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angelsforthenight · 2 months

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MRS. AND MRS. SMITH — abby anderson x fem!reader

ways you can help gaza 🇵🇸

do not buy tlou2 remastered!

a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why they’re wives :3

you’re an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, you’re pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know it’ll get under abby’s skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.

cw: mdni, owen feature🤮🤮, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.

“short brown hair, rugged beard. got that?” abby’s murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece you’ve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.

see, any other day, you would’ve loved to hear your wife’s pretty little voice guiding you — her praises when you’d do something right or her degrades if you’d do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.

but not today. today you’re over it. so what do you respond with?

“yeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.” you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so that’s exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.

that’s right, you two are at a charity gala event. it’s fancy. too fancy to the point where it’s intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that you’re complaining. you’re sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever you’d get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.

your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.

you’re planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe you’re going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.

“found him yet?” abby sighs.

“please don’t distract me.” there’s way too many people and it’s beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.

“i’m getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.” she complains.

“not my goddamn problem.” you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if there’s not enough time, worrying if he’s even here in the first place.

“literally what is your problem? acting extra fuckin’ snobby tonight...”

your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.

“let’s not fucking start—“ you’re about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!

“oh shit. sorry, i didn’t mean that.” you hear a man’s voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.

despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.

“it’s okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?” you bat your eyelashes, hoping you don’t look silly.

“and what’s that?” owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. he’s already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.

with a few drinks, owen’s already tipsy and you’re leading him to the vast room. you make him believe you’re just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade — feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, it’s also never not exhilarating.

you’re about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.

“woah.” you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. “we go at my pace.”

“aww… please?” he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but he’s now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.

“come on… don’t play hard to get.” he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebody’s arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.

“what—“ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abby’s arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. it’s unnerving.

it doesn’t take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.

“what the fuck, abby…” you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“there’s doors.” she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadn’t even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget you’re supposed to be mad at her.

the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. “you starin’? assumed pussy boys were more your type.”

“real fucking mature.” you snarl. “i had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.”

“you were taking too long.” abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.

“jealousy? really? grow up.”

“at least i watch where i’m going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.” she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didn’t offend you.

“you’re a fucking child. help me with the body.”

you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend that’s had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.

for now, you’re sat on the passenger’s seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abby’s driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. she’s obviously fuming.

“can you slow down?” you glare at her.

“you owe me… i mean, who even says that?” abby grumbles, ignoring your request.

“a lot of people do. now slow down, we don’t wanna attract attention from police knowing there’s a dead body back there.”

“not to mention that you’ve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.”

abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. “owen.” you correct, “you’re so self absorbed!” you continue to beg for her to slow down.

“he’s, like, the embodiment of revolting too. don’t even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i should’ve put a bullet in his brain.” abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.

“you were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.” she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.

“abby. abby!” you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.

“fuck.” abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.

“just what the hell is the matter with you?” you scold, “all this shit over a mission? are you serious?” abby’s lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.

“of course we’re going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known you’d be acting like this then i would’ve never—“

“why didn’t you kiss him?” abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.

“i…” you look away. you’re not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldn’t kiss him because of her. “where even are we anyway?”

“nice try. since you’re so professional, why didn’t you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you could’ve easily killed him then.” the corner of abby’s lips arch up into a smirk — the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.

“for someone who’s had so much to say just a second ago…” she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, “…you’re awfully quiet.” her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear you’re beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“look, abby, you’re my wife… so…” you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.

“don’t play dumb and pretend as if the agency didn’t arrange that.” her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?” her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too — reminding you that she’s got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abby’s car, pretty fucking hot.

“let’s face it…” abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.

“you want me so bad it hurts.” her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. it’s beginning to ache down there and it seems like abby’s aware of that. you can’t help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that it’s suffocating.

you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.

“maybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.” you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.

“maybe you need to fix your attitude.” abby retorts, “like, seriously, pipe down… you’re probably soaking down there.” she snickers, right on the money.

“fuck you.” you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe you’re saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know that’s not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abby’s skin. it’s what you’ve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.

you wipe the pleased look off of abby’s face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.

abby’s eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. you’re quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent can’t even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.

desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.

“hurry… with your slow-ass.” you whine.

“watch your fucking mouth. c’mere.” abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress — not without making sure to go deliberately slow.

“why do you have to be so mean?” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“oh, trust me… i’m only gonna be meaner.” she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. you’ve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel she’s going to treat you in a second.

once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. it’s her favourite thing in the entire world.

“turn around.” abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.

“what?”

“just do it.”

you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.

“now… bend over.” she coos, clearly poking fun.

you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. “what am i, your dog?”

“don’t piss me off.”

you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.

“arching that back and everything… wooow.” abby teases, “and to think i haven’t even touched you yet.”

“oh, just fuck off, abby…” you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.

“what was that?”

“i said fuck—“ but you’re cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.

“mm? didn’t quite hear you. repeat yourself.” abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abby’s humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? you’re enjoying this way more than you should be.

“i’m not kidding. speak.” abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, it’s a fucking party down there.

“abby…” you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.

“go on babe… finish what you were saying before.” abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. you’re trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.

see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.

another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.

“you wanna get fucked?” abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.

“use your words.”

“y-yes…” tears begin to stream down your face. you’re desperate, yearning for her touch as if it’s a life or death situation.

“so finish what you were saying.” her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.

“i-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didn’t… haa… mean it.” you splutter. the you a while ago would’ve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.

“where’d all your attitude go?” the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. she’s touching you but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough: abby knows that.

“don’t do this to me, abby…” you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if you’ve been dumbed down.

abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. “you look stupid.”

“shut up and fuck me.” you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what you’ve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.

before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal, if it wasn’t for abby’s hand still clenched on your cheeks.

“this what you wanted?” abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.

“oh! riiiiight, you can’t speak.” she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how she’s handling you like a doll.

abby’s finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.

“suck.” you mindlessly do as she says, as if you’re brainwashed. you can see abby’s cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.

abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didn’t think you’d actually do it.

“you’re shy.” you point out. you triumph over the fact that now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.

“shut the fuck up.” abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.

that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.

“nothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.” and she’s right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what she’s seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.

“i’m cumming…” you manage to choke out.

“i know.” abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.

“i’ll decide to be nice and let you finish.”

and that’s your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. you’re panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.

“so cute…” she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you — this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.

so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how you’re in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how you’re gonna clean up the mess you’ve left all over the chair and dashboard.

a/n: you made it !!! thought it’d be funny if the target was owen😭😭 hope u enjoyed reading <3

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson fanfic #tlou2 smut #tlou2 #wlw #smut #the last of us #abby the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #lesbian

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theobsessivesideblog · 3 months

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Hook Where it Hurts

Astarion finds himself Experiencing Emotions™ after a battle takes a turn for the worse.

Warnings: violence/injury, death, angst BUT happy ending I promise

—————————————————————

Your time in the Underdark had been relatively uneventful, all things considered. Sure there were Minotaurs, the occasional bulette, and exploding mushrooms, but there was something strangely beautiful about the alien landscape. The myconids were a friendly, if odd and slightly bloodthirsty bunch. Your conversation with Omeluum had proved enlightening, and trade with Blurg and Derryth had garnered you some useful items. Overall you couldn’t bring yourself to regret following Halsin’s advice to take the subterranean path to the Shadow-Cursed lands.

You set up camp at the Myconid colony, heading out at first light (or at least what you assumed was first light without the actual sun to confirm) to begin your trek towards the lake Sovereign Spaw had pointed you toward. An hour into your walk a glow appeared in the distance, lighting up the gloom of the cavernous landscape.

“I say, that can’t be… I do believe that may be a Sussur tree!” Gail exclaimed from behind you. “Powerful things, and rare, uniquely capable of completely nullifying magical forces, just fascinating!” he continued, eyes alight at the prospect of examining one up close.

“Sussur… that sounds familiar,” Karlach pondered.

“Ah! Right you are my fiery friend, there were instructions in the village about making a weapon with the bark! That would likely prove to be a powerful tool, we should certainly take a look.”

You gazed towards the tree, comparing its location with the heading you had gotten from Spaw. In all likelihood you would end up passing nearby, may as well go on purpose.

“Seems like it won’t be too much of a detour,” you announced, glancing around the group. “All in favor?”

“I’d never say no to a new kick-ass weapon,” Karlach grinned.

“That’s two for, Astarion?” you asked, looking over towards the rogue.

“I doubt our resident magician will shut up about it until we pay a visit, so fine. Let’s go traipsing through the monster-infested dark to look at the magic tree,” Astarion said with a dramatic eye roll.

“Anti-magic, technically, you see the—“ Gale’s chatter came to an abrupt halt as Astarion shot him a withering glance. “Right, yes, um. Shall we?”

———————

You had to admit, the Sussur tree was breathtaking. Far larger than you had initially realized, clearly ancient and powerful. You glanced over to see your companions’ reactions, breath catching as your eyes met Astarion’s. His pale skin was nearly pearlescent in the ethereal glow, the blue light making his red eyes darker than usual. He stared back, lips pulling into a smirk, and a shiver of desire ran down your spine as he began prowling towards you. You’d been playing this game of cat and mouse for days, taking turns taunting and tempting each other and you were curious to see who would break first.

A movement behind Astarion’s shoulder broke you out of your reverie, eyes catching on a monstrous creature slowly beginning to descend toward your troupe from the raised roots of the tree. Your face paled and you saw Astarion’s brow furrow in your periphery as he registered that he had lost your attention, turning to see what had distracted you. He stiffened as he caught sight of the beast, silently reaching to retrieve an arrow while you hissed quietly towards Gale and Karlach in an attempt to get their attention. Karlach looked your way and you subtly gestured towards the creature as it crept closer to the group, trying to hold back the urge to laugh as she reached out and smacked Gale’s arm, interrupting his lecture on the properties of the blossoms.

A few more wordless glances between the four of you had everyone subtly moving into position, preparing for what was sure to be a short battle. You glanced across the clearing, locking eyes with each of your companions before giving a tight nod as all of you attacked at once. The creature let out a shriek as it was barraged by both metal and magic, falling from its root bridge and hitting the ground below with a sickening crunch.

As the adrenaline faded from your system and you walked forward to observe the corpse you were nearly disappointed by how easily the beast had fallen. Not that you ever wanted to get your ass kicked but you had certainly expected that a monster with as many teeth and claws as this one would’ve put up a bit more of a fight. Karlach had turned away with a dissatisfied pout on her lips as she sheathed her weapon and Astarion had already started to wander off to investigate the rest of the cave as you gently nudged the cooling body on the ground with the tip of your boot. It was grotesque up close, a bird-like skeletal face filled with vicious teeth and enormous, razor-sharp hooks protruding from the end of each arm in place of hands. Beside you Gale was surveying the corpse with a strangely joyous expression.

“What a fascinating beast! We got quite lucky, they’re exceptional hunters, certainly wouldn’t want to run into one of these unprepared! They’re called Hook Horrors!” he announced gleefully to no one in particular.

“Did someone say something about whores?” Astarion called from across the cavern. Karlach snorted loudly as she and Gale began making their way over towards him and you rolled your eyes as your lips curled into a smile.

“Yes, Star, Gale has deeply insulted me,” you called back sarcastically. “You may need to come defend my honor! In fact, I–”

You cut off abruptly as a shriek pierced through the air, echoing off the hard rock. You all whipped toward the sound, weapons coming back to the ready as another hook horror climbed out from behind a patch of roots close to your three companions. As you watched it emerge you distractedly thought that it would be nice to go back to fighting above ground again. The way sound bounced around the rocks always made it sound like there was something behind you, and some paranoid instinct had you sending a cursory glance back over your shoulder to calm your nerves.

You froze in place, realizing your fears had been well founded as another hook horror silently emerged from around the corner of the cavern wall and leapt towards you. You barked out a startled curse and jumped back as it took a swing at you. The first horror may have fallen easily enough against the four of you, but your companions were locked in battle on the other side of the cavern and you were well aware that a one-on-one fight was one you wouldn’t win.

You kept your eyes locked on the creature as you began backing your way across the cave, hoping you could get within range of your party before it lost patience and struck. Based on the sounds the other monster was emitting it wouldn’t be a threat for much longer. You tightened your hold on your weapon, preparing to strike as you crept back another step, heart skipping as the rock you had stepped on shifted underneath your boot. You glanced down for a split second, trying to find your footing, a sense of dread filling you as you saw the hook horror jump into motion in your peripheral vision.

The hook drove into your side and you screamed. Pain the likes of which you’d never felt before tore through you as the hook horror yanked its arm across your abdomen, tearing through your stomach. You thought you heard someone shout, but they sounded a million miles away as you collapsed to your knees before the beast, your sight dimming around the edges. You vaguely registered a flash of blades and a wet thump as the hook horror’s head hit the ground before your vision was taken over by Astarion’s panicked visage. His hands gripped your face, feeling unnaturally warm against your cheeks as the world faded away.

“No no no, you can’t die, get UP damn you!” he shouted, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood from the jagged cut across your midsection even as a small voice in the back of his mind told him it was too late. His shaking hands were covered in your blood but he had never found it less appealing, appetite long gone as he stared at your unnaturally pale face. “Please, my sweet, don’t do this to me,” he pleaded, vision clouding as his eyes filled with tears. He saw a red blur on his left as Karlach kneeled down beside him and he instinctively curled around you protectively, arms gently slipping around your back as he clutched your unmoving form against his chest.

“Astarion, we need–”

“Give me a healing potion. Now.” he ordered, voice dangerously low.

“It’s too late, Astarion. We need to get her body back–”

“Don’t say it like that,” he growled shakily. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself but choking on the scent of your blood in the air. “A resurrection scroll then,” he demanded, glaring in Gale’s direction.

“I… it won’t work. The tree–”

Astarion snarled out a curse and pressed his forehead against your frigid cheek, desperately trying to contain the sob attempting to claw its way out of him.

“We need to get her to camp, Astarion,” Karlach repeated gently, a small line of steam rising from where a tear had just rolled her cheek. “We need Shadowheart. I can carry–”

“No,” he murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand before adjusting one of his arms beneath your knees and standing with you cradled against him. “I’ve got her.”

———————

They were farther from camp than Astarion had realized, though perhaps it only felt that way because he had spent the entire walk staring at your lifeless face. He felt numb by the time they arrived, hardly hearing Karlach shout for Shadowheart as they passed the first of the tents. In the back of his mind he was aware that their other companions had gathered around them frantically asking questions, but the words didn’t register and he continued forward without acknowledging any of them. He walked to his tent in a trance, gingerly setting you down on his bedroll and kneeling at your side as his shaking hands tried to arrange your limp body into a more comfortable configuration.

“What in the hells happened?” Shadowheart snapped as Karlach pulled her roughly into the tent. He should answer, should try to explain, but he was frozen kneeling by your side, unable to pull his attention away from your unblinking eyes.

“She- she was-” Karlach bit back a sob, trying to catch her breath. “We got caught off guard. She was alone. She shouldn’t have been alone,” Karlach choked out, dissolving into tears. Shadowheart hurried to your side and knelt across from Astarion, immediately beginning to unfasten the straps on your armor and peeling the bloodied metal away from your skin.

“We need to get her cleaned up so I can see what I'm doing. Astarion, can you fetch me some water and clean washcloths?” she asked, continuing to remove your ruined clothing. When he remained unmoving she looked up to where he sat, his gaze unwaveringly focused on the brutal cut across your torso.

“Astarion,” she repeated softly, waiting as he slowly drug his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I swear to you I will do everything in my power to fix this, but I need your help.” She paused, waiting until Astarion gave a small nod of acknowledgement to rattle off the things she needed, her attention returning to your still form as Astarion rose and darted around his tent gathering what she had requested. He returned a heartbeat later, depositing the items at her side as she instructed him to wet a cloth and begin wiping away as much blood as he could.

She began chanting a prayer as he worked, hovering her hands over your sternum while he continued to gently clean your skin. Your blood had been a gift once, a delight. Now he shuddered as he attempted to ring out the bloodied rag in his hand, barely fighting the urge to retch as it dripped from his hands into the reddened bowl of water at his side.

A light sparked in Shadowheart’s hands, warm and radiant, and Astarion stopped his work, dropping the stained cloth and gently reaching out with trembling fingers to take hold of your hand. The light in her palms grew as she focused, directing its power towards you. A glowing beam split from the whole and snaked downwards, weaving through the jagged edges of your wound and drawing them together while the remainder of the light floated upward, hovering over your heart. She continued chanting, her eyes drifting closed in concentration as the glowing orb started to lower, dimming as it sunk through your skin and into your chest. The room grew silent as Shadowheart completed the incantation and lowered her hands, looking you over carefully.

“Did it… did it work?” Karlach whispered. “Is it supposed to take this long? Why isn’t she–”

Your chest rose as you gasped in air, the breath immediately turning to a cough at the uncomfortable stretch in your lungs. The air tasted of iron and magic and you frowned, trying to open your eyes to observe your surroundings but surprised to find your eyelids heavy and uncooperative. Cool fingers brushed against your face, smoothing away the furrow in your brow and you instinctively relaxed at the familiar touch.

“All is well, darling,” you heard Astarion whisper, voice sounding oddly constricted. “Rest now.”

You were still confused, still couldn't remember how you’d gotten here or what had happened. It felt as if something important had occurred, surely you shouldn’t sleep now. You heard the soft murmur of voices around you, a strained chuckle, a soft sniffle. You frowned again, struggling once more to open your eyes and earning an exasperated sigh from the vampire beside you.

“Please, pet,” he breathed, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Just sleep.”

Your sense of unease fell away as Astarion began gently running his fingers through your hair. You felt him press another soft kiss against your forehead and relaxed into him, allowing yourself to drift off in his arms.

———————

The second Shadowheart had given the all clear Astarion had insisted everyone leave his tent. It was far too crowded and he wouldn’t have them waking you up when you were clearly in no condition to face their fussing. Even as he anchored himself in the sound of your steady heartbeat he still felt restless and off-balance, hands flitting over your sleeping form looking for something more to do.

He felt ridiculous. You were here in front of him, healed and whole, and that should be the end of it. So why in the hells were his hands still trembling as he ensured your blankets were tucked around you? Why did his chest ache uncomfortably every time he caught a leftover whiff of your blood in the air?

He huffed out a frustrated breath and sat on the ground beside you, staring at your sleeping face warily. This had never been part of his plan. He was never supposed to… care. Two centuries of distancing himself and building walls and somehow you had just waltzed right past his defenses and made yourself at home. He let out a defeated sigh and reached over, extracting your hand from the blankets to weave your fingers together with his. His gaze drifted to the steady rise and fall of your breathing and he found himself matching your pace, the tightly wound coil in his chest finally starting to loosen as you let out a soft snore.

Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he could deal with figuring out why that sound made him smile. Tomorrow he could obsess over how even just holding your hand made his whole body feel warmer. Tomorrow he could deal with the fact that in over 200 years of life he’d never before been as completely and utterly terrified as he had been today. For now, though, he would indulge. For tonight he would just let himself have this, whatever ‘this’ was. He closed his eyes and lifted your hand to his face, gently brushing his lips across your knuckles as he settled in to watch over you until morning.

———————

The passage of time in the Underdark still confused you. You woke to the same darkness you had fallen asleep in, groggily wondering what time it was and how long you had been in bed. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding. Had you been drinking? That would certainly explain why you couldn’t remember how you had gotten here. As unappealing as getting up sounded, you were parched and you couldn’t stay here forever. You hoisted yourself up and froze as pain suddenly lanced through you, your vision flickering and arms giving out as you whimpered and fell back toward your pillow only to be caught by a pair of cold, pale arms.

“I wouldn’t recommend moving just yet, darling,” Astarion said, looking down at you with a worried frown on his face as he lowered you gently back to the bedroll. “Shadowheart did as much as she could last night but it took a lot out of her to bring you back. You’re not going anywhere until she’s gotten a chance to check on you again.” He leaned across you, determinedly avoiding meeting your eyes as he made sure your pillow was adequately fluffed. You saw a slight tremor run through him and heard a catch in his breath before he stood abruptly and walked across the tent, silently pouring you a glass of water from the pitcher in the corner.

“Bring me… back?” you questioned. Astarion stilled, jaw clenching as you took him in. His normally flawlessly tousled hair was tangled as if he had been running his hands through it and streaks of blood threaded through the white locks. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked even paler than normal, nearly translucent in the dim light. Your eyes flitted down to his wrinkled, untucked shirt and then around the tent, catching on the blood-soaked pile of clothes and armor to the side of the entrance and the red-stained towels laying by a bowl of water next to the bedroll. A dim memory flashed through your mind: a tree, an ambush, excruciating pain, and then… nothing.

“Oh.” you whispered, exhaling shakily as you felt your chest constrict, breaths turning quick and shallow as the air seemed to thin. Astarion was by your side in an instant, one hand smoothing back your hair while the other cupped your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“It’s alright, darling, just breathe. You’re safe now.” he murmured, continuing to stroke your hair as your breathing calmed. He let out a tremulous sigh and closed his eyes, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “It’s alright,” he repeated even more quietly, sounding almost as if he were talking to himself, pressing against you for a moment before inhaling sharply and pulling away.

“Shit, you’re in pain, aren’t you?” he said, looking you over with worried eyes and immediately moving to stand. “I’ll get Shadowheart, she said she’d come by when she woke but surely she’s had enough sleep by now and–”

“Wait, Star, I… can you just stay here with me for a moment?” you asked in a small voice. Warmth spread through him at your request and he obliged immediately, lowering himself to sit at your side and gently taking your hand in his. You sat in companionable silence for a moment, studying his profile as he stared at your interlaced fingers. Up close the bags beneath his eyes were even more pronounced and you frowned, gently extricating your hand from his to touch his cheek. He leaned into your palm and placed a kiss against the inside of your wrist, eyes drifting closed as he basked in the warmth of your touch.

“Have you rested at all, Astarion?” you questioned. “You look exhausted.”

He huffed a laugh and cracked open an eye to look at your face.

“I’m not sure you want to get into comparing looks right now, darling. You’re even paler than me at the moment,” he chuckled, eyes closing once again as he leaned further into your touch, a teasing grin spread across his face. “I assure you, however you may think I look, you look ten times worse.”

“Hm, that’s not too bad I suppose,” you smirked. “Ten times worse than you is still at least three times better than the average person.”

Astartion barked out a surprised laugh and opened his eyes to look at you again, something in them softening as he saw your gentle smile.

“Whoever would’ve thought math could be so romantic,” he murmured, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss against your lips. He raised a hand to brush a stray hair off your forehead and his smile faded, brow furrowing as his gaze met yours with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Please don’t scare me like that again, my dear,” he breathed. “I’m- I don’t-” he sighed in frustration at the mess of emotions in his chest, hardly able to remember the last time his words had failed him so completely.

“Don’t want to deal with this group of weirdos all by yourself?” you teased gently. He grinned back at you, gratitude in his eyes for not pushing him to collect his thoughts just yet.

“Precisely that,” he chuckled, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you said, smiling softly at him. “Also I wasn’t kidding before, you look like shit. You really should get some rest.”

“Hm,” Astarion hummed mischievously, narrowing his eyes. “I would, but you see someone went and bled all over my bedroll. Adept though I may be at washing out blood stains it’s a rather thick fabric, it will take a while to dry back out. I may need to stay with… someone… for a day or two. Or three. Maybe more,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you huffed out a laugh.

“You’re incorrigible,” you replied, grinning up at him and rolling your eyes. “I suppose it does seem that I’ve made rather a mess of your tent though…”

“You certainly have,” he murmured, shifting to hover over you, slowly kissing his way along your jaw.

“And it would only be fair to let you bunk with the cleanest person in camp…”

“Mmhmm…” he hummed, kissing closer and closer to your lips.

“And I’m sure Gale wouldn’t mind letting you crash with him–”

“Excuse me??” he crowed, pulling back indignantly as you burst out laughing below him. He scowled playfully and shook his head at you in feigned displeasure. “You wicked little thing,” he chuckled, leaning back down and finally pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever it is,” you smirked, pulling him back to you for another kiss, “I'm sure I'll like it.”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 #bg3 astarion

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calisources · 1 month

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𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences have been taken from different media to be compiled into a list. This is not a meme for minors, the content here goes from mild to highly sexual, topics like dominance, submissive, bondage,praise kink and breeding are all present so discretion is key. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

You are perfect. And now you wear my mark, your ass is mine.

Tie me up, please…

Kiss me hot,heavy,wet & angry with that attitude like you do when your mouth yells it hates me but your tongue screams it can’t wait for me.

Let me undress your body, caress your skin and wetly massage your mind back into making love to me again.

They wanted her. They all loved her. And they wanted to keep her.

A little vanilla never hurt anybody.

If you have any sense you’ll stay away from him.

Touch me, like this, like a good girl.

That’s it, use your tongue.

I'd planned to have you on your bed the first time, but maybe I should take you here, by the mirror, so you can see how splendid we are together.

I’m not going to deny that I want to fuck you. I cannot do anything else, But I will say that I have plans for you if you say yes.

I’ll fuck you so good, for so long that the only thing you’ll crave is my hands on your skin, my cock deep in your pussy.

I want a second serving of you. I’m hard just thinking of your perfect breasts and hard nipples.

As much as I appreciate that, right now you’re all I want to eat.

Now will you please sit on my face already?

You are corrupting me, Theo.

But you like being corrupted, don't you, sweet girl?

The destruction of something beautiful can appear so entertaining.

If women were totally satisfied with their sexual and lovemaking experiences, women would welcome the lovemaking experience as much as men.

I want to learn from you. Teach me what you know.

Once I make you mine, you will be mine forever. I will call you and you will come, in more ways than one.

What have I taught you? Show me, sweet girl.

Use your thighs, ride like it’s your last day on this earth.

I been aching to be inside you since we met, you devil woman.

Hands braced against the wall, and open your legs.

You tasted sweet, like oranges, liquid sunshine in my mouth.

I need you. Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.

The things I want from you, darlin’, will give you nightmares, ones like you’ve never had before.

If you could read my mind, I’m pretty sure you’d either be traumatized, sexually aroused or both.

The nicer you treat her outside the bedroom, the naughtier it will get inside the bedroom.

Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.

That’s it. You can take a lot more, don’t you? Hold on to me.

If you behave, I’ll let your hands go and touch me.

I love your skinny legs, and what's between them.

I don't want words, but inarticulate cries.

All you have to do is beg, and I will give you what you want.

I want you splayed out on the table like my own personal feast.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

You make the sweetest little noises. But I need you to be louder, let everyone know.

It's like an itch, isn't it? You can feel it in your throat. You want to scream for me.

Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You are mine.

I felt like an animal, and animals don't know sin, do they?

And ye whimper under me, and struggle as though you wanted to get away, and I know it's only that you're struggling to come closer, and I'm fighting the same fight.

I can help you with that.

Forgetting him. Moving on. I’m okay with being your rebound. I’ve already said that I want you.

You’ll give yourself to me? Let me take control? Let me send you over the edge of ecstasy time and again until you awaken?

Possess. Have. Hold. Enjoy. Control. Dominate. Pick your verb, Ms. Fairchild. I intend to explore so very many of them.

I feel claimed.

You’re so primed. I can feel that hot little pussy clenching around me every time I move a muscle or say a word.

Yeah, arch your back so I can look at you going nice and tight around my fingers.

Pet, I give you permission to be as vocal as you wish, because I am going to blow your mind in a few minutes and I want to hear how much you enjoy the ride.

If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is ask. It would be my pleasure - and yours.

Watch me make love to you.

I'd like to bite that lip.

I want you sore, baby.

I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you.

There is no room in my body for anything but you.

Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, just take me as I am.

I live for sex. I celebrate it, and relish the electricity of it, with every fibre of my being.

I’m not wearing anything underneath. Want to see?

You will be staying here until I’ve deemed it safe for you to go back to your life. Do you understand me?

Dominate you? Yes. Master you? yes. Make you yield to what you want, make you surrender to who you truly are? Yes.

Why don’t you scream my name? Let every other man and woman who you belong to.

I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

I taught you everything you know. Every man after me is just a shadow of what I did to you.

I knew you could be a good girl.

You were fucking made for me.

God is not gonna save you from me, baby.

My mouth wants you, I want to feel you in my mouth, way down in my mouth.

I am moist between the legs.

I came three times. During sex.

Do you know all the ways a Lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you?

You stay right where daddy puts you, baby girl.

Wait until you taste her. She is fucking delicious.

Lick my fingers and feel how wet you are.

Are there big, bad monsters in the woods who want to eat me up?

Right there, don’t stop. I can feel it.

Please come in me, I don’t care, I want to feel you.

Where do you want it, baby girl? Your cunt, your mouth or your neck?

Close your eyes and relax. One kiss. I don’t bite.

Seriously? In the morning, again?

You said to rest but I can feel you hard against my back.

You can do all the rest sweet, let me take care of you.

I want you to fuck me, Chris.

A little playful banter never hurt — or did it?

One should always explore something, before one goes in deeper.

Come here and undress me.

How am I supposed to do my job when all I can think about is getting back to you?

Someone could walk in on us.

Better be good and come fast, then. Or everyone will see you begging for more.

I can imagine my hands getting your fucking clothes off right now.

Do not shy away from the sensations I create, Cherry Blossom. Take pride in them, as I do.

Am I doing it good, baby? Just like you taught me?

Tell me I’m a good girl. Your only girl.

When I come, I come for you. Because of you and your mouth, hands, and insatiable little cunt.

My tongue, my fingers, my cum inside you. Just you and me, Eva. Intimate and raw.

How many have been with you ever since? Or no one compared? Tell me.

Show me then. I demand that you show me. That’s an order.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #smut prompt #kink prompt #usft tw

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saylorsaysstop · 3 months

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He Catches You | Bat Boys 18+

↪ Masterlist (Jason) | Masterlist (Dick)

↪ DICK GRAYSON

He told you it was going to be a late night and not to wait up for him. But that didn't take away the fact you were desperate for relief. It had been a rough day after all

You couldn't stop thinking about the other night when Dick rocked your world to the point you saw stars. Your mind replayed the images of his hands all over you, his lips marking you as his, the way he possessed your body with fire-fueled touches

So out came the vibrator

After you finished up the last of your work, the bright pink toy eyed you until you gave in and picked it up. You planted yourself on the bed and before you knew it, you were on your knees, moaning his name freely into the space of your shared apartment

Time got away from you because that one orgasm wasn't enough. The smell of Dick's aftershave and cologne on the pillow that you stuffed your face against to muffle the cries of pleasure was like a newfound drug that pushed you to the edge over, and over, and over again

Spread out and gripping the edge of the headboard to steady yourself while your other hand worked the vibrator inside of you, you never heard the door unlock. You never heard him step into the house

"Dick, yes! Oh, you're so good to me. Please, please, please. Let me come, Dick. Let me come, I'll be so good for you."

His neck grew hot. His stomach turned a flip. One minute he had a bag slung over his shoulder, the next he was stealthily making his way into the bedroom

His mouth dropped at the sight of your ass tucked into the air, your nails threatening to splinter the wood of the headboard. You needed more

His pants grew insanely tight at the sight of you rubbing your clit in tight circles as you panted his name, your hips starting to roll with the thickness of the toy working inside you

"DICK!"

He prowled to the edge of the bed, his eyes raking over the slick coating your inner thighs. You were almost there. One more orgasm and you'd call it a night

But what you didn't expect was a large, warm hand to dance up the bottom of your spine to your hair

"Look at that... Getting off, are we?"

His words were like a balm soothing your desperate need to come

''Come on, baby. Don't stop. Give me one."

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing your boyfriend's eyes glazed over with one powerful emotion: lust

"Dick, I-"

He instantly shut you up by reaching under you, his clothed front pressing into your naked backside. He used his thumb to play with your clit, adding delicious pressure while he kissed down your spine and watched the toy buzz

"Finish yourself off, baby. Let me see you fall apart... Love knowing you can't help yourself when I'm on patrol. You gonna come, sweet girl? Go on... Lemme play with your clit, help you out a little. You want that?"

Your whimper was the only response he needed before he finished you off in seconds

↪ JASON TODD

You thought you could be sneaky with it and have some fun in the shower before Jason got back

The two of you had argued earlier that morning about him getting hurt and not telling you which led to you not speaking to him. You valued his life like it was your own and you wanted to make sure he was safe on patrol with the boys

To satiate a need that he wasn't there to fulfill right now, you hopped into the shower and found yourself grabbing the detachable showerhead

The moment you put the water pressure on its desired setting, you knew this would be quick, but effective

Although what you didn't expect was for him to get home just as you were in the cusps of a hard orgasm with the showerhead sitting right on your clit. Delicious pulsations overwhelmed you as the coil in your belly tightened, and before you could give your mouth permission, Jason's name was heavy on your lips

"Jay, you feel so good. Please don't stop."

Your mind was flashing with vivid imagery of him railing you into the mattress with your feet sitting on his shoulders, his cock so big and filling that you felt drunk off of it when the night was over

Jason smirked to himself at the sound of your whimpers. He knew you loved that showerhead. He'd used it on you himself after all

Leaning against the doorframe with his shirt already discarded and the strain of his arousal pushing against the metal zipper of his pants, he watched as the fogged-up shower portrayed his favorite movie

His excitement grew when he saw your hand plaster the glass as an earth-shattering moan ricocheted inside the bathroom

"JASON!"

He grew thicker with need and decided enough was enough

"Hey, baby girl... Started the show without me, I see."

You stopped abruptly, the throes of your orgasm releasing you. You weren't embarrassed, not even in the slightest

Wiping your hand across the glass of the shower, your eyes boggled when you saw Jason standing upright in attention, his hand fisting around his cock

"Oh no..."

He smirked like a trickster. He reached you in two strides and yanked open the door. In a flash, he had your chest pressed against the cold tile wall and the showerhead in his grip

"Let's see if I can make you come harder, yeah? Bad girl, thinking just because we had a fight, you think you don't need me. This."

He pressed his length against your backside as he said 'This'

You knew he was going to punish you for it, and oh, you were beyond ready to make it up to him

↪ TIM DRAKE

College was hard and the studying felt like it would be the death of you. Tim was coming over later to help you out but before he did so, you felt the impending urge, the need to relax

As you sat at the kitchen table, unsure of when Tim would be coming through the door, you decided to offer yourself some relief. Maybe a quickie with yourself would be enough to calm your nerves

The moment your hands skated down your exposed belly and dipped underneath the waistband of your shorts, you shuddered from your own touch. There was nothing like Tim's hands on you but when push comes to shove, yours would do just fine

You teased yourself a little until you dipped a finger beneath your underwear to find that the slick had gathered. Collecting it and rubbing your clit in a few gentle circles before tightening up, your lips trembled with a soft moan, your eyebrows pinching together

Somehow you got lost in your touch. You leaned back in your chair and hurriedly shed your shorts. Tim wouldn't be here until later, you told yourself

You propped one foot up on one chair, your other foot on the other, and spread your legs wide. You pushed your fingers into your hot entrance and started rocking your hips back and forth, your cries echoing off the walls as you threw your head back and imagined Tim's hands in place of yours

"Tim, I love your fingers so much. They make me feel so good."

Little did you know though, Tim was standing outside of the door. He heard your moans and he inhaled sharply, the bag containing your favorite snacks as well as dinner balanced in his arms. He wanted you to relax. Now he knew how you needed to relax

He used the spare key you gave him to unlock the door softly. When he walked in and saw your legs spread, feet propped up, and your fingers hurriedly working your clit in circles, he nearly dropped his things

"Tim! I'm gonna come!"

Please do, Tim thought, his throat growing dry

His pants grew tighter and he felt like his t-shirt was suffocating him. So he set the items down in the living room and gently made his way into the kitchen area where you were furiously trying to come

He saw as your fingers exited your entrance, how wet and shiny they were. That's when your eyes caught him and you gasped, throwing your legs down and rushing to cover yourself

"TIM!"

"I didn't... I wasn't... Oh wow, you're so wet. I'm sorry!"

He blinked and watched you with a blush rising to his cheeks. But the ache to taste you- that battle was winning in his mind. So without saying another word, he walked over to you and got on his knees in front of you

"W-what are you doing?"

He spreads your legs and takes a look

"This all for me?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Good girl. So good. Let me help you, sweetheart."

Your eyes widen as Tim dives in, his lips claiming your clit. He wasn't about to pass up this opportunity. He'd finish you off before you could yourself

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bloompompom · 1 year

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✧Extra Benefits✧

In which you treat Eren to some of the other benefits of your arrangement, and he gladly returns the favor.

♡ content: eren jaeger x fem!reader. one shot. modern au, friends with benefits, casual sex, smut & fluff, massaging, oral sex (f!receiving) in the shower, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, you're both little sluts, hickeys, brief mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. 18+ ♡ word count: ~5.3k ♡ a/n: i swoon the idea of lovin' on an intimacy-starved man

You busy? Work was ass. Up to showering together?

You only had to read the text once. It wasn’t that hard to decipher.

It was the polite way of asking, ‘You up for some shower sex?’ To which your answer was always the same, whether a shower was involved or not.

Yes.

It was Friday night. You had spent the majority of it locked away in your apartment, dedicating hours to wining and dining yourself while gorging on trashy television. The place was tidy, your belly full, and the flame to your favorite candle lit the room with just its flicker. It was perfect. Your own slice of heaven, you imagined.

Part of you wanted to keep the night as it was—quiet. But you couldn’t complain if this already indulgent evening ended with some casual, not to mention really good, sex. You should probably start to clean up dinner.

His name was Eren, by the way. The friend-with-benefits. The fuckbuddy. Whatever you wished to call him.

You met him in one of those friend-of-a-friend situations a while back. Once at a dinner, and a second time at Sasha’s birthday party. You thought he was cute, but you weren’t obvious about it. At least, you tried not to be obvious about it, but then again, you ended up here, didn’t you?

Seriously, though. Eren was the type of guy that’s distractingly good-looking. Like, ‘Where in the world did you come from?’ sort of gorgeous, you know?

Anyway, you had apparently spoken enough for him to recognize you on the third go-around. This time, at a bar and without the buffer of mutual friends. You were out with your own circle, him with his, and he was still ballsy enough to approach you. He slid over to you in that come here often way and bought you a drink before you had the chance to turn him down (which, to be clear, wouldn’t have happened).

He was so quick about it, so smooth, and yet you couldn’t help but wonder what took him so damn long; he could have had you in his bed the first time you met, if you were honest.

Eren was nice. Nice enough that you stayed out together until the bars closed. But he was more than nice, he was charming, that was for sure. You liked how he kept you close and asked if you’d like another drink before yours could empty, as if there were someone bold enough to swoop in with Eren prowling around you.

You didn’t know how seriously you should take him, partly because you were sure he wasn’t taking you very seriously either. But that was good. That was what you were looking for. Something unserious with someone who knew what they were doing. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Eren fit the bill, smiling at you, all big and bright, as if he wasn’t fully aware that it was panty-dropping worthy. You couldn’t stand it.

So, as one could easily predict, you went back to his apartment. And yes, you fucked. After, Eren asked for your number. You prided yourself on it, even if he did go about it cheekily, rattling off something along the lines of 'We should do that again sometime.' You couldn’t exactly remember. But you had to admit it: after the second time, you were the one to suggest it become a regular thing, no strings attached.

And it had been just like this for the last three months.

Eren gave you enough time to put away dinner and get the dishes into the sink. You were even left with a few minutes to freshen up. Not too much since you’d be showering, but you brushed your teeth at least. You didn’t bother to change, opting to stay in your sleep shorts and tank. They’d soon be on the floor.

You checked the time when you heard Eren knock. 9:03 p.m. You only noted it because he was still dressed for work when you opened the door, though his tie was hung rather loosely around his neck.

You didn’t have a moment to question it—or to close the door—because his lips had already crashed onto yours, his hands cupping your cheeks in an instant. He took a few steps inside, walking you along with him, and pressed you up against the wall.

You froze. All but your lips, of course. You were swept up in his presence. His rough hands on your face, lips moving against yours and ridden with greed. You could still smell his cologne, faint and mixed with him, but it was still there. It was a scent you could only describe as masculine.

You decidedly broke the kiss, offering only a peck between your words as you chuckled, “Hello to you, too.”

Eren stared down at you, eyes heavy, his expression dull. “Sorry. Just needed you.” He caught himself. “Not like that.”

You didn’t tease him for it because you understood what he meant by it. That was the whole reason you were doing this, right? Life was fucking stressful enough as it was, so why did sex have to be, too?

You lightly pushed on his arm to reach past him and toward the front door. “Let’s not give my neighbors a show this time, okay?”

He smiled. You expected more, at least a short laugh through his nose, because there was a story there. One that you didn't have the time to get into now.

With the door shut and locked, you kissed him this time. He kissed back, but it was rigid, forced. Like he was there but wasn’t really there, if that made sense. You've had sex with him after a bad day before, on plenty of occasions, too. That was some of the best sex you'd ever had, the occasions when he fucked you without restraint, but this was different.

You scanned his face. The only meaningful thing you could conclude was, “You look exhausted.” You weren’t sure if you meant to say it aloud.

It was true, though. His eyes were sullen. The vibrancy they normally sported had vanished. He didn’t address it, instead brushing off your comment. “I’m fine. Just a long week at work.”

You decided not to ask any questions. That wasn’t a part of the arrangement you had going on. You each were here for one purpose, and one purpose only: to get each other off. And that was why when Eren went to kiss you again, you reminded yourself there wasn’t any use in prying, and you let him.

Eren kept you against the wall, your arms strewn around his neck to hold him there with you. His large hands smoothed down your sides. They curved over your hips with authority, rolling them against him, using you to get himself hard. It was working. You could feel his cock stiffen with every tilt of your hips. It stole a tiny moan from you, and Eren seized the opportunity to swipe his tongue against yours.

You brought a hand to the back of his neck, toying with his hair—barely tied back and looking like it had gone untouched since this morning—then down the collar of his shirt. You blindly attempted to undo his tie, but as you trailed over the crook of his neck, just where it met his shoulder, you noticed how tense he felt. The muscle barely gave when you rubbed over it with your thumb. Even so, you heard the little groan at the bottom of Eren’s throat, his head lolling to the other side.

The poor guy needed a break. From what, you didn’t know, but one was certainly called for.

You knew you weren’t supposed to care, but you weren’t heartless either. And while your relationship relied more on the benefits than your friendship, that wasn’t to say you didn’t like him.

For what it was worth, you got along with Eren quite well. It came with the territory, you supposed, as it was easy to learn a thing or two about a person after seeing them a shameful number of times a week (a number you wouldn’t disclose), even if it was just for sex.

Well, there was an occasional sleepover. Here or there, and reserved solely for those late-night booty calls. You mutually decided it didn’t break the rules so long as no cuddling was involved.

The first time Eren slept over, you remembered him deadpanning, "Do I look like someone that wants to cuddle?" after you said he had to stay on his side of the bed. To be honest, he did look like a cuddler, and you told him just that. You called him a big softie, to which he only rolled his eyes. You had since discovered that was a sassy habit of his.

Truthfully, you’d argue you learn even more about a person this way. Fucking—just fucking—was nothing like dating. There wasn’t any shame in it. You didn’t need to act coy and you could ask each other for exactly what you wanted. Pull my hair. Talk to me—dirtier. You know the drill. Plus, you learned Eren liked some interesting positions.

All that was to say, it was comfortable. You and Eren were comfortable. So you didn’t think he’d find it strange when you pulled back from the kiss and told him, “I have an idea.”

You led him back to your bedroom, not the bathroom, and asked him to strip. “Down to your underwear.”

Eren looked at you with cautious curiosity, then started to take off his tie. His shirt next. He had the first two buttons unfastened when a smile poked at the corner of his lips. He appeared more like himself again when he glanced over to you.

“You sure you want me to leave the boxers on?”

You shot him some daggers—albeit playful ones—and said, “Yes.” As you left, you added, “And lie on the bed. Face down.”

“Kinky.”

You ignored it; your turn to return his infamous eye roll, even if he didn’t get to see it.

You were only gone for a flash. When you returned, a bottle of lotion in hand, Eren had undressed, his nice slacks reduced to a pile on your rug, but he remained at the edge of your bed.

“What happened to our shower?” he asked in somewhat of a pout. His eyes narrowed once he noticed the lotion. As boyishly as ever, he questioned, “Don’t you have lube?”

You pointed past him and over to the pillows. “Lie down.”

You should have assumed getting Eren to listen would be an uphill battle for you. But to your surprise, after one last scrutinizing look, he conceded. He was reluctant, but he turned to lie on his stomach, somehow making your bed look small.

Any other day, he would have put up more of a fight, you were sure. Eren needed to be in control like that. The domineering type, always scoffing at your pitiful attempts at pinning him down. Even if you were on top, it was only because he had put you there, holding you into place for him to fuck up into.

It’d bother you if it didn’t suit him so goddamn well. He wore it like a fine accessory—something he could pair with his favorite fitted tee and get just about anyone to bend to his will.

So seeing him like this, vulnerable in just his black boxer briefs—well, you couldn't help but chuckle.

Eren’s head poked up. “Don’t laugh.”

You didn’t hide it when you giggled again, walking up the length of the bed on your knees. And just as he was about to snark at you for laughing, seconds away from flipping over and tapping out, you straddled him with his lower back between your thighs.

“Oh, hush,” you said, nudging him back into the pillows.

You took some lotion into your hands. Lavender and vanilla. You expected a snide remark about the girly scent, but he stayed silent.

The lotion was cold, and you did your best to warm it between your hands before you brought them to Eren’s shoulders. He shuddered at the feeling—whether it was the chill or the foreignness, you didn’t know—but as you put your hands to work, he practically melted into the billows of your duvet.

Eren’s voice sounded smushed against the pillows when he said, “You really don’t have to do this.” The sound that followed, the weight in his exhale, said otherwise, right as your thumb dug into the divot of his shoulder blade.

It was nothing you wouldn’t do for a friend. You had done it for friends, in fact. Perhaps that was why you felt so comfortable with it, even if he did have a much nicer back than anyone else you’ve had in this position.

You smiled to yourself. “Don’t worry about it. Figured you could use this more than a blowjob, anyway.”

“I mean—”

“Don’t push it.”

Eren chuckled, but it faded as soon as your fingers traveled higher, pressing against his neck.

You massaged from there, taking your sweet time before continuing toward the middle of his back. When your hands strained, you'd bridge every break by grazing your nails up and down his tanned skin. It was funny almost, how you had seen so much of him, but you never had admired his back before. When would you have had the chance?

From here, you could study the grooves of every muscle and each angle of his bones. Beneath your palms, he was smooth and warm—why was it that men always ran so hot? Like your own personal space heater or something.

While you were busy thinking about that, Eren wondered if he should try and stop you. If he wasn’t so tired, he would have. That was what he told himself.

Of course, this wasn’t what he came here for, but he couldn’t bring himself to end it—to roll you over, fuck you, and fulfill the underlying promise to this visit. At least, not right now. Your dainty fingers prodded at him with precision, keen knuckles hitting just the right spot. For what was maybe the first time ever, sex was the last thing on his mind.

Eren didn’t know how to feel about it, or even if he should feel anything toward it. He didn’t know what to do with it—with this—at all. He found an unfamiliar comfort in it. After countless years and meaningless relationships, he couldn’t recall a time when his stress had been named and taken into someone else’s hands—quite literally. It was kneaded away with the heels of your palms. A pair of hands that touched him but didn’t ask anything of him. Not taking what you wanted from him, but giving, freely and of your own accord.

It was intimate. It was something Eren realized he had never truly experienced before. Surely, it must cross one of those imaginary lines you had drawn in the sand so haphazardly together. But before he could think on it any longer, he was fast asleep. Out cold.

You only noticed when his soft sounds whittled into steady, silent breaths. You peeked around to check and found that his eyes, barely visible behind his hair, loose strands quivering with every exhale, were shut without as much as a flutter.

You stood from the bed then. Satisfied with your work and thinking it best to leave him be, you tossed a blanket over him before closing the door behind you.

You returned to your night, exactly where you had left it. You went back for that pint of ice cream you had saved for dessert, entirely unbothered as you cozied up into your nook on the couch.

About an hour or so had passed, with you an episode and a half deep into your show, when Eren reminded you he was still there with nothing more than the creaking of your bedroom door.

You held back your pestering ‘Morning, sleepy head’ comment when he emerged from your hallway, comparable to some sort of nocturnal animal, lazily dressed in his clothes again.

He immediately apologized, “I am so sorry.” Extra emphasis on that ‘so.’

You figured he might react like this, knowing he was the prideful type and whatnot, but he looked more like a kicked puppy than the man that fucked you senselessly on the regular. Up until now, you didn’t think he even had any sense of shame.

You turned to him, handing him your full attention, and assured, “It’s fine! It happens!” It sounded a little fake, so you toned it down. “Really. It’s no big deal. You must have needed it.”

There was a pause, a long stare, and then Eren finally said, “I’ll get going. I shouldn’t have—”

“I’d still be up for that shower,” you chimed, interrupting him before he talked himself into a weird, uncomfortable hole. “If you are.”

Eren had a look on his face like he didn’t hear you correctly. How could you possibly still have any interest after he dropped by, borderline unannounced, on a Friday night only to nap in your bed? There was a fleeting moment, just as he was dressing, he believed you wouldn’t want to see him again. He was pissed at himself, thinking he screwed up a situationship that was practically handed down to him by God himself.

But he didn’t think of it any longer because, right now—with that way you were eyeing him—he was only grateful. He watched you push yourself up from the couch, too-knowingly, because you already knew his answer.

Fuck. Eren shoved his humiliation aside, just for now. He sighed, long but sharp, like you had vanquished him with a siren call. “Why not?”

The next thing you knew, Eren had you on the bathroom counter, thighs spread with him nestled between, swapping kisses to pass the time while the shower heated up.

He yanked your tank top over your head, and you made even quicker work of his button-down. Each fell to the floor, pooling at Eren’s feet. Piece after piece, until there was nothing left between you.

For someone that tossed you a measly, ‘Why not?’ he sure was pretty eager.

He kissed you deeply, with one hand around the nape of your neck, holding you still for him, while his other caressed your breast. He had your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching the sensitive skin until you tipped your head back with a mewl, offering him the expanse of your neck.

Eren obliged, sloppily licking and sucking the side of your throat. Like the efficient fuckbuddy he was, he had memorized where you liked for him to kiss. It wasn't rock science. The closer he was to that spot—the dip behind your ear—the needier you became. He knew you liked it even more when he nipped at it, so he did just that.

"No hickeys," you warned on a wanton breath.

Another rule. One that Eren often wrote off, but only because you were just as lenient with it. And tonight was no exception. When he began to bruise the delicate skin, small purrs of pleasure snuck past your lips. You clung to him then, your nails piercing into his shoulders—into the muscles you had just tended.

You wanted him to pull you down onto his cock right then, to bounce you against him over and over, and fuck you like making you come was the only cure to his awful week.

But he didn't. You felt his breath at your ear as he took the lobe between his teeth, murmuring to you, "Shower. Now."

Eren whisked you off the counter and over to the shower. He slid the glass door open for you to hop inside first. Like a true gentleman, and definitely not because he wanted to smack your ass on the way in. He’d never do that.

The water was hot, its steam thick and swirling around you. You let it run down your back as you kissed Eren again, wet mouths and hands slipping against each other’s bare flesh.

Once again, the purpose here was to get off, not to get clean. You had done this before, experienced the fumbling and falling, and lived to tell the tale, so you knew already which positions worked.

You slid your hand down the ridges of his stomach, gliding your hand over his cock effortlessly, thanks to the water, and he groaned. But when you started to turn around so he could take you from behind, he stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

“Let me,” Eren softly instructed.

You didn’t exactly know what he meant by it, but he started to kiss your neck again. Below your ear, then lower. Decorating your collarbone, and then your breasts. His mouth somehow felt warmer than even the scalding water as he took your nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. He didn’t neglect the other before wandering lower, crouching to his knees to peck at your navel and taste your hipbones.

“What’re you—”

Eren cut in. “I want to make you feel good, too.” He kissed the crease of your thigh. “That’s why I came over, right?”

It was a rhetorical question that you didn't answer. You couldn't even if you wanted to. Your words would have hitched in your throat, no greater than an embarrassing sputter, the second he pressed his lips to you. Right between your legs.

He didn’t go for it immediately, opting to bring his fingers to you before his tongue. He thumbed over your clit, letting his other fingers splay against your stomach, and began to rub deftly. You squeaked, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. He glanced up at you then, smirking, annoyingly aware of how easily he turned you to putty.

Eren dragged the pads of his fingertips down and angled his hand so he could tease at your entrance. He used only his middle finger, grazing it through you, up and down your slit. He wanted to comment on how wet you were already, but you’d say something smart back, he was sure of it. ‘We’re in the shower, dumbass.’

So when he did tease you for it—“Someone likes it when I play with her pussy, hm?”—he shut you up by pumping two fingers inside you. Your muscles fluttered around his knuckles, mouth dropping to a small ‘o’ as moans dripped from your lips.

Eren curled his fingers just right, and you felt your heel start to inch out from beneath you. It was a fight to stay upright—a caveat of the elusive shower sex.

“Fuck—right there. Don’t stop,” you panted.

He continued to fuck you with his fingers, his eyes transfixed on where they disappeared inside you, the lewd sounds of wet skin on skin, but he didn’t want to just finger you. He wanted you to come, and he wanted you to come on his tongue. He needed a taste.

Eren knew that was what you wanted, too, your hips rocking, achingly begging for more.

Another, “Don’t stop,” spilled from you.

He hummed, “I don’t know. Something tells me you want me to eat you out.”

Eren leaned in, real slow, lips ghosting over you. He slipped his fingers out of you and used them to spread you, just enough for him to lick at your clit. The heat of his tongue alone had your brain fuzzy, sparking like it could possibly short-circuit.

You immediately took hold of his head, your fingers weaving through sopping hair and searching for any support you could get. “Eren, ah—”

Even his kittenish licks, with only the tip of his tongue, had your back arching. He stabilized you with a hand on your hip. With his other, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. He could have even more of you—taste even more of you—like this, and he delved in.

His mouth closed over you, the flat of his tongue lapping at you with broad strokes. After months of practice, he was in tune with you by now. He mastered the craft of making you come, picking out the very moment his tongue becomes too much for you. Only then did he break to let the plush of his lips leave gentle, wet kisses against your clit. Each caused you to shiver, your skin prickling even in the heady temperature of your shower.

You propped yourself up with a hand against the glass door. Each time you faltered or twitched, the bathroom echoed with the indecent, smearing sound of your sweaty palm against the condensation. Slipping lower and lower until you had to smack it back into place. Then the process would repeat.

Eren’s tongue buried between you, hot, and dipping inside you. Each time, you fought the urge to rut against his face. You didn’t want to hide any of him. He looked so good there, eyes blazed and determined, his toned chest and pretty face flushed in a summer pink. You loved the telling hue, ruddy with humid lust.

He wiped his face, cleared some of the water from his eyes, before parting you with his tongue again. Every sound he pulled from you—every whimper and every shaky breath—emboldened him. You were close, he knew it, as your voice turned pitchy. Your hips spasmed; you were holding back. With his hand on your ass, fingers squeezing the fat of it, he started to maneuver you, working you over his tongue.

“Let go—that’s it. Ride my face." He spoke it against you, his voice a vibration buzzing through you, tapering off into groans once you did as you were told.

You were dizzy. The bottom of your stomach burned hotter, like blooms of fire or electricity or something else that was scorching to the touch—your thoughts were too scattered to choose. Whatever it was, you felt it at the base of your spine. You fanned it. You coaxed it out each time you helplessly rolled your hips over Eren’s mouth. It was filthy, all lips and tongue, kisses and licks, with him sucking at your clit.

His eyes never left yours. They were heavy-lidded, fighting the water that threatened to dribble past his lashes, but they were fixed on you. God, you looked so fucking sexy above him, water trickling down the valley of your breasts. Your perfect pussy could suffocate him, and he’d thank you for it.

Eren didn't need to say it; you could practically hear him. Hear the growl in his voice, the gravel of it as if his mouth was right against your ear and not stuffed between you. He wouldn't dare stop, but if his eyes could speak to you, he'd tell you—no, he'd demand that you come for him.

All at once, you tipped that edge. You cursed, your head lurching forward with your chin tucked into your chest. You had your eyes squeezed shut, so you didn’t see it but heard the clatter when your leg—the one over his shoulder—kicked a shampoo bottle to the shower floor. Neither of you even flinched, both of you wholly consumed with each other, even if it was only for this blissful blip in time.

Well, maybe a bit more than a blip. It went on longer than usual. At least, Eren thought so, and it certainly felt like it to you. Your fingers were still knotted in his hair, keeping him in place for you to use—you had actually formed a fist now. He waited for your choked breaths to drawl out into whimpers, but it never happened, so he didn't slow.

The stimulation was so much, and it was so good. You didn’t want it to stop. Lost in the daze of pleasure, its ripples of it still pulsing through you, you had Eren lick at you for as long as you desired.

Until he eventually had to come up for air. You whined at the loss, glaring at him as he swatted some water from his face and grunted, “Hold on a second unless you want me to die.”

“Keep going. Please,” you urged, driving his head back once you decided he had enough of a break.

He didn’t argue it, only continuing to do the same thing as before. The same thing that kept you coming back for more, night after night, and sometimes on the occasional lunch break.

You rode the feeling out for as long as you could, sitting on the delicious fringes that were just shy of coming undone—of becoming utterly ruined.

And when you came a second time, with Eren’s pointed tongue circling your clit, your mind went blurry to everything but the feeling. It was euphoric, radiating from your core until its warmth engulfed you like wildfire.

You yelped out his name, gasping for him in wracked sobs. Just like that, just like that. And, holy shit, was it fucking hot. Eren didn’t even mind your sudden roughness. If anything, he wanted to make you come a third time, just to hear that pathetic warble in your voice again.

But you were sensitive now. Even his gentle pecks against your clit, his laps to savor everything you’d given him, were far too much. Your leg was quivering after stretching at a cramped angle for too long and fell from his shoulder. It was a miracle you were upright, even if you were folded into the corner of the shower.

Eren stood to his feet, snickering to himself as he gave you a once-over. You looked fucked-out, with big and trembling breaths parting your lips.

“You good?” he asked. Note: this could be construed as genuine, but do not let that fool you. Eren was just that smug. You knew this because he was still grinning down at you. That smile you couldn’t stand.

Water droplets spattered your face. You smeared them away with your hands.

“Yeah,” you answered, all dreamily, or so Eren thought, only inflating his already enormous ego. “Never better.”

You both stepped into this shower well aware that neither of you held any intention of getting clean. There was no point in pretending to soap up, not with your legs starting to noodle out, so you reached for the handle to shut off the water.

You dried off, embarrassingly sat on the toilet lid because you felt more like Jell-O than human, then scrambled together a fresh t-shirt and a pair of underwear to sleep in. You resigned to your bed with a final, contented sigh, melding with the covers as if they were clouds.

Moments later, Eren returned, dressed and at your bedside. He rested a hand on your shoulder to ensure you were still awake.

“I’m going to head out,” he whispered.

“You’re tired,” you said, your voice a staggered mutter into the pillow. “Just stay.”

Eren didn’t say anything back, but he didn’t leave either. Fuck it, he said to himself. He was way too exhausted to drive.

You heard him undress, the sound of fabric slinking to the floor, for what was the third time tonight. Hopefully the last.

You slithered to the far side of the bed to make room, only lugging your favorite pillow along with you since you didn't like to share. The mattress stuttered as Eren crawled underneath the blankets, only stilling once he relaxed into the bed.

Though he maintained the space between you, you felt him drape an arm over your waist. You couldn’t guess why, but for whatever reason, you let it slide. Just for tonight.

And only when he knew you were asleep—when he was absolutely positive of it—he gifted you a faint, “Thank you.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #eren yeager x reader

1K notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 1 year

Note

Uhhhh nightwalks Joel and reader getting high off their asses and then fucking

harder - 420 special, can read alone.

2.8k | Joel x f!Reader | night walks masterlist

IMG: dark profile shot of Joel that says, "lift heavy, talk dirty, smoke weed" and "night walks" in the bottom left.

He slowly rubs your thigh and says, “It's ok, pumpkin. Shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.” He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too. It’s still pretty hot inside. You unzip your hoodie, and he wets his lips as you take it off.

Ty 420 Anon, yard-spying bj anon, @missannwinchester, @xdaddysprincessxx , and everyone for all the great Qs, comments, and ideas. 👖

WARNINGS: 18+ Non-outbreak, AU pothead neighbor Joel, reader smokes, unspecified age gap, drinking, fingering, oral, unsafe vaginal sex (PIV), light choking, hard drug use, bad ideas. Mild dubcon bc drugs? (she has the intent before the drugs)

You start taking your night walks again. You keep seeing your creepy neighbor Joel out in the wild anyway, and your efforts not to fuck him have been not only futile but increasingly weak. You’re walking your first lap around the neighborhood and a car pulls up to Joel's house. A young woman gets out of the car. She goes around back to his man cave where the door must be open because it sounds like he’s lifting weights. Your stomach drops and your heart races. Who is she? His estranged wife–if he even has one, you've never seen her–can’t be your age, can she? Then again, if he can pull you . . . are you just one of many?

Despite your best efforts, it doesn’t leave your mind. When you come back around the neighborhood, your curiosity gets the best of you and you quietly prowl into the back of his yard. His lights are on, so you can see clearly and it makes your insides turn. In the window to the right, Joel is in the middle of sitting down. He rubs his nose and eases back into the sofa with his hands behind his head, elbows out. A look of pleasure spreads across his face. and he says “oh yeah.” In the window to the left, she’s kneeling on the ground in front of him. The gap between the windows spares you the explicit details. Joel looks down, watching her and licking his lips and man, he looks hot. Yeah, it actually turns you on.

His eyes drift to the window and you quietly slink away before he sees you. You walk around the block one more time and light up a joint, hoping to push away your traitorous gut reaction to this development. You have all these thoughts like I should’ve given in. . . .I should’ve come when he invited me. . . He finally gave up on me. . . You know these thoughts make no sense. They make you feel dirty. He’s so skeezy and vile. He’s been preying on you. That’s what you want?

As you approach his cul de sac for the third time, she’s driving away. That was so fast, you have to wonder if he paid her.

“Evenin’, pumpkin.” His voice startles you from the treeline. He’s standing where you were.

You don’t say anything. You take a hit of your joint.

“Yeah I bet you had a pretty good view from here,” he says.

Your heart races and your face gets hot.

You respond, “Have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, always a good time. You wanna try it?”

You scoff but almost, briefly entertain the idea. “I’m good. How much does a blow job cost these days anyway?” You instantly regret the question. Probably sounded resentful.

“Depends how much you’re buyin’.”

“What?”

“Ahh, blow job,” he says. You're embarrassed by how loud he says it. He slowly walks closer to the street – closer to you – then stops when he’s a couple of feet away. He crosses his arms and his biceps bulges under his tight t-shirt. “Blow job. . . that’s what you thought? Well damn. I’m flattered, pumpkin. All jealous of my dealer spendin’ time with me.” As usual, you hate it when he’s right.

“That’s what you call ‘contactless pick-up’?”

“That ain’t the weed girl.”

He walks around you slowly, like you’re a steak he’s about to carve up, then he puts his hand on the back of your neck and lowers his voice.

“That’s Michelle Pfieffer, baby. Not Mary Jane.” He looks at your joint and you hand it to him. He's totally lost you. "Never seen Scarface?" He takes a hit, inhales, and holds. His broad chest swells with his lungs. Then he strokes your temple and squints at you, like he’s reading you, as he brings his mouth less than a centimeter from yours and exhales. You breathe him in so cleanly, so greedily, barely any of it escapes into the air around you. You hold, then turn your head to release the smoke. It was too much, too soon, but you couldn’t turn him away. After successfully resisting a glance for several minutes, your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his PJs, sending a warm rush to your core.

He smirks and strokes the nape of your neck. You don’t say anything. You just stand there marveling at how genuinely hot he is. Beautiful, even. Shit, you’re really high.

“C’mon,” he says and rotates around so he’s next to you, slightly behind you. He squeezes your neck, and his forearm is resting between your shoulder blades when he starts walking you towards his basement. You barely resist at all. “Real bad girl shit, you’re gonna love it.”

By the time you’re halfway to the door, his hand is no longer on your neck. It’s drifted down to give your ass a brief squeeze, and for the first time since finding out his real intentions, you’re walking into his basement quite willingly.

He nods to the couch. “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever.” You move a throw pillow out of your way and sit down.

On the ottoman in front of the couch, there’s a mirrored tray with a credit card, loosely rolled $100 bill, and white powder residue. She was doing a line, not sucking his cock. Now you’re even more embarrassed.

Joel comes around the sofa and gives you an IPA.

He sits down right next to you, manspreading with his hand on his inner thigh and his other thigh flush with yours. He slowly rubs your leg and says, “It's okay, pumpkin. I shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.”

He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too. It’s still pretty hot inside. As he slowly crosses the room, he wets his lips and watches you unzip your hoodie You fold it up and set it in your lap.

"You gotta try this shit." He gets out his drug box.

You hesitate and decline.

“Girl as bad as you, never done hard drugs?”

“Tried it, didn't like it. It was gross.”

“Bet it was cut with somethin’ gross. This is good shit. maybe later though. Hmm?" He turns to face you, strokes your inner thigh, and studies your face.

"Yeah I'm already high as fuck" you admit.

He laughs. “High as fuck . . . that makes two of us, pumpkin.” You can see it in his eyes, too. He extends his beer to cheers yours.

"Got all stressed out seein' me with another chick?"

You take a long sip and observe the tent in his pants, resenting that he's right as usual. He takes a long sip too then puts it down. He leans in close, puts his mouth against your ear. "You don't have to say it," he whispers as he takes your beer out of your hand and your sweatshirt out of your lap, setting them on the table without fully leaving your space. His cold hand slides between your legs, lightly trailing up your inner thigh over your thin joggers. Then he adds, "I can feel it."

You’re already turning to face him. Your legs open, making room for him. “Yeah, that’s right” he says.

You lean back, he gets between your legs, and his hands prowl up toward your shoulders, caging you to the couch. He presses the hard silhouette of his cock into your inseam. Then his mouth latches onto yours and your chest swells into him, your nipples hardening against his tight undershirt. He makes room then his hand slides up under your undershirt – no bra – taking the shirt with it. You help him pull it over your head. Then he cups a breast and palms your hard nipple and your back arches. You’re throbbing for him.

“too hot for these,” he says, hooking fingers into your joggers. He begins to pull them down, then pauses when they’re at your knees. He spreads you open with both thumbs and plants his mouth for a taste. He licks and moans “Mmm’ into your cunt, then plunges his tongue inside, making your hips lift into his face.

He comes up for air and says, "god damn you're hot," palming himself over his pants. He finishes pulling your joggers off. "Hotter every fuckin time." He returns to grinding into you and sucks your neck. Holy fuck, he's hard. So hard. Your mouth falls open with a soft moan.

"Yeah, you feel that? C’mon, let's get wild, baby." He grinds into you a couple more times, says “yeah,” then sits back on his heels and gets the coke baggie. He picks up a small key ring from the coffee table. Joel opens the bag and dips a key into it, getting the smallest little mountain of white powder on the end of the key, then he puts the baggie down on the tray.

"C'mere a sec. It's just a little," he says. You sit up while he makes a vertical fist and puts the smallest hill of white powder on the flat web between his thumb and forefinger. It doesn't look like much, so you play along, closing a nostril and bringing your nose to his fist. You inhale and he says "attagirl," then with the same hand, he grabs your jaw and pulls your mouth into his for an aggressive kiss. The back of your throat is dripping nasally, but you're tingling all over as his tongue invades your mouth with his hand holding your jaw. Then that hand loosens and slides down to your throat and he pushes you back down on the couch, your head landing on the throw pillow.

"Don't worry, pumpkin. All yours tonight, every inch,” he says, stroking himself through his pants. That sends a bolt of desire right through you. His hand slides down your chest over your stomach to your dripping pussy and he says "you taste real fuckin good, you know that?" as he fingers you. Then he licks his thick digits clean.

He pulls down his waistband, frees himself from his PJ pants, then changes his mind and takes them off entirely. He lays his hips onto yours, his stiff cock resting on your mound and you tilt your hips in search of friction. God, you need him so bad. His face returns to your neck and you claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off and admires you with red, half-lidded eyes while he's still sitting upright.

"God you look so fuckin hot. . . “ He runs his hand lightly over your stomach, between your breasts, and back. You badly want him inside you.

He takes the baggie and dips the key in it again. “Gotta do it, ‘fore I get you all sweaty.” Then the cold metal on your cleavage makes your nipples harden and he inhales deeply. He carefully draws a thin line along your cleavage, all the way up to your clavicle, then admires his work.

"Baby you're the hottest thing ‘ever been in this room," he says and your heart swells a little, to your embarrassment.

You watch him in a trance, wanting him back against your buzzing body. He picks up and tightens the rolled up bill. He strokes his naked cock with his other hand then lets it fall between your legs. Your hips tilt, and his tip meets your entrance, nudging at your tight, wet hole while he braces himself on the couch. Your legs open a little wider for him. Your body is drunk with need. Then he brings his head to your chest, the bill to his nose, and snorts the whole line, up to the bottom of your throat, and in the same swift motion, he plunges his stiff length into you with a groan, and you moan at the stretch of his girth.

He tilts his head back and sniffles, staying inside you as he does it. Jesus, who knew a cock could be so hard, or feel so good. He retreats half way then pushes all the way into you again, bottoming out with a shudder.

“God damn, baby,” he says, then begins to move his hips fluidly. He feels so unequivocally good, you can’t even pretend he doesn’t. No part of you can. In a fucked up way, you feel like you’re exactly where you want to be in life, on the couch of this creep’s basement. He grunts as he buries his rock-hard length inside you and sucks at your neck. His cock fills you up just right, just the right amount of stretch, and the way he moves his hips, he’s rubbing you just right, too. All you want is more of it.

“Harder,” you hear yourself say.

“What now?” he smirks with a hint of disbelief.

“Harder, Joel.” He heard you the first time, he just wanted to hear it again. “Fuck me harder.” Your hips lift into his and you wrap your legs all the way around him. He rolls into you smoothly again, nodding, and you feel it building in your core. You watch him in anticipation - his glistening biceps. His absurd triceps. His strong torso. Something animalistic comes across his face.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes.

He slams into you with a grunt, and you moan. You don’t bother trying not to. Not tonight. He hooks his arms under your shoulders for leverage and pounds into you again and again, to the hilt each time, grunting, breathing heavily. You gasp. He’s hitting that spot just right and he knows it. You’re close to coming. His messy hair bounces as he rails you.

“Thought you’d never ask, baby,” he says.

He moves one of his arms under your knee, putting that leg on his shoulder, and keeps railing you. It feels like your whole torso is being filled by him. You groan loudly, overwhelmed by him all up in your guts. It’s like he’s been holding out on you – he was already so good and this is just ridiculous.

“Fuckin’ love this pussy,” he pants, looking at you like a work of art as he fucks you. Your back arches and you writhe under him, so close to the edge. He somehow pushes even further.

“And you love this cock, don’t ya?” You nod, tears prickling your eyes. Sweat falls off his chest onto yours as he pummels you.

“Fuck yeah,” he growls.

“Yeah,” you pant, practically a whisper. You could do this all night.

He slams into you hard again, tripping you over the edge, and you repeat “Yeah,” louder, which turns into a moan as you squirm under him through your waves of pleasure and your body jerks.

“I know, baby,” he says. “Attagirl, yeah, come on this cock.” You continue to contract, and manage to stammer, “Oh God, don’t stop.”

As your climax wanes, he hooks both his arms under yours again and says “c’mere,” as his hips roll into you more gracefully again. He kisses you, and moans into your mouth as he fucks you, and you quickly feel it building again. You moan and he says, “hell yeah.”

He pulls out and your gut reaction is”no,” before he can even help you into straddling him. “Well hot damn,” he says and sits back for you to ride him.

You push yourself up by your elbows, then begin to climb into his lap.

“All yours, baby. Ride it.”

You can’t sink onto him fast enough. You both grunt as your bodies are joined. You roll your hips into him and his large hands move you on his cock. He takes a nipple into his mouth and your head falls back. You still can’t get over how hard he is. You could do this all night, you think.

But it isn’t long before his breath changes and you know he’s gonna come. Yeah, you know he’s about to come, and yet, you can’t bear to tear yourself off his cock. He pulls you down flush against him with a groan and holds you there. His head falls back. His hips lift, and he pulses enormously inside you, sending you for your second time. You whine “Oh, God,” as you clench around him. And he moans, lifting his hips into you with each rope. Then you cut his moan off with your lips on his, and he groans into your mouth.

You sit on his lap with his cock still inside as you catch your breaths. Eventually, he gives your ass a squeeze and says, “God I’m thirsty.”

You agree, and get off him. He hands you your beer and you take a long swig.

“I’m spent, pumpkin. Got too fuckin’ high. You tired?”

Yeah, you are.

“Alright, let’s take a nap and do that again,” he says.

And you stay.

A/N: I'm curious if anyone recognizes this situation, because it's based on a movie/scene that inspired the neighbor & drugs premise of night walks to begin with. I know where we're picking up from here thanks to @missannwinchester 👖 and still have many night walks ideas on the board from y'all, brewing and welcome.

TAGS

NW: @tehweeana@lokanda@blackvelveteen1339@cutesyscreenname@ele-meno-p lmk if i missed you

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda

#night walks!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #creepy!joel #creepy!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#night walks #nightwalks☠️#420 anon #cw dubcon

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sleepiexx · 11 months

Note

Valeria Garza x fem reader. Reader and Valeria get into a argument and reader ignores Valeria for an entire day.

Pushover

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Note: I love the way you think anon, some angst with some hurt comfort after it. Hope you like it!

Summary: (Y/N) has a hard time standing up for herself, this brews trouble for her when inevitably there is an argument in her relationship.

Warnings: arguing, self-depreciating thoughts

Word count: 1923

(Y/N) was a pushover. She knew it. She’d known since about the third time she made friends with someone who only ever put her down and had a hard time standing up for herself. Although she knew it, she still couldn’t stop herself. To her it felt like she wasn’t in control, like she was watching a car crash from the back seat.

This problem became basically null the second Valeria Garza came into her life. Like a guard dog on the prowl, Valeria stayed right next to (Y/N), willing to defend her at any given moment should conflict arise, verbal or otherwise.

This, as most things do, came with a downside; (Y/N) never truly got over her pushover tendencies and now arguments with Valeria were near impossible.

It was never truly an argument, really, how can you argue with someone who always caves and lets you win? Because of this, emotions went unchecked, leaving room for them to fester. What was originally only a small annoyance became a black hole eating at (Y/N)’s mind at all hours of the day.

With time, Valeria only became more protective. It was sweet at first, being so loved, safe, and protected. But once the near 5-month long honeymoon phase of the relationship wore off, (Y/N) quickly found herself annoyed.

It seemed now that she never had alone time. Every waking moment was spent with Valeria, who she loved but could only spend so much time with before she went stir crazy. Don’t get (Y/N) wrong, she was literally obsessed with her girlfriend and she loved her very much, but Valeria wouldn’t even let her go to the store by herself, and god, she felt like a kid again, needing to hold mommy’s hand to cross the street.

It was only when Valeria suggested getting (Y/N) a full time bodyguard that everything boiled over and she snapped.

“Fucking Christ, Valeria, I’m a grown adult, I don’t need someone following me around every hour of every day!”

Valeria straightened her posture, eyes darkening as she tried to keep her cool.

“All I want is for you to be safe, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s eyebrow twitched, a clear sign of her blatant annoyance, “It’s always that excuse with you, isn’t it? You ‘just wanted me to be safe’ when you scared off the first friend I’ve tried to make since we got together, you were ‘defending’ me when you got us kicked out of that bar because you didn’t like the way some guy was looking at me, and now, as if your presence isn’t suffocating enough, you want me followed by someone who will report back to you with everything I’ve done all day? You are so beyond paranoid, it’s actually fucking insane.”

Valeria tried to understand her, she really did, “Where is all of this coming from?”

But unlike usual, (Y/N) was not willing to step down, “You! Valeria, it’s coming from you! It’s like ever since we got together you won’t leave me alone and I’m sick of it! I need some privacy once in a while, you’re acting fucking crazy!”

“I have done nothing but protect you since we have met and you want to call me crazy? Without me, your weak ass would have gotten yourself killed. Call me suffocating and insane all you want, (Y/N), you need me.”

(Y/N) stood there with a deep glare etched into her eyes as Valeria seethed. Suddenly she felt as though she were trapped. She didn’t want to be here anymore, she could feel tears beginning to gather in her waterline but she would be damned before she let Valeria see her crying after all of that. She turned on her heel, grabbing her things and beelining it towards the front door.

“Yeah, run away,” Valeria spat, “run away like you always do the second shit gets a little bit tough.”

And (Y/N) did, not sparing so much as a glance back to Valeria’s house after slamming the door and making her way to her car. She wasted no time in starting it up and speeding away as fast as she could.

She didn’t know where to go, but what she did know was that she didn’t want to go home and she absolutely could not return to Valeria’s.

She ended up pulling into a random parking lot 20 minutes away from both her own and Valeria’s houses, finally allowing herself to break down.

Tears flowed freely down her face as sobs echoed throughout her empty car. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute, arguing with herself about everything she had said.

Was she too mean? God what was she thinking, of course she was too mean, she probably just lost the best thing in her life. She should have just let Valeria win, why did she say all of that? She didn’t really think Valeria was crazy, a little suffocating, sure, but crazy was pushing it. How could she say that to her? She loved Valeria, and she just threw it all away like that. Valeria probably didn’t even want her anymore.

She sobbed harder at the thought.

“Please, please, please don’t leave me,” she cried to herself.

She’ll have to put together one hell of an apology. Even then, there’s no telling how Valeria would react. She was right, (Y/N) did need her. This was the first time she was truly alone in months and yet she felt so, so awful. She thought she wanted this, but now with the threat of losing her girlfriend over her head she was so incredibly lonely.

She was broken out of her pity party by the buzzing of her phone. One look at the screen and she could see Valeria’s beautiful face and caller ID.

She couldn’t talk to her, not yet. What if she said another stupid thing and dug herself a deeper hole? What if Valeria broke up with her over the phone? She couldn’t bare the thought.

Instead of answering, she took her phone and turned it completely off, stuffing it into the depths of her purse. She started her car back up and drove home in complete silence, tears still running down her face.

Once home, (Y/N) sat in bed wallowing in her own thoughts and self hatred. She only got up once, to use the bathroom which in a shocking turn of events proved to make her more upset.

As she tugged off her pants, she was met with a dark red stain in the seat of her underwear. She was on her period. To her, this discredited everything she had said.

Maybe she was the crazy one. She just let all of her hormones get to her and make her yell awful things at her loving girlfriend. Valeria was right, she was weak. Just an idiot who couldn’t help but ruin everything good she had in her life. What an emotional wreck.

After putting on a pad, she changed clothes and sat under the covers, sobbing into her pillow.

Before she knew it, night fell and she realized she’d been moping around all day, only worsening her mood. A loud knock at the door made her flinch, snapping her attention in that direction.

As she made her way to the door, a small part of her hoped it was just a door to door salesman there to sell her on the “world’s best vacuum technology,” or even maybe just Mormons. But the majority of her yearned for it to be Valeria.

She had no clue what to do and no words prepared for when she opened the door and it revealed Valeria, standing on the porch sporting a down trodden look whilst holding a bouquet of flowers.

Valeria’s head shot up, half shocked that (Y/N) had actually opened the door. It was clear that (Y/N) had been crying for a while with her puffy red eyes and her sniffle, and Valeria felt so incredibly guilty. For what felt like the first time in her life, Valeria was at a loss for words.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) asked awkwardly.

Valeria cleared her throat, attempting to push aside all self-degrading thoughts and put together an explanation, “Well you weren’t answering your phone and I, uhm, I really wanted to say that I’m sorry for earlier. I said some awful things to you that I didn’t mean and it was wrong of me.”

(Y/N) quickly shook her head, fully believing that she and she alone was to blame for the argument.

“No, I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that.”

Valeria’s eyes saddened, “don’t do that, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) stared, confused, “do what?”

“Don’t back down. You never let yourself believe that you are right, even when you are.”

“But I wasn’t, Valeria, I’m on my period and I’m being a bitch.”

Valeria frowned as the words left (Y/N)’s mouth, “Don’t call yourself that. Sweetheart, just because you’re a little hormonal right now doesn’t mean your feelings were any less valid. I was being overbearing.”

“You just wanted to keep me safe,” (Y/N) whispered.

Valeria shook her head, “And I will get you enrolled in some self defense classes as soon as possible, but smothering you wasn’t the right way to make sure you were safe. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N) pulled the door open wider, a silent invitation inside. One which Valeria gratefully accepted.

(Y/N) nodded, looking up at Valeria with sad, yearning eyes, “Can we uh, talk about this more tomorrow maybe? I’m starting to cramp, and I’m tired, and I really just want to snuggle with you right now.”

Valeria smiled warmly, so very happy that things weren’t over, “Of course, my love. I’d be happy to.”

(Y/N)’s heart warmed. She took the bouquet from Valeria’s hand and nodded towards the bedroom, “I’m going to go find a vase for these, I still have your clothes in my closet so you can go ahead and change into something more comfy while I do that.”

Valeria nodded and went off to change while (Y/N) filled a pretty glass vase with water and placed the flowers as a centerpiece on her table. She smelled one, admiring Valeria’s choice in flowers.

“Are you ready to come cuddle?” Valeria asked from behind (Y/N), causing her to jump. She quickly nodded and followed Valeria to bed.

Once settled, Valeria wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, rubbing patterns into her skin.

“Where are you hurting?” Valeria questioned.

“Huh?”

Valeria rubbing lightly at the skin on (Y/N)’s hip, “You said you were starting to cramp, is it your back? Breasts, tummy, hips?”

“Oh,” (Y/N) muttered, “tummy.”

Valeria’s fingertips drifted to (Y/N)’s stomach, slowly rubbing and kneading at the skin. (Y/N) sighed in relief.

Valeria desperately wanted to apologize again but she knew not to bring it up. Not when (Y/N) asked her to wait, and certainly not when (Y/N) was finally relaxing into her touch. Instead, she made certain that (Y/N) knew how much she cared by whispering sweet nothings into her ear and rubbing her stomach all throughout the night until the both of them inevitably fell asleep.

They would have plenty to discuss in the morning but for now, they could enjoy being with each other and knowing that neither of them wanted to break up.

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria x reader #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty fanfic #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty valeria #call of duty x reader

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dahliamalfoy97 · 1 year

Text

NEEDY - Muzan

MuzanxReader

A/N: probably not my best work, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Synopsis: Basically Y/N is feeling a bit needy and is a bit of a brat and Muzan is a sadistic bastard.

Warning: SMUT +18!! , MDNI, Yandere Muzan ! Explicit Content, daddy kink, monster kink, brat kink, degradation, masochism, slight dacryphilia, choking kink, spanking kink, manhandling, orgasm denial, overstimulation, penetration, oral sex, thigh riding, hair pulling, cockwarming, mentions of blood, and whatever else I forget to mention. Muzan is kind of mean but I mean it’s Muzan soo.

You were feeling Needy.

Your boyfriend Muzan was really focused on defeating the Demon Survey Corps and the upcoming war and you knew how important it was to him. You knew he was busy and you know he had specifically ordered you don't bother him while he was working. Usually you followed his orders but all he seemed to do is lock himself away in his lab. And it left you lonely.

Feeling needier than ever.

It had been weeks since you two had been intimate. And you were starting to forget what his touch had felt like. Sure you were a demon and life was unending. You had an infinite amount of time with him but 2 weeks seemed like forever this time around.

So probably making the worst decision of your life you dress yourself in a short red dress that hugged every curve and barely covered your ass. It was new one you had bought just for him. But he's been too busy to see it on you. You curled your hair and put on some makeup and made way to his lab.

You knocked softly.

"Who is there?" Muzan answers monotonously and you knew he was probably not even looking up at door.

"It's me, Muzan," you say.

Immediately the doors open, "I thought I've told you to not to bother me while I'm working, Y/N," you feel your heart drop because he hadn't even looked up at you and he called you by your name. Not doll, or princess.

"I know but, I barely see you anymore," you pout, creeping quietly towards where he sat in his chair with a vial in his hands. His crimson cat like eyes narrowed in pure concentration. " I miss you."

He sighs, "I know, Princess, but you know how important to this is."

" I get that but lately it seems more important than me," you can't help but hiss in dismay, leaning against his desk, admiring his breathtaking profile. You had missed him so your heart ached. As a demon naturally you didn't feel much emotions. But you burned and craved him like he was your own heartbeat.

His gaze flits to yours for a second, "I promise nothing is more important than you, but this is so we can be together without any issues. Remember?"

"Of course. And I want that future with you, but right now I need you right now."

"I'm busy, princess, I promise I'll make it up to you later."

But you're not giving up so easily, you begin prowling around him. Creeping behind him to massage his shoulders.

"Have you even eaten lately?" And he immediately relaxes under your touch. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I am a demon, I don't need those things."

Your hands curl around his tie, nibbling on his ear, he lets out a groan. His grip on the vial tightening.

"Well you can't continue to be the most powerful demon king if you're refusing to eat."

"I'll eat later," he growls. "Right now I need to finish this concoction-"

"Damn it, Muzan, you haven't even looked at me since I walked in here. I know this is important, but you can at least remember me from time to time," his hand grips yours tightly, pulling you in front of him. His crimson stare finally meeting yours,

"I can never forget you, Sweetheart."

You stick out your lower lip, "well it seems like you have. It's been 2 weeks since I've seen you, two weeks since you've touched me. And i know you've said not to bother you, but fuck Muzan, I need you. If you're going to ignore me than I can just go find Douma, I know he'll-"

The vial in his hand shatters, his veins strain against his pale skin, his hand grips your wrist and yanks you on to his lap. Your legs on dangling on both sides. You gasp at the sudden reaction.

"Don't even think about finishing that fucking sentence," he growls, those crimson eyes glaring into yours, his hands grip your waist tightly. "You're fucking mine, sweetheart, and I will kill that demon if he lays a finger on you."

Your core fluttered at his degrading words.

"Muzan, you've been ignoring me the last few weeks," you reply back. "You haven't even what I'm wearing right now and I've bought it for you."

His eyes finally do a fully take of what you're wearing, and his eyes darken, "you bought this for me," his fingers skim the satin material, "let me guess you're not wearing any panties are you?"

"Maybe, maybe I am. But you won't be able to find out if you continue to ignore me like you have been," you run your hands down his torso, feeling his muscles tense underneath you, running them all the way to where they brush along the noticeable bulge that's straining against the material of his slacks. You rub it teasingly, and grind yourself a little on his thigh. But he stops your movements with a firm grip around your waist, his jaw clenching.

You smirk, knowing he was pissed, "You mean to tell me you've been wandering around the castle without panties where anyone else but me can see you?"

"Well I mean you haven't been around to see me so really why does it matter?"

He growls, a deep guttural growl, it vibrates underneath you and you can't help but bite your lip, knowing this man was was mere seconds from unleashing the beast that slept underneath.

"You're really going to be a fucking brat? What have I fucking told you about wandering around the castle without your panties on? You know I don't want anyone else seeing what's mine."

You squeeze him tightly and his eyes flash a dangerous scarlet, "again, you haven't been around so why would I listen to you when you haven't even cared to come and see me? I've gotten lonely without you, Daddy and I have needs. But if you're not here to take care of me than I might as well go find someone else who will-"

His hand suddenly grips your throat, squeezing, "you're being a real brat, little one, you come and bother me after I've told you not to, then you decide to parade around in no panties, even when I've ordered you not to and then you decide to get mouthy. The fucking nerve you have to speak to me like that, looks like I need to punish you. Teach you some fucking manners."

"Fuck you," you spit in face, choking slightly in his tight trip.

Suddenly he's throwing you off of him, rage is in his eyes, shoving you to your knees.

"Fine. If you're going to be a bitch, then you can get on your fucking knees. And I'll treat you like one."

He unbuckles his pants letting them fall to the ground, his massive angry cock slaps against his stomach, the red and dripping with precum, your mouth waters as he takes the belt off and forces your hands behind you and binds them together, tightly. The leather digs into your wrists when you try to wiggle out of them.

"Open. Your. Fucking. Mouth," he demands, but he doesn't give a chance to do much as he's already gripping you by the hair, pulling you so that you're directly in front of him. His cock is right in your face. He looks down at you with a mocking grin. "Aww look at you, utterly helpless against what I'm about to do."

He grips his cock his hands, stroking it a little, before rubbing the tip up and down your awaiting lips. Smearing precum all over.

"You think you can talk to me however you please," he growls, slapping his dick on your face, continuing to taunt you with it. "Think again, slut. Did you forget who I am little one?"

Without any warning at all, he's forcing his cock into your mouth. Not giving you any chance to breath or adjust as it lodges all the way into your throat, your throat not nearly big enough to take all of him. For he was just too massive and this wasn't even him in his true demon form. You could feel every inch and vein humming against your throat, it was angry. You could feel the rage as he began to roughly slam into you. You choke immediately, but soon hollow your cheeks and breathe throw your nose so you can take him in as deep as possible. He grips your hair winding it tightly in his fists, pulling harshly against it while he abuses your mouth.

"That's it, that's much better, having you silent and gagging around my cock. Much better than that nasty attitude that comes out of it," he watches with twisted satisfaction as spit and precum begin to dribble out of your mouth. Your eyes watering as his tip hits your throat repeatedly. As he's fucking your throat, his form begins to change. His black curly hair turns into those gorgeous snowy curls, the transformation causing his dress shirt to rip exposing his corded muscles and ribbons of red that laced around him. You whimper at the sight. He was magnificent and deadly at the same time. "Yes, that's it, whimper for me, whimper at the sight of your King."

You wiggle against the belt that's keeping you from touching him. You so desperately wanting to feel him underneath your finger tips.

As if he can read your mind, he laughs, "what you want to touch me? Hmm? I can't let you do that just yet. You have to be punished, sweetheart. You've been way too naughty. Way too defiant."

You protest, but his cock is keeping you from being able to speak, it- he was relentless against in your throat. He was no longer the soft man that he only was with you. No he was officially the devil, taking what he wanted from you. Using your for his sick pleasure. But you had missed it. You had missed the way he felt in your throat, the way he would pulse inside you, his warmth, his touch. His fucking attention. All of it which is why you had acted out. Your core was aching and you were rubbing your thighs together. The need becoming to great.

"are you making a mess down there?" Muzan mocks, eyes locked on your shifting thighs, never loosening his grip in your hair and relenting on his thrusts. "You've already caused me to break one of my vials. Because you couldn't be nice, you just had to go and talk back, and now I have to fucking start over on that one. What a greedy little slut."

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, your jaw was starting to hurt, at being stretched out so widely and brutally, but you didn't care. You welcomed that pain. His thrusts start to become more erratic and you feel him growing, those veins becoming more prominent as his release was nearing.

"Now be a good little slut and swallow for your King," all you can do is hum, as hot liquid pours down your throat, you welcome the salty taste as it costs your tongue, sucking greedily not wanting to miss a single drop, as he slowly starts to pull out, he smirks as you swallow it all. "Good girl.”

In rapid motion, he's yanking you back up, he bunches up the skirt of your dress, eyes flaring at the sight of your bare cunt. He sits down on the chair and pulls you with him, he places you on one of the mouths that decorates his leg, and you immediately fall against his chest as the wet muscle flicks against your slit. Your hands are still behind your back, so you have nothing to grab you to stabilize you. He rocks you along his thigh, body is already convulsing as the mouth on his leg eats you out. Meanwhile, he's just leaning back, watching lazily as you fall apart.

"You're so sexy when you're writhing against me like this. I love how small body is compared to mine. So easy to manipulate how I want. So easy to just break."

Your arch into him, grinding desperately along that mouth. As it cruelly sucks on your clit and draws circles, you're a whimpering mess. He laughs taking your tits in his massive hands, and latches his mouth one of them, swirling his tongue around your nipple, then he switches to the other one.

"Fuck Muzan,” you cry, and he bites down on one of your nipples causing you to scream.

"Wrong name, slut," but you can't hurl a sassy remake back, for the coil in you snaps, causing your legs to shake and you to clamp around the mouth as your orgasm crashes through you.

"Daddy," you whimper, "again."

Once again, he laughs, "you don't get to tell me what to do, I'll do to you what I want. And you're just going to have to take whatever it is I give you."

Suddenly, he’s manhandling so you’re pinned to the table with your front side facing the table, he adjusts your stance your legs so their stretched wide. He grips you neck, pulling you in for a kiss, pulling you against him so your entire backside is pressing against his front side. He pushes your head down. He skims a hand along your ass before bringing it down in a hard slap. You jump, crying at the sting. But you could feel your arousal dripping.

"You think you can be a brat and get away with it?" He says before bringing his hand down again. "Think again," he smooths his hand along the sting before bringing it down again. Tears stream down your face, at the burning sensation. It stung. But it felt oh so good. His fingers cup your pussy lips, allowing your wetness to pool in his fingers before bringing them to your mouth and shoving them down your throat. He pulls them out and spanks you again.

"Fuck, Daddy, feels good," you cry.

He just laughs, "of course it does. Because it comes from me. Your pleasure comes from me, remember that before you get smart with me." Then he gets down on his knees behind you, his face inches away from your cunt, he grips your thighs before leaning in and giving you a slow lick. You quiver at the feeling of his hot tongue lazily licking your cunt. He continues this slow torturous pattern, lazy circles. Flicking it up and down. Sucking, biting, energyrhing he did was slow. Driving you on the brink of the edge, you were still sensitive from your previous high. You desperately wiggle yourself against him, trying to get him deeper. But his tentacles stop you from doing so, as they slither like vines around your legs, limiting movement. Like a predator finally going in for the kill, Muzan begins devouring you, body wracks in shivers at the overwhelming pleasure. As You could feel yourself getting closer to your peak, his tongue swiftly pulls out. And you glare at him for denying you of your orgasm.

"Muzan-"

SMACK!

"Still haven't learned to address me properly I see, if you're going to continue doing this bratty routine, then I'll continue denying you of what you really. But if you can be a girl good and be obedient for once, then I'll give you what you want. But you have to be a good girl for me."

"Please, Daddy," you beg, "please let me cum, I'll be a good girl, I promise."

"Really? Or are you just saying so to get what you want?" He slaps your cunt, before sinking two long inside and starts to finger fucking you, your gummy walls clamping. "Fuck, are you really this tight? Has it really been this long since I've fucked you?"

"That's what I've been tried to tell you, but you haven't been listening to me,"

He clamps his free hand around your mouth, as his other one deliciously continues thrusting in and out, "you really need to learn to shut that mouth of yours." You sink your fangs into his hand, causing him to growl, "little bitch," you smirk at the metallic as he lets go of your mouth and slaps your ass again. His fingers still deep inside, never relenting. You could feel your orgasm building again, and you selfishly grind again his fingers.

"Please, Daddy," you pester again him sweetly, with puppy eyes, “let me cum."

"I don’t think so, sweetheart, you’ve been nothing but a brat,” he purrs, “I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

You’re practically sobbing at this point as he alternates between slow and fast thrusts, once you’re orgasm would build and you’re walls began to clench, he’d stop and start over. You were shaking at this point, aching with the need to cum. But he was cruel and relentless. But you loved it and this is what you had been wanting when you sought him out. The reason why you misbehaved. You wanted him to treat you like this.

“I don’t know why you have to torture yourself,” he coos in fake sweet voice, “all you have to do is apologize. Apologize , and I’ll give you want you want.”

One of his tentacles curl around your stomach down to your clit and begins sucking on it, and you’re wailing at this point. The pleasure is too much. Too much to bear. Sobs wreck through your body, you’re legs are barely holding you up. No it’s Muzan that’s keeping you from falling apart.

“I- im sorry Daddy,” you blubber, “I’m sorry for being a brat. I just missed you and wanted your attention. I- I was feeling lonely.”

He’s eating this up like a smug bastard, “now that wasn’t so hard was it?”

You’re so so close, but right when you’re about to cum, he pulls out fingers entirely.

“DADDY,” you whine.

“Shut the fuck up,” suddenly your walls are being breached, and his cock is slamming in. No warning, or adjusting, he was selfish with how he took you, cruel-violent. The table was creaking. “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy so much.”

“Your fault,” you snap, only to earn a slap.

His tentacles shove themselves inside your mouth. Your being impaled by his enormous cock and being gouged by his tentacles. The monster had officially ensnared you in its wrath. Destroying your body as it pleased.

“You really don’t know how to talk to me nicely,” he growls. “But perhaps this was your intention huh? Because you get off on being punished don’t you? You love the pain I give you. All you had to do was wait and be patient, but no, you had to be a selfish little brat.”

Soon he’s releasing into you before you have chance to orgasm yourself, he pulls out of you- his tentacles retracting. Hastily spins around, picks you up so you’re lying against the table, before spreading your legs again, and re-enters you again, making you feel every ridge of his monstrous cock as he split you open, deeply and slowly. Slowly, bringing you to another orgasm. The outlines of his cock could be seen in your stomach, and you moaned at the sight. His hands grip your waist, you’re gripping his arms that are incasing you, your nails digging into his skin. His scarlet orbs never leaving yours as he fucks you.

“You’re being such a good girl now, so quiet and obedient. Look how well you take my cock,” he growls softly, “this pussy is made to take my cock and mine only. Not Douma’s, so I don’t want to hear that bastard’s name come out of your lips again, understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod tiredly, you could feel yourself slipping into your headspace, as you could feel your walls tightening around his cock again. You knew you were close again, the ache was becoming too much, “you know I love only you. I just was missing you and miss how good you make me feel.”

“I know Princess. And I’m sorry for making you feel forgotten, but I promise I have not. I’ve just been super stressed,” his strokes become slower, deeper, his grunts were becoming more labored you knew he was close too. “This war isn’t going to be easy.“

“I know and I’ve been extra needy - I’m afraid of losing you,” you whisper softly, reaching up with one of your hands to caress his face, loving the way he leans into your touch.

He leans down in between thrusts, capturing your lips in a soft-yet demanding kiss, you moan when his tongue brushes against yours. “You won’t lose me, I promise, my love,” he says in between kisses. “You’ve been so good for me, go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart.”

finally you do, like a big crashing wave, your legs shake as you finally are able to let go, spraying Muzan and he growls in pride.

“That’s it, make a mess for me.”

Not long after he’s releasing into you. Once he’s filled you to brim with his hot seed, he pulls out watching as it gushes out with a satisfied hum. He starts to change back into his human form, but you shake you’re head.

“No stay like this, I love your true demon form.”

“Anything for you, Sweetheart,” then he’s lifting you his arms, and sits down with you in his lap. He settles you so you’re straddling him, and lines his tip with your entrance guiding it through your folds once more. “Now be a good girl and warm my cock for me while I continue my work.”

#demon slayer #muzan x y/n #kny muzan #muzan imagine #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #muzan smut #yandere muzan #Muzan one shot #whitehairmuzan #demon king muzan

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ghostingcrows · 1 year

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I used to talk about this a lot but

IDW Prowl is probably one of the most complex characters in the comics and I absolutely hate it when hes reduced down to “the asshole character”

Cause like

Yeah sure hes got a bit of a stick up his ass

But I feel like people just end there analysis of him there

Has he committed a lot of war crimes and done unethical stuff

Yes

But so has literally EVERYONE else in this universe

Starscream is literally the pinnacle of war crimes

The comics make a point calling out even Optimus for his questionable actions and orders during the war with the Dinobots saying he makes them do the dirty work for him

Megatron literally commits genocide and yet his story ends with an alternate version of him going free and exploring the universe with the LL

The literal war lord was treated better and is looked upon more positively than Prowl and I think it just came down to how fucked Prowl got by the writers

Because while Megatrons redemption was all in your face and you got a shit ton of flashbacks that try to justify the eventual atrocities he would commit you don’t get that with Prowl

Even when Prowl is absolutely in the right you constantly have it disregarded by characters making jokes about him overreacting (being mad OP is sending the space tyrant away with free reign of his own ship isn’t overreacting btw-) and as such you start to think of him as a genuinely irrational character when hes not

Prowl is bad at keeping the relationships he forms yes

But he is not always at fault for that

While his relationship with CD ended poorly Chromedome is also shown to be kinda of a dick sometimes and commits his fair share of fucked up things such as when he literally ATTACKS PROWL AND FORCES HIS WAY INTO HIS MIND TO PROTECT HIMSELF FROM THE CONSEQUENCE OF HIS ACTIONS WHEN PROWL THREATENS TO TELL REWIND ABOUT THE SHITTY STUFF HE DID IN HIS PAST

This leads to Prowls inevitable snowball out of control when this attack leads to an opening for Bombshell (I think its been a while since I read the comics) to use his tech to mind control him forcing him into combining with the contructicons

Something we learn is an immensely intimate thing with their minds being kinda melded

This was something Prowl did not want

And when all was said and done and he was calmed down he still had to live with that gesalt he was forced into with them following him around like fanboys

Nobody ever even really stopped to check in on him

And as such he understandable went a little bit insane

He had just faced an immensely traumatic invasion of his body and mind and on top of stress form feeling like everything was out of his control and like he couldn’t stop the bad things from happening alongside bitter emotions being brought back up with a return visit to Earth and reunion with spike AND the fact that he feels like Optimus doesn’t trust him and like hes just letting Starscream do whatever he want (something that understandably freaks him out seeing as how he spent 4 million years fighting Starscream) he just kinda snaps

He trys to destroy the space bridge so that no one else can leave or get through and so he can regain some semblance of control

Is it wrong

Yes

But he was not in a good state of mind and no one was helping him at all

And immediately following his arrest afterward Prowl is confronted by OP who is supposed to be his friend and when Prowl doesn’t say the right things to him to placate him Optimus’ response is to punch him out a window and beat the shit out of him

And not being given any room to breath this is immediately follow up my him getting kidnapped by Tarantulas who is very obviously an impactful and negative part of his past

Prowl just has bad event, one after the other, happen to him over and over again and not only does no one check up on him afterwards to see if hes okay but everyone actively makes fun of him for being understandable unstable

Prowl is a fucking tragedy and not many people seem to be able to see beyond what characters in the comics think of him

#IDW #Prowl #IDW prowl #Asher writing entire essays about the complex nature of a character most people hate-#I will defend IDW Prowl to my death #and I know a lot of people like to point fingers at him for war crimes and questionable actions #but like again almost everyone in IDW has commited a few war crimes #and he was literally the second in command of the entire army #of course he would have had to take on the brunt of the shitty questionable orders #I also think its weird that so many characters point out hes always the one ordering the shitty stuff but never wants to get his hands dirty #but then OP does the same thing and literally ONLY the dinobots point it out #optimus prime #megatron #lost light #taurantulas #starscream

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 18 days

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☈ your bones singing into mine [interlude]

one - two

nikto x f!bio-weapons engineer reader (no use of y/n) NSFW A/N: had to write my own damn porn, but thank you, my beautiful envoys and beacon lighters. this is porn without plot and not canon to the main YBSIM storyline. reader is referred to with afab genitalia. as usual, shit's not proofread.

Nikto is a possessive, handsy, and handsome drunk.

Sometimes, he'll downgrade the mask to a balaclava, then tip bottles back to his lips with the fabric between. Always necks the bottle, but he'll only sip at a glass in your company. And, then, he's throwing drinks back like a shot.

Everything about him is violent, sudden, and sharp.

You're of his caliber—together you laugh darkly and call it decisive.

He is decisive when he's been drinking, his cock aching from straining against his zipper, and he snaps an arm around your waist like a shepherd's hook to force you into his lap. There's an armchair in the master suite of one of the hideaway homes he's made for you. It's across from a full-length mirror, and it's perfect for him—he gets to feel and see you squirm yourself comfortable in his lap.

"Pauk," he groans against your neck, humid and needful. His hand drops between your legs, using his grip over your cunt to haul you deeper into his lap. "Our Pauk—soft and warm," he rumbles, burying his face against your neck, breathing your scent hard. You can feel the jutting bone where his nose had been carved off his face, taking all the cartilage and skin.

"Talking about me like I'm a kitten-cat or a down-clothed bird," you snort, arching back against him, planting your feet on his knees. He starts to rub circles over your cunt with his hard, callused, cold hand; in the mirror, you watch his gloved fingers press against the fabric, in a spot you know they'd be teasing your entrance if you were bare.

"Mm. Nyet," he hums, all arousal-rampant thought. "We wouldn't say that. You've got too many sharp corners." He drops the mostly empty bottle in his other hand on the floor, too low in volume to spill out of the neck, and he brings both hands to the waistband of your pants. "Lift your hips. Want you to cum before we get our cock out."

You do as he asks, helping him slide your sleep pants down your hips, past your knees, off and onto the floor over the discarded bottle, but you ask, "Why not fuck, Andryu? Can feel the way you throb against my ass."

The moment you settle back in his lap, he has a hand lifted before your mouth, and you use your teeth to bite down on the fingertip, dragging the garment off.

"Because we'd rather make you cum than fucking breathe."

It's said with the tone of a smirk, and he plunges his middle and ring finger into your wet pussy, finger-fucking you like it's more exciting than every Christmas and first of the month that he's ever lived through. The heel of his hand claps against your cunt with every pump of his fingers, faster and faster, targeting your clit with every landing.

"Lyubimaya, talk. We want you to talk," he growls, shoving his free hand under your shirt to toy with your nipples, pinching and tugging them, making you snarl and buck against his hand, nails digging into the armrests of the seat.

You're not good at talking. Not ever. Especially not when you're getting fucked to within an inch of your purposefully darkened life. But, for him? You try. For him, you always try.

Your legs shake and try to snap shut around his hand, but they jump right back open, as if they refuse to even muffle the wet sounds coming from your body for a single moment. Dropping your head back against his shoulder, you moan, trying hard not to thrash against his body as his breathing grows ragged. And then that moan escalates, turns into a howling laugh, something silver-toothed and prowling, as you warn him, "Andryu, I'm going to squirt, you're making me cum, slow down—!"

He doesn't, of course.

"Yes, Pauk. Yes, lyubimaya, cum. That's a good girl. That's our good girl, our Paukya," he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder, watching between your legs as your pussy spasms around him, soaking his fingers, his lap, every fiber and blessed neuron and synapse of his fractured, tessellated mind.

Just because he loves to make you cum, doesn't mean he has any more patience than he does in any matter of his life. Andre Nikto is swift. He is decisive. When he wants something, he already has it crushed in his fist.

When your hips buck off him, he unzips his pants, letting his cock spring out between your legs. Smooth as reload, smooth as grenade-throw, his fingers slide out of your pussy and stroke his shaft wet, timing it perfectly for your hips to snap down and take half of his length in one motion.

"Andre!" you gasp, too dazed with pleasure to manage a full snap. How could you? Not when his hands are so needy on your hips, urging you low-low, a pretty plea to swallow him up, to blot out all the noise that runs in his head.

When you look up in the mirror, he's already staring back at you, glacier-blue eyes unblinking, rotten with desperation and pup-belly softness. Makes you crack and run like an egg. Like an overripe berry, mashed to red pulp in the hands of an eager child.

"Oh," you swallow. A moment passes, held in the suspension—you're the last two of a kind, preserved perfectly in amber, so long as your hearts can hear the echoing drumbeat of the other's—and a silent agreement is exchanged.

No. Nyet. Not an agreement—a declaration.

You love every one of him; every one of him loves you.

How simple and beautiful a thing—a concept you both can hold gentle in your flesh-rending claws for a soft, turning examination, before you consume it, as if to vaunt the flesh of a beloved death.

He thrusts up shallowly, meeting the gentle rocking of your hips. The hand once teasing the swollen walls of your pussy rests over your lower belly, pressing down heavily just over your pelvis. It makes every stroke of his cock feel tenfold more pronounced—deeper, slower, fuller, all the harder to stave off or deny.

"Can," you start, trying not to squirm too much, wanting to last as long as possible, "I touch your hair? The mask you can leave be, that I won't ask you, but I want to lover-touch the hair at the back of your skull."

He heaves a violent shudder, slamming his way deep, all the way home, and wordlessly nods. More than that, he meets your hand as it darts to the back of his head, guiding you the rest of the way, and pulling up the balaclava only enough to find the satin-slip of his shining black hair.

He holds your hand there, grunting and cutting off moans next to your ear, his head bowed into your shoulder. He prays over you. He prays for you. You are his answer. Perhaps, you have always been.

The pair of you stay in this ecstatic trance, moving together forcefully and slowly, for long, long minutes. You begin to sweat, reeking of one another. You begin to shake, your muscles burning.

His hips move in the way only a drunken, determined man's can. A bit clumsily, but massively greedy. There's a slop in the way he fucks up into you, but there is greediness, too. He can see how wet your pussy is, sucking and spasming around him. He can see how it's made his cock glisten, and how it's darkened the fabric of his pants where it's dripped. He likes it. But a man in love will like anything that comes from his lover.

"Paukyushka," he growls, eyes squeezed closed with the restraint that has always held his entire body together, "can you cum? We're. Pizdec. We're close."

"I can cum, kotik, just keep going," you breathe, fucking down harder on him, mouth curling in a pleased little grin.

He lets go of a ragged moan at that, as if you're the one tearing it from his perforated throat, fucking faster, pulling grunts and tight sighs out of your body as he ramps you up. It becomes hard to hold onto—more oddly, it becomes harder to let go, and, fuck, do you try.

It expands lie molten heat in your lower belly, pressuring your pelvis, your bladder—makes your swollen, sensitive clit throb as your walls start to spasm, clenching wildly around the length of his cock. Shit, you can feel it in your shoulders, tensing the muscles between the blades.

"Mm, fuck—shit, oh fuck," you hiss, your legs jolting and ring to snap closed.

"Pauk!" he barks. Nothing close to a warning or threat, simply a harsh plea.

"Shh! Quiet your mouths," you hiss, "I'll get it done!"

He grumbles under his breath, talking a plan over with his many facets, and acts.

His arm snaps over your rips, trap-sprung, and rucks you up his own body. It makes you squawk, head swiveling as you snake an arm around his neck for balance, and that makes him laugh, gritty as sandpaper. His cock barely manages to stay inside you, by an inch, if that. His other hand goes to the back of your thigh, pulling you open over his knee as he pants his booted foot on the seat of the chair, giving him more leverage.

This weird, tangled position gives the many demons in the both of you fits, and he's not going to last long, but that was never the intention. Two, then three hard thrusts, and you're sucking in air through your clenched teeth, cumming around his cock, digging your nails into his chest and his forearm.

With an ungodly bellow, he pulls out at the very least second, shooting his load straight over his cock, your thigh, his lap. You're both shaking, trembling, disgraced piles of flesh, and you wonder if you sit still for long enough, could you possibly melt into a mingled pile of flesh and splintered bone.

At once, the two of you slump together, though you do turn on your hips to miss a majority of the mess on his legs. He strokes your hair. You reach back to play with his.

"What a mess you've all made," you huff, panting and breathless. "Like a boy; all balls, no control."

"No babies," he says in a stern, but thin voice.

"No babies," you mimic, borrowing his drizzled tone for yourself. "No babies, yes, but my upholstery you've ruined."

"Mm. We...do not care," he finally decides, and you find glory in the smile in his tone.

"Good. I like that," you say, packing in as much dignity as you can manage before the facade crumbles. You're left laughing, stupid and free, and his answers back, a rumble that echoes through your ribs.

#nikto #nikto cod #nikto x reader #cod nikto #mwii nikto #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw x reader #my work #oc: spider #fic: your bones singing into mine

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icyrambles · 1 month

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y'know i love idw1. it is by far my favourite continuity purely because it has the balls to actually do some weird fucked up shit with those robots but one of my forever gripes with the series was how they handled the combiners.

also spoilers for idw1 (not massive but enough that i should warn ya if you haven't read through the series)

not in the sense that i hate combiners or combination but mostly just because i think it's weird that they never tackle the horror of being a combiner. it's never really touched on that most of the combiners were forced together and that combining has a permanent effect on a cybertronian's mind.

sure you've got prowl but idw is written so that the reader is meant to hate prowl, or at the very least dislike him, so you're automatically geared to not give a fuck if he's suffering a little bit. and his relationship with the constructicons is never really given the screentime it probably should've gotten so we never get to hear their opinions on being forcibly fused with an autobot's mind. (clearly they don't seem to mind it at the very least but i have a hard time believing that they just magically were okay with suddenly being part of a gestalt)

first aid literally shows up on cybertron with five other guys that he's only vaguely familiar with and starscream just decides that they're "good enough" and forces them into a gestalt. and then we literally never get to see if first aid gave a fuck about this whole situation. hell one of his gestalt members, rook, literally gets killed in lost light and first aid just, doesn't care, and neither do any of his gestalt mates. they're just like, "eh, moving on"

fucking hell, sunstreaker, ironhide, mirage, and motherfucking optimus prime get put into a gestalt with prowl and the most they have to say is "wow prowl you're really fucked up" and that's it. do they just all have to deal with the consequences of being a combiner. optimus never seems to bring it up ever again and neither does sunstreaker, even when they're in the same place together.

the combaticons seem to be rather fucked up about the whole thing, but that's not because being in a combiner team fucked them up, it's more because they combined with a fucking corpse and sharing a mind with a brain dead swindle seriously sucked ass.

like think about the effect of combination for a quick second.

a mech is forced to share everything about themself, from memories, to thoughts and emotions with another group of mecha (up to five depending on the combiner) and they just, don't get a fucking choice in it. idw talks a lot about bodily autonomy, what with the themes of functionalism and cold constructed mechs but they don't seem to apply the same emotion to the combiners. they're just a plot tool to be throw around when the writers needed a big bad to face or a defender against some type of higher force

combiners are only scary because they're big and angry and difficult to control but the real fear should be focused on the existential horror of having a character whose mind is forcibly fused together with another group of people

#transformers #maccadam #icy writes #like seriously what the fuck were the writers thinking when they just swept that shit under the rug #that's fucking writing gold right there #oh well #i suppose that i'll have to do it myself

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talesfrommedinastation · 3 months

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My Redneck Neighbor Doug Watches 'The Bad Batch Season 3' Trailer

Like all the other Star Wars geeks, Doug cut out of an important Zoom meeting with his work to watch the latest trailer of Daddy Warcrimes 'n Friends last week.

Cue ,y poor phone exploding as he commented on everything, and my director giving me weird looks--because the depity CEO was too busy watching it too and the actual CEO was busy playing video games on his phone. Yes, I work with adults with graduate degrees.

Here's what Doug texted me. Enjoy!

Need a refresher? Here's List 1 and List 2 of what Doug calls the cast of this show.

----------------------------------

youtube

Looks like they’re on a mountain pass. Wait ain’t that the truck they used on Kashyyyk? Is Chewbacca on it?

Aw, Church Lady’s back! Hope Sassy Park Ranger’s in the back seat getting the guns loaded and the Slim Jims ready! (I’m not correcting him. Let the man have his rarepair).

Little Orphan Blondie, Stepsister Beth and Daddy Warcrimes are all in the same ugly ass uniform. They all giving me Nurse Ratchet vibes. Didn’t Daddy Warcrimes have a lobotomy or something?

THE SONS OF ROBOCOP ARE EVERYWHERE!!!!

The Emperor is mumbling again to Jimmy the Scientist but hey the Imperial guard and their cool ass red robes are around. I wonder how often they clean them? You ever read 'Shadows of the Empire'?

Rex seems smaller, is something up?

NUTSY GOT A FLAMETHROWER! GO NUTSY GO!!!

The Chick That’s In Everything AND Gun Safety Muppet are back?! Oh boy! What about Chewbacca? Chewbacca Junior?

Ryan-from-Accounting’s dead, yeah, we know. He’s coming back as Space Gandalf, we know, shut up, we ain’t stupid.

OH SHIT DAYTONA’S GETTING INVADED. HIDE THE COCAINE AND THE SUSHI!!!!

Oh shit, Little Orphan Blondie’s behind the wheel! Is that the HMS Search Warrent she's on? I don't think so?

Is that a dog? AW HELL YEAH MUTANT JIMMERS* ON THE PROWL!

Julio’s worked up and he’s gonna do something!

HOLY SHIT, JOHN’S-EX-WIFE IS IN THIS??!?!?!?**

*= Jimmers is Doug's very handsome poodle mix from East Texas. He's 80 lbs of golden happiness even if he keeps murdering the raccoons in our alley. It's okay, they were living in sin, according to Doug.

**=New character unlocked! Asajj Ventress = John’s-Ex-Wife? Who is John? What did his ex-wife do?!?!

Tagging Doug's fans: @amalthiaph @merkitty49 @eyecandyeoz @autistic-artistech @eelfuneral @sued134 @techs-stitches @megmca @thecoffeelorian @skellymom @cdblake1565

Remind me if you need to be tagged in here for Doug-isms.

#tbb #cloneforce99 #the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch final season #tbb huter #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #thebadbatch #doug the redneck #doug talks star wars #doug why #star wars tv #star wars #star wars fans #star wars trailer #star wars disney #Youtube

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itsclydebitches · 4 months

Note

Cinder is a lot more sexualized then the male parts of Salem's inner circle

Like tyrian is shirtless sometimes but that does not feel as...drawn attention to, as say, the lingering shots of Cinder's butt or thighs. Or her wearing short shorts and high boots you know what I mean?

I do, anon. RWBY got a lot of attention back in the day for its anti-upskirt technology, but that doesn't give it a free pass for all the other ways you might (and it does) sexualize the cast. I've never been inclined to give RWBY too much shit in this regard because it is pulling from media with a LONG history of such designs and cinematography - it feels unfair of me to act like RWBY is uniquely responsible for such problems when I'm simultaneously willing to overlook, say, the 90's "gag" of Yusuke flipping up Keiko's skirt - but there's nevertheless a voice in the back of my mind constantly asking things like, "Why are so many of the girls fighting in heels?" and "Why are they dressed like they're going to the club and not the literal TUNDRA??" I'd kill for the whole cast, but the girls in particular, to get a re-design that focuses on fashionably compelling practicality, rather than sexy fanservice. (Though Ice Kingdom did a good job overall, particularly for Ruby.) Sure, RWBY didn't give us panty-shots, but one of the first characters we're introduced to is literally designed like a dominatrix.

If we're talking about outfits though... I'd say Emerald gets hit the worst out of Salem's minions. Yeah, Cinder is definitely sexualized in a more general sense as the tall, white (that's not a coincidence), long-legged beauty who sensually conjures fire as she prowls towards the heroes, camera focused on her hips swaying. But Emerald?

She suffers from the same problem Yang has. AKA, if your woman isn't classically beautiful (like Wiess and to a different extent Blake), or cute / child-like (Ruby, Penny), but is instead going for a sporty, comparatively masculine-esque vibe... then they've got to show a LOT of skin. RWBY makes it sexy by just denying them clothes. You're entering dangerous battles on the daily? You want to protect yourself? Too bad. The audience needs a midriff and cleavage and your whole arms to stare at. Shorten the skin-tight pants so we can see some leg too. Oh, Yang has to have long pants because she's heading into the coldest Kingdom in Remnant? Never mind that, cut a strip out to show her thigh.

"But Clyde, the girls don't need to wear armor because of aura--" then why the hell does Jaune bother wearing that heavy-ass suit? Is it weight training? Does he just think it makes him look cool? ...or does it exist in case his aura breaks and he's allowed to wear more protective gear because there are different gender expectations attached to his design? The aura argument is just a modern rehashing of the Supergirl sun argument: using made up lore to "justify" getting your women characters into skimpy outfits, despite the men rarely being held to the same standards.

Tyrian is actually an interesting exception here and if I were less tired I'd think through this argument more, but something something as the "crazy" character he's allowed more leeway in breaking those expectations. Also the open shirt shows off his scars, which likewise help sell how dangerous he is. With the exception of characters like Cinder and Nora - whose injuries are Important Character Moments the audience gets to see play out - scars are surprisingly uncommon in Remanent. Or, again, they're severely downplayed so as not to interfere with that classic beauty design (like Weiss', or even Yang who gets a perfect cut when losing her arm). So when you see a character with giant scars spanning the length of his chest, an open shirt drawing deliberate attention to them... that makes you go, "Oh shit. What's he been through to scar like that in a world where most people make it out of fights with no permanent damage?"

#rwde #rwby #mymetas #also sorry there's no readmore #tumblr won't bring it up for me :(#thanks tumblr

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inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

More Than I Should {pt. 3}

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: in riri's mind of monsters, you were an angel. an angel whose attention she begrudgingly vied for. god, she didn't even know the extent in which she needed it — needed you, until you made yourself inaccessible.

word count: 12.9k (just eat the food)

chapter contents: riri being a grumpster as usual, but also kinda soft?, mentions of riri having nightmares, riri and keem are besties y'all, they love each other (YIKES!!), hakeem is actually a funny lil dude, riri is kinda emotionally closed off and getting clocked by her conscience?, riri being in denial, very hot and cold, very down bad (her feelings beating her ass), zariri being cute (sorry to their haters), smoking, riri spiraling a lil bit, reader avoiding riri

tags: @verachii @cjariot @blackgcomica @n7cje @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @shinsousliya @bratydoll @shuriri4life @axailslink @chidinma @percsane @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @quintessencewrites @adeola-the-explorer @dejaonline @bubshri @zayswriting @vixentheplanet @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @shurismainbxtch @cafehyunji @bigbigbigfan @andibecamethestars @saintwrld @mysticalmarss @sweetalittleselfish-honey @marsolgy @randomhoex @chatitajens @cuddl3s4shur1 @abenomeiiii @6-noir @melanated-queens @yamsthoughts @lppriceisright @shuriislut @playgurlxoxo @kya-rose @shuriszn @lluvstrksl4t

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: okay! and we back! i know it's been a minute, but i had to take my time. can't believe i'm finally posting pt. 3 ooh! i really like this chapter and it lays the groundwork for specific things i have planned for future parts. writing from inside riri's head kinda beat my ass though cause she DID NOT want me to tell y'all her tea, but we came to a compromise. reader isn't really in this chapter physically until the very end, but riri be thinking bout her when she brushing her teeth! sorry to the hakeem haters, that's my pookie! zariri hive up! (literally just me) i hope youse enjoy this, she's lengthy (big shocker) but it's justifiable this time cause i've been starving y'all. anyway, mwah mwahh!!

dedicated to my baby, whom i love dearly, @zayswriting more than i should #1 fan™️

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Sleeping; it's the body's way of recharging, the body's way of healing. For most people, sleep was tranquil, with dreaming coming as a necessary escape. Far removed from reality, there was to be solace in slumber — for most.

Riri Williams was not most.

Normally, this made her prideful, contrasting the majority, but what was to be said when your dreams mirrored the reality you wished valiantly to escape?

When it came to sleep, when it came to rest, she envied the mundane. Riri coveted being at peace whenever her eyelids fell. And she yearned for her moments loitering in REM to be more than brief ones.

The scenes behind her lids were recurring — prophesied long before Riri’s skin met her mattress. But despite this premonition, she permitted their slipping from her mind when existing within that slim pocket between consciousness and unconsciousness, and it was then that the monster seized his opportunity, creeping from the closet, on the prowl for his next meal. On the prowl for Riri, and her gorgeous mind, feeding on the memories dwelling inside the grooves of her brain, and forcing her to relive each one as he sucked them out.

This was the part she thought herself able to exploit — the extraction. If the monster removed the recollections for good, she wouldn't have to suffer this constant loop.

It’d been a naïve thought though, because this belief called for compassion. And if the monster — her monster — existed as one comprised of compassion, there would be no nightmares at all. Riri would be able to rest in her own bed, and the caress of another would not be desired when attempting to drift. Though Zariyah’s warmth did nothing to keep her still now as she lay entwined in her arms; he followed her here, to her girl’s place, so on spun the cycle.

Riri’s small body twisted in her girl’s sheets, writhing in distress through the frightening ordeal she’d been compelled to endure over the past few nights. She thrashed, chest tearing itself open to sanction her heart’s escape. Her monster siphoned her brain — grinding its contents with daggered canines — just before vomiting it all back into the young engineer's head so she’d be impelled to recall everything about that day.

Riri became one with the icy sweat clutching her frigid skin, knees jerking with her body's brash kicking, and she whimpered meekly, plunging into the depths of the horrors projected behind shifting eyes.

“Ri…” Riy blew it groggily, her own eyes still locked as she absorbed Riri’s movements. She drew Riri in closer, wanting to be her serenity, but Zariyah was unaware of the violence Riri recounted in her dreams while she spasmed beside her.

Riri launched herself upright, snapping the buckle of her girl’s embrace, gasping for a breath of oxygen as those freezing sweat beads traveling her flesh rolled down with leisure, not caring about the paranoia rocketing through the sinking chest they scaled.

Her monster retreated with a sneer, thwarted off by her abrupt emergence from silk pillows. When Riri’s eyes were open, cowardice swallowed him whole, because he was aware his tactics couldn't work on her barricaded brain now. She knew how to protect herself when she awakened — how to cage her thoughts — and he couldn't manipulate her here, in the real world.

Of all the objects in her familiar setting, it was the essential oil diffuser that steadied Riri's rugged exhales, and she allowed her breathing to emulate the timed puffs expelled by the cream-colored device perched on Zariyah's dresser.

“Ri baby, are you okay?” Zariyah whispered, soft and tired.

Riri glanced back at the naked silhouette of her girl draped in velvet, catching a glimpse of those pouty lips in love with her skin, and she chuckled timidly, watching a half-awake Riy feel around the mattress for her body. “Ri… lay back down, let me hold you.”

“I gotta go, baby.” Her knees indented her bare chest as she spoke, loose smile tightening the second Zariyah tossed that scolding glare her way; it seared, but Riri welcomed its burn, because her shivering frame had yet to fully defrost the chill in her veins.

“Another nightmare, Ri? What's this, the third one this week?”

Third one this week, fifth one this month. But Riri wasn't counting.

“I’m fine, Riy,” It slipped off her lying tongue readily, free-falling from her mouth before dissolving into the gust of Sandalwood oil mugging the air. “Go back to sleep baby, Ima just let myself out.”

Zariyah was unconvinced, and her frustrated sigh consumed a stumbling Riri as she tripped out of bed, fumbling around in the darkness to put her clothes back on. “I know you're not fine. And I need you to get your lil ass back in this bed, Riri.”

Riri wanted that, fuck, she needed it. That incessant voice in the back of her head throbbed so sweetly, pressuring her to climb back in bed, mold into Zariyah, granting her addictive kisses the power to sedate her.

But for unbeknownst reasons, the forces of the universe thought her undeserving of simple pleasures, and Riri lacked the desire to fight back, not with the splitting headache from the fucking lobotomy she just barely survived ringing in her temples. So she made leaving Zariyah's arms her only option. “Z, I can't stay. Not tonight.”

“Riri.”

The smaller girl stilled, Riy’s frigid tone frosting her melting arteries once again, and she rolled her eyes, gaping down at her ever-trembling hands. “Everybody has bad dreams Z, why you making it a national emergency cause I’m getting them?”

“Because I give a damn, Riri. And you been shaking and shit in your sleep for three nights, it's concerning.”

Riri pulled on her hoodie, then turned, capturing the troubled look in her girl's stunning eyes, trouble she put there. Riy sat up, crimson curls peeking out the top of her head scarf as she eyed a fully clothed Riri, allowing the covers to fall from her nakedness.

And her nipple jewelry danced in the dark, hypnotizing Riri from where she stood. The sight alone should be enough to keep her here, her eyes fanning their expanse as she got lost in the work of art that was Zariyah’s illustrated body. Tattoos her fingers traced a few hours ago, piercings that created sinful friction against her build; the memories made her moan aloud, and she chewed her bottom lip when she felt her smirk’s approaching climb.

Riy tossed a pillow her way, full in her force, but she ducked, barely dodging the thing, “Girl, stop staring at my titties and talk to me. I can't stand yo ass, I swear.”

Riri’s laugh was low, and it was mostly genuine on her short walk back to the bedside she previously indented. Mostly. “I said I'm good Z.” Maybe repetition could be enough to persuade, both Zariyah and herself, Riri thought.

She leaned over, puckering her lips in Riy's stern face pleadingly, but Riri was not met with the contact she grew desperate for. Zariyah craned her head to the side, denying Riri’s wet mouth as she crossed her arms, removing the view of her gorgeous breasts as well. “What? I can't get a kiss now?”

“No.”

Riri raised her eyebrow daringly, “No?”

“That's what the fuck I said.” Riy huffed in annoyance, making Riri grin slightly.

“Would it make you feel better if I said it wasn't the same dream every time?” She knew Zariyah wouldn't let her leave without an explanation of sorts, and this wasn't a lie, not entirely. Her nightmares were serial, sure, but there were many angles of that day, and a plethora of memories that could be used to torment Riri’s psyche. And used they were; her monster held no belief in leftovers, so he denied Riri the luxury of leaving any semblance of her trauma untouched.

Riy groaned, “Why the fuck would that make me feel better Riri?”

“They're just dreams, Riy.”

They were just dreams. It's what she told herself anyway, and one day, she would arise from the never-ending nightmare that was life without her dad, and life without her best friend.

Zariyah crawled toward Riri, hooking her chin over her shoulder before pressing a kiss into her sweaty throat. “You promise?”

And Riri’s head sprang immediately, because her nod was practiced. “Yeah.”

Her tremoring word was devoid of credibility, but Zariyah let it suffice, and fuck if Riri wasn't grateful for that; she already felt her lie cracking, her weak facade crumbling, and she wasn't sure either would remain intact if her girl continued the grilling.

Smiling into the hot pecks adorning her neck came with ease and satisfaction as she looped her favorite fingers around her middle. “Z…”

“What is it Ri baby?” She smirked, tongue lapping that sweet little spot she knew drove Riri insane, and when she produced that sigh she sought after, Zariyah pushed off her entirely, settling back into the comfort of her linens.

“You gon gimme my kiss now? Before I go?”

Riy giggled, “Hungry ass always want my mouth all over you.”

“You know I do, Z baby.” Riri stood, turning to face her as she slowly caressed her inked throat, capturing the heat of Zariyah’s mouth on hers. She ingested the flurries of Riy’s moans, anxiously awaiting the assertive way the golden sphere punched into her girl's tongue dominated her own.

It was impossible to stop her fingers’ wandering; Zariyah kneeled undressed for her, whining for her, making Riri feel like everything would be alright if she slipped back into those taunting threads.

“Stay…” Riy practically whimpered it, digits finding their way beneath Riri’s hoodie with a mission, and if she didn't break away soon, said mission would be accomplished.

When they parted, Riri drank in those dazed irises that cared for her, smiling faintly before pressing another peck to Riy’s plump lips. She stroked her cheek, wanting to bask in the gentleness of her girl’s skin, needing the reminder — gentleness was hers to claim if she so chose. It was here, Zariyah was here, quite literally at her fingertips. But she supposed it was more in her nature to fall victim to the universe’s spell, easier to accept haunting dreams and sleepless nights to be her fate.

So she gathered her scattered things in the shadows of the room, inhaling sweet Sandalwood before heading to the door sporting a stupid little grin subject to melting away the minute she left her girl’s presence.

“Bye, baby.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder, gripping the bedroom door as she allowed herself one last look at a worried Zariyah gazing over at her, those bright eyes of hers dimmer now, pleading almost.

“Be s–”

Riri laughed halfheartedly, “Be safe. Yes, I know, ma. I always am.”

•••

Arriving to her classes on time had never been a task Riri prioritized; showing up was enough in her book, and the activity was never to become practiced behavior. But, the terror reposing behind shut eyes served as quite the motivator today, encouraging her to attend each of her classes wide-eyed and hopped up on caffeine.

Riri hadn't even made it back to her dorm after leaving Zariyah’s; she solicited refuge from the freezing walls of her garage instead, and in the challenge of her latest creation.

She'd found herself doing that, building devices she likely had no use for, more so than usual. Riri’s instinct to constantly construct, coupled with her desire to keep her eyes open often resulted in impressive, yet unnecessary productions. Because what could her need for an arm cannon that doubled as a 3-D printer possibly be?

Regardless, it was something to do, so she stayed there, well into the early morning ignoring sleep’s call, and when the Sun climbed the sky, Riri was relieved to have survived yet another night.

Alongside her monster, someone else rummaged through memories she wished to bury — you. As much as the young engineer wrestled the acceptance of it, Riri was aware she’d hurt you that night, she'd caught the slightest glimpse of the expression coloring your features just before the door slammed shut. Regret rushed her immediately after, berating her as she came to a sole conclusion: hurt did not belong on your face. But it was there, because she put it there, and she was not deluded enough to believe she hadn't gone too far.

The physical image of you remained scarce after that night, throughout the week, and this bugged her for reasons she refused to acknowledge. Not being able to deconstruct you as you twitched beneath her watch, not being able to gauge where she stood with you after what she'd done unsettled Riri.

And this too, fueled her timely arrivals. Riri had been skipping all of her classes for the past few days, neglecting the homework she had piling up, disregarding her phone's consistent dinging. Today was Friday though, and Riri liked Fridays.

She got to see you today.

When she strutted into the room, Riri’s feet halted unexpectedly, her white Air Maxes screeching on the floor as her eyes scanned the large, mostly empty space. She was one of three students who'd arrived early, too early, the sound her sneakers made shifting all gazes to her.

“The fuck…” She muttered it under her breath, side-eyeing her professor who seemed astonished to see her. She made the quick journey to her row in the back, the one you two shared, eyes rolling instinctively and Riri sat, lying wait.

Riri knew herself to be impatient, but the extent was forever lost on her before now, before she was made to anticipate your entrance. She exhaled anxiously, leg bouncing as she feasted on the flesh of her raw bottom lip, thus making it the only content she'd ingested all day. Sickening, Riri thought, but her stomach accepted whatever she had to offer; constricting; grumbling as its acids dissolved the dead skin.

Feral eyes darted to the door following the slightest sound of footsteps strolling into the classroom, but she grew irritated every time the person entering wasn't you. Was this normal? Were you late? You couldn't be late, you were never late, she was just uncharacteristically early.

“Someone's sitting there.” She spat at some random blonde girl gunning for your seat.

The girl's smile shook under the obvious agitation Riri laced her words with, but it didn't melt away when she asked, “Who? It's empty right now, I just–”

“Does it matter?” She shoved her backpack into the chair, leering at the girl who’d now gone beet red. “It ain't gonna be you. Move.”

“But I–”

Riri possessed the ability to intimidate, in spite of her height, she also knew her words held force when she said them just right, “Go.” And she watched the girl scurry off with the blow of just the one. She was harmless, only looking for someplace to sit, but why would Riri care? There were plenty of others for her to choose from.

The dreams weren't a force she could control, not for lack of trying, but usually, what she could control was her chosen proximity to you. Riri would refute it if confronted, but being near you remedied, your aura was powerful like that; too powerful, she’d realized, and she despised its dominion over her.

But she couldn't deny she needed it now. So where the fuck were you?

Typical, she thought. Leave it to you to sour her mood, even now, when you were the singular reason she bothered coming in the first place. You aggravated her with ease, without even being present. Her fluctuation between hot and cold when it came to you perplexed her more than any equation taught within these four walls, or any algorithm she dared herself to develop on her many sleepless nights.

Every time she found herself wanting to extend a sliver of kindness your way, you found a way to fuck it up. Why were you like that? Why was she? She waited still however, the coffee she downed adding speed to her already twitching leg.

“Where the fuck–” Riri choked on her words, swallowing them back down as she permitted her eyes boldening when they spotted you prancing into the classroom. They softened, oh so briefly before she denounced the gesture, opting for another eye roll instead. Her gaping brown orbs — designated home to judgment and disgust — betrayed her often, when they focused on you that was. And Riri fucking hated that.

Your hair was done, gorgeous curls now protected underneath long soft locs flowing past your hips, past your ass like cascading fiery falls. They brightened the room and her bleak world alike, leaving her almost breathless.

Ropes of red suited you, she thought, suited your eyes, your face, your dark skin; Red was your color. Never had she thought a shade so vibrant and willful would be made for you, but you existed as a conundrum to Riri. She was staring, waiting, examining you from where she sat; you were speaking to Dr. Lucas, so she nabbed the opportunity.

Riri liked your makeup, she always did. She admired the subtlety of your soft beat, and how it opposed the defiant blaze your hair emitted. Your signature knife-edged eyeliner threatened to stab her as she prolonged her onlooking, making the short scientist curve her lips ever so slightly.

Your sweater though, it wasn't yours. She recognized its washed-out green shade. She knew the zipper no longer worked, and Riri located the small hole just below the left pocket with ease, because she was responsible for it; a very late night, and a joint. You were wearing Hakeem’s sweater, and her insides dropped at the revelation, making her gag just as you looked up at her.

Fuck she was pathetic.

Riri scoffed at her own involuntary sound, exhaling an intake of air as she prepared for you to join her on your shared row. You watched her intently from where you stood in the front, brow arching in that perfect way she liked, signifying you were already annoyed by her glaring. Riri smirked at you, feeling that familiar burst of thrill that slithered through her system whenever the pair of you locked eyes, because she knew she had you, hooked on her line like a fish — you made it too easy.

Except, she didn't have you, and Riri realized this a little too late for comfort. You broke the stare, seemingly unbothered when you plunged into an empty seat on the front row, your body lithe in its descent, and Riri’s right eye mirrored her leg’s tic.

This was not your routine, and deviating wasn't your normal, Riri studied this, learned this, knew this. You were supposed to sit on the last row with her, two seats over from her, and she expected to see your face. It's why she chose this spot at the very beginning of the semester.

Your eyebrows always knitted when your professor spoke, you listened attentively for as long as you could, chewing on your pencil's eraser when deep in thought; she was supposed to witness this. God, your infinite eyes. Riri was meant to view them fluttering shut when you inevitably began dozing off. Your neck was supposed to jerk, you'd spring up, catch her eyes, she'd laugh, and you were supposed to be annoyed that she laughed.

This was your routine. So why the fuck were you sitting in the front row? Why the fuck did you have your back to her? Why the fuck was she being made to stare at your head? And good lord, why in the blue fuck did the distance between the pair of you anger her this much?

Riri didn't like this.

Dr. Lucas’ rambling about visualizing solutions using direction fields and approximating them using Euler’s method made no home in her jumbled brain; his monotone voice worked only to amplify her confusion. Were you ignoring her?

You, ignoring her? The notion didn't even seem plausible the longer she sat with it. Was it because of what she'd done last week?

Riri's eyes were locked on the back of your head for the duration of class, brain mulling over the events of last Saturday night, forcing herself to recount her actions, her words — becoming her own monster as she snarled. Surely you couldn't still be stuck on that. Right? She’d noticed the way you never stayed upset with her for too long, perhaps she could even admit she took advantage of it, because she had not anticipated… this, whatever it was.

It was a slap in the fucking face, she decided. You were trying to piss her off, and it was fucking working.

Her knee continued jumping as she was made to count the brick parts in your hair. It wasn't hard for her to calculate the exact number of locs in your head, she fixated on doing it, guessing, before concluding that it’d be an even number: fifty-two. They were perfect; intricate; precise, just the way you liked things.

You're not a dummy.

She’d hoped the sharp daggers she tossed down at you would at the very least, make you turn with a threatening glower, but you remained forward, fiddling with the broken zipper on that stupid fucking sweater, and Riri remained frustrated. Because she knew you felt them, her pointed daggers; you made no move to dodge them, and you tensed after each throw.

You’re not a dummy. Turn around.

This right here was why she didn't like you, why she couldn't like you, because you played with her, you tested her. She couldn't stand it, blood boiling over the longer she watched your pencil move and wrist flick from behind.

You're not a dummy. But you're behaving like one. Turn the fuck around.

She contemplated moving down to sit beside you, but class ended ahead of her internal battle, and she reprimanded herself for even entertaining the thought immediately.

You were on your feet, quicker than she'd ever seen, trying to escape her; Riri could recognize this because it's what she did, and she'd be lying if she said your exit speed had not been formidable.

But she refused to focus on your ability to impress, because this role reversal quickly became another thing eating at her delicious brain. She stalked you out of class, teeny feet doing what they could to keep up with your long strides; Riri was quick, but it seemed today, you were quicker.

Why the fuck was she resisting the unyielding urge to scream your name as she chased you? Who the hell gave you the right to stride away from her, gracefully at that, like she didn't matter? Who the fuck did you think you were?

Riri didn't like this. She really really hated this. She gasped when her lips parted, your name teasing the tip of her tongue. She bit it back though, enraged. You forced her to stare at your dancing scarlet locs, and perfect swishing hips cloaked by that ugly green fabric as you strutted away from her.

Riri would not allow you to get away with this little attitude you’d adopted. You wore it well though, confidence. Fuck. But she would have to get to the bottom of your shift in behavior. She was not invisible, and you would pay attention to her.

As she backed away, embarrassed, her back collided with the front of another student, sending his things tumbling to the ground, “The fuck is wrong with you? You walking with your eyes closed or something? Don't fucking bump into me are you crazy?!”

“I'm sorry I didn't–”

“Oh! Oh! You didn't?” She mocked, fuming. “Fuck outta my way.” She huffed, stomping off and out the same door you’d just exited, tiny fists balling at her sides.

•••

The weariness Riri fled all day had finally caught up to her, compelling her to permit the shutting of those heavy eyelids. Her torso bent, slumping forward, head plunging down onto her work table where several tools dug into her cheek. Riri didn't care though, in fact, she remained blissfully unaware, drooling all the while as she succumbed to a dreamless nap.

Her garage existed as her refuge, the one place her scavenging monster had yet to infiltrate. She was safe from him here; she could sleep here, without duress. And she slipped immediately, because she was tired, really fucking tired.

The fatigued girl hadn't even relished in the luxury of dozing off for fifteen minutes before a thunderous pounding frightened her awake. Continuous, jarring, and disturbingly rhythmic — Riri allowed the noise to usher her off of her stool, and onto the ground with a grumble. She jetted over to the side door, ready to reprimand the only person she knew to be so obnoxious.

Upon opening it, that sickeningly cheery smile she'd begrudgingly grown to love greeted her, and she grimaced on command. Hakeem marveled down at her whilst patting the crown of her head, teeth, and diamond earrings stinging her slit irises.

“Nigga, the fuck are you doing here?” Riri jerked from under her best friend's touch, holding tightly to her slipping scowl.

He moved her miniature body with zero effort, stepping around her and into the garage, his smile never wavering. “Uh, you texted me goofy.”

“I did?” Keem nodded absentmindedly, wandering deeper into Riri’s sanctuary, becoming enraptured with her latest sketches. “Oh shit… I did.” It was only then that Riri remembered, so caught up in the promise of rest, her actions had completely escaped her. She'd texted Hakeem to come by after his last class, her elusive intention buried beneath the message itself; Riri was hoping — praying — you'd tag along like the puppy you were.

You were back on good terms with him now, well, good enough according to him, and you never seemed to understand when you weren't wanted somewhere, so she figured you'd pout your way into accompanying him. Riri was desperate for a chance to question you about your behavior towards her earlier; she couldn't move past it, despite her efforts. And your blatant disregarding of her existence joined the long line of entities overrunning her busy brain, what was left of it anyway.

Why would you just ignore her like that? You weren't supposed to ignore her like that. You’d never done it before, why now? Why today? The single day where she needed you. So fucking selfish.

Riri craned her neck out the door, almost tripping the longer she extended it, searching for you, waiting for your face to appear in her doorway.

“Don't worry, I ain't bring her this time.”

“What?” She whipped around.

Hakeem chuckled, picking through Riri’s things on her table nosily, “Ooh, what's this?”

“Keep ya nasty lil fingers off my shit,” She strutted over to him. “And what you mean you ain't bring her this time?”

“She ain't wanna come.” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the desperation guiding Riri’s words, and the disappointment coloring her tired lips when they fell. His eyes and lanky fingers were too busy tracing the images on Riri’s board and the scattered parts surrounding it.

You didn't wanna come? Since fucking when?

She cleared her throat awkwardly, dousing the flames crackling in the void of her tummy, “Well, uh, good. Cause I was getting tired of you always dragging her ass around me unannounced.”

“What kinda top secret–” Hakeem's eyes widened, glazing over with a hint of awe, “Riri, is yo ass building an Ironman suit?! Please please please tell me you building an Ironman suit!”

She nearly let her lips curl after noting his legitimate excitement, but she deadpanned instead, face slackening, voice taking on its signature bored infliction, “Yes Hakeem, I'm definitely building a damn Ironman suit.”

Sarcastic and sardonic — the only way Riri knew how to be. Sometimes her cynicism concerned her, like now, as she chose to remain cryptic, when the option of being open with her best friend about her work existed as an easier choice.

“Your sneaky ass would be doing some shit like that.” Hakeem cut his eyes, and Riri rolled hers.

“Anyway! Move away from my things, thank you!” Both palms indented his stomach as she guided him over to her computer screens.

He harrumphed, still suspicious, but ultimately choosing to drop it, making Riri sigh. “What your itty bitty butt call me over here for anyway?”

She prepared for this question; this entire interaction was drummed up immediately after your departure earlier. What she hadn't prepared for, was your absence; it threw her ever so slightly, more so than she would ever admit. “I can't just wanna hang out with my best friend?”

Hakeem laughed, and its vigor shoved Riri into a fit also, settling her anxiety some. “I uh, I need your help finishing up this reprogramming.”

“Ain't no way you called me over here cause you need my help.” Hakeem snorted in disbelief.

He wasn't wrong, she didn't need his help, she didn't need anyone's help, she'd finished this exact project two days prior for another student. But she wouldn't have minded yours. Why didn't you just fucking come like she expected you to? God, you were so damn irritating.

“I um, I do, actually. I was supposed to have it done for one of them rich white kids but, I-I haven't been able to focus on it, or anything school related if we being for real.” She grumbled that last part shyly, but of course Hakeem's fucking elephant ears picked up on it.

He eyed her cautiously, before speaking, “And why you can't focus on anything school-related, Riri?”

“You gon help me or what?” Meeting his eye line didn't present itself as an option, so Riri fiddled with her computer mouse instead, opening the software that had finally downloaded.

“Answer the damn question.”

Riri sighed, shooting the tall boy a brief look. “Don't make a big fucking deal about it, but, the dreams are back.”

“See, I knew it. That's why you was sleeping here and shit? Riri you can't be sleeping in this garage, it's not safe, you–”

“Bruh didn't I just tell yo ass not to make a big deal about it?”

His scrutiny made the scientist flinch; Hakeem could be unnerving when he chose to be, and Riri found his easy way of shifting to be daunting, like the immense pressure felt from his spiky stare, and the abyssal drop in his lively tone could be enough to scare every answer she concealed straight from her drying throat. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

She watched his brows knit, eyes sullen as he regarded her with concern. “A little bit.”

“Mmm, why I don't believe that?”

She huffed, “I was actually tryna sleep a few minutes ago, but your ass pulled up, knocking on my shit like you had a warrant.”

“Riri, you can't sleep here.”

He was right, she knew this, but who would she be if she didn't challenge him? “Nigga you ain't my daddy.”

Bitter words Riri regretted instantly, as she gaped at her silent, staring best friend.

She loathed those eyes of his, the way they perceived her, thawing her frozen facade. She'd labored endlessly to forge her high walls, only for her work to be rendered useless; Hakeem bulldozed straight through their very foundations.

“Ri.”

She shook her head, “Can you just help me?”

“You lucky coding is kinda my shit.” His grin reemerged slowly, like it never left.

Though she still craved sleep, the buzzing inside her was beginning to still, being near Hakeem did that. The pair of friends worked silently next to each other, swift fingers smoothing over keys. Riri was grateful for the company, grateful for her best friend, his willingness to lend his time and mind.

“What are they about? The dreams, I mean.” He caught her eyes when she glanced timidly up at him, and immediately, she snatched them back.

Never had Riri disclosed the contents of her dreams to anyone, not even Hakeem. He knew about her Dad, about Natalie, but she'd kept him in the dark about the details.

“Don't wanna talk about that,” She chewed her lip, mind defying her, running to you when she glanced up at his screen. “And that whole line is wrong.”

He chuckled a little when he realized she was correct, bringing back the annoyance she thought to be previously settled. “Thought coding was your shit.”

“I ain't said I was perfect, bruh damn, ” He picked up on her indignation, good. “How much you getting paid for this anyway? I can get a cut?”

“You be too deep in my damn business, bummy.”

Her patience was bred to be thin, but today, it's like you made it completely nonexistent with your antics. What pissed her off, even more, was that she knew you wouldn't make such a simple mistake like your boyfriend did. You were thorough, rarely did you take your eye off the ball. Riri liked that, and it was probably the only thing she admittedly respected about you.

You should be here right now, assisting her as you did last week, diligently avoiding your boyfriend’s screw up. Instead, you decided to be childish.

But Riri couldn't shake the feeling that you were justified in your avoidance, if that's what you were truly doing. Perhaps you’d drawn a line somewhere and hadn't told her, maybe she crossed it with her actions, her words.

The moments prior to her outburst were enjoyable, she let her guard slip with you, not all the way, but just enough for the conversation to be pleasant. She laughed with you. Your mind intrigued her; called to her, and she felt inclined to answer.

Your hand in hers, your fingers between her own; it was shameful, but your apprehensive responsive full body twitches made it feel not so.

After a while, her stomach churned, scolding her reminiscent thoughts, and her remorseful eyes fanned up to a concentrated Hakeem caught up in correcting his mistake.

“You being real quiet Ri,” He sang, smiling knowingly, moving for the robot sitting on Riri’s messy work table. “Must mean you avoiding telling me something.”

He wasn't even looking at her, his focus set on downloading the firmware to the robot sitting beside the computer, yet somehow, he still decoded her. Riri spoke of walls and their supposed impenetrable builds, but were they ever up around her best friend?

She chuckled dryly remembering the spark of their friendship. A group project last semester forced them to work together, and Riri had every intention to remain guarded when around him. She wanted nothing to do with the popular black boy who spent most of his time partying with white frat guys. He had a reputation, on campus and in her mind.

Riri tried upholding her signature “don't talk to me” persona, but Hakeem bought none of it, and getting her to crack became more important to him than their assignment. Eventually, she did, because he housed a charm like she'd never known, and one could only deny that mischievous smirk for so long. He was quite proud of himself, latching onto her after that, leaving Riri with no choice but to become okay with his presence.

He was loud, rambunctious, extremely audacious, and always searching for the next party. A stark contrast from Riri who just wanted to smoke and build shit in her garage.

“I'm down for that, too,” He’d said. “You’d be surprised what these sexy ass hands can do, I'm tryna tell you.”

“Please don't ever say no shit like that around me again.” She’d retorted, expression wry, allowing him to follow after her.

She soon realized that his company had never been intentional, until her, making the pair an inseparable one.

“Not avoiding anything.” She fibbed, biting back a grin of her own.

Keem pushed the completed robot toward her, eyes narrowed. “Mhmm.”

“Riri, people care about you, you know?” She scoffed, not wanting to hear the spiel he chose to recite every time this happened. “I care–”

“Sappy ass nigga.”

But this time, he hadn't produced that signature laugh she grew accustomed to. Hakeem's dark browns swirled softly with compassion, leaking reassurance, making Riri stiffen as he stepped closer. “I mean it, Riri. You can talk to me, you don't gotta be so closed off all the time and shit.”

“Nigga you tryna kiss me? Back up.” Deflecting was her defense mechanism. She wished to let him in, shit, she probably needed to, but Riri knew she couldn't — wouldn't. Because letting Hakeem in meant opening the door for those feelings she struggled terribly to keep locked out. She could not chance them entering her barriers.

“I gotta go, Ri.” He sighed, defeated. Christ, he should know, he should know that Riri knew. Why did she have to say it out loud? She didn't understand why people required words to know how she felt, about them, about herself; they should just be able to fucking know.

“You need anything else? A hug?” Keem’s smile stretched, and she gagged immediately.

I need to know why your girlfriend is avoiding me.

But you do know why, don't you Riri? Isn't this what you wanted?

“No.”

Hakeem tugged her to him anyway, receiving not a word of protest from his tiny best friend, because she needed this too, this was nice. The space between his shoulders welcomed Riri’s exhausted physique, muscular arms flexing to swaddle her just right. Hakeem's cologne was so strong, so fogging, Riri found herself almost nodding off with her face pressed to his abdomen.

But another scent kept her awake, the faintest whiff of something embarrassingly familiar: You.

That light mist of smoky vanilla and saffron; one she didn't even know she could recognize until now. But there you were, spritzed all over him like you were his. And here Riri was, inhaling you deep, allowing you to enter her lungs as an oxygen dupe whilst her stomach ate itself.

She didn't want to pull away, because pulling away meant you'd be gone again, just like you'd left her earlier. So, she buried her face deeper into his shirt, diving further into your smell until Hakeem's no longer existed in her nostrils, until the aroma of you alone began to drown her, and she sighed.

Hakeem's reverberating chuckle assisted her resurfacing, and Riri grew hot all over when he pecked her atop her braids, burning in her furnace of guilt.

She let him go, rougher than she intended to, but he didn't seem to notice. “I knew yo weird ass wanted to kiss me.”

“I love you, Ri. You know that.”

“Yuck!”

He smiled, using those fucking dimples to unveil her own petulant grin, “I know you love me too. Ima see you, Ri. Try to get some sleep, aight? Preferably in a bed?”

She did love him; Hakeem was the person Riri was closest to, her lifeline, and this sentiment only worked to further her stomach's self-consumption as she watched him drive away.

•••

There was something to be said about an angry Riri Williams on a mission. Those speedy little legs of hers were thrusted forward by rage, her golden R pendant bouncing atop her chest with the same ferocity, clinking in tandem with the other chain adorning her slick neck.

She was hot, and tired, as the Sun blared its rays directly into her cocoa irises, but still, she refrained from turning her fitted hat forward to help shield her eyes. Her steps were so brisk, warm air wooshed in her ears, and the ends of her braids tucked beneath her cap slapped violently against her back.

When her phone buzzed in her fist, she hoisted the screen to her face, eyeballs turning in her head just before she swiped the message away so she could focus on the tiny red dot she was tracking.

She lowered the device, storming toward her target with a stern face.

“I see that phone still work.” She approached the brown-haired boy sitting with his friends, his face falling the second he took in her wild expression.

“Uh, hey Riri, what–” She snatched it from his stubby fingers, eyes fixated on the way they trembled when they lost their grip on the thing.

It was unlocked, great, less work for her. “You sitting up here real comfortable, snacking and shit, like youn owe me a band, and change.” Her vision was trained on the iPhone she seized, scrolling through various apps until the one she sought jumped out at her: Venmo.

“Sorry, I uh, I forgot. But I thought we agreed on seven hundred.” The boy peered over at his alarmed friends.

He attempted to reach for his phone, but he'd underestimated Riri’s guile. She anticipated his move long before he made it, stepping back, holding the device to her person. “Yeah, two days ago maybe, but prices go up the longer you take to run my shit.”

He was fidgeting, and Riri let her smirk curl, entertained by him. “Look, I did most of the work, I think it's fair that–”

“I’m the reason you got that grade you got.” She stated plainly, bored of the back and forth. She awarded herself the desired amount, allowing the defeated boy to take hold of his property once she no longer had use for it, and she plastered her face with a faux smile as she bobbed away.

“Fucking white people.” She mumbled with a head shake, turning her phone off completely as a measure to dodge the emails from her therapist she refused to respond to.

Riri plucked her nose from her phone, the Sun still working to abuse her eyes, and it was then that she saw you.

Steady flows of molten lava scorching her retinas, the rays emitted by the sky's ball of fire made an afterthought now. Riri’s legs stilled, her pupils dilating under the beams of your hair. She knew how she must've looked, gaping at you the way she did, out in the open, and her unwillingness to care mixed her mind. But she couldn't, care that was, not at the moment.

You wore that hideous green thing still; Riri was unaware of her disdain for the sweater until today. How many times had she seen Hakeem in it without batting an eye? It wasn't even cold out, like at all. Why did you have it on? You were so fucking odd.

Warm air blew your locs to and fro as you inched closer to her, making her hold her breath with each step you took.

You weren't looking at her yet, but surely you felt her eyes on you, on the way you clasped your backpack, on your nails. She hadn't noticed them in class, because your stubborn ass hadn't given her a chance to, but your nails matched your hair now. When she saw them last, was the night she held them, they were purple then.

They were still as long, still as dangerous, except now, they were painted red, much like the blood heating her ears.

Riri braced herself for impact; you were inches away, eyes boring directly into hers, so she fixed her lips into a hard line, something menacing, something deterring. She wouldn't speak first, no. In Riri’s mind, you were even, she was mean to you, you retaliated by ignoring her, so you were even.

You were so close, your perfume kissed her skin, and she smirked when your eyebrow jumped. Jackpot, this intense eye contact was to be her in.

But again, you’d managed to con her into believing she would be getting your attention. You didn't stop, your feet brought you to her, bypassing her, and you bumped her shoulder in the process without so much as a word. Riri was stunned, at a loss, as she whipped around to see you marching away from her for a second time today.

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a child. Riri was short, not fucking invisible. Where the hell did you get off? Why were you getting to her this much? You shouldn't be able to.

She blamed it on her lack of sleep, because was there another conclusion to be drawn? She couldn't, wouldn't, draw one.

With one last look over her shoulder, Riri headed in the other direction, dragging her heavy limbs back to her dorm with the hope of sleeping your likeness away.

•••

Riri lay unmoving on her bed, heart stunned into a sprint after yet another gruesome attack. She was awake, but locked lids provided aid in keeping her eyeballs off of the closet door in the distance.

That's where he resided, her monster, snickering in amusement at the state in which he left her.

Her dorm steeped in moonlight when she unstuck her face from her pillow, bathing her damp skin in streams that cooled. Riri’s vision barely existed as her eyes darted around the room, but despite this, her wells found the recently stripped photograph taped to her wall. She hadn't the heart to reframe it; keeping the film near loosened her constricting chest on nights like these. A slanted gaze trailed to the digital clock on her desk: 12:04 a.m. At least she’d slept some.

Riri sighed, hands moving before her brain could stop her, and she reached for her phone, scrolling through her recent calls before her thumb hovered hesitantly.

One ring, two rings, three.

She was going to hang up, having regretted the act already. No way h–

“Hey, wassup?” Hakeem's voice sounded groggy, oh good, she'd woken him. Surprising, Riri thought, a Friday night spent indoors was not his normal. “Nah, it's just Ri, baby girl.” So you were with him, and she'd woken the both of you with her desperate little phone call. Amazing.

Were you at his place? In his bed? Or, was he in yours? That image, the one of the two of you sharing the same sheets, was not one she needed on her conscience, so she did away with the thought, just as she pretended not to feel her tension band tighten in her abdomen.

“Yo, Ri, you good?” She remained silent on her end, thinking, spinning, spiraling inside her warped mind.

This call was a mistake. “Sorry, I uh, I didn't–”

“I'm on the way.” And then she was made to listen to that beep, beep, beep; Hakeem hadn't given her a chance to decline, not that she'd wanted him to. It’s why she called him, because Riri knew he'd know, without her having to say it.

She was shoving her head through the neck of her hoodie when her phone pinged, and she rushed to it.

Bestie Westie: I'm outside.

Riri rolled her eyes at the contact name every single time Hakeem texted her, she had no hand in it, but she wouldn't dare change it. She slipped her feet into her crocs after grabbing her phone and keys, making her way to her awaiting best friend.

Upon opening Hakeem's car door, a wave of heady Vanilla crashed onto her, its current forceful, and deliberate as hell, making Riri scoff. What the fuck did you do? Douse the seats in your fucking perfume just to taunt her? Three times now she'd been assaulted by your smell, three times she recognized it on command. Riri valued consistency, somewhat, she liked a pattern, but this one, this pattern of you — she was not fond of it.

She’d zoned out, Riri realized, involuntarily floating on the aroma surrounding her, and it was Hakeem’s voice that brought her back. “You getting in, Ri?”

“Yeah.” She collected herself, exhaling as she stepped into the car with a shy smile that Keem reciprocated, allowing her best friend to drive her off into the void of the inky night.

•••

“Wish Freeda’s was twenty-four-seven, could really use some fries right now.” Riri’s lips separated, preparing themselves to once again come in contact with the burning blunt her fingers clasped. Her drag was long, smoke gliding down her throat, collecting in her lungs as she held it, awaiting that familiar burn she craved. And then she exhaled, billows of white clouds blowing from her mouth.

“You and them damn salty ass fries.” Hakeem teased with a laugh that should be deemed too enthusiastic, even for him, but his high guided it, and Riri was stoned enough to match it.

She sipped her Slurpee, passing the blunt over, watching him accept it leisurely through hooded eyes. When the straw left her tongue, she slurred, “Look, that seasoned salt ain't nun to play with. Ion know what to tell you.”

“Seasoned salt my ass, swear Ion see your itty bitty butt eat nothing else. What that cholesterol looking like?”

The girl damn near cackled under the slow drum of the question, and Riri shook her head with a loose smile. “Cholesterol? Nigga, the fuck, I look fifty-five to you? I ain't worried bout no damn cholesterol.”

“What are you worried bout then? Cause I know it's something,” Hakeem took a hit, eyeing Riri tentatively where she sat with her back against the door. “That's when the dreams come back, right?”

His seat was halfway reclined, and he puffed a breath of smoke up toward the car's ceiling, adding to the haze existing around them already. He waited, foreseeing her hesitation before even she did, humming along with the song wafting out his speakers, patient as ever.

Riri didn't like this, she knew the question was underway, but she really fucking hated it; vulnerability was not a carried skill. She wanted to enjoy her high, to forget, momentarily, that her feelings were her enemy, and her brain was their friend. “I told you Ion wanna talk about that shit.”

“No, you said youn wanna talk about what goes down in your dreams. That's cool. But, I ain't asking bout that, I'm asking bout what's causing them, small fry.” He shot her a wink, or what she perceived to be one, smiling lazily.

Riri grimaced, vermilion-stained eyes regarding him with the utmost contempt, “Call me that again, see what happens.”

“Riri, you not getting off that easy. Now talk to me.”

A beat of silence befell them, per Riri’s doing, and she sucked her straw in again, forcing the taste of mango-lemonade to wash her mouth, needing it to pacify her speech. “Guess I'm just stressed,” She spoke after a while, and Hakeem bobbed his head.

“Okay. What's stressing you out, small fry?” He exhaled, a gust of gas following his words.

“Nigga.”

“Ri.”

The wrap touched her digits once again, and the drug entered her system, along with that fucking smell, your fucking smell, that for whatever reason, chose to follow her. “Ion know. I’ve just been feeling real weird over the past three months. And no the dreams ain't been back for that long. I just feel off.”

“Your classes?”

“No, well kinda this week, but not usually. Ion know what it is.” Except she did know, and she wished desperately to unknow; Riri wanted her lie to ring true, but, she had your perfume in her lungs right now, it was acquainted with her nose, her bloodstream. God, she could fucking taste it — taste you — there was no way for her to unknow that.

Hakeem tutted, and Riri’s eyes rolled. “Wrong answer.”

“What?”

“Ri, you know I know you. And I know when you fixing them lips to lie to me.” His arm extended, pinching her chin, and she recoiled in disgust.

“Eww. Weird ass nigga, don't touch me.”

He snatched the dwindling blunt from her, taking the last hit before placing all attention on his tightly wound best friend. “Soooo, you gon tell me?”

Riri huffed, swigging her Slurpee, her body unconsciously rocking to the current song. “I just told you Ion know what the fuck I got going on.”

“Sticking with your lie. Okay,” He threw his hands up. “You and Riy good?”

Riri giggled automatically, be it because of the weed, or just the fondness she held for the tattooed girl, she didn't know, nor did she mind. “Yeah. We good.”

He shook his head, “See, Ion understand you man.”

“Nobody gets me Keem, that's how I like it.”

“Ha.” He laughed dryly, “I mean ion understand how you have a baddie like Zariyah, and still playing games, you know shawty want you.”

“And she has me.”

He tossed her a challenging glare. “Y’all official?”

Hakeem was right, rarely was he ever wrong when shrinking her brain. Riri could admit that internally, but never aloud, because then she'd have to own her shit, and she didn't see herself able to. Not yet. “Man, whatever.”

“If I was you… Damn, what would I do with all that if I was you? Damn. Like shit Riri, the fuck is wrong with you for real?”

“Nigga, don't you got a girl?”

“You gon tell her?”

Riri deadpanned, wincing at the thought of you avoiding her entirely. “Like I would willingly talk to her.”

“Guessing y’all lil study session ain't go well last week? She been dodging yo ass like the plague.” He chuckled.

She couldn't pretend this blatant confirmation didn't pack a punch, even if it’d been clear as day. You were avoiding her. Hakeem pushed it into the open, and he found hilarity in your behavior. Riri on the other hand, could not pinpoint which of the sensations incited by your behavior bloomed the strongest in her depths. Anger? Irritation? Bewilderment?

Or could it be the one that lay dormant in her body until today, the sole sensation she detested, and refused to give attention to? “You shouldn't have sent her irritating ass to come check up on me.”

“Aye, watch it,” She heeded his warning, but not without an eye roll, of course. “You ungrateful as hell, you know that?”

Riri pouted. Its appearance on her face would never be permitted outside of this setting, outside of Hakeem's presence; she was too high to wipe it away. “I ain't need no babysitter.”

“Evidently you do, small fry. Yo ass need supervision, since you can't seem to sleep in your bed.” Hakeem spat his words playfully, but Riri knew him well enough to place his trepidation, about her, about her stressors.

“Stop calling me that shit.”

“Stop deflecting.”

“Whatever nigga.”

He was trying, and failing, to readjust his seat when he blew the chilling question her way, and maybe the fog in the car’s air created a mirage before her, because Riri was certain Hakeem's words frosted the melted dregs of her syrupy drink once again. “Why youn like her anyway?”

This sight of him, struggling with his worn-out car, should be comical. She should laugh. But, she couldn't, because this question, and its intrusiveness, stunned her into stillness in the passenger seat. “W-What?”

“Why youn like my girl? She ain't never did shit to you for real, but you always on her. Why?”

Riri Williams was a super-genius, and prior to this instance, there was no equation she thought herself unable to solve, no question she believed existed without a complementing answer. With effort, and a little elbow grease, she was usually able to make the seemingly impossible, possible. But that ceased to be the case now — she did not possess the response her best friend was in search of.

Because you were unsolvable. Her answers did not compliment you.

“Ion gotta like everybody, Hakeem. I barely like yo ass.”

And though she never presented herself as a friend, Riri had to thank the universe still, along with the high dazing Hakeem's expression as he started the car without another word, leaving Riri alone with the question he'd tossed out, blissfully ignorant to the damage he'd just done.

She fiddled with the pendant dangling around her neck, the pad of her thumb grazing the letter as she pondered: Why didn't she like you?

You were in her veins right now — she was gone off your smell. She liked that. So why didn't she like you?

Riri rolled the window down, basking in the cool air nipping her heightened skin as she poked her face out like a thrilled dog, resisting the tempting urge to actually stick her tongue out playfully. If Hakeem could dismiss his words so readily, why couldn't she? So, it's what she chose to do, in her final attempt to reclaim the lastings of her sanity.

The drive back to her dorm carried a consoling quietness, save for the silky whispers Hakeem's speakers breezed out, his pressing question long lapsed in her head. She hummed, eyes low as she made way for a goofy little grin to cross her once-contorted features.

“You good, Ri?” And for once she could answer this question truthfully, because Riri was indeed good, better than good — perfect.

She nodded, glimpsing at his matching smile before he stepped out of the car. “Aight, come on.”

Once back in her room, Riri fused to her mattress again, this time lacking fear. Because Hakeem was here, his warmth capable of keeping her monster at bay. He found the taste of Riri’s security to be rancid, refusing to feed when protection blanketed her.

“Wait, before I get in,” Hakeem kicked his shoes off at the door, his voice interrupting Riri’s thoughts of a peaceful undertaking. “Was you fucking in this bed recently, Riri?”

She leered up at him blankly with an unamused expression. He was smirking, brow cocked, expectancy apparent on his smug face. What an insufferable man, befriending him had to honestly be her biggest mistake.

“Nigga, if I was, I definitely changed the sheets. Now, be a damn gentleman and hold me, I’m fragile.”

Hakeem gagged dramatically. Riri wanted to smack him, but unfortunately, luck remained planted at his dreadful side, because her approaching drowsiness advised against the attack.

After placing his phone on Riri’s side table, Hakeem scooted in behind her, still smirking, still giggling as his lanky arms engulfed her far smaller build, and Riri begrudgingly relaxed into him, eyes barely shut before a new set of words attacked her ears, “Fragile cause you be getting that ass tore up? Zariyah be doing the bending, don't she? See I knew it, I–”

“I'm so damn close to strangling you. Shut up and go the fuck to sleep, goddamn. Don't never know when to stop talking.”

He laughed, pulling her closer with a loud sigh. Riri was seconds away from the sleep she sought when Keem's phone buzzed beside her, so naturally, she took a gander, coming face to face with a photo of you as his lockscreen, the notification ceasing to matter now.

Chasmal brown eyes spilling mirth as you cheesed at your photographer, who she presumed to be the boy knocked out in her bed. She studied every corner of your face, completely enamored by your skin’s deepness, before the screen went black again. It was so fucking swift, the way you'd wormed your way back into her head, a task you'd perfected it seemed, even in absence.

She lay there for a while, stewing. Shame should devour her entirely for what she did next, lord, it was low, and if the mocking rattle drumming inside her closet was to be indication, her monster agreed.

She was still high enough to cast blame on the indica she'd ingested, and a snoring Hakeem bore no threat. So, Riri tapped the phone again, your shining smile eliciting a gentle, dopey one of her own. The light faded, taking her consciousness with it. Tangled in your boyfriend's arms — Riri allowed you to paint your portrait behind her lids — becoming her solace as she slumbered.

•••

Sunlight seeped through Riri’s array of windows, blazing streaks greeting her first for once, instead of the other way around when she pushed her eyes open. They panned around her brightened room cautiously, still grappling with the belief of staying shut throughout the night.

Hakeem was nowhere to be found, but this was hardly surprising, the only thing remaining in his wake being the sticky note pressed to her forehead, his signature way of announcing his departure. Usually, the impact between paper meeting skin stirred her awake, but this time, he’d slipped out with stealth.

She peeled the small square off her face, scoffing at the blurry vision of his atrocious handwriting. The only legible words were ‘text me’ scribbled below a drawing of some kind, and she blew a laugh, sitting up to reach for her phone perched on her side table.

The action birthed remembrance, as she sat, glaring blankly at her phone screen. She wasn't high anymore, meaning acceptance shadowed her unwanted remembering — Riri dreamt of you. Your smile, your eyes, your fucking hair, God, you were everywhere in her mind as she slept. And she was awake now, compelled to reflect on this truth.

It was getting out of hand, her seemingly inescapable fixation with you, and quite frankly she was fucking over your witchy ways. This was her line drawing, you didn't get to infiltrate her life and her REM cycle, even if your kind eyes offered her the best sleep she'd had in weeks. She had to put a stop to this — she had to see you.

Riri: Lemme take you out.

Her phone buzzed in her palm two seconds later, making her eyes roll expectedly as she grinned, hitting answer. “You know, when people text you it's prolly cause they don't wanna be on the phone with you.”

“And when you get asked out, it ain't usually through a half-assed text message.” Zariyah chimed, her smooth voice washing over Riri like honey.

She laughed, timid and jeering as she bit her lip, imagining the smile that must also be on her girl's face. “What you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. That ain't how you ask nobody out. You wanna try again, lil mamas?”

“Man, you wanna go out or not? Cause ain't no–”

Zariyah’s reprimanding pitch held all of its ferocity through the phone, and it’d be a lie to say Riri didn't seek her girl’s signature bite, “Uh-uh, I don't play with you like that Riri, watch that mouth. I ain't one a them.”

“Oh you not?” She quipped, twirling the end of her braids poking out from under her scarf.

“Nah. Now ask me out properly before I hang up this damn phone.”

She waited a few beats, deliberately trying to piss off the gorgeous girl on the other line. “Ain't you the one who called me though? You the one who wanted to be on my line, right?” Her smirk played in her words, forming fully when she tuned in to that inevitable sigh of frustration she perked her ears up for.

“Riri. Don't piss–”

Riri’s fingers massaged the necklace clasped around her neck, kicking her dangling feet as she spoke, “I would like to take you out Zariyah. You gon let me?”

“That really ain't no better. But, I guess I can squeeze you into my oh-so-busy schedule. When's this date? This is a date right?” Riri detected the twinge of uncertainty lacing Zariyah’s questions, which only broadened her sly little grin.

“It can be a date,” She started, shaking her head at the butterflies waking in her depths. “Tonight?”

Zariyah giggled, “Tonight works. Where you taking me?”

“Just be ready by seven, which for you is really eight, cause you know how you be.” Riri teased.

She could feel the eye roll hurled her way, and Zariyah’s tone of voice gave away her faux annoyance. “Oh don't do me. Ima be ready when I’m ready, how bout that!”

“Okay Z,” She conceded. “Ima see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, Ri baby.”

She clobbered out of bed after ending the call with the dumbest little smile, socked feet dragging her to the bathroom. It only lasted so long though.

Riri glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror, hoisting her damp toothbrush to her mouth just as flashes of your lips flooded her senses, and she resisted the urge to smash her head into the mirror before her. Maybe a self-induced concussion could scrub you from her memory.

•••

“Riri, when you said you was taking me out, this ain't what I had in mind.” Zariyah’s complaints were predictable, making Riri shake her head at the red-haired girl straggling behind her.

She tossed her question back, already aware of the response she'd get from this as well. “What, you too bougie for Freeda’s now?”

“Yes.”

She stuffed her fist into her pocket, striding languidly to the door with that silly grin curling her mouth. Freeda's wouldn't typically be a designated date spot for Riri either, but she had to admit her intentions for the night surpassed the innocence of simply taking Zariyah out.

She wanted to see you.

You didn't get to act like she wasn't worthy of acknowledgment. And showing up to your job was sort of her last resort, because you couldn't avoid her here. Showing up alone, however, that could send the wrong message, hence, the Zariyah of it all. “Girl, shut up and come on.”

She opened the door, holding it wide for her unimpressed girl, but she smiled still, because Riri had that effect on her.

“Welcome in, Ima be with y’all in a minute. Just sit wherever.” You hadn't turned as you spoke, but your drawl made Riri shudder all the same. A rehearsed line, she'd heard it countless times on her many visits to the diner, but when you said it now, her hot blood ran cold.

She smirked to herself as she realized; Riri had missed the sound of your voice.

“Alright,” When you approached their booth, bewilderment charged your deep eyes, your forever-taut shoulders tensing in understanding. “H-Hey y’all…”

Oh, fucking finally, she’d cornered you, regaining her status, once again, as cat to your mouse. You couldn't run, the panicked lightning in your irises vindicating this fact, and Riri smirked, content with where she had you now.

Your eyes competed with hers, vehement, determined, wanting desperately not to falter. You were struggling under her scrutiny though, she could tell. And for whatever reason, it pleased her, knowing that even after your decision to steer clear of her, the cards belonged to her still.

“Aww Ri baby, Keem’s girl works here! Hi cutie. I love your hair!”

“Yeah,” Her eyes stalked your uniform, sly as ever, noticing the abrupt inhale you failed to bury. Your rising chest would pass anyone by, but not Riri, because she reveled in your body's mechanical reaction to her staring. You couldn't help it, poor thing.

God, she missed eyeing you until you shook under her unwavering gleam. She missed your face. Fuck. “She do.”

You cleared your throat, evidently uncomfortable with all of this, red nails strangling the pen in your vice grip. It was an intense sight to behold, a tad amusing, and it replenished Riri's weakened ego. “Uh, th-thanks. Can I start y’all off with s-some drinks?”

Riri couldn't speak, far too bewitched by your hair hissing her name, drawing her in close, close, closer until she caught herself sliding to the edge of the booth, causing you to back up some with a broken exhale. Her skin heated, attention fleeting your face as she scratched her neck awkwardly.

She understood it now, her sudden draw to you. It was your hair’s doing. Fucking Medusa. But with the ability to liquefy rather than harden.

Your hand pranced across the pad as you wrote what she could only assume to be Zariyah's order, she wasn't paying attention, her focus now collared by the jarring thing she thought to be impending: an eruption of blue ink. She pitied that pen, unaware that it’d just become a weapon of mass destruction. You were similar to the writing utensil in that regard; you too remained heedless to your power.

If only Riri was to be so lucky, because she knew the might you held, she fucking felt it. It's the same sensation she vied for yesterday in class, the same force she allowed to plunder her dreams. It was here now, bombarding her senses as you stood so close, colluding with your conniving fragrance.

That crackle of saffron she could recognize with the faintest intake of air.

“And uh, for you, Riri? You know what you want too or you need a minute?”

When you said her name she internalized how your soft eyes hardened, at the same moment hers melted completely. “Fries and a coke.”

“That's all you getting, baby? You sure?”

She nodded, head dancing to the beat of your hair's song.

“Okay. Ima get these in for y’all.” You smiled at an ever-clueless Zariyah, and Riri would trip into that too, if it weren't feigned.

Riy reached across the table, tattooed hands cupping Riri’s, “Ri, oh my god, guess what happened at work today!”

You walked away, tossing loose red tendrils over your shoulder as you dismissed Riri like an afterthought, and she couldn't help the flare of irritation sparking in her chest. “What happened at work today, baby?”

Riri had zoned out when Riy began her ramblings about the number of holes she poked in the faces of strangers at work, becoming distracted when a completely different server brought their drinks out. Was this another attempt to stay away from her?

She stalked your steps as you moved to clear a recently departed table, and she figured no time like the present.

“Z, I gotta go um, ask shawty bout an assignment for class,” She pointed to you. “Ima be right back.”

Zariyah nodded, smiling shyly, “Don't go too far. I'm gon miss you.”

“You're cute.” Riri huffed a laugh before standing, stepping out of the booth to make her way over to where you worked.

She followed the wave of your perfume, stopping short when she almost bumped into you. “Shit, my fault.”

“The fuck do you want Riri?”

“Oh we cussing now? That's crazy.” Her words worked only to piss you off, making Riri smirk some when they woke that breathing vein in your temple. “Talking to me like I’m Keem or something.”

“Riri, your food gon be out in a minute. Just go back to your girlfriend and let me do my fucking job.” You faced away from her, swiping the rag in your fist over the same spot for the seventh time since she approached you.

Riri chuckled, intrigued to see how far she could get with this unfamiliar version of you. “Bussing tables ain't really that hard though, is it?”

Your grip on the soaked cloth tightened, suffering the same fate as that mangled little blue pen from moments ago. “What the fuck–”

“That the only cuss word you know?” Her hip pressed into the table, vision trained on the soapy water gushing from the rag you were choking.

“Maybe. You know us dummies don't really got much going on up here.” You gestured to your head, knocking your finger directly against the vein blinking there.

She kissed her teeth, “You still on that?”

“If you not here to apologize, then Ima need you to get the fuck out my face, Riri.”

Riri barked a laugh, you were fucking hilarious. “Apologize? Ain't yo ass the one who broke my shit? I think them fumes you inhaling right now might actually be affecting your lil smarts, cause if anybody deserves an apology, it's me.”

You dropped the rag, regarding her fully now, your emotionless expression making her feel smaller than she actually was. Riri found herself wanting to breathe in your frustration as you blew it down to her, but she refrained. She shouldn't. She wouldn't. She could not. “Ion have time for this.”

“Okay, okay. My bad, damn.”

“Your bad?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes, your expression brittle as its dust landed on the small engineer stood in front of you, dry words bristling her entire body, you hadn't seemed to notice though. Because you didn't care, Riri realized. “And what is my bad supposed to mean?”

“Girl, the fuck is with your lil attitude? You said you wanted an apology, and your ungrateful ass–”

Your laughter carried, and it was loud enough to garner unwanted glances, including one from a rather bored-looking Zariyah at the far end of the diner. “Maybe Keem wasn't lying when he said your lil ass was funny, cause if this is your definition of an apology, we gotta get you on a stage and shove a microphone in them baby fists. It's giving comedian for real.”

This was the first time Riri Williams found herself lacking a comeback.

An empty stare colored her face as she watched your attempt to vacate her presence, leaving her brain with only one viable option.

She didn't stop her arm’s extension when it reached for you, and you hadn't protested when her skin touched yours. She held you in place, dismissing the intrusive thought encouraging her to tug you in closer. She couldn't do that.

You kept your flared eyes on her fingers wrapped around you, sighing unsteadily, the contact overwhelming you. Riri could tell, though she was unsure if this was her goal. She spared a glance at Zariyah who still peered at the two of you curiously, trying, and failing to care about the visual your current positions must be emitting.

“I ain't mean all that shit from the other night.”

“All what shit?” Shaky, damn near breathless — your tone from earlier had betrayed you, stealing your confidence, and placing it directly in Riri’s palm for her to do with it what she wished.

Her voice was softer when she spoke to you this time, housing patience as she refused to let you go. “I shouldn't have slammed the door in your face. I know that, I can own that. I know you ain't mean to break my shit.”

The slow creep of your smirk alerted her that she was wrong; your assurance had not waned; it blossomed, and her hand indeed remained empty. Blackness guzzled your eyes, and Riri was forced to watch as their mirth disappeared.

“Aww, you want a cookie? You ain't order one, but we got some in the back,” You pointed over your shoulder. “Ain't nothing you just said worth a damn to me. You don't get to show up at my job with some bootleg apology cause your guilty conscience keeping you up at night, nah, shit don't work like that.” You snarled, yanking your wrist free wickedly, pointing to the server bringing out her food. “Your food’s out.”

Again, Riri was left dumbfounded by your astute observations about her as you sauntered off to the back, your ruby serpents admonishing her with their sway. Their once euphonic hiss turned into lethal venom spat directly into her face, aiding her reluctant hand in concurrence — you’d turned her into the mouse she once chased.

Maybe she’d misconstrued just how powerful you really were.

“Ri baby, the food’s here.” Zariyah called, rescuing Riri just as she was about to sink into her mind’s rapids, and she smiled on her trot back to the table, abandoning her seat across from the taller girl, opting to sit directly beside her instead.

Riy gaped at Riri for a second, but she didn't question their new seating arrangement. “Everything good with your assignment?”

“Huh? Oh, um, yeah.” She upheld her lie, pecking Zariyah on the cheek. “I tell you how fine you look tonight?”

“Girl, eat them fries.” Riy rolled her eyes.

Riri laughed, but did as she was told, sliding a greasy fry onto her starving tongue.

Tastebuds tangoed with the flavor skipping across them, and she blushed, like actually blushed, the hot flush of sudden embarrassment baking her skin. Riri hadn't asked for seasoned salt on her fries, in all honesty, she'd forgotten to, too caught up in you and your embers. But there it was, sprinkled across her food just the way she liked it, and a small smile scratched its way free, etching its shape deep into her face when she noticed your emergence from the kitchen.

Exhausted eyes averted her vicinity, but Riri stared anyway, because once her gaze met your face, it was usually hard for her to rip it away. You could've requested the cook spit in her food, and it probably would've been justified, but you didn't. Instead, you did what you always did, you perplexed her just by being.

Even though you were angry at her, you thought of her still. You were like her in that regard.

The blush crawling her body stayed put the longer her pupils gawked at you. You were putting your hair in a ponytail, all fifty-two faux locs, well, except for one in the back. You missed that one. Riri didn't; it's where she fixed her brown orbs, on that lone loc dangling and tickling your pretty neck.

You were facing her now, the sear of her stare steering your turn. Irritation rested on your cheeks still, but it held no relevance, as she smirked at you, because your eyes had regained their mirth-filled deepness, and it took only the gentlest flick of your lips for her to plummet into their abyss completely unguarded.

As her smirk slackened, Riri felt her Earth shake, her highest walls deteriorating and coming undone all around her. The feelings she wrestled to keep outside would soon be awarded entry, and Hakeem's haunting question was on the verge of gaining an answer.

She kept watch of you, gulping down the remnants of potato in her mouth before surrendering.

Riri liked you.

And the acceptance of this truth scared her shitless, exposing her helpless little body to a creature far more petrifying than a measly little monster in the closet.

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