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guliexe · 11 days ago

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━━━EXTRA HELP 18+

Hirota Riki/Maki x Tutor!Female!Reader — University AU

.ᐟwarnings/tags: enemies to lovers (kinda), slow burn, angst, tutor!reader, dom!maki, reader is kinda dramatic, bad boy!maki, texting, making out, dry humping, praising, oral (m & f receiving), face fucking, dacryphilia, cum eating, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, finger sucking, bulge kink kinda, multiple orgasms

♡ you agreed to tutor the campus bad boy—now you're tangled in his sheets, and maybe his heart too.

.ᐟwc: 12.5k (no proofread)

There were a few things everyone on campus knew about Riki. First, he didn’t care about school. Second, he didn’t care about girls. And third, he definitely didn’t care about you. He was the kind of guy who never showed up to lectures but still had his name shouted across the quad. The kind of guy who could be seen with a new girl every weekend, yet never seemed attached to any of them. You’d catch glimpses of him outside the dorms, leaning against his black car, hands in his pockets, always smirking at something like he was in on a secret the rest of the world had missed. His reputation wasn’t subtle either. Everyone knew he smoked and partied. Everyone knew he fucked. And everyone knew he didn’t try—at anything. Especially not uni. You, on the other hand, were practically invisible compared to him. You were a normal student. Smart, yeah—but not some overachiever robot. You had friends, you went out every now and then. But you didn’t play around when it came to school. You worked hard for your grades. You showed up and gave a shit.

The only time Riki ever acknowledged you was to throw a lazy smirk your way during a lecture—usually after interrupting the class with some half-assed question or sarcastic comment. You didn’t know if he did it to get under your skin, or if he even knew who you were. Either way, it worked. You hated him. His cockiness, his stupid pretty face, the way he acted like the world owed him something. You hated the way he stretched his legs out under the desk, the way he always leaned back in his chair just enough to make you pray it’d finally tip over. You hated how his voice always carried—low, rough, lazy—like nothing ever really demanded his full attention. But most of all, you hated how aware of him you’d become. It wasn’t on purpose. You didn’t mean to notice the way his sleeves were always pushed up just enough to show the veins in his arms, or how he had a habit of playing with his hair when he was bored. It didn’t matter. You noticed anyway. Just like you noticed the way girls always giggled when he passed, how they looked at him like he was something dangerous they wanted to touch anyway. And he let them. All of them. Because Riki didn’t care about anyone.

Which is why it made absolutely no sense when your professor sat you down after class and said, with complete seriousness,“I’m assigning you as Riki’s tutor.” You blinked. “Wait��what?” “He’s failing. If he doesn’t pass the next exam, he’ll be dropped from the course.” You stared. “And you think I’m going to save him?” “I think you’re capable. You’re sharp, patient, and you don’t fall for bullshit. He might actually learn something.” You huffed. “He doesn’t even bring a pen to class.” “Then bring two.”And just like that, you were stuck. After what your professor told you, you knew better. If Riki was gonna pass anything, he needed more than a miracle, he needed someone to drag his lazy ass to a table and force information into his head. And apparently, that someone was you. So after your last class, you went looking for him. You heard loud laughter coming from behind the law building—that kind of laughter, the kind that usually surrounded him like secondhand smoke. You followed the sound, and sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the wall with a few of his friends, half a joint in between his fingers, wearing a loose hoodie, baggy jeans sagging, like he hadn’t just missed another full day of lectures. He was mid-convo when he spotted you walking up, and his smile deepened. “Well, well,” he drawled. “Didn’t think I was on your hunt list.” You ignored the chorus of curious glances from his friends and came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed.

“We need to talk,” you said. “Sounds serious.” He didn’t move, just tilted his head and looked you up and down like you were something unexpected. “Should I be scared?” “Only if you like failing.” That made his smirk twitch. “Cute.” You sighed. “Professor told me to tutor you.” “Cool.” He shoved his hands in his hoodie. “Tell her thanks, but no thanks.” “She said you’re going to fail if you don’t.” “And?” “And,” you said sharply, “she’s giving you one chance. Me. You either take it or get dropped from the class.” He stared at you for a second, then leaned off the wall just enough to step closer. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You came here to give me homework?” he says, taking a hit of his joint. “I came because I actually care about this class. Unlike you. And i had no other choice.” “Aw,” he cooed. “You care about me.” You gave him a look so flat it could kill. “This isn’t a joke.” “No, but you are,” he said with a little grin. “You think I’m gonna suddenly turn into a straight-A student because some stupid girl from the front row gives me lessons?”

You froze. Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, slow and sour. Stupid girl. The phrase echoed in your head like it was meant to bruise. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at him, arms crossed tighter, a bitter fire creeping up your spine. Riki took another drag, watching you through the smoke. Then you spoke. “Say that again,” you said quietly. Not weak quiet—sharp quiet. Dangerous quiet even. “Call me stupid one more time.” His smirk faltered. Just a little. “I didn’t mean it like—” “Yes, you did,” you snapped. “You meant it exactly like that. Because it’s easier to act like this doesn’t matter than admit you’re scared you’ll fail.” His brows lifted slightly. “Scared?” “You think no one notices, but we all do. You never stay in one place. You never try. You’re so busy pretending nothing matters just in case something actually does.” Riki blinked. You stepped forward, chin lifted. “So go ahead. Keep acting like you’re too cool to care. But don’t waste my time if you’re not going to show up.” There was silence. His friends were watching now, but you didn’t even glance at them. Your eyes were locked on him, and for once, Riki didn’t have a snarky comeback. He just stared at you like you’d taken all the wind out of him. He dropped his joint and stepped on it. “Damn,” he muttered, glancing away. “You’ve got a mouth on you.” You turned to go. “Forget it. I’ll tell professor you refused.”But before you could take another step, his voice stopped you. “Library,” he said. You turned your head just enough to see him scratch the back of his neck, eyes half-lidded. “I’ll be there.” You narrowed your eyes. “When?” “Tuesday,” he muttered. “Four.” You didn’t smile. Didn’t thank him. You just nodded once, “Don’t be late.” Riki rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait.” And as you walked away, you didn’t look back, though if you had, you might’ve seen the way he watched you go. Like you weren’t stupid at all. Like you were the first person who’d ever actually told him the truth.

Tuesday came, and he was twelve minutes late. You’d already found a spot in the far corner of the library, tucked away behind tall shelves and low lighting, where you could actually focus without distractions. Except he was the distraction. And he wasn’t even here yet. You were just about to give up and text your professor when you heard it—The soft creak of shoes and the low scrape of a chair being pulled out behind you. “Relax, I’m here.” You turned. There he was, backpack slung over one shoulder, black tank top, tousled hair falling messily into his eyes. He dropped into the seat across from you, one leg sprawled out under the table, arms resting lazily on either side. He looked…good. And you hated that you noticed. “You’re late,” you said, crossing your arms. He gave a slow shrug. “Only by a little.” “Twelve minutes is not ‘a little.’ “Wasn’t gonna show at all, honestly,” he muttered, pulling out a notebook that looked barely touched. “Consider this progress.” You bit back a comment and opened your textbook instead. “Fine. We’ll start with the basics. What do you remember from last lecture?” Riki blinked at you. “…We had a lecture?” You inhaled sharply. “Okay. Great. Starting from zero.” He smirked at your expression, leaning forward slightly. “You’re kinda cute when you’re stressed.” You didn’t dignify that with a response, just shoved the textbook closer to him. “Read this. Then answer the first two questions.”

He groaned but leaned in anyway, eyes skimming the text like it personally offended him. You watched him from the corner of your eye—how he chewed his bottom lip when he concentrated, how his fingers tapped idly against the table. After a few minutes, he spoke. “This is so boring,” he said. “How do you not fall asleep doing this?” You sighed. “Because I care about my grades. And my future.” He leaned back again, chair creaking. “Mm. Nerd.” “Degenerate.” He grinned at that. “Big words, tutor girl.” You rolled your eyes, but your mouth twitched anyway. Despite everything, his attitude, his laziness, he was at least here. And somehow, that was already more than you expected. You tried to focus. Tried to walk him through the basic concepts, tried to be patient when he interrupted with sarcastic questions or dramatic sighs. But as time passed, something shifted. He started paying attention—really paying attention. His posture changed, and his jokes softened. Every once in a while, he’d ask a real question. And you’d answer. And for a second, it almost felt normal. Like he wasn’t the guy you used to hate and glare at across the classroom.

You were just mid-sentence, pointing out something in the textbook, when you realized how close he’d leaned in—his shoulder brushing yours ever so lightly, his scent suddenly very real. Warm. Clean, with a hint of something smoky underneath. You cleared your throat, “…Anyway, that’s why the theory matters.” “Mhm,” he murmured. But he wasn’t looking at the page anymore. He was looking at you. You tried to ignore it—his eyes on you. Tried to focus on the text, on the notes you’d scribbled in the margins earlier, but it was hard to concentrate with Riki that close. His knee brushed yours under the table and neither of you moved. Not right away. “You’re not as boring as I thought,” he said suddenly. You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?” “Not a compliment.” But he was smiling, a little softer than usual. You rolled your eyes again, looking down at the book. “Well, you’re exactly as frustrating as I thought.” “Hot and frustrating,” he said, leaning back just enough to throw you a cocky grin. Your face heated before you could stop it. “Focus.” “I am focused.” You gave him a flat look. “Fine.” He leaned in again, this time closer than before, the air between you thinning by the second. “But you have to admit something.” You blinked. “What?” “That you think I’m hot.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I literally never said that.” “You didn’t have to,” he said, smug. “You’re blushing.” “I’m not—” you fight back. “You are.” You looked down, closing the book in frustration. “This is impossible.” “Relax,” he said, voice lower now, amused. “I’m just messing with you.” But there was something in his eyes. Something that made your stomach twist a little. You stood up quickly, grabbing your pen and textbook, stuffing them back into your bag with a little too much force. “I think we’re done for today,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “You should go over that again on your own.” “Wait, what?” he sat up straighter. “Why—” “I’ll email you the practice sheet later.” You turned too fast, one hand still shoving your notebook into the bag—so fast you didn’t see the chair leg sticking out from the side of the table, or the way your foot caught on it. Your balance slipped before you could catch yourself. “Shit—!” A pair of hands grabbed your waist instantly, pulling you forward with a sudden jolt of strength, and the next thing you knew, your palms were planted on the table, on either side of him. He’d caught you. Except now, he was half-seated on the edge of the table, and you were leaning over him—face inches from his, chest almost pressed to his, breath caught in your throat. You froze completely.

So did he. One of his hands was still on your waist. The other had found the small of your back, fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater like he’d done it without thinking. His mouth was slightly parted, and up close, you could see everything—his frowned brows, the slow rise of his chest under his hoodie, the flicker of something behind his eyes that made your skin burn. “You good?” he asked quietly. You nodded. You thought you nodded. It was hard to tell with the way your heart was pounding in your ears. “Didn’t know you wanted me that bad,” he said, the smirk returning. You exhaled a sharp breath and pushed yourself off him fast, standing up straight, smoothing your hair back like that somehow made things less awkward. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, flustered. But he didn’t move. He just stayed there, eyes still on you, lips curving up at the edges like he was holding back something else. “You always this clumsy?” he asked. “Shut up Maus.” He chuckled warmly and leaned back against the table like he hadn’t just caught you in the most intimate, accidental moment of your life. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked, like none of it had happened. You grabbed your bag and turned away, hoping he couldn’t see the heat rising in your cheeks. “We’ll see.”

You didn’t even want to go, but your friends insisted. Said you’d been cooped up too long with your nose in textbooks. That you needed to “unclench” for one night. That you were too pretty to waste another Friday night at home. So here you were, packed into someone’s dimly lit house, music thumping through the floorboards, cheap liquor in your cup, and the smell of weed floating through the halls. You weren’t even three steps in before you saw him. Riki. He was leaning back against the kitchen island like he owned the place, black denim slung low on his hips, showing the band of his boxers, silver earring catching the light. A red Solo cup dangled lazily from his fingers as he laughed at something the girl next to him said. She was blonde, pretty, definitely more his type than you. She said something, and he smirked, the kind of smirk that tugged at one corner of his mouth and made your stomach flip. You told yourself not to look. You told yourself not to care. But it was hard not to notice the way her hand was already on his arm. Or the way she was leaning in like she knew he’d let her. Your chest tightened. “C’mon,” your friend tugged your sleeve. “Let’s get drinks.” You followed numbly, the burn of jealousy hot in your throat. You just needed to get away from that view. Grab a drink, breathe, pretend Riki wasn’t the only thing on your mind even here, in a room full of people you didn’t know or like. You reached the kitchen just as that same girl turned, laughing at something he said, and crashed straight into you.

Cold, sticky liquid splashed across your chest and soaked into your top. The drink hit your skin with a sudden shock. You gasped, stumbling back as your friend cursed under her breath. “Oh my god,” the girl said, blinking wide eyes at you. “I didn’t see you. Shit, I’m—” She cut off when she recognized you. Her lips twitched, like she almost smiled. Of course she knew who you were. The nerd. The tutor. The girl Riki had to be paired with. You could see it all click behind her eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” she said again, too casual. “Hope that wasn’t, like… expensive.” You stood there frozen, drenched and embarrassed, your cup long gone and your pride somewhere under the sink. Riki finally turned around, eyes narrowing the second he saw you. You weren’t sure what expression crossed your face, but whatever it was, his changed too. The lazy smirk was gone. He looked almost…irritated. “You good?” he asked, directing it at you but stepping away from her. You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Your friend was already trying to dab your shirt dry with a crumpled napkin, but the damage was done—the fabric clung to your chest, translucent in the worst places. “I need to go change,” you mumbled.“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” Riki said, already moving to lead the way. You hesitated, then followed. You didn’t miss the way the other girl watched him go, arms crossed tight.

The hallway was quieter than you’d expected. The bass from the party thudded faintly below, muffled by the walls, and the air up here felt cooler, calmer. You followed a few steps behind Riki, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to focus on the way your shirt clung to your skin. He stopped at the end of the hall, tapping the door beside him. “You can clean up here.” You reached for the handle, but he didn’t step away—just looked down at you, quiet. His eyes flicked briefly to your shirt, then back to your face, unreadable. “You good?” he asked, voice low. You nodded, too fast. “Yeah. Just cold.” He blinked slowly, like he didn’t believe you but wasn’t going to say it. Then he pulled his hoodie off over his head—some black oversized thing with faint white lettering on the chest—and held it out. You hesitated. “You don’t have to—” “Just take it,” he said.

You took it. His fingers brushed yours for a second, and your stomach flipped. You ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind you before facing the mirror. The damage was worse than you thought. Pink drink soaked through your top and dried in a sticky pattern across your chest. Your bra showed clearly through the fabric, and your skin was flushed, not just from embarrassment, but…something else. Something about the way Riki had looked at you downstairs. The way his eyes narrowed when that girl leaned in. The way he didn’t say anything—but still didn’t look away from you either. You exhaled, peeled off your shirt, and pulled his hoodie over your head. It was soft, loose, and smelled faintly like him—cologne and laundry detergent. Then, a knock. “Still okay in there?” You cracked the door open and peeked out. He was still there, leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets. His eyes slid over you slowly, landing on the hoodie. “Looks better on you.” You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “You’re so annoying.” He tilted his head.

“You say that a lot.” “That’s because it’s always true.” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Mm.” His eyes flicked down to where the sleeves hung past your hands. “You kinda look cute like that though.” You froze. The hallway suddenly felt too warm. “I—I just didn’t want to walk around soaked, that’s all.” “Didn’t say you did.”His voice was different now, lower, like he was playing with you. Teasing, but not in a way that begged for a fight. Just enough to make you want to look away. You didn’t, though. You kept your chin up, even as your heart pounded. Then he stepped even closer, slightly closing the door. There was barely any space between you now. You could feel the warmth of him, see the little mole on his cheek, the slight curve of his mouth like he was holding something back. “You’re quieter when you’re embarrassed,” he said softly. “I’m not embarrassed.” “You keep lying to me.” You huffed and tried to look away, but his hand came up to brush your jaw, guiding your gaze back to him. Your breath caught. He didn’t say anything else. Just looked at you for a moment too long, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips. It was like something cracked in the air. Like gravity shifted and pulled the two of you closer. Then— Knock knock knock. “Hey! You in there?” your friend’s voice. “Everything okay?” You both jumped slightly. Riki blinked, then let out a quiet breath and took a step back. You swallowed hard. Your heart still hadn’t settled. “I’m fine,” you called out. Your friend’s voice faded as she wandered off, muttering something about looking for the snacks. Riki glanced at you, then gave a soft laugh under his breath—barely audible. “What?” you asked. He shook his head. “Nothing.” You narrowed your eyes. “You think this is funny?” “No,” he said, turning to head back toward the stairs. “I think you’re cute when you’re shy.” You stood frozen for a second before following him. You didn’t know what that almost-kiss was. Or if he even meant it to happen.

The library was quiet in that particular way it always was around exam season. Clicks of keyboards, the occasional squeak of a chair, a cough far off in the distance—nothing loud enough to cut through the silence fully. You walked in with your bag slung over your shoulder, already regretting agreeing to meet so late in the day. The low golden light pouring in through the windows made everything feel softer, more intimate. And he was already there. Riki sat at one of the corner tables, sprawled out like always, one arm resting lazily over the back of the chair, the other flipping through a worn notebook. His hoodie sleeves were pushed to his forearms, earbuds on, and he looked up just as you spotted him. Your heart jumped embarrassingly fast. You looked away just as quickly, trying to act like you hadn’t seen him, hadn’t noticed the way his gaze flicked down briefly before returning to your face. You approached the table, setting your bag down carefully, avoiding his eyes. “You’re late,” he said, voice low, teasing but quiet enough not to draw attention. You sat down, pulling out your notes. “By like three minutes.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Three minutes too long.” You didn’t answer. You couldn’t—not without sounding weird. Not without blushing, and unfortunately, that was already happening anyway. You could feel the heat climbing up your neck, and you kept your eyes glued to your notes, pretending to find something very important on the page. Riki didn’t say anything at first. You could feel him watching you, and it made every movement harder, flipping pages, uncapping your pen, sitting still.

“So,” he finally said, dragging the word out a little. “You’re gonna look at me today, or is this gonna be a tutoring session where you just talk to your highlighter?” You inhaled sharply. “I’m looking at you right now.” You weren’t. He leaned closer over the table, just slightly—just enough for his voice to lower even more. “You’re not,” he murmured. “You haven’t looked at me since Saturday.” You gripped your pen tighter. “I’ve been busy.” His voice was calm. “You’ve been nervous.” That made your eyes snap to his—huge mistake. Because when you finally looked at him, everything you’d been trying to suppress came rushing back. The party. His voice in the hallway. The hoodie. His fingers brushing your face like he’d done it a thousand times. And how close he’d gotten, how close you both were. You blinked and looked away again, this time staring at the desk. “See?” he said, like he’d just won a bet. You crossed your arms. “Can we just study?” A pause. Then a soft chuckle. “Sure,” he said. “Go ahead.” You continued explaining formulas you’d explained before, stumbling through examples you knew by heart. You could feel your ears burning. Every time you tried to focus, you felt his eyes on you. Not in a harsh way—just steady, present, he was listening to more than just your words.

Somewhere between chapter five and question eight, the space between you and Riki had gotten… smaller. Not suddenly. Slowly, gradually. At first, you’d sat across from him, the wide wooden table serving as a comfortable barrier. But then he’d leaned in to point something out in your notes, and you’d shifted a little closer so you could see better, and then somehow—without really realizing it—you were sitting side by side. Close enough to feel the heat off his arm. Close enough that when you leaned in to write something, your knees almost touched. You tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the numbers, the words, anything but the way your body felt like it was betraying you. Every time he shifted or breathed, you flinched just slightly, like your whole system was on edge. He, of course, looked completely relaxed. Riki leaned back lazily in the chair, hoodie rumpled, one leg stretched out beneath the table. He was listening, sure, but mostly watching. And it didn’t help that every time you stumbled over a word or lost your place mid-sentence, he smirked like he knew exactly why. “You’re better at this than me,” he murmured at one point, tapping your notebook. “But you still sound nervous.” “I’m not nervous,” you said quickly.

He raised a brow. “No?” “No,” you insisted, not looking up. He didn’t press. He didn’t have to. Because a few minutes later, it happened. Your hands had both been resting on the desk for a while—yours still, careful, his loose and spread out like he had no idea what personal space meant. Little by little, as the session stretched on, the distance between your hands started to shrink. Neither of you moved them on purpose, but still, closer…closer… until your pinkies brushed. You barely breathed. And then, very softly, he let his pinky drift back over yours. Just a whisper of a touch. He didn’t look down, didn’t say anything. Just started brushing his finger along the side of yours in slow, lazy strokes. Like it was nothing. You sat completely still, the air suddenly too warm and too thin all at once. You could feel it—his finger, featherlight, brushing against you again and again. And you could feel his eyes on you too, even if you didn’t dare look. Your heart thudded in your ears. “Riki,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head slightly, waiting. You blinked down at your notes. Then back at your hand. You were so warm you could feel your pulse in your fingertips. “Um,” you said quickly, standing up a little too fast. “Okay—that’s it for today. You did good.” He blinked, surprised. “That’s it?” “Yep.” You were already gathering your stuff, heart in your throat. “We’re done.” “Thought we had twenty more minutes.”

You shrugged, trying not to let your voice crack. “Bonus points for finishing early.” Riki didn’t move. Just watched you with that slight smile, soft and unreadable. “…You sure?” You zipped up your bag, cheeks on fire. “Mhm.” You could feel his eyes following you as you adjusted the strap on your bag, willing your hands not to shake. You hadn’t meant to end the session that abruptly, but the second his finger touched yours, you’d short-circuited. You needed air. Distance. Something. “Let me walk you home,” he said suddenly. You looked up. “What?” Riki stood slowly, slinging his bag over his shoulde, “It’s late. I don’t like the idea of you walking alone.” “I—I live like five minutes from here,” you said, voice catching in your throat. “So I’ll walk for five minutes,” he replied easily, already heading toward the library exit. You didn’t know how to argue with that. Not when he held the door for you without another word, stepping into the cool night air like it was completely normal for him to be doing this. The walk was quiet at first. The world around you was still, humming softly with distant streetlights and the sound of your shoes on pavement. He walked close, not quite touching, but near enough to make you hyper-aware of every step, every breath. “I thought I made you nervous,” he said after a beat. You glanced at him. “You do.” His mouth twitched. “Then why’d you let me walk you home?” You hesitated. “Because you insisted.” That made him laugh quietly, under his breath. “Right.” A moment passed. You reached your building, the familiar sight of the front steps making your stomach flip. “Well,” you said, slowing down. “Thanks for, um—”

“You always end things before I’m ready,” Riki said, cutting in. His voice was low, not teasing exactly—just honest. “In the library. Just now.” Your breath caught. “I didn’t mean to.” He stepped in front of you, just a little. Blocking your way, gently. His eyes found yours, and this time, you couldn’t look away. You could feel it—the same current that had been building since the party, since the near-kiss, since today in the library when his pinky brushed yours and it felt like your whole body forgot how to function.

The next thing you knew, he was stepping forward—slow, like he was giving you time to stop him—and then his hand brushed yours again, gently. His fingers slipped between yours, warm and steady. You froze. And then, slowly, you looked up at him. He was closer now, so close you could see the shadow of his lashes, so close you could smell him. His thumb moved, brushing across your knuckles, barely there. “Don’t run again,” he said, quietly. Your breath caught. “I’m not—” But before you could finish, he leaned down and kissed you. Soft. Warm. His lips pressed to yours like he’d been thinking about it for days—like he’d been holding it back all this time, waiting for the right moment, the right breath, the right look. It wasn’t rushed nor messy. Just his mouth on yours, tender and certain, like he already knew you’d kiss him back, and you did. Your fingers curled into his hoodie. You tilted your chin just slightly. The second your lips moved against his, he sighed, soft and low, and kissed you deeper. Still gentle, but slower now, hungrier. His other hand came up to your waist, not pulling, just there, grounding you while the world tipped sideways. When you finally pulled away, your face was hot. Your whole body was hot. You blinked up at him, breath shaky, lips tingling. He stared at you for a long second, thumb still brushing your waist. “Now you can go.” You wanted to say something. But all that came out was a tiny, flustered sound that made him grin—soft and smug and barely there. You slipped out of his reach, shy all over again. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, pretty.” he said, still watching you. And you were pretty sure you floated all the way to your door. The door clicked softly behind you, but you didn’t move. You just stood there in the quiet of your apartment, blinking into the dark like your brain hadn’t caught up to the fact that yes—he kissed you. For real, this time. Not almost. Not nearly. He kissed you and it didn’t feel like a one-time thing. It felt like a beginning. Your fingers came up to touch your lips. Still warm. You didn’t know how long you stood there before you finally moved, slipping out of your shoes, bag sliding off your shoulder as you made your way toward your room on shaky legs. The silence was deafening now, but your heart was still pounding—like it didn’t want to forget the feel of his mouth on yours. Or the way he looked at you after, like he was proud of himself for getting under your skin. You got ready slowly, almost on autopilot. Changed into a tank top and sleep shorts, washed your face and lied in bed.

Riki

u home safe?

♡

You

yeah :)

it was nice tonight

♡

Riki

yeah

i wanna kiss u again

♡

You

me too :(

wanna see u

can i tutor u tmr?

♡

Riki

yes bby

i’ll see u tmr

have a gn <3

♡

You

goodnight riki :)

You’re five minutes early. The wind bites at your cheeks as you walk toward the library steps, hugging your jacket tighter. You check your phone, scrolling to Riki’s last message—“meet u outside <3”—sent fifteen minutes ago. Your heart’s light. You didn’t even bother to hide the smile on your face the whole way here.But then you look up, and freeze. He’s standing by the stone wall near the entrance, just a few steps away. You see his hoodie, the slight slouch in his posture—familiar and stupidly comforting. But he’s facing someone. A girl. Her hands are on his shoulders. And before you can fully process what’s happening—she leans in and kisses him. And Riki doesn’t push her away. Not right away. Not fast enough. Not before your stomach drops. You don’t realize you’ve made a sound until Riki turns his head sharply, his eyes locking with yours. It takes a split second. Your feet move before your brain does. You turn around and bolt. Down the steps, past the trees, across the yard. Your throat is tight. You hate that your eyes sting already. You blink hard, trying not to cry in the middle of campus like an idiot. “Wait—Y/N!!” His voice slices through the air, panicked, but you ignore it. You keep walking, fast, arms wrapped around yourself like they might hold your chest together. But then you hear it again, closer this time—“Stop—please, wait—” His fingers close around your wrist, gentle but firm. “Y/N, wait—just let me—” You yank your arm away like it burns. He flinches. Your voice comes out thin and raw. “Don’t.” He freezes in front of you, breathing hard, eyes wide. “It wasn’t what it looked like.” You laugh. It sounds broken, bitter. “Right.” “She kissed me,” he says quickly. “I didn’t—she just—” “It’s fine.” You cut him off, voice sharp. Your hands are trembling, and you shove them into your pockets so he doesn’t see. “We weren’t anything anyway.” Riki blinks.

Like he didn’t expect that to come out of your mouth. Like he can’t quite believe you said it. You swallow hard, your throat tight. “You should go back to her.” His face falls. He actually looks hurt. “Don’t say that.” You step back. “Why not? She obviously wants you. You let her kiss you. Maybe she’s more your type.” Riki shakes his head, jaw clenched. “You don’t get it.” “No, I don’t,” you snap. “And I don’t think I want to anymore.” You don’t wait to see the way his expression shatters. You turn and walk off again, fast, ignoring his voice behind you, ignoring the way your chest feels like it might crack open. You just need to be alone before the tears fall for real. You make it home before the tears really start. But once the door shuts behind you, it’s over. You sink down to the floor, your bag still slung over your shoulder, and bury your face in your hands. God. You were so stupid. You knew what kind of guy he was. Riki—the bad boy, the campus heartbreaker, the one who didn’t give a damn about anyone. He skipped class, flirted for fun, kissed girls at parties and it meant nothing. So why did it feel like he meant it with you? Why did it feel real? You curl up on your bed a while later, your throat raw from crying, your pillow damp. Your phone lights up every few minutes—his name over and over.

Riki

calling…

missed call (8)

missed call (9)

missed call (10)

You ignore every one. Until you can’t anymore. The eleventh time, you finally press accept. You hold the phone up to your ear, but you don’t say anything right away. There’s silence. Then, with your voice hoarse and unsteady, barely more than a whisper, “…what do you want?” There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then a low, broken breath. “Fuck—baby,” Riki says, his voice wrecked. “Please don’t hang up.” You bite your lip hard, trying not to let the tears start again. Your voice shakes anyway.“Why are you calling me?” you whisper. “Didn’t get enough with her?” “No,” he snaps, immediate. Desperate. “It wasn’t like that. She kissed me—I didn’t—I didn’t kiss her back. I pushed her off. I swear to god, baby.” You close your eyes, heart pounding painfully. “I saw you.” “And I saw you walk away with tears in your eyes, and it fucking killed me.” His voice cracks slightly. “I didn’t even get to explain. I—I never wanted her. I only wanted you.” You’re silent. Your breathing’s uneven, and your throat aches. “I know what it looked like,” he says quietly, “but you have to believe me. You’re the only one I’ve been thinking about since that first day. You—fuck, baby, I’m so sorry. I’d never do that to you. Never.” Your fingers curl around the edge of your blanket. “…you don’t get to call me baby right now,” you whisper, trying to sound angry—but it comes out weak. Wounded. Riki breathes in, like he’s trying to steady himself. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. Just…let me talk to you. Please.”

There’s a long pause. You finally speak again, small and broken, “I thought you actually liked me.” “I do.” His voice rises, full of emotion now. “I do like you. You think I’m lying? You think I’d show up to every tutoring session, text you every night, call you ten times just to hurt you? I didn’t even want anyone else to look at me once I had you.” “…then why did she kiss you?” “I don’t know. I don’t care. I was waiting for you.” Another tear slips down your cheek. You press your lips together. “…I need to go.” “No—wait. Please.” His voice is rough. “Don’t hang up. I’ll come over. Just let me see you. Let me explain everything. I’ll wait outside if I have to. Just—don’t shut me out.” You’re quiet. Your heart hurts too much to answer. “…can I come?” he asks again, softer this time. “Just to talk. Please.” You sniffle, wiping your cheek. Your chest aches, your throat thick. “…Fine,” you whisper. “Just to talk.” You can practically hear the relief rush out of him through the phone. “Okay. I’m coming. I’ll be there in ten.” You hang up before you can second guess it.

It’s quiet when you unlock the door for him. You don’t say anything. Just step aside and let him in, eyes puffy and downcast. Riki steps in slowly, eyes locked on you like you might disappear. His expression is tense— jaw tight, hair messier than usual, like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop. There’s something panicked in his eyes, but soft, too—like he’s afraid to break you any further. “Hey,” he says, voice low. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself.

“Talk, Riki.” He swallows and nods. “I didn’t want her to kiss me. I swear.” His voice is quiet, but every word is urgent. “I was waiting for you. I was looking for you. And then she—she just came up out of nowhere and I was shocked. I pushed her off right away. I told her I wasn’t interested. I only wanted you.” You shake your head, looking away. “Why would she even think she could do that?” “I don’t know. I don’t talk to her. She just… she saw me waiting and came over. I swear on everything, I never touched her.” Your bottom lip trembles. Riki steps closer, but not too close. “You can be mad,” he murmurs. “I’ll take it. I’ll take anything. Just—don’t think I didn’t mean everything I said to you. Because I did. Every text. Every time I called you baby. Every time I kissed you. It was all real.” You blink fast, eyes blurring again. “I thought I was just another girl to you,” you whisper. “I thought you were just…playing with me.” His face breaks, jaw clenched like he’s in pain. “You’re not just another girl. Don’t say that,” he breathes. “You’re the only one who ever made me nervous. The only one who made me feel like I actually wanted to try.” You stare at him, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. “…I liked you so much,” you whisper. “I still do.” Riki closes the distance now, carefully. Slowly. His hand lifts, tentative, before he touches your face, wiping your tears gently with the side of his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you.” You nod, lips trembling.

“I was scared,” you admit softly. “I didn’t think someone like you would ever really care about me.” His thumb grazes your cheekbone, and he exhales shakily. “I care about you more than I know what to do with,” he says. “I haven’t even been able to sleep since I saw you cry.” Your eyes finally meet his. His are red-rimmed now too. “Can I hold you?” he asks quietly. You nod. He steps forward and wraps his arms around you—firm and warm, like an anchor—and you bury your face into his chest. He kisses the top of your head. Again and again. And you cry, just a little, into his hoodie. You pull away slowly, your heart thudding so loud you’re sure he hears it, his hands still holding onto your waist like he’s afraid to let go. “…What are we, Riki?” you whisper. He exhales, eyes closed. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice low and honest. “But I know I want you. And only you.” You’re quiet for a moment, lips tugging into a small, shy smile. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you ask, soft and teasing, but there’s something hopeful under it. A little nervous. Like you’re still afraid he might not want that. His eyes open slowly, meeting yours like they never want to look away again. “Yeah,” he says, no hesitation. “You are.” He cups your face and pulls you in for a kiss. So soft and sweet, and you melt from his touch. Riki pulls back slightly, his lips curved in a soft smile but with a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “I should probably go…” he murmurs quietly. You blink, a little disappointed but trying not to show it. “Okay,” you say softly. He steps forward and wraps you in a warm hug, holding you just a moment longer than expected. Then he pulls back gently, brushing his lips against yours in a light, lingering kiss. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispers. With one last look, he turns and leaves you standing there, the quiet night wrapping around you as you watch him go, and then you head inside, alone with your thoughts, ready to sleep.

The morning sun cast a soft glow over campus as you walked side by side with Riki, the usual hum of students around you fading into the background. The tension from last night’s conversation had shifted something between you, something subtle but undeniable. As you both made your way to class, your fingers brushed unintentionally at first. Then, just as casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Riki slipped his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers. Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let yourself fall into the warmth of his touch, feeling the silent declaration it carried. People passing by glanced at you, whispering or maybe just staring, but Riki didn’t care. His grip tightened ever so slightly. The confidence in his stride made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was serious about this—about you. When you settled into class, Riki sat beside you. Not the usual casual distance but close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed. The air between you was thick with unspoken words and nervous excitement. You caught his eyes once or twice, and each time there was a flicker of something soft, something more than the usual teasing smirk. After class, you headed to grab lunch together.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the midday rush, but the two of you found a quiet corner table. The conversation was easy—more natural than you expected. He asked about your plans, your classes, even cracked a few jokes that made you laugh despite yourself. Then, between bites, Riki’s expression shifted to something more serious, though still laced with that effortless charm. He nudged you with his elbow and smirked. “Hey, you never came to my dorm,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear. You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Yeah? I guess you never invited me.” “Well,” he said, tightening his grip on your hand just a little, “how about we do tutoring there today? Change of scenery. I promise it’ll be better than the library.” You hesitated for a moment, the idea stirring something nervous but exciting inside you. But the way he looked at you like he wanted you there, made the decision easy. “Okay,” you said with a small smile, “I’m in.” Riki grinned, his fingers squeezing yours gently as you both stood up and left the cafeteria. The campus felt different today, like the world was shifting just for you two.

You stood outside Riki’s dorm, shifting on your feet as you knocked on the door, and it opened almost instantly. He leaned against the frame in a black tee and sweats, hair messy and a little damp from the shower. His gaze landed on you, and stayed. His eyes dragged down your body, slow and deliberate, to the way your tank top clung perfectly to your body and tits, and your soft thighs exposed for him to see from your shorts. He tilted his head slightly. “You wore this for tutoring?” he asked, voice low, licking his lips without even thinking. Your heart stuttered. You blinked. “This isn’t the library,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual. “I wanted to be comfortable.” But your voice faltered near the end, and your fingers instinctively pulled at the hem of your tank top—smoothing it, adjusting it, anything to distract from how hot his stare was making you feel. Riki grinned a little, like he noticed. He stepped aside, letting you in, but his gaze never left your back as you walked past him into his dorm. “You look good.” he murmured behind you, door clicking shut. His room was a little messy—papers scattered on his desk, a jacket thrown on the chair, sheets pulled halfway off his bed. It smelled like something warm and clean and distinctly him. You turned around slowly to face him, already feeling the tension creep up your spine. “We’re actually going to study this time, right?”

Riki smirked, moving closer and letting his fingers brush against yours as he took the textbook from your hands. “You’re the tutor,” he said softly, “but you’re the one distracting me.” You both sat side by side at the desk in his dorm, the soft scrape of your notebook sliding across the surface breaking the quiet.

Riki had his phone face-down for once, pen in hand, brows pulled together as he tried to focus while you explained the material to him. At first, he did try, really. He nodded when he understood, wrote a few things down, even asked a decent follow-up question. But after about ten minutes, you started to notice the shift. His eyes wandered. You were mid-sentence, pointing to a diagram in the textbook, when you caught him staring—not at the page, but at you. Your tank top had slipped slightly as you leaned forward, and his gaze dipped, slow and deliberate. He didn’t even try to hide it. His eyes trailed over the curve of your chest, down to your exposed thighs where your shorts had bunched up a little from how you were sitting. You shifted, subtly pulling your hem lower, but it didn’t matter. Riki licked his lips. Your voice faltered for a second. “Riki…” “Hm?” he looked up, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just spent the last few seconds undressing you with his eyes. “You’re not listening.” “I am,” he murmured, lips twitching into a grin. “I’m just…multitasking.”You narrowed your eyes. “Multitasking?” “Yeah. Learning,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “And appreciating the view.” Your cheeks burned. “You’re such an ass.” He leaned back in his chair, still staring at you like he was starving. “You wore that to tutor me, and now you expect me to focus?” You crossed your arms, but the movement just made his gaze drop again—and linger.

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you muttered, defensive. He smiled, cocky. “Sure you didn’t.” You grabbed your pen again, trying to return to the material. “We’re not doing this.” But even as you flipped the page, you could feel the weight of his gaze—slow, heavy, like he was touching you without laying a finger on you. And when you dared to glance at him again, he was already leaning closer.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus on the page in front of you—desperately ignoring how close Riki had gotten. “Okay,” you started, voice a little shaky, “so if you look at this equation, the—” His hand slid onto your thigh. You froze. He was still looking at the book, acting completely casual as his fingers brushed over your skin slowly, warm and lazy through the soft fabric of your shorts. His touch was featherlight, almost teasing. You glanced at him, heart stuttering. “Riki…” “Keep going,” he said, voice low. “I’m listening.” But you could barely remember what you were supposed to say. You tried to explain again, stumbling over your words as his hand dragged just a little higher. Your breath hitched. “Y-You need to factor the—uh—the terms that—” “Am i making you nervous, baby?” he murmured, finally looking at you, his lips close to your ear. You tried to pull it together. “You need to focus.” He chuckled, eyes heavy with heat. “Don’t wanna.” Before you could protest again, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to the side of your neck. You gasped—his hand inching higher, fingers drawing lazy circles over your inner thigh now. “Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely holding steady. “Hmm?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing just under your jaw now. “Thought you wanted to tutor me, baby.” You did. But not like this. Not when his touch made your brain melt and your heart beat out of rhythm.

Your mind blurred, your voice giving out in a breathy stutter as Riki’s lips ghosted over your skin, his fingers inching higher up your thigh. “Yes” you whispered, barely managing to meet his eyes. “This is supposed to be tutoring…” He looked at you slowly, like he already knew you were too far gone to stop him now. His hand slid from your thigh up to your waist, gripping you gently but firmly. “You’re not exactly stopping me.” You opened your mouth to argue, but the words never made it out—because he kissed you. Deep and unhurried, his mouth moved against yours like he’d been craving it all day. You whimpered softly against his lips, your hands clutching at the edge of the desk. He pulled you closer by the waist, tugging you effortlessly toward him until you were sliding off your chair and onto his lap. A surprised gasp escaped you, your hands bracing against his shoulders, your thighs straddling his as he settled you in place. Your heart was racing—every nerve lit up. “Riki…” you murmured, breathless, as he leaned up to kiss you again, slow and deep, like he was trying to make you forget everything but the way he tasted.

His hands slide up your thighs, slow and warm, while his mouth moves against yours like he can’t get enough. You’re straddling his lap, knees on either side of him, and you can feel how hard he is beneath you. His kiss deepens, tongue brushing yours, and when he finally pulls away to catch his breath, his lips don’t go far. They drag down your jaw, toward your neck. You gasp softly when he kisses just below your ear. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin. His hand slips under your tank top, just brushing along your waist—barely touching. “Is it me?” You don’t answer, just whimper softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He chuckles lowly against your throat, the sound smug and warm. His hand slides higher up your back, teasing the hem of your bra. His mouth finds a spot on your neck that makes your hips twitch—he groans. “You were so focused,” he says, kissing down your neck, “and now look at you.” You gasp as he grinds your hips down gently against him, slow and in control.

His mouth moves over yours slow and deep, his tongue coaxing soft whimpers from you between breaths. And then he pulls back just enough to look at you. His voice drops, low and serious, rough at the edges. “Want me to stop?” You’re already trembling a little, lips swollen from his kisses, breath shallow in your throat. But you don’t hesitate. You shake your head, soft and certain. “No,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.” He lets out a low groan, hands flexing around your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself, before dragging you into another hungry kiss. Your fingers wind into his hair, tugging gently, making him moan against your mouth. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, underneath your shorts, pulling you closer until your hips press flush against his. You gasp into his mouth, and his fingers tighten on your waist. He starts guiding your hips slowly against him, making you grind right onto his hard-on through his sweats. “Just like that, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your jaw. “You feel that?” Your cheeks burn. You nod, barely holding back the moan that threatens to slip out. You keep moving, grinding softly on him like instinct, heat curling low in your stomach with every roll of your hips. “So cute” he breathes, mouth dipping to slowly kiss your neck again. “You look so good on my lap, princess.”

Your hips roll harder on him now, the friction making your head spin. You whimper into his ear, breathless, and he curses under his breath as your hand slides between your bodies. You palm him over his sweats, slow and uncertain at first, your fingers trailing along the thick shape of him, teasing. His hips twitch up into your touch, jaw clenched as he watches you with fire in his eyes “Fuck, baby—” he groans, head falling back slightly. You feel the way he breathes harder, the way his thighs tense under yours, how his eyes go heavy-lidded every time you grind down just right. Then, with one last soft kiss to his lips, you pull back. Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted, and your voice is a little shaky when you whisper,“Can I…?” You glance down at his lap, then back up at him through your lashes. “I wanna… try.” Your hands slide down his chest as you slip from his lap, sinking onto your knees between his legs before you can second-guess it. The carpet is soft under your bare knees, your hands resting on his thighs, breath shallow. Riki stares at you, stunned. Eyes wide, lips parted. “Wait—” he says quickly, breath catching in his throat. “Are you sure, baby?” You nod, biting your lip. Your fingers toy with the waistband of his sweats, looking up at him with those big, desperate eyes that have always made him weak. “I want to,” you whisper, soft but certain. “wanna make you feel good.” He exhales shakily, like he’s trying to hold himself together, one hand running through his hair as he mutters, “Jesus, baby…you’re killing me.”

Your fingers tremble just slightly as you reach for the hem of your shirt. You pause for a second, nervous but determined, before tugging it up and over your head, baring yourself to him. Your cheeks burn the moment his eyes drop to your chest. The soft blue lace of your bra clings to your skin, delicate and pretty, and Riki looks like he’s about to lose it. His breath catches. “Baby…” he murmurs, voice suddenly lower, rougher. His eyes drag slowly over your figure like he’s trying to memorize the sight. “You wore that for me?” You nod shyly, glancing down, arms folding just a little in front of your body. You’re flustered, nervous, but you want him to like what he sees. You want this to be good for him, unforgettable.

“I just…I wanted to look good,” you admit softly, peeking up at him. “For you.” He leans forward immediately, grabbing your wrists gently and pulling your hands away from your body. “You look perfect,” he says, dead serious. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby.” Your stomach flutters wildly. Slowly, carefully, you bring your hands back down to his lap. You hook your fingers under the waistband of his sweats, heart pounding, and tug them down along with his boxers, just low enough to free him. He’s hard, big, leaking, and your lips part slightly at the sight of him. Riki watches your every move like he’s in a trance, his fingers twitching on his thighs like he’s trying so hard not to grab you. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, eyes searching yours. “You don’t have to do anything—” You nod quickly, still on your knees in front of him, lips brushing softly against his lower abdomen as you glance up at him through your lashes.

Your lips part just slightly as you lower yourself, your breath warm against his tip. You press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to it, delicate, teasing. Then you do it again, and again, letting your tongue flick out for the smallest kitten licks. Riki groans low in his throat, his hips twitching. “Fuck…” he breathes, eyes locked on you like you’re the most unreal thing he’s ever seen. His hand goes straight to your hair, fingers threading into it with a firm grip. “You’re such a tease, baby.” You let your lips wrap around him fully, just the tip, sucking softly, slow and sweet. His hand tightens in your hair, and you hear the shift in his breath—rougher, needier. “You look so good like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and low. “My little tutor girl taking my cock in her pretty mouth.” You whimper softly around him, cheeks flushed. You hollow your cheeks and take a little more, your tongue swirling around him, and his grip tightens just slightly. “Shit, baby—doing so good for me,” he groans, watching you bob your head just a little. “You like this? Like makin’ me feel good, hm?” You hum around him, eyes fluttering shut for a second before looking back up at him through your lashes—submissive, eager, needy for his praise. His other hand comes up, fingers gently cupping your jaw to guide your pace as he breathes hard, watching every slow movement of your lips. “You gonna take more for me, baby?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Gonna let me fuck that sweet mouth a little?” And the way he says it, low and filthy, makes your thighs clench together as you nod, obedient and breathless, letting him guide you deeper.

His grip in your hair tightens just slightly, and he watches with hooded eyes as you take more of him in. You feel the gentle pressure as he begins guiding your head, slowly at first, pushing you down, then letting you come up for air, only to press you back down again. “Just like that, baby,” he breathes, voice rough and low. Your lips stretch around him as he slowly builds a rhythm, hips barely moving, letting your mouth do the work, guided by his hands. You moan softly, the vibrations making him hiss through his teeth. Tears prick at your eyes from the effort, trailing down your cheeks as your jaw strains, your tongue flattening against the underside of his cock. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking what you can’t fit, trying to keep up with the pace he’s setting. “Fuck—look at you,” he groans, breath catching. “Crying on my cock like that. Letting me fuck your mouth.” His voice sends a pulse of heat through your entire body. His thumb wipes a tear off your cheek almost sweetly, his other hand never loosening from your hair. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice dark and full of heat. “Doing so good for me.” His hips stutter as your hand works him faster, your warm breath ghosting over his tip. “Fuck, baby—” he gasps, hips twitching forward as his cock throbs against your hand. “You’re gonna make me cum… shit—”

You look up at him with those big, glassy eyes, tongue out and waiting, so eager, so needy. “Holy fuck—” Riki growls, head tipping back. “You really want it, don’t you, baby?” You nod, whining softly as you stick your tongue out further, your other hand bracing against his thigh. That’s all it takes. With a low, guttural moan, he finishes—hot spurts painting your tongue, your lips, and spilling down onto your chest. He watches, completely wrecked, as you keep still for him, letting him make a mess of you. When it’s done, you slowly close your mouth and swallow with a soft gulp, then open up again and poke your tongue out to show him—empty now. His breath catches. “Fuck,” he mutters, eyes dark as he cups your jaw in his palm. “You swallowed all of it?” You nod shyly, cheeks flushed, tongue still out just a little as you blink up at him. He lets out a low, breathless laugh, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “My good fuckin’ girl,” he murmurs. “Look at you…” He leans down and kisses you—slow, filthy, and deep, tasting himself on your tongue. “It’s my turn to make you feel good now, yeah?” he whispers against your lips. You’re still catching your breath when he pulls you up gently, his hands firm on your waist as he helps you sit on the edge of the desk. Your legs dangle, a little shaky, but Riki steps between them, caging you in with his arms as he leans down to kiss you, slowly and hungrily. His hands slide up your sides, over the soft fabric of your bra, cupping your breasts as he groans into your mouth. “You’re unreal,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look down at you. “Bend over for me, baby.” You blink up at him, heart fluttering. “Here?” He just smirks, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You heard me.”

Your cheeks flush, but you nod, sliding off the desk slowly, turning around. You lean over it, bracing your hands flat on the surface, your breathing already unsteady. You feel his eyes on you, burning hot as you reach down and slowly start tugging your shorts and panties down together, baring yourself inch by inch. A soft sound leaves his throat behind you, low and rough. “Fuck…” You hear the rustle of his clothes behind you, his hands moving to gently push your legs further apart. His palms ghosts over your ass, then down your thighs, teasing. He leans down, lips brushing the back of your neck. “So cute, bent over my desk like that…” You gasp softly as you feel him bend down behind you, one hand sliding up your thigh, the other gently gripping your hip to keep you steady. Your bare core clenches at the thought of how close he is, how exposed you are. “Riki—” you whisper, voice shaky, head turning over your shoulder. “You’re…really close…” He hums, amused, lips brushing your inner thigh. “That’s the point, baby.” You bite your lip, face burning as you hide it in the crook of your elbow. It’s so intimate, his breath on your bare skin, his fingers teasing the softness of your inner thighs. He leaves sweet kisses on your ass and thighs, before bringing his fingers on your folds, making you whine. He moves them slowly, gathering your wetness, from your hole to your clit and you can’t help but moan. Then you feel it—his tongue. A soft, slow lick up your folds, warm and deliberate. You let out a whimper, legs trembling as your knees almost buckle. His grip tightens on your hips. “Stay still, princess.” he murmurs, low and commanding.

You nod, helplessly, barely able to breathe as he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue moves with devastating skill, licking, sucking, flicking against your clit until your thighs start to shake. You let out soft, desperate moans, biting into your forearm to stay quiet, but he hears them. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he mutters into your heat, tongue diving deeper. “This all mine now, yeah?” “Y-Yes,” you whimper, gripping the edge of the desk. “Riki…oh my god…”

He groans into you, clearly turned on by your reaction, and his hands squeeze your hips tighter as his tongue flicks again and again against your sensitive clit. His hand slides between your legs, and you gasp when you feel two fingers press against your entrance, slick and slow as they slide in deep. Your back arches, mouth falling open as a moan escapes. “R-Riki—” He groans, thumb coming up to press soft circles against your clit as his fingers curl inside you, stretching you open. “Fuck…so warm” he mutters, mouth hot on your inner thigh again. Your legs are shaking, your hands gripping the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The combination of his fingers and mouth has your brain melting, every movement making you whimper, every moan just making him move rougher, deeper. “You gonna come on my fingers, baby?“ he murmurs, voice teasing now, cocky. You let out a broken moan, unsure if you can even speak, and that just makes him smirk. “Too dumb already?” he coos. “My smart little tutor girl can’t even think straight anymore.” He pumps his fingers a little faster, curling them just right, and you nearly collapse against the desk.

Your body tightens, every nerve on fire as his fingers work magic inside you. Warmth spreads fast, rushing through your core like wildfire. A broken moan escapes your lips, and you shudder, trembling against the desk as your release crashes over you—hard and sudden, stealing your breath away. Riki’s tongue flicks up eagerly, licking every drop of your juices with deliberate care, his eyes dark with hunger and satisfaction. When he pulls back, he wipes his mouth, voice low and rough.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He stands, towering over you, already hard again. His hands move quickly, slipping off his shirt, then lowering his sweats, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. Without breaking eye contact, he lifts you up with ease, carrying you toward the bed. He lays you down slowly, lips trailing over yours in a heated kiss that melts the space between you. His mouth moves down to your neck, leaving soft, urgent kisses that make your breath hitch. His hands roam boldly, cupping your breasts firmly, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “Off.” he murmurs low and commanding. You fumble shyly but obey, sliding the straps down your arms until your bra is discarded. Almost immediately, he’s sucking on your bare skin, his mouth teasing and claiming your breasts, while his hips grind hard against your heat. The friction sends a jolt straight through you, making your body arch toward him, hungry for more. He trails his mouth over your breasts and collarbones, leaving dark, bruising hickeys that bloom deliciously against your skin. You reach down, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his abs, feeling the heat and strength beneath your touch. Then your hand slips lower, cupping the hard length pressing against his boxers. “Please, Riki,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “need you now.”

“Fuck..” He slowly lowers his boxers, freeing himself as his eyes never leave yours. His hand wraps around his thick length, pumping a slow, steady rhythm. He carefully spreads your legs further , his fingers grazing your inner thighs, sending shivers racing through your body. A soft whimper escapes your lips as he slides his length up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Slowly, he moves lower, and enters you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you out so deliciously. The stretch makes you cling instinctively to his neck, a low whine slipping from your throat as your body adjusts to the fullness when he bottoms out. His hands keep caressing your thighs, steady and reassuring, as he begins to slowly move. He starts slow, each thrust deliberate and measured, watching you closely as your soft moans and whimpers fill the room. The way your body reacts to him, the way you cling to him, only fuels his desire. “Doing so good, baby—fuck,” he growls, his voice low and possessive. “Such a good girl for me.”

His hands grip your hips firmly, steadying you as he picks up the pace, moving deeper and faster now, the intensity rising with every stroke. Without breaking rhythm, he lifts one of your legs and rests it over his shoulder, giving him better leverage and letting him reach places that make you gasp uncontrollably. “So tight and warm for me, so perfect.” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing your neck. His praise sends a heat rushing through you, mixing with the pleasure and making your breath hitch as he drives into you harder. The stretch still making your body tremble with every push. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, and without breaking pace, he reached up, bringing two fingers to your lips. “Open,” he murmured, voice rough.

You parted your lips obediently, shy but too far gone to resist. He slid his fingers onto your tongue and you immediately began to suck, lashes fluttering as your gaze lifted to meet his. The sight of you like that, lips wrapped around his fingers, eyes wide and watering, making his skin all wet and slick with your spit, made him groan low in his chest. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed. “Look at you.” You whined around his fingers, his pace quickening slightly, hips snapping harder into yours. The new angle made your body jolt, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. He pressed his palm to your tummy, just above where he was buried deep inside you, and you gasped when you felt the pressure. “That’s me, huh? You feel me here?” he gritted through clenched teeth, pressing down just a little more. You nodded frantically, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth around his fingers. The feeling, the pressure, the fullness, it was overwhelming in the best way. Your free hand moved up into his hair, tugging gently, grounding yourself. His fingers slipped from your mouth and your lips chased after them, your breath shaky and desperate. Pressing firmly on your tummy, you choke on a moan, your entire body tightening around him “There, baby?” he murmurs huskily. You nod, heart pounding in your chest, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. Slowly, shy but full of trust, you reach up, one hand brushing against his jawline, the other still entwined in his hair. Your touch is gentle, almost worshipful as you caress his face and run your fingers through his hair.

“My smart boy,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. Something snaps in him when he hears that. His pupils dilate, breath hitches, and the rough edge to his expression softens for a split second before darkening with raw hunger. He groans low in his throat, voice rough and desperate “Holy fuck” he breathes softly, tugging you impossibly closer, fingers tightening their grip on your body. “Say it again, baby. Say it—tell me I’m your smart boy.” Your heart races, the power of your words sinking deep into him. He buries his face in your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, marking you with his need and possessiveness as he pounds harder, deeper. You’re a moaning mess, breath shaky and heart hammering as you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes. Your fingers brush tenderly along his jaw and cheek, tracing every sharp line of his face. “You’re my smart boy, baby,” you whisper, voice thick with need and affection, the words tumbling out soft and shaky. He groans low in response, dick twitching inside you as he pulls you impossibly close, his voice rough and ragged. “I’m so close,” he pants, every thrust hitting deeper and harder. You bite your lip, desperate and breathless. “Me too, Riki…g’na cum,” you manage to say, voice barely audible. He brings his fingers down to your clit, moving them in slow circles, as you whine. Your body clenches around him, trembling as you finally reach your peak, a shuddering wave that makes you cry out softly.

He holds you tight through every pulse, never slowing, until with a final, guttural groan, he pulls out and spills himself over your heat, watching intently as it drips and glistens, messy and sticky. His hand gently cupped the back of your leg as he lowered it from his shoulder, eyes never leaving you. You whimpered softly at the emptiness, the overstimulation making your thighs twitch. Riki leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, then another to your tummy, and finally your lips. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice much softer now, low, raspy, but sweet. You nodded, but your lashes fluttered tiredly and your bottom lip trembled just a bit. It had been a lot. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “You did so good, baby.” Riki sat back on the bed, chest rising and falling with every breath, hair messy. His eyes traveled over you, slowly, like couldn’t believe you were real. You lay there catching your breath, hair a messy halo on the pillow, lips kiss-swollen and parted, your skin kissed red with hickeys across your collarbones and tits. The soft sheen of sweat clung to you, and remnants of his cum still lingered on your chest and cunt, glistening faintly in the low light. His eyes trailed lower and he groaned, running a hand through his hair as a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, voice rough but amused, eyes locked on you. “I’m gonna get hard again.” You giggled, still breathless, hiding your face behind your hands, and he leaned forward, pulling them gently away so he could see you. “Don’t hide from me, princess,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek. “You’re so fucking cute.”

my other works ➵ masterlist

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rrrick · 3 months ago

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The American press has just recounted what former President Jimmy Carter said to Donald Trump during his recent interview about China.

"You're worried that China is getting ahead of us, and I agree with you. But do you know why China is getting ahead of us? I normalized diplomatic relations with Beijing in 1979. Since then, do you know how many times China has gone to war with anyone? Not once, even though we're constantly at war.

The United States is the most warlike nation in the history of the world because it wants to impose states that respond to our government and American values throughout the West, and to control companies that own energy resources in other countries." China, for its part, invests its resources in projects such as railways, infrastructure, intercontinental and transoceanic bullet trains, 6G technology, robotic intelligence, universities, hospitals, ports, buildings, and high-speed trains instead of using them for military spending.

"How many kilometers of high-speed trains do we have in this country?

We wasted $300 billion in military spending to subjugate countries that sought to escape our hegemony.

China hasn't wasted a penny on war, and that's why it surpasses us in almost every area. And if we had spent $300 billion to install infrastructure, robots, and public health in the United States, we would have high-speed transoceanic bullet trains." We would have bridges that don't collapse, free healthcare for Americans, thousands of Americans who wouldn't be infected with COVID-19 more than any other country in the world.

We would have roads that hold up properly. Our education system would be as good as South Korea's or Shanghai's." - Jimmy Carter.

[source]

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destinysbounty · 1 month ago

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Although I am definitely disappointed about Zane's gradual flanderization as the series progresses, you do have to admit it's also kinda hilarious within a meta context.

Like. Zane is so insanely "Special Unique Protagonist" coded that in almost any other story that's exactly what he'd be. He's a robot and a ninja and he has prophetic visions and ice powers and fun robot falcon sidekick and a bunch of evil clones and a possibly evil twin brother and a badass robot wife and his own leitmotif, and later he learns how to use his robot abilities to shapeshift/cast tech-based illusions on himself, and he's conditionally immortal but also effectively the most killable person on the team.

He's routinely victimized and rescued, as if he was written by an angsty 12 year old who wants to experience the catharsis of comfort vicariously through him. He's excessively self-sacrificial with a martyr complex and is always being dramatically mourned by those who love him, a super smart and wise genius but also deeply kind and loving to a fault, loves animals, can canonically sing/dance/cook pretty well, and according to the Core shorts he is also the team's living embodiment of Compassion.

I say this with all the love and affection in my heart, but you can't tell me Zane isn't at least a little bit Mary Sue-coded (and I love him for it). Or at the very least a Disney princess.

And yet. For so much of the series, he's pretty much chilling in the background like he's Just Some GuyTM. Like, don't mind Zary Suelien over there, he's just minding his business. Character development? Plot relevance? Narrative focus? Never heard of it.

I like to think Zane tried out the protagonist thing for a few minutes, decided it didn't agree with him, and then happily faded into the background to let everyone else take the full brunt of the plot instead. And although it absolutely didn't work because he's quite literally doomed by the narrative, I gotta say I respect the effort nonetheless.

Yeah, I'd definitely prefer if he wasn't flanderized so egregiously all the time - but you can't say it's not at least a little silly.

#if anyone is on tiktok and knows about the infamous y/n series by weeweepis #consider: y/n is zane. n/y is echo #ohhh my god actually now i need someone to make an echo edit using that iconic n/y audio. you know #ohhhhhhhh im so unwell about that now actually #ninjago #ninjago zane #zane ninjago #zane julien #destiny post

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orellazalonia · 2 months ago

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Heart First, Sanity Later

Summary: You, a dangerously chaotic genius with the common sense of a soggy spoon, somehow captures the heart of Bucky Barnes. Despite the constant emotional whiplash, raccoon-related injuries, and deeply cursed inventions, Bucky finds himself falling hard… somewhere between a Capri Sun intervention robot and a vent-related rescue. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: This was based on this post I came across from @ghouljams earlier. Please let me know if you want me to remove any of the information you listed here.

Word Count: 3.4k+

A/N: I had a blast writing this and I am begging on my hands and knees that other people like this as well so I can write more of unhinged reader. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Sequel | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

Bucky didn’t mean to get attached. In fact, he very specifically meant not to get attached to you.

You, with your wide smile and increasingly concerning decision-making skills. You, who walked into a briefing ten minutes late with a Slurpee, claimed you got “time-displaced,” and then flawlessly identified the year, model, and VIN of a car from a blurry photo Tony handed out. “That’s a 1972 Chevelle SS,” You’d said casually. “But the rims are from a later model. 1976, I think.”

He stared at you. Everyone did.

You slurped. “What?”

Later, Bucky watched you put your phone in the fridge, forget about it, then ask him if he’d “seen a text from 7-Eleven recently.” You didn’t even seem high. That was the worst part. You just… existed like that. All the time.

A living contradiction. A walking cosmic joke. The human version of a browser with 72 tabs open, one playing music, none labeled, and all of them about wildly different topics ranging from “theoretical wormhole stability” to “can ducks feel shame.”

And the worst part? You were insanely good at your job.

When it came to the field, you moved like you’d choreographed every punch in advance. Like your brain hit a switch and rerouted all the loose marbles into sheer precision.

But outside of that? Absolute chaos.

One time you asked if the word “colonel” was a typo because you’d only ever read it.

"Why is it spelled like 'colon-el'?” You’d asked Bucky, eating popcorn with a throwing knife for apparently no reason. “Like. You’re telling me we all just agreed to ignore the 'L'?”

He blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“Sounds fake but okay.”

He wanted to strangle you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to wrap you in a blanket and take you to a doctor because no one should eat four bananas and not know why their stomach hurts. (“I thought they were like… nature’s snack bars!” You’d wailed from the floor. “Why does nature lie?”)

Still, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. Something that made Bucky keep finding excuses to be around you. Something that made him bite back a smile when you declared, with utter confidence, that “Citizen Kane” was a man’s full name and you “felt bad for him growing up with that.”

Sam had to leave the room. Steve looked like he aged five years. Bucky? He just leaned back in his chair and muttered, “You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”

You beamed. “I know, right?”

And that was just the beginning.

Bucky knew it the moment you turned to him in the middle of a high-stakes infiltration and whispered:

“Hey. Do you think raccoons ever get embarrassed?”

He froze mid-step, crouched beside you behind a cluster of storage crates, both of you watching a Hydra compound patrol pace along the wall ahead. Guns primed. Comms live. Two minutes to breach.

You blinked at him, eyes wide and totally serious about the question in the entirely inappropriate setting.

“What?” He hissed.

You frowned thoughtfully, like he was the weird one. “They have those little hands, right? Like… what if one drops its snack in front of another raccoon. Is that, like, raccoon shame? Do they feel judged?”

Bucky stared. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. It had been a long week after all.

Then you added, “Anyway, two guards approaching. They’ll pass each other in about four seconds. I can take the left. You want the one with the scar?”

You didn’t even wait for an answer. Your body vanished into the shadows, clean and calculated. Three seconds later, both guards were unconscious and being gently rolled into the bushes like unwanted pizza boxes.

Bucky just stood there, breathing. You terrified him but not in the way enemies did. No, that would be too simple. Because he could fight Hydra, take a bullet, disarm a bomb, but you?

You were something else. A walking contradiction.

You once tripped over your own shoelaces while explaining quantum theory, then beat four highly trained operatives unconscious with a clipboard. You called a Glock a “grippy lil’ pew stick” but recited the Geneva Convention word-for-word because you “liked bedtime reading.”

And tonight was no different.

By the time the mission was done, the intel recovered, and the building cleared, Bucky was sore, bruised, and fully convinced that he was doomed. Because somewhere between the absurd commentary, the flawless fighting, and the way you wiped blood from your brow and grinned at him like you weren’t covered in chaos, he felt it.

That thing. The awful, nauseating, heart-clutching feeling.

Affection.

It hit him in the middle of your post-mission debrief, which mostly consisted of you sitting on the quinjet floor, drinking chocolate milk out of a thermos and recounting the entire op like it was a cute story you were telling children.

“And then I was like, Bam! right to the neck, and he just went down like a sack of sad potatoes. Did you see that? You saw that, right, Buck? I did the thing with the kick!”

He didn’t answer. He was looking at you like you’d grown a second head or like how you were the only thing stuck in his head these days. God, you were awful.

You had blood on your elbow and half your gear undone. You were sprawled out on the floor like a sleep-deprived gremlin, and when you looked up at him and smiled, like he was the only person in the world who mattered… He was done. Gone.

“You okay there, Grumpypants?” You asked.

“I think I might hate you,” He muttered, sitting down beside you.

You grinned, bumping his shoulder with yours. “That’s fair. I’m an acquired taste. Like oysters. Or war crimes.”

He barked a laugh before he could stop it. You looked so proud.

“I’m serious,” He said, sobering. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day. You don’t take anything seriously.”

You just stared at him for a moment, and then, quietly, you said, “I take you seriously.”

The jet went quiet.

And Bucky sat very, very still because somehow, that hit harder than any mission ever had.

You weren’t just funny. Or weird. Or brilliant in a way that made his head hurt.

You were kind. Kind in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Like you saw through the Winter Soldier and the scowl and the kill count, and you still chose to sit beside him, sipping chocolate milk and talking about raccoon shame.

And Bucky Barnes, world-weary assassin, trauma-laden super-soldier, turned to you and realized:

He was fucked.

In love with a person who once confidently said “quinoa” was pronounced “kin-oh-ah” and didn’t believe him when he corrected you.

You looked up from your thermos. “You’re doing the staring thing again. Am I bleeding from the ear?”

“No,” Bucky said, voice low. “You’re just…”

“Sexy?” You offered helpfully.

“…Terrifying.”

You winked. “Same difference.”

And Bucky Barnes, against all logic, reason, and survival instinct, knew he was already in too deep.

The next mission had gone off without a hitch… at least, for everyone except Bucky.

A few cuts here, a couple of bruises there, but nothing too serious. At least, that’s what he told himself as he sat on the edge of the quinjet, feeling the burn in his shoulder from a bullet graze. But the moment you walked into the medbay with a roll of bandages in your hand, it was like everything inside him twisted in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Okay, Bucky. Time to let the master do her magic,” You said, flashing that grin of yours, the one that always made his heart do weird, involuntary things.

Bucky blinked, trying to shake the disoriented feeling. “You’re the one who got shot today. Why am I the one getting patched up?”

“Because I’m immortal,” You said matter-of-factly. “Also, I’m not bleeding anywhere you can see, so that’s a bonus.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’re immortal?”

You sat down beside him, rolling your sleeves up. “No, but I like to pretend I am. You know, like a cooler superhero.”

He winced slightly as you poked at his side. “That’s what I’m dealing with, huh?”

“You love it,” You teased, squeezing out some antiseptic onto a cotton pad.

“You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out of a plane for this,” Bucky muttered, though he couldn’t stop the faint grin from tugging at his lips.

“Not gonna lie, I’d be mad if you did,” You admitted, gently dabbing at his side. “Also, I’d haunt you. I know how to haunt people. I’ve read a lot of books about ghosts.”

He chuckled, despite himself. “Of course you have.”

“Oh, absolutely. I even have a theory about why the Titanic sank, and it’s completely different from the official one. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not what they say.”

Bucky glanced over at you, eyebrow raised. “This I gotta hear.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice dramatically as if revealing state secrets. “Okay, so. It wasn’t an iceberg that caused the sinking. It was actually the government trying to erase all evidence of the giant squid they were experimenting on, and they blamed it on the iceberg to cover up the real cause.”

Bucky blinked, unsure whether you were serious or not. “Wait, what?” He asked slowly.

You looked at him deadpan. “You didn’t hear the rumors? They found footage, you know. The squid was huge. It even had tentacles.”

He stared at you, speechless.

"Anyway," You continued, as if you hadn’t just suggested the world’s greatest conspiracy, "What we do know is that my bandage technique is flawless. See this?" You lifted a corner of the bandage to show him a perfect wrap around his side.

Bucky blinked. "Did you just distract me with a giant squid theory while you patched me up?"

“Absolutely.” You beamed at him. “Works every time. Just don’t tell anyone you’re in love with me because I’m not responsible for any heart attacks.”

Bucky froze, his heartbeat suddenly in his throat.

You were still so nonchalant. Still so you, so damn confident and so sure of yourself. It took everything in him not to lean in and kiss you right there.

But then, you looked up at him, and for the briefest moment, that smile of yours softened. “You’re good, Bucky,” You said quietly. “You’ve been through more shit than any of us. But you’re still here. That’s something, you know?”

His chest tightened.

“And you know what?” You continued, your voice so much softer now, like a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to be a soldier all the time. Sometimes, you can just be Bucky.”

He swallowed, looking at you. “And what about you?”

“Oh, me? I’m a mess,” You shrugged, finally looking away, as if it was no big deal. “I’m just here to make the chaos look cute.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, that familiar teasing glint in them. “That’s my secret. You like it.”

Bucky chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wanted to say something, wanted to admit something. That little voice in his head kept screaming at him to just say it already, but he was scared. He was scared of how deep you had burrowed under his skin, of how easy it was to forget everything else when you were around.

Instead, he just leaned forward and cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You’re… something else, you know that?”

You blinked at him in surprise, your lips parted, as if trying to process the sudden shift in the air. For a moment, there was a palpable tension between the two of you, like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to do something.

But then, in your usual way, you broke it, shrugging with a grin. “I know. You’re welcome.”

Bucky’s heart did a weird flip, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to truly relax, just a little. He didn’t want to admit it. Not yet. Not even to himself.

But as you leaned in to finish wrapping his side, your hand brushing his skin lightly, he knew he was already in way too deep.

The next incident started with a toaster. Not even a cool toaster. Just a boring, silver Stark-issued kitchen appliance that you were suspiciously proud of. You’d taken it apart and rebuilt it but “better.” No one asked you to. No one gave you permission. You just did it.

“Now it sings the SpongeBob theme when your toast is done,” You explained, beaming as you held up a slice of whole wheat like it was a golden ticket.

Bucky stared at you. “You tampered with government property.”

“Enhanced.” You corrected. “And before you ask, no, I will not apologize. This is the future.”

Then it sang. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” BWEEEEEP - Toast done.

Bucky looked like he was praying for divine intervention. “You’re gonna get us all court-martialed over this.”

Two hours later, you were banned from the kitchen, which didn’t stop you from relocating to the common area with your newest project: building what you claimed was a “mousetrap but for anxiety.”

It was made of pipe cleaners, glow sticks, and what might’ve been a dismantled Roomba.

“I call her Deborah,” You said, gently stroking it. “She senses emotional instability and gives you a juice box.”

As if on cue, it whirred over to Bucky, bumped into his leg, and slowly offered him a Capri Sun.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Then she thinks you’re too far gone. She’s very wise.”

Steve walked in, surveyed the scene, and simply turned around without speaking. He didn’t even ask anymore.

Later that night, Bucky caught you in the hallway attempting to climb into the ceiling with a flashlight between your teeth and a jar of pickles under your arm.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, exhausted.

You paused halfway into a vent, dropping the flashlight briefly. “Depends. Do you believe in ceiling gremlins?”

“No.”

“Then I’m doing taxes.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Please. I’m begging you. Come down.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then slowly slid back out like a raccoon emerging from a trash can. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely and not because I got stuck.”

You had absolutely gotten stuck. And the worst part? He was smitten.

Every time you did something completely absurd, which was always, he found himself watching you a little too long, smiling a little too much, wondering what the hell you were going to do next and why it made his chest ache in a weirdly pleasant way.

Even now, covered in ceiling dust and holding a pickle jar, you looked up at him with that infuriatingly endearing grin.

“You’re in love with me,” You stated confidently.

Bucky blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You popped a pickle in your mouth. “You’ve got that look. Like a grumpy cat who accidentally cuddled someone and doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I do not look like-“

“It's okay. You don’t have to say it.” You patted his chest affectionately. “Your body language screams ‘emotionally unavailable man finds chaotic cryptid and feels things.’”

“I am not emotionally unavailable.”

“You have a go bag, Bucky.”

“…That’s standard protocol.”

“Your toothbrush is still in the packaging.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You’d won. Again.

“You’re gonna kiss me one day,” You said as you walked past him, pickle jar under one arm, flashlight in your other hand. “And when you do, I’m gonna be so smug you’ll try to throw yourself off the building.”

Bucky stood there in the hall, alone, heart doing its dumb little thudding thing. He hated you. He adored you. And he was never getting that toothbrush insult out of his head.

When the big moment happened, It wasn’t a big mission. It wasn’t even a real mission. It was just supposed to be recon.

And yet somehow, you were sitting on the floor of a dusty, abandoned warehouse with a concussion, holding a broken walkie-talkie like it personally betrayed you.

“Okay, but in my defense,” You slurred slightly, “I didn’t know the raccoon had a knife.”

Bucky stared at you, expression unreadable, as blood dripped slowly from your temple.

“You ran into an unmarked building alone, set off three alarms, fell through a skylight, and got jumped by wildlife.”

You held up a finger. “Armed wildlife.”

He ran a hand down his face.

“I swear to God, you are one poorly timed pun away from getting locked in a broom closet until the end of time.”

You blinked up at him. “Kinky.”

He turned away so fast you could almost hear his brain blue-screen. “Jesus Christ.”

But when he looked back at you: your lip bloodied, eyes dazed, hair full of insulation from where you’d crashed through the ceiling like a chaotic Christmas angel, something in his chest snapped.

You were always like this. Impossible. Endearing. Brilliant in the most horrifying ways. A human Wikipedia article with a death wish and a spark in your eyes that made him forget, just for a second, that the world was awful.

And that spark was flickering. Just a little. And he hated it.

“You can’t keep doing this,” He began, voice tight. “You can’t keep treating your life like it’s expendable.”

You blinked slowly. “That sounds fake. I’m clearly immortal.”

“I’m serious.” He crouched in front of you, fists clenched. “You run into every situation like you’re bulletproof, and you’re not. One day, I’m not gonna be there to drag your dumbass out of a flaming building or disarm a guy who has a bazooka made of forks or- or whatever the hell today was!”

“It was a raccoon with a grudge.”

“That’s not a thing!”

You stared at him in silence for a beat, then said, very softly, “You’re worried about me.”

He froze.

“I’m always worried about you,” He said, almost too quiet to hear. “You think I wake up every day wondering what country I’ll have to fly to because you thought jumping off a roof would ‘probably be fine’ if you landed in a bush?!”

You tilted your head. “It was a very fluffy bush.”

”I love you, you absolute menace!”

Silence. You blinked. Then he blinked. Somewhere in the warehouse, a raccoon chittered menacingly.

“…You love me?” You echoed, like he’d just said he wanted to marry a zucchini.

Bucky looked like he might actually combust. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like I love you. Which I do. But I was gonna do it after, like… dinner. Or when you weren’t bleeding.”

“Is this why you made me tea every time I electrocuted myself?”

“Yes!”

“And why you punched that guy who called me a liability?”

“Also yes!”

“And why you didn’t kill me when I installed motion sensors in the hallway and forgot to tell anyone?”

“I almost killed you.”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then: “Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded, still loopy but smiling now. “Okay. I love you too.”

He stared. “You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, why else would I let you eat the last cookie that one time? Or give Deborah full permission to follow you around and scan your emotional damage like a clingy Roomba?”

He laughed, just once, short and stunned.

You leaned forward and poked his chest with one finger. “Also, I have a very deep fondness for emotionally repressed war criminals. It’s kind of my thing.”

Bucky groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet. You’re in love with me.”

“I’m regretting it deeply.”

“No you’re not.” You smiled that crooked, chaotic smile that had ruined his life in the best way.

And despite everything, the dust, the blood, the deeply traumatized raccoon now watching you both from the shadows, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle. Just for a second. As if to say, Yes. You’re chaos incarnate. But you’re mine.

When he pulled back, it was silent for a moment. Both of you looking in each other’s eyes before you whispered, “Did you just kiss me in front of a knife raccoon?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, already regretting all his life choices. “God help me. I did.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #unhinged!reader #fluff #james buchanan barnes #earth’s mightiest headache

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banananutmuffin28 · 6 months ago

Note

can I request for Se-mi x fem reader where the reader is one of the pink triangle guards? Where she protects Se-mi and helped her get out of the game by betraying the other guards.

First ever ask!! Ofc ofc :D

Player Se-Mi x FEM! Guard Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Well…this became a lot longer than I anticipated! I hope you all enjoy!

Life has always been cruel to you.

And, you supposed you have been cruel back.

Your parents never cared about you, letting you wander the streets alone until you one day got lost.

You still remembered what happened, even though it transpired years ago.

It was dark out, and in the alleyway where you stood, not even the city lights could really dispel the darkness around you.

Of course, like any child your age you were scared. Your hands had trembled, your lips curled into a sob, hoping that maybe just this once, your parents finally cared enough to rescue you.

But, that never happened, now had it?

You never were a stupid child; you were intimately aware of what horrors could unfold in this world -but you had never really, truly seen it happen firsthand.

Of course, that changed.

There was a clatter of metal against the dirtied cement, a scream, and then before you knew it you were face to face with a sad sod of a man.

Though you barely remembered his words, you would always recall his hands-large and meaty-sinking deep into your delicate shoulders as he shook you with the desperation only a man in his final seconds of life could conjure. He was begging you to...save him, but from what you still hadn't known.

But before you could move, scream, or do anything of the sort, you heard a bang. Skin and flesh alike flew from his forehead, and his eyes rolled back to his skull as he suddenly slumped before you, coating your body with his blood.

And then, the man's limp body was pulled back, and as you cowered there in the dirt, you finally saw the face of the killer.

As he would later admit, he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

The man readied his gun...but couldn't bring himself to shoot a child.

And so, instead, he gently ushered you to a black van parked by the side of the road, tied a blindfold over your eyes, and took you to the games.

He pleaded and begged the Front Man to let a child stay with him, arguing that you had no one left. And, in a way, you supposed that was true.

Eventually, the Front Man had agreed, and you would spend your formative years living with the man who saved you.

It was...certainly a sight to behold, watching a child roam the halls that, just hours ago, were soaked in blood.

And, when you were of age, you were granted a mask and an outfit. It was a triangle mask, just like the one of the man who saved you.

In another life, perhaps you would’ve been happy, ridding the world of the trash with you and the man who had saved you.

But again, life struck, and this time it took away him too.

Apparently, he had spared a contestant he was meant to kill.

And, just like that, it was as if your world had crumbled all over again. At first, you were in denial. That man, whom you had grown to love as a father, was a ruthless killer. Surely they had misunderstood the situation? Surely, it was only a matter of time before he would've killed the player?

But, you soon learned that life had no time for your pondering. You would have to move on forward.

Your loss had...changed you. Soon, you would be known as one of the coldest of killers. You would spare no one, and relished in the panicked screams of the players.

After all, these vermin weren't human, right? And, those worms were what took your adoptive father away from you.

Not once did you ever question this sentiment. Sure, sometimes you felt fleeting sympathy, but that had never been enough to stop you from pulling the trigger.

You were a robot. You were ruthless.

But then, you met her.

The first time you two had locked eyes was outside of the games.

You were in a convenience store, buying some snacks and a drink for yourself. Hell, you were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't even realized it was your turn to pay until she cleared her throat.

"Hey, are you gonna pay or are you content with keeping your head above the clouds?"

Her voice was...soothing. It wasn't gentle by any means, but something about it stirred something in your heart.

You scrambled back, nearly knocking over the bag of makeup items behind you.

You turned to her, cheeks flushed, trying to regain some ounce of dignity, but it was to no avail. People never talked like that to you anymore; they were either too fearful or simply thought you weren't worth their time.

She tilted her head, lips curling into a grin as she leaned onto the table.

"So...are you going to pay or what?"

You only nodded, too fearful that if you spoke you would sound like a diseased frog. Without even looking back, you slammed the necessary payment onto the counter and hurried out the door.

The girl was only wearing a standard employee uniform.

So how did she look so damn pretty?

Despite that lackluster first meet, though, you had always come back. When you had entered the shop the next day, her eyebrows had furrowed in surprise and a grin danced across her lips.

She set aside the plastic cup she was holding and made her way to the register.

“I hope you don’t run off staring at clouds again,” She drawled, running a hand along the buttons of the register. “What can I get for you today, beautiful?”

How your ice cold heart didn’t explode at that very second was beyond you.

The days passed into weeks and soon, you found yourself visiting the store—her—every other day.

Eventually, you learned her name to be Se-Mi.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi.

Her name dripped from your lips like the smoothest of honey.

You loved her piercings, her posture, and that damned smirk she always had.

She was so kind to you. You savored the quiet nights you'd spend with her out in the park, and whispered her name into your pillow before you slept.

Se-Mi had big, big dreams. Dreams of becoming a rockstar. Dreams of becoming a mechanic. Dreams of surviving this cruel world and making it out on top.

But, despite it all, you always kept her at an arm's length apart. After all, it was almost time for the games to begin. Soon, you would have to leave her to kill once again.

So, on the night before the first game would start, you left her a note on the convenience table where you two first met. You wrote of how you had to go, for your work was grueling and demanding, and you couldn't have her be caught in the crossfire.

You apologized for not meeting in person.

You never said goodbye. You couldn't. She needed to think of you as merely a fleeting presence, lest she catches feelings and finds out you're a killer.

You had planned on shooting your sorrows away.

So, imagine your surprise when you saw her wake up in the games.

Her? No, no, no, she couldn't be one of those disgusting vermin that plagued the streets. Se-Mi was so kind, so brave and headstrong.

She wasn't exactly well-off, but she couldn't have been struggling that much!

Surely, this was a mistake!

But, when you ran to the Front Man and asked him, he simply pulled out her file and handed it to you.

It was not a mistake. In fact, SeMi was drowning in debt.

"I trust this won't be a problem to you?" He asked, leaning back into his plush chair as he swirled the liquor in his cup.

You swallowed.

"Of course not, sir."

The Front Man stood still for a moment, then sighed.

“If you were anyone else, I would shoot you because clearly, this is a conflict of interest and we need to keep these games fair,” He finally said at last, shaking his head. “But…you have more than proved yourself to be loyal to us, to me. I trust you won’t abuse it?”

Your heart stopped when you felt his icy eyes on you. When you nodded, he smiled.

“Good, good. After all, I would hate to see you befall the same fate as 097.”

The Front Man motioned for you to leave.

“Do not fail me. 098.”

—

As you left the room, you could feel your heart racing. All of a sudden, it was so much harder to breathe, to walk.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced in your mind, though one drowned out the rest.

You wouldn't be kind to her. Your brief time with her meant nothing; after all, she wasn't human.

Right?

When you stepped into the area of the First Game, you could barely keep yourself upright. Your hands trembled, immediately flying to your face to make sure that your mask was still on. Your legs nearly buckled when you watched as Se-Mi enter the Red Light Green Light

The gun felt ten times heavier in your hands.

During the duration of the game, you would not shoot her.

Of course, you tried to tell yourself that you weren't giving her special treatment!

Everyone trembled in the games; if you shot everyone who shook slightly there would be no one left to inherit the prize! You were still impassive, it was still equal.

You didn't care about her. You never had.

But...like most lies people tell themselves, it came apart in the quiet of the night. Your fear for her echoed in every beat of your heart, in every gasping breath you took. You saw her lifeless body in the shadows, watched as bullets tore themselves into her skin and blood ran down her wounds.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi. You couldn't let her die.

When the second game commenced, you could hardly suppress your nervousness as you watched her play Flying Stone.

It was a difficult game, after all.

And oh, when she passed through the finish line, you couldn't help but throw your hands in the air-much to the chagrin of your co-guards.

They stared at you questioningly, causing terror to sift in your heart.

During the third game, your eyes had met.

It was only for a split second, but feeling her gaze on you made you feel so...exposed.

Your cheeks grew hot and your hands felt slippery.

You loathed how she looked at you, like you were some sort of monster.

Though, you supposed she wasn't quite wrong.

When you watched as Player 230 and his lackey dragged another man away, leaving Se-Mi alone, it felt as if your heart was breaking. It took every willpower in your body not to shoot them on the spot for doing such a thing.

Though, that willpower still wasn't enough for you not to intervene in some way.

After making sure none of the guards were watching, you waved at her in the shadows. When her attention turned to you, you acted. Frantically, you pointed towards a trembling duo in the far right corner of the carousel.

The clock read ten seconds. If Se-Mi rushed, she could make it in time.

And, she did.

As you watched the door clamp shut behind her, a whirlwind of emotions appeared in your gut. What you just did couldn’t be chalked up to strictly following the rules.

You had helped her. You had tilted the odds to your favor by alerting her to safety. You had done the very thing the Front Man had warned you not to do.

So, why was it that you could barely summon any regret?

After Mingle had ended, you turned to leave, but stopped when you noticed Se-Mi trailing after you. Her arms were crossed together, and she chewed her bottom lip.

And then, she gave you the tiniest of nods.

Thank you, she mouthed.

You felt like your heart was exploding all over again.

For a brief moment, you thought that what you were doing was enough. You could oversee the games, and remain relatively impassive until Se-Mi was in danger, in which you could then give her a gentle nudge.

But then you remembered the next game.

The Special Game.

This time, instead of automated machinery, it was forks and fists. Instead of children’s games, it was pure, human violence. Instead of the threat of a bullet piercing through their skull, the only thing that would keep them going was their raw, unbridled rage for wanting to survive. Revenge would be enacted, and rivalries settled.

You couldn’t leave Se-Mi alone. There were too many unknown variables. Se-Mi never held back her tongue—it was one of the things you loved about her, in fact—but tonight it might also be what kills her.

Again, that terrible image of Se-Mi’s bloodied corpse popped into your mind. If she died, it would be all your fault because you let it happen.

Fear flooded your veins.

You won’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose someone else in this damned world. You couldn’t lose her.

That night, as the lights dimmed and the last of players were ushered from the bloodied bathrooms, you stared at the camera glued to the ceiling of your room. You knew someone was watching you on the other side, waiting.

Instinctively, you draped a blanket over your hands.

You couldn’t let them see how much they trembled.

Before you had meant Se-Mi, you never really cared about the camera in your walls. Sure, the lack of privacy was annoying, but in your mind, it also served as evidence to the higher ups that you were completely and utterly loyal to them.

In a way, they had saved you, after all.

But now?

The way the camera was angled—tilted so that it could observe every inch of your room—made your skin crawl.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the air was being choked out of your lungs. Obsessively, you grabbed your mask and held it up your face.

If you ran into the room and protected Se-Mi, you wouldn’t get another chance. The entire organization would be after you—he would be after you.

Were you really willing to betray everything you’ve known for a girl you’ve only known for months?

But then, you remembered the time you spent with her. You remember those starry nights, those quiet evenings, and those chaotic days that had you sweating with a stupid grin on your face.

Se-Mi made you feel alive. With her, you were no longer a robot, but a person, free laugh and giggle whenever you’d want without fear of losing face or risking a punishment.

It was then that intercom rang, its cheery tone a stark contrast to the indecision and uncertainty that broiled in your gut.

“Soldiers, please get ready,” It sang.

You let out a sigh and stood up, eyes trained to camera, to the Front Man.

Your decision was made.

—

The stomps of the other guards echoed across the corridors. You stood motionless, a gun in hand, as you pressed your hands against the cold concrete walls hiding you.

Soon, they would realize your absence and a search would be dispatched. But, for now, you were invisible.

Quietly, you slinked to a shadowy corner of the room. When you heard footsteps approaching, you ducked down and readied your gun.

Within moments, you saw the growing shadow of the manager. You crouched down, waiting for him to turn, then—

Without giving your doubt any time to fester, you leaped out of the shadows and pressed the gun to his head. Before he could shout, you shoved him against a wall and pulled out the pistol from his hoister.

“Move, and you die,” You snarl.

You watched as the man stammered, recognizing the tell-tale sign of fear alighting in his eyes through the mask.

“Y-you! What are you—“

You clamped his mouth shut.

“Shut up and take me to the players.”

The man trembled in your hands and a choked gasp escaped his lips. But, with another nudge of your gun, you got him to move.

When he started marching to the double decked doors, you smacked his back.

“Not there,” You whisper, grabbing his collar. “Take me through the tunnels.”

The man stiffened. His lips twisted into a question, then froze.

He nodded, and began walking the opposite direction.

From your adolescent years spent in the games, you had picked up upon your share of rumors. You heard of soldiers purposefully missing to harvest the organs of the eliminated, and you heard that there was a secret escape hatch hidden somewhere among the concrete walls.

But, what had drawn your attention the most, was the rumor that there was another way to enter the main lobby where the players slept.

A young, curious you had traversed through the halls and found that very corridor, though you soon realized that only a manager’s mask could open the door.

Now, an older and more jaded you stood in front of the same very doors, caressing the steel barrier with a new sense of urgency.

You had to move. Fast.

Already, you were hearing the beginnings of a brawl: A thump here, a curse there.

If you wanted any chance of saving Se-Mi, you had to act now.

Quickly, you shoved the man in front of the motion sensors and gestured for him to gaze into the center. It whirred softly, and then—

“Identity confirmed. Access granted.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you knocked the manager out, and then ran into the tunnels. It was dimly lit, but you didn’t care.

The screams of fighting and flesh tearing bounced across the walls. At another time, you wouldn’t have cared, but right now, the sound terrified you to the bone

Soon, you saw a regular wooden door and immediately twisted the doorknob.

Immediately, you were met with the sight of utter brutality. Corpses littered the floors and blood soaked the survivors. Some screamed at the sight of you while others fell back, eyes trained on the gun in your hands.

“Where’s Se-“ You cut yourself off with a cough. “Where's Player 380?”

The woman closest to you fell to the floor.

“Do…do you mean Se-Mi?”

Before you could respond, you sensed footsteps approaching behind you. Without skipping a beat, you turned and coldly shot the two men creeping behind you.

They fell to the floor with a thud.

Then, you turned back and nodded.

The woman stared at you, more frazzled than ever. Instinctively, she stepped back.

“I…she should be over there,” She murmured, pointing to a corned of the room.

You nodded.

“Thank you.”

As you ran, you tried to ignore the surprised shouts and gasps from the other players. Most fell back when you aimed your gun at them, but some looked at you curiously.

You glanced back at the double doors, and cursed.

The cameras had no doubt exposed your location to the others. Already, guards were pouring in, guns at the ready.

You were running on borrowed time.

You rounded a corner and stayed near the shadows. Then, you heard a piercing scream that belonged to Se-Mi.

Gasping, you bolted towards the voice. There, you saw a man shoving her against the wall, sinking something into her neck.

You didn’t stop to think about it. You shot him in an instant.

Se-Mi fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Blood was still flowing freely from the glass shard that lay pierced in her jugular.

Fuck, you would have to take care of that later.

You looked back. The gunshot had alerted the other guards, who were now running to you, screaming.

Running in raw adrenaline, you hoisted an injured Se-Mi into your arms and zig zagged across the pillars holding the bunk beds. Bullets flew by you and one grazed your shoulder.

You bit your lip, but didn’t make a noise.

“What are you doing?” Se-Mi demanded, fear lacing the edges of your tone. Her arms wrapped around your neck, angling her head in a way that rested against your shoulders.

You stiffened.

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

The second you whispered the words, you saw recognition flash in her eyes.

The beginning of your name was being murmured from Se-Mi, almost questionably, but the sound of footsteps approaching.

Cursing, you hid behind a pillar, and when their attention was drawn elsewhere you dashed to the corridor from where you entered.

The two of you were still breathing heavily when you set her down in the middle of the tunnel. You had locked the door, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you and broke in.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “A…are you hurt anywhere, Se-Mi?”

She stood there for a moment, rubbing her hands together. Her lip piercing glinted in the dull light, and for a few seconds you were enchanted by her. Blood clung onto her tracker, and you knew she hadn’t showered in days, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

And then, she laughed.

Startled, you stepped back.

“Am I hurt?” She wheezed, and you immediately cringed at your question. “Of course I’m fucking hurt. I have this bitch of a wound on my jugular and I’m covered with cuts. Everything hurts like hell!”

Despite yourself, a blush raged on your cheeks.

“I-I, okay, that was a stupid question-“

“Terrible, even,” She chimed in, the faintest of smirks curling at the edges of her lips.

You nodded, “Yes, terrible and dumb but-“

You gestured towards her legs. “Are there any that would hinder you from running?”

Se-Mi frowned.

“No, not really.”

You blew out a breath.

“Good, because if we want to escape this place we need to be able to move. Fast.”

Gently, you helped pry the shard from her neck. It had stopped bleeding now, but it wouldn’t take much to reopen the wound.

“We have to get going, now,” You muttered, and started marching towards the other end of the hall.

“Wait,” Se-Mi hissed, tugging you back. Her voice was softer now, but still held conviction. “Aren’t you going to…explain yourself?”

You stopped, dread pooling in your gut.

When you turned to look at her, you couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I…fuck,” You glanced at the door, fearful that it would break open at any moment. “Se-Mi, we should do this later.”

You swallowed.

“I promise that when we get out of here, I’ll come clean and explain everything. But, right now we need to hurry and run while they still can’t find us.”

Se-Mi stepped closer. She laced your fingers together and flicked your mask.

“Can you still take this off,” She murmured, tugging you closer. “I want to see you. Not some…pink clown trying to cosplay the Nintendo loading screen.”

You let out a snort. “Pink clowns? I’m rather offended.”

Se-Mi smiled coyly. “Don’t spit on your luck, honey, that was my nicest of comparisons. And besides.”

She paused, her face growing softer. “I want to see you. I…I missed your face.”

That blush on your cheeks was now a raging inferno.

But, before you could reply, she added quickly, “Getting that letter really hurt my feelings, you know? I need to see your face again to make it easier for me to imagine giving you a nice, clean punch after all you did.”

You bowed your head. Despite the mirth, you could sense genuine pain hiding underneath. You knew you had a lot to make up for.

“I…understand.”

Tenderly, you unclasped your mask. Then, you slid down the jet black face covering, revealing your face to her.

Se-Mi gasped softly.

“It really is you,” She whispered.

Se-Mi cupped your face carefully, as if she was worried you were merely an illusion in her mind. You leaned into her touch, humming.

And then you felt soft lips on your own.

A gasp left your lips at the sudden contact, but then she kissed you again and suddenly all your thoughts vanished.

Roughly, she pinned you against the wall and laced your fingers with hers. The noise that left your lips was embarrassing.

When she finally pulled away, you were gasping for air. Your cheeks were blazing, and you were sure even the tips of your ears and neck were tinted with pink.

Se-Mi smirked at you, and pulled you by the collar. Just then, you heard pounding on the walls.

“You sure have a lot to make up for me once we’re safe,” She cooed. “Put your mask back on and lead the way, beautiful.”

You nodded dumbly, and started running.

A/N: Oh my God. I still can’t believe this ask grew so much, haha! If you guys want a part 2, please do not hesitate to let me know! I hope you liked it!

#squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game season 2 #Se-Mi x reader #My fics #Se Mi x reader #player 380 x reader #Ask Answered

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themuseofaphrodite · 6 months ago

Text

know that you and i shouldn’t feel like a crime ✧ OP81

summary: after viewing a series of viral tiktoks, you decide to partake in the “hear me out” cake trend with your very wary boyfriend.

trigger warnings: suggestive & mature content, swearing

word count: 1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

One of your most surprising qualities was that you were a TikTok fiend, especially since you were usually down to earth and didn’t use your phone much in public — but for good reason. Your “For You” page was filled with some of the weirdest, wackiest things: dangerous extreme sport challenges, odd filters used on pets for a quick laugh… the list could go on. Each video was a perfect way to destroy your reputation as the effortlessly suave McLaren princess.

You slouched on the creaky recliner next to Oscar Piastri, your boyfriend of almost three years, and sighed loudly, garnering his attention immediately. He was perfectly attuned to your every movement and breath, which was why you liked him so much. Nothing was worse than a nonchalant man, and Oscar was anything but that.

“Hm, darling? Everything OK?” Oscar looked up at you from where he was sitting, pausing the television with a careless flick of his hand. “It’s getting late, maybe you’re tired? You did have a long day.”

You shrugged one shoulder, feigning coolness. “No, I’m fine, I’m not tired. I just have an idea.”

Oscar raised one eyebrow, already on alert. That last sentence always warned him that something was afoot, and nine times out of ten, it was never anything good. “Oh, no. What now?”

“There’s a trend going around” — this made Oscar visibly tense, a vein in his neck going taut as he waited for you to continue. He disliked the viral pranks and never laughed at any of them, to your dismay — “and I was hoping you’d be willing to participate in one of them with me?” You batted your eyelashes, giving him puppy dog eyes, a trick you knew he couldn’t resist.

“If my mates find out about this,” he warned you, waving a finger menacingly at you like a stereotypical villain. “No posting this like you did last time.” You stifled a laugh at the thought of the last prank you engaged in, and the way it had broken the Internet when you posted it on social media. Oscar had not forgiven you, and it had been almost a year.

You shook your head solemnly, extending your pinky finger out to him so he would interlock his own in an unspoken vow. “I promise you I won’t post it.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips, obviously remembering the media disaster that had unfolded last time. McLaren had not been happy with him in the slightest, to say the least. He was still making it up to them even now. “What’s the trend?”

You edged yourself closer to him, tilting your chin conspiratorially and speaking in a low whisper. “Hear me out.”

Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed, clueless. He scrolled through TikTok very rarely, mainly preferring to stick to television, and sometimes Instagram reels, so he had no idea what you were talking about. “Pardon?”

“So, basically,” you explained, your voice bright with mischief, “you have to think of a few characters, or people, that you think are attractive, although others might disagree with you. For example, hear me out,” you started, a moment’s pause between your response. “Bumblebee from Transformers.”

Oscar’s jaw dropped as the name clicked. “The robot? You want to tell me that you find a machine attractive?”

“He’s protective and sweet, and has really good music taste,” you defended, pouting.

“Goddamn, Y/N, starting off strong.” Oscar hummed under his breath, thinking. “Hear me out, Megan Fox but in Jennifer’s Body.”

You groaned loudly, annoyed. “That’s not a ‘hear me out’. Everyone agrees that Megan Fox in that film was beautiful. It has to be something unhinged, like, hear me out” — you clucked your tongue, pondering over the various choices floating around in your mind — “the Goldfish cracker on the front of the bag.”

Oscar made a distinct choking noise, his face flushing red. “An animal? God, Y/N. I should report you to the police so they can put you behind bars.”

You swatted him on the shoulder, barely missing him since his reflexes were superhuman. “Try again, Osc. Really shock me with this next one, please.”

“Hear me out…Belle from Beauty and the Beast.” Oscar waited for your approval, and you sighed, throwing your hands up in the air in surrender. “What? How was that not good? She’s a cartoon!”

“Everyone loves Belle! She’s fierce, intelligent, and stunning. All qualities that are conventionally attractive!” You shook your head. “Come on. Hear me out, a string bass.”

Oscar’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “What the — Please tell me you’re joking, love. There’s no way you could find an instrument attractive.”

“A bass is tall, deep-pitched, and mysterious. Just what I like in a man.” You beamed up at him. “OK, Oscar. Don’t disappoint me.”

He side-eyed you, tapping his fingers on his lap as he thought. “I have one.” You watched him with bated breath, hoping that he would finally catch on. “Hear me out, Sydney Sweeney, in general.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I give up, Oscar. I should’ve known that this wouldn’t have worked. Lando would be so much better to do this with… Let me ask him if he’s free.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, pulling you onto his lap before you could escape, and giving you a quick peck to your lips. “Sorry, darling. Better luck next time?”

You huffed. “Whatever, Oscar. I forgot you were an inadequate, basic white boy.”

Oscar nudged his nose against your jaw, whispering in a husky, deep voice. “Hear me out, my girlfriend, Y/N L/N. She might be batshit crazy sometimes, but she’s absolutely breathtaking. When she’s underneath me, begging for my cock like a good girl? It’s a fucking work of art.”

You suppressed a shiver, looping your arm and burying yourself against him, arousal dancing under your skin. “Fuck, OK. You win.”

He kissed you again, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Oh, I know. I always do. Future world champion, remember?”

“Arrogant prick,” you muttered, but your curses were swallowed up by a new wave of kisses Oscar pressed against your lips.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

#the muse of aphrodite fics #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one #f1 fic #oscar piastri #op81 #op81 mcl #op81 x reader

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gor3sigil · 10 months ago

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I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

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perhats · 9 months ago

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I fucking love the adeptus mechanicus

As someone who has worked with machines, computers, robots ect, I too believe that each machine has a soul and needs to be worshipped in their own special way. Some want blood sacrifices, others just need a good smack. They all have things in common, turn it off and back on again, but they are all unique. Ask any IT worker, they'll probably agree.

And the way the mechanicum just embodies the humanity of the machine, while spacemarines symbolize the inhumanity of humans, is so nice to me

Theyre soo cool

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #adeptus mechanicus #space marines

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venusianelf · 7 months ago

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Bunny and Her Ghosts

Pairing: Billy Loomis x F! Reader x Stu Macher

Genre: Smut

Summary: Your darkest, most secret desires come true, when you wake up to two masked killers standing over you at an otherwise boring party.

Warnings: Dark Fic, Corruption/Innocence Kink, Dumbification Kink, Knifeplay, Unprotected Sex (Use protection irl please), Blood Kink, Mask Kink, Uses of Daddy and Sir, Weed and Alcohol Consumption, Predator/Prey Kink, Dacryphilia, Double Penetration (PiV & Anal), Mentions of death (Of Sidney, Gale, Others Implied, No Major Character Death), Overstimulation, Biting, Humiliation, Praise and Light Degradation, Tummy Bulge, Creampie, Choking, Reader is about as mentally and morally fucked up as Billy and Stu, Billy and Stu are an established couple

Word Count: ~5,300

A/N: Apparently I’m in a writing mood lol, also this is my longest fic I’ve written in one sitting now, fellow ghostface fuckers enjoy :)

!!By clicking read more you are agreeing you are 18+!!

You weren’t sure how your friends managed to convince you to come to this party. Well you did technically, offering free booze and weed while watching horror movies? Count you in. You weren’t anticipating this many people to be here though. You covered yourself a little tighter with your jacket as you tried to focus on the horror movie on screen and Randy’s ramblings about horror movies rules, instead of the crowd of people that seemed to be throughout the house. Taking a sip of your beer, you cringed at the taste. Whoever had bought the beer had obviously opted for the cheapest option, but whatever, as long as it took the edge off your social anxiety.

You sighed in relief as most of the crowd rushed out of the house at the announcement of a body at the school. You wondered vaguely where Tatum had gone, it had been a bit since she’d left the room. Honestly, you were too high and tipsy to really think about it too long though. You glanced at Randy, who was the only one left on the couch with you, he seemed more out of it than you, which surprised you but not by much. You stood up for a moment and stretched, since you’d been on the couch for a while. “Hey, where are you going?” Randy slurred as you headed out of the room. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” You replied, careful not to say you’d be right back after his lecture about it earlier. He nodded in response and you headed upstairs to use Stu’s bathroom, you hoped he wouldn’t mind, you two were fairly close friends after all, and you weren’t very keen on using the bathroom downstairs that all the drunk party goers had been using all night.

After using the bathroom, you looked in the mirror as you touched up your makeup. Brushing some smudged eyeliner away, you heard a muffled scream from downstairs. You paused for a second but brushed it off as someone probably getting jumpscared from the scary movie playing downstairs. You sighed as you thought about your friends, you loved them yeah, but they got on your nerves sometimes. Like how they had invited you to this party with so many people, knowing how much you hated big crowds. In your hazy state, as you exited the bathroom, you glanced at Stu’s bed and decided that maybe laying down for a minute would help you decompress a little. Climbing onto the bed, you curled up on your side and let yourself relax for a moment.

Hearing voices nearby, you stirred from your accidental nap. “Look, she’s waking up,” you vaguely heard as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. The voice didn’t sound familiar, oddly more deep and robotic than any of your friends. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” A similar but not the same voice said as you blinked your eyes open. “Huh?” You replied as you realized you were looking at two people wearing the costume Sidney had described the killer wearing. You tilted your head at that, you were pretty sure it was just your friend group left in the house, and you didn’t think they’d made such a tasteless joke with Sidney around. Though you couldn’t deny the almost unperceivable shiver that ran through you from their masks. “Guys, you might want to make sure Sidney doesn’t see that, she’d freak,” You said as you moved to prop yourself to sit up on the bed. “Sidney, Sidney, doesn’t matter what the whore would think anymore,” One of the two said as confusion crossed your face. “Aw look at that, she doesn’t even realize her friends bodies are laying downstairs,” The other voice teased, and you felt even more confused until you realized the small dots on the face on the masks were red.

Blood, you realized, is what was covering them. As it dawned on you, you scrambled back on the bed until your back hit the bed frame. “Now she gets it,” The first voice chuckled as the second ghostface moved towards the bed, catching one of your ankles in their gloved hand and yanking you further down the bed towards him. You squeaked out in surprise as the ghostface above you chuckled at your reaction. “You’re the one in my bed, little girl, don’t act so surprised,” He teased at your shocked expression. It took you a moment to process, but you realized he had said you were in his bed, meaning the killer above you was- “Stu?” You asked as he chuckled and with his free hand not on your ankle ripped the mask off. “The one and only babydoll,” He said with a chuckle and eyebrow wiggle. Your gaze flickered between Stu and the other ghostface as he came closer to you to join Stu.

“You didn’t need to reveal yourself to her, dumbass,” The still masked ghostface criticized to Stu. Stu rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah, but did you see the look of shock on her face? Worth it,” He explained, and you felt your tummy flutter at the way the two of them talked about you like you weren’t right in front of them. The still masked ghostface studied you before sighing. “C’mon we need to just kill her,” He said as Stu made a boo’ing noise. Your eyes widened at the masked ghostface’s words as the gravity of the situation dawned on you. “And waste the chance of such a pretty thing in my bed?” He whined as the ghostface groaned in annoyance. “Really?” He asked, exasperated, as your gaze flew back to Stu from his previous words. As much as the situation was fucked up, you still felt your cheeks warm at hearing one of your closest friends insinuating he wanted more than just friendship with you. You had always thought him and your friend Billy were hot, but they were both taken.

The gentle massaging from Stu on the ankle brought you back to reality as you realized Stu was looking at you with an expectant and hungry gaze. “She wasn’t even paying attention,” The ghostface commented as your gaze flickered to his mask. “I- ‘M sorry,” You stuttered out in apology, your submissive scared demeanor causing the ghostface to cuss under his breath. “He said, you’ll be good for us if we give you a chance to earn your life, right?” The ghostface reiterated and you nodded rapidly. While yes, you were willing to do whatever you could to save your life, you also couldn’t deny the growing need in your tummy from the situation. “Use your words, pretty girl,” Stu said as you looked up at him with your doe eyes. “Yes, I’ll be good for you two,” You rushed out as you watched Stu’s eyes darken at your eagerness and heard the ghostface groan.

You watched as Stu reached forward with his free hand and caressed your cheek, smudging some blood along your face. You leaned into his touch as your eyes fluttered shut before feeling something cold and sharp trace along your collar bone. Snapping your eyes open, you looked down to see the ghostface tracing a knife along your skin. The sharp blade so close to your neck sent a shiver of fear and also arousal through you as you gasped at the sensation. “Fuck, she’s into it,” The ghostface muttered, seeming fascinated by your reaction as Stu giggled gleefully. “I told you she was perfect, man,” Stu giggled, and you briefly wondered when him and the other killer had talked about you before. “There’s still time to for you to be wrong,” The ghostface said as he trailed the knife down to your tank top and cut the strap of it. You looked between the two of them, and Stu smiled at you gleefully and darkly, while the ghostface seemed focused on moving to cut the other strap of your tank top.

As the fabric gave away when he cut it, your top fell a little, giving them a better look at your cleavage. You heard Stu wolf whistle as the ghostface sucked in a breath. The two of them leaned back to look over you, Stu left his hand encircled on your ankle to keep you from running away. “Do you want to play this the safe way or the fun way, bunny?” The ghostface asked as you tilted your head at his question. “W-What’s the fun way?” You asked curiously as you watched Stu try to contain his excitement, the ghostface tilt his head slightly. “You run, we catch you, if you try to actually escape we’ll kill you, but if you play along as our prey,” He paused as you watched his head tilt as he checked you out, “Then we’ll give you the most memorable night of your life, and maybe let you live afterward.” Your eyes gleamed in excitement at the idea, you couldn’t deny the thrill building in you at the idea of your darkest, most private fantasizes coming true.

“The fun way,” You decided as you watched Stu smile widely at your answer. You watched as the ghostface leaned close to you as he dragged the tip of his knife under your chin to tilt your head up towards him, “Then get running.” You felt Stu’s grip leave your ankle as vaguely registered him slipping his mask back on. You quickly leaped off the bed and ran out the door frame before pausing and looking back at them as one of them waved his knife at you, almost like a wave. Turning back around, you dashed off into the house. Looking down the stairs, you suddenly recognized the bodies of your friends and even that one reporter chick lying in cold blood on the floor. You gasped but moved towards one of the other rooms upstairs, the fear from knowing they were serious about being killers only heightening your sick excitement.

“Ready or not, here we come,” You heard one of them call out as you held your hand against your mouth, muffling your breathing as you hid in a wardrobe you found in one of the bedrooms. You listened as you heard the two distinct set of footsteps wander around the house. “I hope I find her first,” You heard one giggle through the modulator, which you figured was probably Stu. “Shut up and find her then,” The other replied, which you could make out more clearly due to his closer proximity. Hearing the doorknob of the room you are in twist open as the footsteps got closer to you, you decided to hold your breath as you heard him searching for you. His knife you recognized was tapping along various surfaces in the room as he searched. “You in here bunny?” He called out as you bit back your excited giggle. Apparently not well enough when you heard his steps pause as if he was listening for you.

You gasped behind your hand when the door to the wardrobe flung open, “Well, well, look what we have here.” Your eyes widened at being caught before you quickly squeezed past him to run from him. You squeaked when his arm came out across your chest and pulled your back into his chest. “Nuh uh, you’re mine now, bunny. I caught you fair and square,” He chuckled at your labored and excited breathing as you struggled against him weakly. His knife moving to trace your neck and chest again as you gasped, your head falling backwards against his chest as your eyes shut. “Little bunny likes getting hunted, huh?” He asked as condescendedly laughed at your reaction. “Uh huh,” You replied, attempting to catch your breath, to which he tsk’d at. “You know better, use your words,” He chastised, to which you nodded submissively in response to. “Yes sir,” You gasped as his knife nicked your collar bone lightly. He groaned in response before shoving you on the bed in the room. You looked up at him in surprise from his actions as he tilted his head while looking at you. “Take off your top,” He said, gesturing to it with his knife. You quickly complied, tearing your top off as he groaned appreciatively at the revelation you weren’t wearing a bra.

Seeing your bare skin and tits, he climbed onto the bed and on top of you. You held your breath in anticipation before he took your chin in the grasp of his free hand, smudging some of the blood on his hands onto your skin. “Open that pretty mouth, bunny,” He demanded, and you opened your mouth compliantly in response. You could almost sense his smirk under the mask before you felt the cold and metallic taste of his knife on your tongue. “Clean it up,” He ordered as you began licking it, the coppery taste blooming on your tongue before you realized it was still covered in the blood of your dead friends downstairs. You moaned at the realization, the sick pleasure spreading throughout you as you cleaned off the knife. You could hear his breathing pickup as he realized you were also getting off on it. “What a naughty little bunny you are, getting off on the blood of your dead friends,” He chuckled as you blushed from him calling you out. He pressed the tip of the blade down on your tongue just enough for you to feel the sharpness but not enough to cut you. You squirmed under him at the sensation but tried to stay still enough so you wouldn’t accidentally nick yourself.

He shook his head in disbelief before pulling the knife out of your mouth and trailing it down your neck to your chest. “Man! Where is she?” You heard Stu call out as you giggled under the ghostface on top of you. Hearing your giggle, Stu came to the room the two of you were in before gasping. “Unfair! You found her first?” He whined, but you could tell through his mask that his gaze was excitedly trained on the position the two of you were in. “Shut up,” The ghostface on top of you groaned, but his tone conveyed more playful annoyance than real frustration. Stu walked over to the two of you before circling to the other side of the bed and stood behind where your head laid on the bed. “Now the fun starts,” Stu giggled as the ghostface on top of you moved his knife to gesture at Stu. “The fun has already started,” He replied, before Stu shrugged. “You know what I mean man,” He responded to which you giggled underneath the ghostface on top of you at their bickering.

The ghostface on top of you snapped his gaze down to you at the giggling. “Enjoying the show, bunny?” He asked which you nodded in reply. “Well it’s about to get a whole lot better!” Stu exclaimed, to which the ghostface on top of you glanced at Stu before looking back down at you. “Let’s see how you like the reveal,” He chuckled before reaching up and ripping off his mask. You gasped as you realized your second hunter had been Billy. Thinking about it a little harder, you realized that would make sense from what you picked up on so far, but you couldn’t help but feel your panties get wetter at the realization. “Billy?” You asked with wide eyes as his dark gaze trained on you. “Yep,” He replied, you saw out of the corner of your eye Stu taking his mask off too. You blushed from realizing just much your most secret fantasizes were coming true. Billy raised an eyebrow at your reaction before glancing up at Stu. “Guess you were right about her attraction to us,” He commented, and Stu giggled. “Yeah dude, I have eyes, so it was fucking obvious,” He replied, to which Billy glared at Stu for. You felt yourself blush harder at Stu saying you were obvious about your attraction to them.

Billy glanced down at you before chuckling. “No need to be shy about it, bunny,” He said as he began tracing circles around one of your nipples. You gasped and arched up into the sensation. “Look at that man, she’s a fucking freak,” Stu giggled excitedly at your reaction. Embarrassment flooded you at Stu’s words as you shut your eyes. “Nuh uh, Look at me,” Billy chastised as his knife moved to tap on your cheek. You opened your eyes and fought to keep them on Billy. “That’s a good girl,” He praised as you felt yourself melt from his words. Seeing your reaction, Billy tossed the knife beside you two before grasping your chin harshly and pulling you into a rough kiss. You gasped in surprise at his sudden and harsh kiss, which he took as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Which quickly turned you into a squirming, flustered mess. When he pulled back, a string of spit connected you for a moment before, it broke, which Stu groaned at. “Man, I’m tired of waiting,” Stu whined, which Billy seemed to contemplate for a moment before nodding.

“You’re right, we’ve waited long enough,” He replied before looking down at your skirt, he quickly found the zipper to it before tossing your skirt off of you. You could vaguely see out of the corner of your vision Stu messing with his own clothes as Billy picked the knife back up from beside you and quickly cut the sides of your panties before tossing the scrap of cloth somewhere else in the room. You gasped at the sudden move and moved to close your thighs, but Billy stopped you with his free hand moving to your inner thigh. Billy hummed appreciatively at the view. “Damn, you should see how wet she is,” Billy groaned as Stu giggled. “You wet for the two of us, princess?” Stu asked rhetorically, but you nodded enthusiastically anyway. Billy raised his eyebrow at you, reminding you of his preference for you to use your words. “Y-Yes daddy, I am,” You replied in response to Stu, which made him groan at your choice of words. “Fuck,” He swore under his breath as Billy’s eyes darkened too.

You choked on a moan in surprise when you felt Billy’s finger suddenly brush against your clit. You could feel both of their predatory gazes on your form as Billy studied your reactions to find the best ways to get the reactions he wanted from you. You faintly registered Stu as one of his hands brushed his fingers through your hair before his fingers from his other hand tap on your lips. “Open up princess,” He ordered, and you complied willingly, and he groaned at your eager response. Stu grasped your hair, making you gasp before tapping his cock that he freed when you weren’t paying attention against your lips. “C’mon baby, suck it for daddy,” He groaned as you fluttered your eyes shut as you began licking and sucking the tip of his dick.

You could feel Billy’s eyes trained on the interaction in front of him, as Stu pushed his dick further into your throat, making you choke and gag momentarily before you forced yourself to breathe through your nose. Stu gave you a moment to adjust before you began eagerly sucking him, and he began moving along with your movements. You could hear him groaning above you before you moaned around his dick when you felt Billy suddenly insert a finger into you. “Fuck, whatever you just did, keep doing it,” Stu moaned out to Billy, which got him a glare you couldn’t see, but Billy continued his movements regardless. Once Billy felt you loosen up, he added an addition finger as he continued using his thumb to rub your clit. He had you moaning all over Stu’s cock, causing Stu to throw his head back from the sensation. You could feel the pricks of pleasure beginning to build up in you as they continued. As you began squeezing Billy’s fingers, he groaned. “She’s close,” He commented, which made Stu also groan. “Go on bunny, give it to us,” Billy encouraged as you felt your peak hit you. You moaned loudly at the feeling, causing you to tense and squeeze his fingers as the bright, hot pleasure coursed through you. Billy continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm as you shook.

You heard Stu groan and his dick twitch before feeling the saltiness of his cum cover your tongue and throat. Once the two of you came down, you felt him pull himself from your throat. Billy grabbed your chin with his hand and tilted it towards him as your eyes fluttered open, his fingers covered in your slick moving to tap at your lips which you happily licked and sucked cleaning, making Billy groan at the erotic sight. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he squeezed your jaw to open your mouth to check you had swallowed both you and Stu’s cum. “Good girl,” He praised at the sight of your clean mouth. You gasped when you felt hands drop to your hips and pull you to align you to his cock that you didn’t know when he had untucked from his clothes. “Ah! Wait!” You called out in protest from still feeling extra sensitive. You saw his eyes darken a fraction instead before he pushed into you, your head falling back against the bed as you choked on a moan.

“I told you we had already waited long enough,” He said, punctuating his words with thrusts, not giving you time to adjust. Stu groaned from behind you as his gaze fixed on the way your tits bounced with Billy’s thrusts. “Fuck man, I just finished, watching you two is gonna get me hard again,” He grumbled. “Not my fucking problem,” Billy bit back as struggled from the tightness of your cunt gripping him. You whined and squirmed from the overstimulation which Billy chuckled at. “You can take it, bunny,” He commented before groaning as his gaze caught sight of the bulge in your tummy from where he was fucking you. “Fuck, look at that,” He said as one of his hands moved to push down on the bulge, making you gasp and writhe. “Shit,” You heard Stu groan as he caught sight of your tummy bulge from Billy. “Your cunt was fucking made for us, wasn’t it?” Billy asked as you found yourself unable to reply. “Aw, did we already fuck you, stupid bunny?” He teased as your doe-eyed gaze caught his, and you nodded submissively in response. The two of them groaned at your response, and you felt Billy’s dick twitch inside you. “I know you have another orgasm in you. C’mon milk my cock for me baby,” Billy demanded as his hand that had been on the bulge moved down to play with your clit, making you whine against the overstimulation.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you gasped and struggled against the waves of painful pleasure, feeling the coil within yourself grown tighter and tighter before it snapped. You felt tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the intense orgasm as you spasmed on Billy’s cock, making him moan out. It wasn’t long before you felt him twitch before he bit into your shoulder as you felt his warm cum spill into your wet cunt. You sobbed against the intense sensations as he fucked you both through your orgasms. Once he stilled in you, you fought to catch your breath, to which you heard Stu giggle above the both of you. “Goddamn, you made her cry,” He commented to which Billy leaned up over you again looking down at your wet face before groaning. “Fuck,” He swore, and you felt his cock start to harden inside of you again, which made you gasp.

You sighed in relief for a moment when you felt Billy pull out of you, before whimpering when you heard his next words. “Your turn,” He said, nodding to Stu. Stu giggled excitedly before crawling on the bed with you two. Billy moved you and him so he was behind you leaning against the bed frame and Stu was in front of you. Your head limply laid against Billy’s chest as Stu looked over your fucked out body. “Shit, look at her,” Stu giggled before leaning down, so his face was level with your cunt, you blinked open your eyes just to see him and whined knowing your pleasurable torture was soon to continue. Billy chuckled at your reaction and brushed your hair off your back and over your shoulder as he placed surprisingly soothing kisses against your shoulders. Your eyes shut as you moaned out when you felt Stu lick up Billy’s cum dripping out of you.

Stu experimentally probed his tongue into you as he pulled out more of Billy’s cum to lap up. It faintly occurred to you that the two of them had probably fucked each other before. Stu groaned at the taste before moving to circle your clit with his tongue, choking your thoughts and losing yourself again to the intense pleasure. “Ngh- Please,” You sobbed which made Stu groan, the feeling making your sob turn into a moan as he sucked onto your clit, his hands grasping at your thighs and trying to pull you ever closer. “Please what?” Billy asked from behind you as he began sucking hickeys into the crook of your neck. “Please,” You choked out, too far gone to know what you were begging for anymore. Billy chuckled against your neck at your broken pleas. “I think she wants to cum again, Stu,” He commented, which made Stu eat you out with even more fervor than before. You sobbed at the familiar feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you for the third time. You tensed as you felt the pleasurable coil overstimulate you as you approached the edge. “C’mon baby, cum for us,” Billy commanded as you sobbed broken moans as you fell over the edge again. Stu groaned from between your thighs as you tasted your new wave of slick. You cried as Stu carried you through your orgasm. Your sobs picking up as you came down, and your sensitivity kicked in extra hard. Stu pulled back covered in your slick, and you felt Billy lift his head from where he had been busy sucking hickeys onto your skin to look at Stu. You fluttered your eyes open in time to catch them exchanging gazes before Stu leaned towards Billy and Billy grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss. Billy groaned at the mixed taste of your slick and Stu’s saliva. You watched in awe as they made out.

When they pulled back, Stu looked over at you before giggling, “What? Surprised?” He asked, to which you just looked at him with starry eyes. Billy raised an eyebrow behind you at your lack of response. “Man, I think we fucked her out of words. She’s looking at me like I hung the stars,” Stu giggled, which made Billy groan. “You got one more round in you, bunny?” Billy asked from behind you, and you hummed affirmatively in response as you leaned back against him. You didn’t see the look Billy gave Stu, but Stu shuffled to move your thighs so he could line himself up with your entrance. You moaned as you felt Stu fill you to the brim in one harsh thrust. Stu moved to kiss along your neck, licking up some dried blood from what had been smudged on you earlier. You gasped when you felt Billy’s fingers prod at your backside. “Relax baby,” You heard Billy purr in your ear, so you did your best to relax your muscles as his fingertip prodded into you.

You gasped and whined as you felt him slowly prepping you, while Stu stayed as still as he could. After a few moments, you felt a second finger creep up to join the first. You arched at the still new sensation to you. Billy chuckled at your reaction before continuing to prep you. Once he deemed you ready, he pulled his fingers from you, causing you to whine at the loss. “It’s okay bunny, you’ll be full again soon,” Billy whispered as the tip of his dick prodded at your back entrance. As he pushed into you, you gasped and squirmed. “Shit, she’s getting even tighter,” Stu groaned out as Billy slowly continued filling you up. Once Billy bottomed out in you, you squirmed as you adjusted to the sensation. Eventually, you started gasping and squirming, looking for more. “Ah, there we go,” Billy cooed as he felt you looking for more pleasure from them.

At that Billy began thrusting into you, making you moan, but when Stu also began you moving your mind started swimming. You felt like you were drowning in the pleasure they were giving you. Billy hands rested on your waist and Stu’s on your thighs as they fucked you in tandem. Your hands reached out around the back of Stu’s neck as you clawed at his back, making Stu moan from the mix of pleasure and pain. You felt incredibly full from both of them inside of you. “Fuck, man,” Stu swore as you felt one of his hands leave your thigh to press on the even bigger bulge in your tummy than before. He moved to grab one of Billy’s hands and moved it to the bulge, making Billy groan as well. Billy’s hand moved away from the bulge and trailed up to your throat as Stu kept his hand pressed on the bulge, deeping the fullness you were reeling from. “One more, bunny, one more,” Billy commanded as his hand rested on your throat before he applied pressure, your moans getting choked into broken sobs and gasping for air. You tightened around them both as pleasure surged through you, and you fought for air. Just as you were about to peak, Billy released his grasp and oxygen flooded through you, making you cum and sob on their cocks.

“Just like that, fuck,” Billy groaned as Stu twitched before painting your insides white from your fluttering cunt gripping him so tightly. Stu moaned and buried his head in your neck as Billy’s head fell back against the headboard as he also let go and buried his dick in you, letting you milk his cum as he shot rope after rope into you. You gasped and whined at how stuffed you felt. They fucked you through your combined orgasms before they stilled in you. You felt Billy press a tender kiss against your head as Stu cuddled into you, and you pulled him closer with your arms around the back of his neck. After several moments, you wet your lips before attempting to speak. “Did I do good?” You asked leaning into their touches as Billy and Stu chuckled. “You did perfect,” Billy said, calling back to when Stu said you’d be perfect. You smiled lazily at that. “Don’t think we’re letting you go anywhere now, though,” Stu replied, squeezing you for emphasis. You felt Billy nod in agreement behind you. “Why would I want to go anywhere else?” You asked genuinely confused by the idea that you’d try to run away from them. Billy chuckled before placing another tender kiss to your shoulder blades. “Damn, you’re just as crazy as us, huh?” He teased to which you giggled at. “Maybe,” You replied, letting comfort wash over you, your two new lovers may be serial killers, but their arms felt like the best place in the world to you.

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