed Raian was running toward.

A wet, audible smack resonated through the forest as the fish met the pale cheek of Kure Raian at fifty miles an hour.

The forest went silent.

"You bastard did you just..." Raian stared in disbelief, almost not believing what had happened. The trout hung broken in half in Ohma's hand.

He had turned back around to face the river without a word as if he hadn't just bitch slapped the devil of the Kure clan with a fish.

Raian clenched and unclenched his fist, unsure of what to do. His brain had shortcircuited the moment the stupid thing had come in contact with his face. No one had ever been so bold and lived.

"Are you gonna keep standing there or what?" Ohma said without turning his head.

That seemed to release the trigger on whatever spell Raian had been trapped under and he lunged blindly at the broad back of the man sitting at the edge of the river.

Unfortunately for Raian, Ohma seemed to predict that move. He bent forward and Raian went flying over his head in a nosedive straight into the river. He spluttered in shock for a second before roaring in rage, a vein pulsating dangerously in his forehead.

In the second that Raian had been submerged, Ohma had disappeared to god knows where. He was one fast bastard.

Raian spent the next few hours prowling all up and down the riverbed, yelling insults at the top of his lungs until dusk began to fall.

Defeated, he eventually stormed back to the Kure Manor to go soothe his wounded pride. (Destroy something)

The rest of the Kure family sensing his silent seething rage as he entered scattered like bugs as Raian blew through the halls with the force of a category-five hurricane.

Unbeknownst to him, Ohma had long moved to one of the many rivers on the complete other side of the Kure territory to fish in peace where the echoes of his rage couldn't reach him.

                                                    ***

"What happened to your face?" Fusui stood on her tiptoes to get a closer look at the pink torpedo-shaped mark on his cheek.

"Nothing." Raian glared at the sushi that was set in front of him, made from the trout that Ohma had caught earlier that day. "I'll kill that fucking asshole."

Ohma was predictably absent that night. 

A bunch of still shots from the Collected 3.

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 3: Naughty

Raian glanced at the sleeping form next to him, Ohma’s chest rising and falling with each deep breath. He was so completely oblivious to the world around him that it could almost be considered overconfidence. 

The fact that anyone would be so relaxed as to sleep in his presence made Raian’s hands itch, as if he hadn’t caused enough trouble already. After Ohma’s room was destroyed by a particularly wild training session in which the crazy Kure decided to hurl him headfirst through the drywall, Grandfather Erioh had punished them by forcing Raian to let Ohma sleep in his room. 

And Ohma of course, though not particularly happy about it, did not give much of a shit. Raian loved riling up types like him, to see how far he could push him before he snapped, yet Ohma was much more resilient than any other man he’s seen. Living on the Inside has taught him enough patience to last a lifetime, so it was only a *minor* inconvenience to deal with someone like Raian.

Raian usually slept with the curtains open. He liked keeping the windows open at night and wasn’t someone who cared about privacy anyways. If someone was stupid enough to attack him in his sleep then let them. It would just be like a lamb walking into the mouth of a lion, and Raian was not one to reject any extra violence that so willingly placed itself into his grasp. 

His room was flooded with a dull, silver light, the moon was partially obscured by thick clouds tonight. He could smell rain in the air. 

A wide beam almost lined up perfectly with Ohma’s sprawled form, highlighting the edges of his face and captivating the attention of his roommate. 

Damn bastard doesn’t even know how pretty he is, Raian thought snarkily. Guys like Ohma normally annoyed him to no end, but he was different. It was almost endearing how clueless he was to his own charms. Almost. 

Wait. Since when did he start thinking Ohma was handsome? He’s been nothing but a pain in his ass since he showed up. Raian could feel the growing frustration well up in his chest, and he was almost tempted to throw the sleeping figure out of his room. 

He hated the feeling of confusion that began to flood over his body. Being confused was for the weak and for the prey that he devoured without a second thought. He didn’t think about petty girl shit like that. 

But it was hard for him not to look, with the way his dark lashes hung over his eyes or how his wild hair framed his cheekbones. 

Against his own mind, Raian had scooted closer to him to catch a better glimpse, staring almost creepily at Ohma’s face in the dark. 

Tch! There’s nothing special about this asshole! Raian scoffed to himself. He forced himself to roll over to the other side, facing the wall and yanking the blanket over himself almost aggressively. 

Dumb fucker’s getting in my head. 

But he still couldn’t go to sleep, even with his eyes screwed shut he saw him in his mind clear as day. 

Unfortunately for Raian, his subconscious knew better and had already begun trying to make Ohma his a while ago.

He had bought that shitty cologne from that big fragrance superstore that made his nose burn, glaring so hard at the cashier who had checked him out it was a wonder she didn’t burst into flames right then and there. 

He had snatched the bag away, leaving the poor girl shaking and stomped the entire way home in a foul mood. The cologne he had offhandedly chosen (it had taken him almost thirty minutes, never again) had been some sharp, oaky forest scent that he didn’t really care for but could still withstand without wanting to drown himself in the bathtub. (It totally wasn’t because Ohma spent a large portion of his time in the forest or anything.)

It was just so that old man Erioh would stop getting on his ass after missions for smelling like shit, Raian had told himself. 

And he had started running his hand through his hair in the morning (because Raian had never heard of a comb before), and bought new, fancier clothes. Not that he didn’t already have a revolving door of new clothes from how often he ripped them up, but these were slightly nicer. Just slightly. 

Luckily the only ones who seemed to notice were Hollis and Reiichi as perceptive as they were, and they were both unwilling to poke the hornet’s nest by bringing it up to him. 

But thinking was never Raian’s strong suit, anyways. Things tend to get blown up and destroyed when he thought too hard. 

Snorting, Raian reached over his shoulder and flicked his face, watching as Ohma grunted and scrunched up his nose, but still remained fast asleep. He did it harder this time, only for his hand to be batted away like a fly.

Growling, the troublemaker almost considered punching him in the face if that bastard kept ignoring him, but as his eyes slid down Ohma’s exposed torso he had a better idea.

Raian reared back his arm, aimed, and slammed his open palm down right into Ohma’s hard stomach with an audible SMACK that was sure to wake up half the manor.

It did the trick, all right.

Neither Ohma nor Raian slept a wink that night, nor did the entire Kure Village who were kept awake by their wild brawling.

The house shook with the force of their fight, and all through the night one could hear Raian’s wild howling and the sound of thudding blows. 

Though some of the groans emitted from their quarters sounded suspiciously like something else…

Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason

Chapter 1: Handful

There was one thing that Michael began to notice since his cohabitation with Jason. The man was built like a tank. Large, firm pecs, bulging biceps, and a round, shapely ass. Well, it was more than that. It was, as he heard from joking teenagers, "thicc". He shivered in revulsion at using horny teenage lingo, he preferred never to stoop as low as those degenerates, but in this case he had no other words better suited to this situation.

It almost seemed that Jason was teasing him, bending forward at the waist to check his traps. But Michael knew that Jason was too naive and too innocent to do such a thing. The man didn't know he was a walking hunk. Michael let out a low growl of frustration, palming angrily at the large kitchen knife clasped in his right hand.

Jason straightened, shooting him a curious look and tilted his head in a silent question: 'What's wrong?'

Michael huffed and looked away. Jason would have rolled his eyes if he could, he had known the Boogeyman long enough to know that there was no point in trying to get anything out of him if he was in a rotten mood.

Still, Michael continued to follow the larger man as he checked his traps and patrolled his borders for intruders. Jason had quickly become accustomed to Michael's constant presence. The intense staring, on the other hand, was a bit harder to swallow. Jason didn't particularly care if Michael wanted to follow him to the shower, but it was a bit hard to focus when Michael stood six feet away and attempted to burn holes through his naked body. The townsmen thought Jason was a creep but he was nothing compared to Michael, Jason thought in amusement.

Michael, true to his reputation, was busy doing what he did best. Watching. Some people were born into the world with more than others. Jason was clearly one of these people. Or to be more precise, his backside was. Watching the hockey-masked killer striding around in those beige, form-fitting work pants damn near drove Michael insane.

Jason, ever oblivious to his own charm, got down on all fours to yank a crawfish cage out of the muddy lake bank. His pants were pulled taunt on the two, shapely cheeks. Michael immediately seized the opportunity to grab a handful of Jason's ass, and gave it a hard squeeze. It was much softer and malleable than Michael imagined, but he didn't have much time to admire it before Jason abruptly stood up and grunted indignantly with a hand on his machete.

Michael had already disappeared off into the woods by the time he turned around, bidding his time to strike again.