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ohmybueckers · 5 months ago

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mad at me - paige bueckers x reader

Summary: After a bad game, you tell Paige to take her frustrations out on you, an offer she gladly accepts

Themes/Warnings: angry sex (safe words are present), orgasm denial, overstimulation, degradation, etc.

Word Count: 4k

Note: i genuinely don't know what came over me guys i swear i don't just write smut lmfaooooo. anyways here's a result of me being bored and angry and also to celebrate the triple digit win today, enjoy!!

There was something you loved about the smell of rain on grass on an early February day. While the winter season in Storrs was brutal, overly long and gloomy, the way the earthy notes filled your senses as you walked home, surrounded by a thick fog, would have given you a pleasant reminder of the incoming spring on any other day. Unfortunately, this was not any other day.

There was no sugarcoating it: the Huskies had an awful game yesterday. The team could not seem to get their shots to fall, shooting only twenty percent from three and forty percent from the paint against a team that should have been a hell of a lot easier to dominate offensively. Miscommunications led to numerous turnovers and lost opportunities for shots (you lost track of how many times a player failed to spot a wide open Azzi, leading to frustration from both her and Paige). You were unable to make the game, having a massive exam the next day and not having the time to spend even a few hours not being remotely locked in. Your attempt to focus was futile as you sat in the library, headphones in and struggling to pay attention to your Quizlet set as the announcers seemed to tear into every single decision your girlfriend made on the broadcast.

Paige ended up being thankful you weren’t there in person, not wanting you to see the carnage firsthand, but it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. Paige never took a loss easy, but it seemed like this one especially got to her. After your exam you checked in once again, only for her to say they would be spending the majority of the night in the film room watching the game. Afterward, she planned on staying on the court to practice her shot, eager to not repeat the same mistakes come March.

You loved how dedicated she was, you really did. But you were starting to get really, really worried about her.

You had fully accepted that you would likely not see much of her for the next few days, allowing yourself the night to unwind after a grueling exam (you were happy to say you’re positive you passed it, as low of a bar as that is). You let your muscles relax under the steam of your shower, the eucalyptus hanging from the shower head and the lavender in your body wash clearing your mind of all your worries from this week momentarily. That is until you realized you couldn’t completely enjoy it knowing that Paige was out there, absolutely destroying herself over something that was not solely her fault. She deserves to relax too, you thought with a frown.

After spritzing your favorite scent around your room, lathering your legs in your most moisturizing lotion, and crawling into your freshly washed sheets, you were prepared for a night of finally continuing your latest pleasure read (a book that had been thrown aside the past week in favor of a biology text book). What you weren’t prepared for is the buzz emitting from your phone about twenty minutes into your self care night, right in the middle of a sexually charged scene between the two love interests. Your confusion was quickly replaced with concern when you saw that it was Paige attempting to FaceTime you.

Upon answering, you noted how sweat pooled at the top of her forehead, which was creased in frustration. Her hair was in a slicked back pony, her UConn blue practice was soaked through, and she looked pissed as she stood in the middle of the court.

“None of my fucking shots are landing,” she grumbled before you could even greet her, wiping away some of the sweat with the hand not holding the phone. “I’ve been here for the past hour after Geno let us go, and I can’t figure out where I’m going wrong.”

She appeared to be getting even more worked up as she spoke, a flush rising to her cheeks. “I’m supposed to be one of the oldest ones here, I can’t be out here making rookie ass mistakes. It’s not going to go well in March, and it’s definitely not going to go well in the W.”

It broke your heart to see this. Paige always said pressure was a privilege, but you watched in real time as the normal pressure Paige had on her shoulders evolved into something deeper, something closer to self loathing. “Paige, baby, I think you need to take a break. You can’t perform well if you’re like this.”

She shook her head no, an action you anticipated. Picking up her water bottle and spraying some in her mouth, she continued, “Nah, I gotta keep going. I just need to figure out how I can fucking focus.”

You took note of the grip on the water bottle, the command in her voice, and her determination. The idea hit you like a runaway train, tumbling through your lips before you could hesitate.

“Take it out on me.”

Paige had made half assed eye contact with the camera the entire conversation, too frustrated and ashamed to face you, but these five words brought her wide eyes to face yours. You couldn’t tell if they were filled with disbelief or intrigue - maybe both. “What?”

It’s not like you and Paige’s sex life was completely tame. She was always down to try new positions, whether it be using fingers, mouths, or toys. There have definitely been nights where her teammates have sent her a strongly worded message letting her know that their walls were not as thick as she thought. But sex between the two of you had always been passionate, loving … never angry. Until now.

You would be lying if you said you never felt some type of way watching Paige get upset at the refs, wondering what that kind of attention would look like in bed. As much as you trusted Paige, you just didn’t want to run the risk of saying anything that would alter her perception of you. But here you were, sat in bed wearing an old high school tee shirt and pajama shorts (not the sexiest outfit on the planet), and there was no way of deleting what you’ve already said. Inhaling, you continue. “You need to get your frustration out before you can shoot. I’m just saying you have an outlet.”

The gesture to your body was not lost on Paige, who looked like a deer in headlights. You were so close to ending the call, pulling your fuzzy blanket over your face and pretending none of this ever happened, when she spoke. “Are you saying you want me to fuck you to get my anger out?”

Her tone was blank, but even through the pixelated call (damn the poor signal in the practice court) you could see the switch in her - what was now a confused expression shifted to a calm kind of fire, the kind only you could recognize from her. Your stomach flipped, realizing she was just as into this idea as you were. Thank God. “I’m saying I want you to fuck me like you’re mad at me.”

She looked to the side, throwing her head slightly back and showing off her jawline. Without another word she moved to the side of the court, grabbing her bag and her keys off the ground. “Leave your door unlocked. I’m on my way,” she announced, before ending the call.

You gulped, knowing all you could do was open Find My, watch Paige slowly drive closer and closer to your apartment, and wonder what the hell you just got yourself into.

—-

Paige had learned the code to your apartment long before, having been with you exclusively for almost a year. So when she arrived at your place, with you standing waiting for her with fidgeting thumbs, it took her almost no time to set her bag down and saunter over to you, cupping your face and smashing your lips together. It could almost be described as romantic the way she was holding you, how one hand reached down to your torso to stabilize you. You couldn’t help but moan quietly as you felt her cologne mixed with her own musk waft into your senses.

But then she began stepping forward, forcing your steps with her against the fake hardwood, until your back was pressed against the wall. Paige finally pulled apart from you with a look that could only be described as pure, unrestricted hunger. All the rage towards herself, the frustration toward the previous days game, it all manifested into her gaze. One hand trailed to the side of your neck as she spoke softly, yet with strength. “Pretty girl wants to help me, huh?”

You nodded all too enthusiastically, taking pleasure in this new side of Paige: the one who was completely in control, and proud of it. She seemed to be taking pleasure in it as well, grabbing your wrist carefully and guiding the two of you to your bedroom which had been eagerly awaiting her arrival.

“I want to do this right,” she began, removing her shoes as you moved to sit on your bed with your feet dangling. “Green means keep going, yellow means pause, red means stop. The second you don’t want to do something, we stop. Got it?”

You nod, expecting nothing less than a tender check in from your girlfriend who was currently walking slowly to meet you. In some ways, you felt similar to your first time with Paige: slightly awkward, filled with unknowns. But you wanted this. God, you wanted this.

She reaches the bed, pushing you down onto the mattress you were laying in earlier in the night, this time in a far different context. Her lips are back on you, this time sucking harshly on your neck in places that are certain to switch shades tomorrow. You cannot bring yourself to care much in the moment, however, allowing yourself to be consumed by all things Paige.

Her hands move to your hips, trailing under the waist band of your shorts and quickly making a move to discard them. Her fingers touched your skin, alternating between hard grips and smooth brushes. “Take your shirt off,” she muttered, her grip tightening around your thighs as she spoke into your underwear clad cunt.

You obey her, feeling as though you had entered a trance from the way she spoke with so much authority. You know you look a little strange as you rush to get the shirt over your head, but Paige pays no mind: her eyes are busy tracing your frame, memorizing every curve, every mark, and every texture as if it was the first time. A smirk spread across her lips, her striking blue eyes somehow looking darker. “Can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

She peppered kisses down your body, the fire in her body feeling more like worship as she made her way down your breasts, your stomach, all the way to your clothed core.

Discarding your underwear, she began one of her greatest talents off the court. You felt her flick her tongue against you, shuddering at the mix of impact as well as the air conditioning hitting your skin. Her mouth explored you, prompting sharp cries from you as you fell back against your pillows. She took a break to nip at the skin where your thigh met your core, evoking something between a yelp and a moan.

“Pussy so fucking good,” she spoke, continuing her ministrations. It was like she was fueled by your pleasure, each drop spurring her on further. Her teammates always joked about Paige being a munch - if they only knew to what extent.

She delved her tongue in further, using her hands to spread you open.

You felt a very familiar knot begin to form, one that you could always expect with your girlfriend. “So good… Gonna cum P.”

As soon as she went to work, Paige got off, leaving only the harsh breeze in her place as you laid there dumbfounded. The knot within you, once welcome, was now dulling into something tantalizing and almost painful.

You whined, “Why did you stop?”

Her laugh that followed felt downright mocking, reaching down to caress your face once more. “You didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you baby?”

You pouted, knowing you looked fucking ridiculous. “But I was so close.”

Your girlfriend shrugged, taking no concern in the way your pussy drenched your sheets or the way your nipples puffed unattended. “Get me off and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

That sentence sent you into gear immediately, motivated by the urge to cheer up your girl as well as the selfish desire to get your way after your ruined orgasm. You scanned Paige’s body, drinking up every muscle as you shoved her shorts down along with her boxers. She laid down, taking your place with raised eyebrows looking nonchalant and cocky as ever.

You took your place between her thighs, offering kitten licks to her clit as her hands reached your hair. Your mouth opened further, allowing you to eat her out with the same fervor she was earlier.

You knew her well enough to know the tell tale signs she was enjoying herself - every sharp inhale, every squeeze of her legs, every hum she made. It all meant she was closer to what she wanted, and you were closer to what you needed. You just needed to hear it.

Pulling off of her clit with a pop, you shot your best doe eyed look at your girlfriend, who once again seemed to have a pool of sweat at her forehead. “Feel good baby?”

She responded not with words, but by shoving you back onto her core roughly, prompting you to continue your work on her. You looked and sounded like a fucking pornstar, moaning into her pussy as if you were the one getting off (which wasn’t that far off). You heard her grunt above you.

“Gonna cum on your pretty face.”

If Paige is one thing, it’s a woman of her word, so it doesn’t shock you when she fulfills her promise moments later. Her cum drips down your lips moments later, and you lap it all up. You live for this shit, watching Paige stare at you in amazement as she surrenders to your touch. The fire within the blonde settles, save for her continued labored breathing as evident by the rise and fall in her chest. She looks at you, her stare downright dangerous.

“Want me to make you cum, pretty girl?” From the way she said it, you knew she wasn’t asking.

You switched places once more, allowing her middle finger to slot itself in your pussy with the same vigor with which it once grabbed your head. She was pounding you, fingers focused on penetrating areas only she seemed to touch in the right way while her mouth payed ample attention to your clit.

You felt your legs jerk, eyes welling up. The familiar sensations of pleasure came back to you even quicker, flooding through you like Malibu waters. You were falling in so deep, your mind swimming in everything she was giving you.

Your legs gripped Paige’s head, an action that felt like muscle memory at this point. You didn’t even need to say it - she knew what this meant. And it meant she stopped once more, wiping her mouth and looking at you with a mischievous grin. You were just around ready to scream, gripping the pillow beside you.

“I did what you wanted, baby, please.” You whimpered, looking downright helpless at this point. “Please let me cum.”

You were so eager, and this was all so unfair. And yet you took it all, knowing that this was exactly what you asked for.

Paige raised an eyebrow, blinking a couple of times before nodding. “You wanna cum? You got it.”

She returns to your clit for the third time that night, gripping your hips as if you were planning on going anywhere but here, as if you were capable of not being consumed by her as she sucked. If eating pussy was an award winning sport, it would be yet another award on Paige’s already impressive roster. If there was one thing she loved doing more with her mouth than talking, it was making her girl feel good.

If you weren’t so focused on the way she was making you feel, you would maybe be a little more embarrassed about the noises you were making, how the pleas of “more” and “harder” emitted from you so easily. Paige had that effect on you, especially tonight when she was pulling out all the stops.

You nearly cried with relief when your breath quickened and muscles tightened and Paige didn’t fucking move, continuing to circle your clit with her finger while lapping you up like she was parched. Finally, waves crashed over you as you came with a shout of her name and a gush of fluid being deposited straight into her mouth, which she accepted happily. You rode out the feeling, Paige assisting with her reassurance. “Lemme hear you baby, fuck.” She moaned into you, a move that was teetering into the overstimulating category.

Little did you know that was just a taste of what was to come.

Taking time to lick up all the remaining cum from your pussy, she kissed up your body, finding herself at your awaiting lips once more. You sigh as you taste yourself, melting into the warmth of your girlfriend who just rocked your world. Based on the way she showed up to your apartment, you were certainly expecting more fire from her, but you were glad to end the night with a pleasant ache between your thighs.

You grin into the kiss, reaching up her shirt in order to get more contact only for her hands to grab your wrists, throwing them next to your head against the pillows before you could even process what she was doing. You take the time to look at her, really look at her, and see that the same tone is in her eyes, and that her fire hasn’t been contained. In fact, she looks ready to pounce. “I know you can give me another, right baby?”

Multiple orgasms in one night were not an anomaly for you and Paige, but typically there was time in between - the additional sessions usually happened after an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, or during a shower. You gulped, only able to nod as Paige trailed her hand back down to your spent pussy, cupping it before slipping a finger inside.

It was not lost on Paige the way your eyes squeezed shut at the intrusion, pain mixing with pleasure as she began moving. “Can’t take it baby?” She asked like it was a challenge. She was unsurprised when you shook your head no, determined to accept everything she was giving you. “That’s what I thought. Such a slut for me. Good fucking girl.”

A proud smile graced her face as she took note of the sopping sound of your pussy as she fucked you, the way your mouth couldn’t hold back moans and pleas for more, and it hit you: she was scoring, making up for her mistakes from yesterday through you. It only made the heat on your core worse, blurring your vision until everything felt hazy.

You could tell she was loving this shit, eating up how you were reacting to her. One hand trailed up, reaching for your tit and massaging it roughly. “Gonna let me do what I want to you, isn’t that right baby?”

You moaned as she spoke, relishing in the way that she was fully getting comfortable dominating you like this, fucking you like a dirty whore instead of her beloved girlfriend. She stretched you out so good, leaving no room for anything except her.

You felt the build up again, static rising in your body as you attempted to focus on your breathing. This effort would prove to be futile, as Paige knew you all too well. Her movements intensified, her breath growing heavy against your ear as she growled, “Who’s making you feel this good?”

You all but sob, “Y-you, P, fuck.”

She smiles, loving the way you sound as your pussy clenches around her with a fucking grip that anyone would die for. She was so fucking lucky. “Wanna feel this pussy cum around me, c’mon.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, your body shuddering as you released once again hitting your high like a drug as your back arched into her touch.Your cunt pulsed around Paige, causing a guttural moan to erupt from her lips as you rained down on her fingers.

She stared in wonder as she removed them once the majority of your high subsided, noting how they glistened under your lights. “Can do this all night. Pussy so fucking good.”

As much as you attempted to enjoy the remnants of your orgasm, the statement brought a wave of panic through you as you processed that you may not be done just yet. “Two’s enough, P,” you said, nuzzling your face in her neck.

Big mistake.

She jolted her head up, look at you intently. “What’s your color, baby?”

You paused, recognizing your mistake and the ache between your thighs. But there is nothing more that you wanted than to fulfill your promise to Paige, and you couldn’t deny the way heat rose to your face when you saw just how fine Paige looked when she was this focused on you. “Green.”

Paige grinned. “Then shut the fuck up.”

She flipped the two of you, hoisting you so her muscular thigh was pressed just at the right angle to give your spent clit undivided attention. A loud slap went to your ass, jolting you forward slightly and providing the first dose of stimulation as you rode her thigh in the process. “Paige, baby.”

She sat up quickly, pushing your body against hers as she helped you ride. She nibbled at your ear, whispering a series of sweet nothings as her firm grip on your ass never faltered.

“Ride me just like that.”

“I know you can go faster than that, c’mon.”

“Moaning for me like a fucking slut.”

Your memory beyond this point was a little faulty, coming and going in bursts. One second, you knew you were riding Paige like a mechanical bull, putting all of your (very little) remaining energy into giving her the best show you could, knowing that this is what she deserved. After a flash of white, moans and voices muffled, you awoke still sat on top of Paige. She rubbed your back, shushing you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“You’re done, baby, it’s okay. Did so so good for me, my perfect girl.”

—————

“Didn’t go too hard on you, right?”

You turned to face Paige, who was laying next to you in your bed. The past forty five minutes had been devoted strictly to aftercare, with Paige refusing to let you lift a finger. She helped you take yet another shower, lathering your body for you and kissing your shoulders as she hugged you from behind. She stripped and replaced your sheets, running yet another load. And now the two of you laid there, glasses of water nearby, and Paige was looking at you with both curiosity and fear.

You grabbed her hand from the arm that was currently wrapped around your shoulder. “I would have told you baby, trust me.” You offered her hand a kiss, sparking a smile on the blonde’s lips. “Do you feel any better?”

She nodded, leaning her forehead against yours. “Just needed to clear my head. The pressure just- it’s a lot sometimes.” You nodded, understanding how overwhelmed she got with the eyes on her at all times. A shy blush reached her cheeks as she debated speaking again, before deciding in favor. “I also thought tonight was hot. Like, really hot.”

You laughed, her quickly following. Sure, you couldn’t fix all of Paige’s problems with sex. But it certainly couldn’t hurt to try.

#paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #wlw smut

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bitedownforblood · 2 months ago

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abby anderson x fem reader

↣ took a little scroll through the abby tag and noticed almost no fluff so i'm filling that void with girlfriend!abby headcanons hehe

warnings / kissing, established relationship, very self indulgent oops, ow*n

𝄞 need your love so bad - fleetwood mac

author's note: this is my first tlou fic pls dont kill me if it sucks

+ you were definitely the first girl abby ever dated. the only other experience with dating she had was ow*n... so you obviously had to swoop in and show her what she was missing out on.

+ i know deep in my heart and soul that abby would hold your face when she kisses you. not your waist, or your neck, or your back. no. she would genty cradle your face, studying your features before leaning in and pressing her soft lips against yours.

+ she gives the BEST bear hugs ever, especially after a long patrol. she'll sneak into your room and just collapse against you, one arm wrapped tightly around your middle while the other cradled your head.

+ it's literally canon that abby smells of pine and every time i remember that all i can think of is cuddling with her after she showers while you both ramble to each other about anything and everything.

+ you read to each other!!! as a huge bookworm, i love the idea of just cozying up with abby in the library as she reads to you and vice versa. sometimes you'll both end up falling asleep halfway through a chapter only for manny to find you both way later.

+ adding onto that, you'd find literally any excuse to listen to her voice. whether that would be asking her questions about patrol, books, working out, etc. she's too oblivious to realise you aren't even paying attention half the time.

+ she would remember even the littlest of things about you. it can range from your favourite book to the colour of your socks on monday. she has an insanely good memory but only when it comes to you.

+ unpopular opinion but i don't think abby would work out with you. hear me out on this; i think she would prefer to have some alone time and what other place to do that than the gym! it's nothing against you, it's just that she likes to focus on working out.

+ if you offered to braid her hair when you just started dating, i think she would say no but at least let you brush it. however, once you two were together for a good while, it felt like second nature to come up to you, hairbrush in hand, with a knowing smile on her face.

+ you would play with her hair any chance you could. sometimes she would fall asleep with her head in your lap and you'd slowly untangle the braid she had in, raking your fingers through her hair as a way to soothe yourself.

+ the way abby looks at you makes you swoon every. damn. time. it could be during patrol, when you read to her, or even when you're eating. she looks at you with so much love. every time you catch her eyes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

+ i think abby would be very comfortable saying 'i love you'. she would prefer to say how she feels rather than show you. it's important you hear the words so they can be engraved in your mind.

+ abby is scary. she has huge muscles, she's one of the best soldiers, and people who go on patrol with her know what she is capable of. it's only natural that people started treating you with more respect when you two got together.

+ if she heard anyone talking badly about you or gossipping she would shut it down immediately. there's literally a part of the game where she goes around humbling the fuck out of people for talking about ow*n. so yes, best believe she's doing that for you too.

bonus:

+ i LUV the wlf!nurse x abby anderson fics so here's something about that; she would spot the smallest cut on her arm after patrol and her first instinct would be to see you. you'd laugh at how silly it was while you cleaned the wound, not realising abby was only here to see you.

#im back in my abby phase tbh #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson #abby anderson headcanons #tlou #zofia's file🫀

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mimiruuna · 6 months ago

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Girrrrl pls write more mouth washing headcannons like you just did 🙏🙏 truly you are a good writer and I enjoy your posts (I saw your intro and happy belated birthday!!)

thank you so much anonny!! so sweet :) i honestly love you for this request bc that means i can ramble on and on and be super unserious 👅 i'll section this off into two, nsfw and sfw!! (adding the read more link bc this is long!)

(reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns)

୨⎯ sfw ⎯ ୧

anya ۶ৎ

strikes me heavily as the "stay at home and rot" typa gal

and she's so real for that!!!

dates w her would definitely consist of little picnics, sitting by the lake and having deep talks, stargazing, pottery, library dates, all that good stuff >0<

she's totally slavic

i can't exactly put my finger on it but she gives russian/polish

will def give you nicknames in her one of those! (im not listing any bc im gonna be so embarrassed if i butcher my own language 😭)

if you're good at it, she loves when you braid her hair or do it up in fancy styles, she'll wear it for literally the rest of the day

LOVES seeing you all dressed up

like if you have a job that requires you to dress formally, and you walk out that bathroom with a dress shirt and slacks on??? ur gonna be a little late for work

she makes GREAT pasta dishes

vodka pasta, shrimp/chicken alfredo, mac n cheese, lasagna, gnocchi, YUMM

likes baking as well, but isnt very good

the most impressive thing she's ever made was chocolate chunk cookies that had literal pockets of gooey chocolate

can you tell im hungry

she's toned asl

loves the gym!

i feel like she dresses modestly for the most part in public but at home she'll wear crop tops and teeny shorts

definitely the type of person to give great advice but never use it

likes your voice, will say whatever to get you to talk (even better if you're someone who just talks and talks and talks) (me)

very comforting to talk to

WOULD NEVER JUDGE YOU OMG

you almost ran someone over? we've all been there!!

you actually ran someone over? why were they jaywalking??!

they died on the spot? ...get the boat.

i feel like she displays all of the love languages

but her main one would be words of affection i think

calls you love, dear, darling, all that sappy mush

wife!!!!!

curly ۶ৎ

ever since i've read what the devs said abt him liking snow sports i genuinely cannot stop imagining this guy skiing or snowboarding w you LMAO

but besides his love for that, he likes summery sports as well!!

like surfing, volleyball, badminton, tennis, golf, etc

dont take this in a weird way but i rlly just see him as the sugar daddy type

like yes he's your significant other BUT he's a good-looking man who looks a bit older, so if you look a lot younger than him then yeah ppl are gonna raise an eyebrow

but they have the right to bc every time you two go out he buys you something expensiveee

showers you in jewelery

he loves the beach!! (same)

definitely the type to massage sunscreen on you EWWWW (im kicking my feet)

he likes to give you massages in general, those strong ass hands be at WORK!!!!

my friend said he looks german and i can't get it out my mind, pls gimme opinions bc i totally agree 😭

sosososo nice and friendly and caring

loves taking you out on cruises, swanky resorts, michelin-star restaurants, the works

and if you like to workout he takes you on gym dates

my favourite

sometimes when he doesn't feel like going he'll just use you as a weight lol

likes randomly lifting you up

loves to listen to you ramble while he's cooking

good at cooking!!

calls you darling, princess, baby, beautiful

gentleman!!!

daisuke ۶ৎ

dream gen z bf

has a skincare routine he does with you every night

and if you arent there with him in person he'll facetime/video call you so he can "make sure you're doing all the right steps"

(he just wants to admire your LETHAL face card)

pothead >0<

this man takes you on dates GALORE

the arcade, thrifting, the mall, walmart (if they in walmart together they fucking RAW /ref), go karts, amusement parks, the beach, more i can't think of

likes when you do his makeup/give him a full glam makeover, it's so fun to him

lots of piercings

you HAVE to have a good relationship with his parents (saw this somewhere on ao3!)

has HUNDREDS of pictures of you in his gallery

has pics of you sleeping, cooking, walking, eating, watching tv, doing work, drinking, just existing

the type of mf to take like a thousand pictures of himself if you leave your phone around him

his love language is 100% physical touch and sending sappy ass tiktoks/instagram reels/everything else

LIVES ON SOCIAL MEDIA

he totally has like a fashion acct and it's just him trying on clothes and giving reviews

he has an impressive following!!

omg speaking of fashion, THIS MAN.

he's not like wisdom kaye level (one of his biggest inspos) but he can DRESSS

he'd totally judge you for wearing like socks and sandals or something utterly unacceptable

"girl. take those ripped skinny jeans OFF."

kinda like swansea is, i can see him being a sneakerhead (no i am not projecting)

calls you babe, dude, pretty girl if he's feeling freaky

jimmy ۶ৎ

he's such a pos i need him so fucking bad

he tries to clean up for you

shaves more, wears cheap cologne, tries to keep his home as clean as possible (which...isn't very clean)

is EXTREMELY dependent on you, esp if you're well off

loves getting high with you

off of VARIOUS substances 😭

mostly powder or acid but you two will shoot up from time to time

you've bailed him out of jail several times

committing crime dates!!! like

oh and yk eating out (at mcdonalds off the dollar menu), road trips (in his rusty ass truck), facetime/videocalls (his phone is so fucked up, his internet is horrible, and his camera quality is disgusting) whatever

hes so pathetic but he loves you so so so much

even if he doesn't display it like a normal person

his love language is definitely physical touch and words of affirmation

because that's all he can afford

very jealous, the two of you got into an argument once bc he thought you were looking at curly

tries to keep him away from you as much as possible

dont hate me for this but he definitely abuses his partners

psychologically, physical, verbally, sexually

but i dont care we love you jimmy!!

tbh most of the headcanons i have for him are nsfw, hence why this list is so short

im sorry!!!

swansea ۶ৎ

now THIS is a sugar daddy

(he's not technically bc you don't use him for money) (you better not.)

anyway!!!

he absolutely LOVES to take you out on fancy dates

likes travelling!!!

i can see him being a big fan of italy, germany, thailand, the bahamas

(psa: guys once before you die you HAVE to go to the bahamas omg its so freaking lovely and the locals are very very sweet :) )

oh he definitely enjoys a leisurely game of golf

he's such a sweetheart like he'll make you breakfast in bed and cook you a romantic candle-lit dinner and give you back massages and urghh

gives THE most insightful advice

actually super smart, will help you with any college work you have

his strong suits are math and science!

very good at cooking, devs themselves said he makes a mean paella!

i can see him being rlly good at cooking cultural food

like dont let this man make butter chicken or pad thai 👅 it will be GONE.

he admires you very often! you're so beautiful!! yes you!!!

he really likes it when you cuddle him

like aww imagine he's just watching something on his macbook and then here you come curling up next to him

AWWW I LOVE HIM

he's not super affectionate himself but if he notices it makes you happy then he'll try to show you that he loves you more physically

his love language is gift giving/quality time

having long talks with you is a must, especially when you are tuckered and all snuggled in your bed, and the tv's on but you aren't paying attention to the plotless show because you're too focused on listening to each others life stories, revealing little bits of lessons you've learned and why the way you are

ily swansea

୨⎯ nsfw ⎯ ୧

anya ۶ৎ

very gentle

unless she's like super into it then she'll start gripping your thighs or tonguing you down more intensely

she def watches porn when you aren't around and imagines the actors are you and her

but only the amateur lesbian type. that produced shit makes her cringe and uncomfortable

lots of toys!!1!=1

has the softest cutest moans

isn't particularly loud in bed, the loudest you'll get from her is a long, shaky whimper

loves giving head!!!

she literally has a fucking waterpark like she gets SO wet

not the easiest to turn on, which is why sex is uber intimate and precious to and with her

she's very sensitive and he orgasms are intense

also doesn't have the best stamina, will go literally two rounds before she's knocked tf out

PILLOW TALK

ughh she can't keep her lips off of you

even when you two aren't making love she's always kissing you somewhere

do NOT let her get a hold of a strap-on.

her stroke game is so freaking good like where does she get the experience??!

she likes your tits, her hands are always on them even in non-sexual situations

no matter their shape and size, she thinks they were sculpted by the gods

she thinks you were sculpted by the gods!!!

if you're super loud in bed then you're in luck bc she can't get enough!! she cant!!

she only initiates if you two are laying down, she'll wrap her arm around you and kiss your jaw

then she'll ask "is this okay?"

HELL YEA

curly ۶ৎ

oh man

he's 100% the type to put you in the most absurd positions

one i think about him doing all the time is like he'll be standing and he'll be drilling into you while you're UPSIDE DOWN

he's such a gentle giant, if you like it rough you'll have to beg him to stop being so nice

makes the hottest noises when you give him head

aughh he'd totally shut his eyes and keep a hand tangled in your hair and curse under his breath and buck his hips

when he initiates, it's always by lovingly running his big hands up and down your waist and pressing tender kisses to your neck while he whispers "i love you" and "so beautiful" in your ear

ooh that'll do it!!

you trying to initiate though? literally just kiss his neck and all of a sudden you're on your back

you call him "grant" when things start to get hot

like imagine moaning "curly"

doesnt watch any porn whatsoever

if he's horny and alone he'll just pleasure himself thinking about you

very very romantic, don't let this man find out it's valentine's day or your birthday or ANY holiday for that matter

like yk those tiktoks where someone is showing off a hotel room that their spouse decorated all romantically for their birthday, and then it cuts to the morning after and everything is all messed up after a few rounds?

YEAH THATS CURLY

for the love of god PLEASE SIT ON HIS FACE

likes risky/public sex

definitely part of the mile high club

loves fucking you in the kitchen

he seems like the type to grope you

but in a 'husbandly' way

like before he leaves for work he'll kiss you and smack your rear

or while you're cooking dinner he'll just squeeze your tits/ass

he loves ur ass!! i see him as an ass man

LMAO ASS MAN

good stamina, can go a FEW rounds

he will ALWAYS let you come first. no exceptions except for when you're sucking him off

he's so fucking good at giving head it's genuinely unbelievable

he likes his nipples played with

guys i NEED you to hear me out on this, he'd eat your ass/he likes anal

BUT LIKE ONLY IF YOU WANTED

but c'monnn don't tell me he wouldn't spit on it and get it real wet before slipping it in

daisuke ۶ৎ

THE freak of mouthwashing

canonically he's always horny lol

other ppl say he'd be a virgin but i cant see it 😭 he been to all those parties and he looks that good, are you sure he didn't get him some?!

watched a shit ton of porn before you two got together

and lemme tell you

HE DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE

big ass, petite, goth, ebony, asian, latina, blonde, brunette, bbw, interracial, WHATEVER.

enough of that

he's soooo noisy and sensitive like it doesn't make ANY sense

ESPECIALLY from head like he'll be gripping the bed/couch and moaning like a girl into the air and his thighs will be twitching and-

loves to edge himself

like if you're sucking him off and he's close, he'll tug your head off of him and take a breather before letting you do your thing again

LOVES recording you

literally i can see him downloading snapchat for the sole purpose of the 'my eyes only' feature

he's absolutely down for anything you wanna do

he would let you peg him tbh

gives super sloppy head

like it's not bad but he's just so eager and excited to please you that he gets kinda carried away

his tongue piercing feels so good

he noticed how much you loved it so he bought a vibrating one

literally wants sex like everyday and his stamina is insane

GENUINELY he can go all night

worships tf outta you

he is so obsessed w you and loves you so much like pls ride his face

dry humping is a lost art and he is bringing it BACK

he's like a fucking dog he's so noisy and messy and sloppy and horny and ugh

i love him so much he's literally me

jimmy ۶ৎ

extremely rough

like hardcore shit

he will actually choke you until you pass out and then fuck your unconscious body

same with whenever you go down on him, he hold you there until he feels your body go limp and then fuck your face

he loves getting head so fucking much

he has lots of...philias

i REFUSE to name any of them pls

intense groper

complete disregards the idea of consent

he's gonna take what he wants, whenever he wants it

and im okay w that!! 😻

wakes you up with head every morning

has a super high sex drive

the littlest, stupidest things turn him on

you spilled water on yourself? he's hard. you burnt your hand from super hot tap water and yelped? he's hard. he sees you cry? he's hard.

his stroke game is actually insane

if his goal was to make you finish (it's typically not) he'd succeed in a very short amount of time

he likes anal and he doesn't care if you like it either

ugh he doesn't even lube you up correctly

he just spits on it and goes on

he loves when you mark him up

leaves insane hickeys like that mf will look like you got SOCKED

he totally bites...just look at him

has sickkkk fantasies and expects you to mold yourself to all of them

likes torturing you for no reason whatsoever

he has a bunch of whips and paddles

something i always imagine him doing is coming home from a long day of work, pulling down his pants the minute that he sees you, and just going at it

swansea ۶ৎ

he would spank you

just to get that out the way

like if you're pissing him off he'll tell you to bend over his lap and he'll strike your ass until it's flushed red and tears are streaming down your face

but it's okay because then he'll kiss you all over and fuck you oh so nicely after

he's kind of but not really the brat tamer type

ehhh

as i said before: pussy slapping, face slapping, clit pinching GALORE >0<

kinda mean

like a mixture of praise and degradation

he likes when you spread your legs wide for him

sex drive is not high whatsoever

i mean he's like 50

neither is his stamina 😣 but he gives it to you super good

he usually just lets you ride his thigh or has a snack between your legs

he's so good at fingering

like imagine just sitting on his lap writhing around while two thick fingers are plunging into you and two more are rubbing tight, fast circles on your clit

loves kissing you during the act, he knows it makes you feel good

loveeess seeing you squirt/cream

he loves your moans as well, they're so cute to him and they're letting him know that he's doing a good job pleasuring his baby

he honestly believes that his job as your partner is to please you as much as possible

and he does that

girthy as FUCK

doesn't make a lot of noise

but when he's close he'll grunt quite a bit

another position i imagine he likes is one where you're lying on your side and your leg is in the air, and he has a grip on it while he fucks the shit outta you ahhh

after the deed you two will lay down and simply make out while his hands roam your body

that's how it starts sometimes too!!!

#mouthwashing #anya x reader #curly x reader #daisuke x reader #jimmy x reader #swansea x reader #anya smut #curly smut #daisuke smut #jimmy smut #swansea smut #i love exclamation points!!!#goingdownondaisuke ۶ৎ

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carllgrimesgf · 8 months ago

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Enemies? Yeah Right.

PAIRING: Carl Grimes x Fem Reader

Genre: smut

WARNING: MDNI! 18+, making out, cursing, choking, pnv, public?, a bit of thigh riding, hair pulling, nicknames (be warned), cry kink, SMUT, etc.

Summary: You and Carl got into another fight like always but this time he couldn’t stop what he was doing when he saw you hanging out with Ron.

Note: there no outbreaks here btw I think most of the stories that I’m gonna post here is “no outbreak” and if there anything I miss lmk!

You really don’t know how you got here on your knee’s sucking carl off. One minute you talking to Ron at the library picking comic’s for your next read then the second you’re being dragged by a very angry Carl. Right now the both of you are in a section between two book cases full of books choking on his dick. Anyone who would pass by you both would be traumatized for the rest of their life

“Yeah, just like that baby fuck.” Carl muttered closing his eye and throwing his head back holding your hair in a ponytail. Pushing you’re head further down his thick length making you gagged, you moan loving the feeling of his tip hitting down your throat it hurts like hell making your eye’s watery but you still love it

“Shh, it’s okay baby you’re doing good just a little longer”

Whining your hands go down to your clit playing with it ignoring how slippery it is. You thank to yourself in the head for wearing a skirt after all it was hot. Taking your hands away you put them on his thighs “No don’t that. Take your fucking hands off.” He ordered making you take your hands off of his thighs, tearing falling down your face. Seeing you cry made him lose it

“Shit, shit, I’m close. Oh fuck.” He said grunting as he fill your mouth full of his cum. Pulling your head off of him. He grabs your jaw in a firm but gentle hold “Open.” He ordered again making you open your mouth seeing it empty as you swallowed his cum

“Good girl.”

He roughly grab your arm pushing your body against the bookshelf facing him. Grabbing your throat, choking you lightly before bringing you into a rough kiss making you whine. You press your thigh together trying to get rid of your throbbing cunt wanting attention, but as always Carl always one step ahead knowing what you want still kissing you roughly

He pulls you lace panties to the side slipping his cock in between your thigh not putting it in your pussy and grinds between them making you whimper. He groans loving the feeling of your wetness on his cock. Oh, how much he love this. he dream of this ever since he got that one dream of you riding him feeling how tight you where making him go faster. His tip would sometimes slip in your tight hole making you gasp

And he doesn’t forget he is still mad about seeing you close with Ron earlier.

Pulling away from the kiss and from you he faces you towards the bookshelf your back facing him. Moving your hips back wanting to feel him but only to reserve your hair being pulled back making your head look up to the ceiling before you can speak he slipped his cock in you, making you gasp in pain due to his thickness but also in pleasure. your eyes rolling back feeling him moving

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his size as he began moving in and out of you rough and fast. Hearing the skin slapping together made him even more harder going faster than ever not caring if someone hears or sees them fucking his little slut out. Letting moans and whimpers out feeling the tip of his cock hit your g-spot

“Who’s cock better mine or his huh?”

“Y-yours”

“Who’s?”

Yelping as he pulls your hair back making your back arch “Yours, Yours!” You said your body shaking in pleasure as he keeps going in and out. Letting out a ‘mhm’ he begin sucking on your neck marking you as his. He want to let everyone know your his that you’re his only and no one’s. Not Ron, or fucking asher who he caught you talking too making him feel jealous. Moving his head away from your neck, panting in your ear her let’s go of your hair moving his hand down to your clit rubbing and pinching it. He moans feeling you squeeze him

“You gonna cum slut?”

“Mhm, mhm”

“Cum. cum all over my cock milk it with your cream”

You squeezing him so tight, you cum covering his cock him following after you he spilled his cum inside of you not caring if you get pregnant. after all, he wants you to be his

Pulling out with a hiss he hold’s you making sure you don’t fall. Looking down at your legs shaking he smirk at what he created before planting a small kiss on your forehead. After sometime he lets you go pulling his boxers and pants up fixing himself and then fixing you

He hug you feeling bad for going rough on you “you’re mine okay?” He said softly against your hair “But we are enemies..” you told him your mind a bit foggy. Carl chuckles “I don’t care. You’re mine now princess.” Kissing you softly and gently

Tags: @carlgrimesgfofficial @shadowybasementmiracle

Note: I’m still sick it’s been like 3 days I think. And by the end of this short story I actually throw up due to dizziness so this might be my last story until I get better maybe?. But here this! If there any mistakes lol pls!

#carl grimes #the walking dead #chandler riggs #carl x reader #carl grimes x oc #amc the walking dead #carl grimes smut

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jobean12-blog · 10 months ago

Text

With Every Breath

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When the unthinkable happens, Marcus is there, and he'll protect you and keep you safe with his very last breath.

Author's Note: The new trailer gave me some more ideas so I wanted to do something where Marcus has to come to your rescue and kick ass. I know it appears to be the exact opposite from what we've seen, but everyone is friends here in this little world- Lucius, Marcus etc haha because that means no one has to die! YAY! LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness and fluff, mentions of blood and violence because Marcus has to take care of things, soft fluffersmut, lots of love and romance bc we love our soft Marcus

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“General Acacius.”

His dark eyes stay fixed on the far corner of the room and he’s oblivious to the call of his name.

“General,” Macrinus repeats with a grin.

It takes him a moment before he can speak and with a sigh, Marcus turns and stares pointedly at Macrinus.

“The emperor wishes to speak with you,” Macrinus informs him. “And you know how he loves to be kept waiting.”

At the wry comment Marcus’ lips tilt upwards. “I shall see to my stunning wife first.”

“Of course,” Macrinus answers, following Marcus’ line of sight as he turns his gaze back to you.

He moves silently across the stone floor, his eyes drinking in every soft curve of your body and his hands twitching with the need to touch you.

Stepping behind you, he taps you on your bare shoulder, grazing his fingertip down along your arm. You’re soft and smooth, and he loves the way goose bumps spread along your skin.

“General,” you purr as you press yourself against his side, flattening your palm to his chest.

“You look magnificent,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. “The stars will be jealous of you tonight.”

You meet his eyes, the lines around them soft, and brush your fingers through his beard.

“Always the romantic,” you whisper. “If you weren’t holding me up I might swoon.”

He smiles widely at your teasing and reaches for your hand, lifting your knuckles to his lips and kissing each softly before he asks, “dance with me?”

Placing his hand at the small of your back, he guides you to a dimly lit corner and pulls your body flush to his. You move slowly, lost in the feel of him so warm and close. His hands wander as much as is acceptable under the eyes of your current company, but as the moments pass you can sense his reserve slipping.

“Meet me by the library,” he whispers.

“Marcus,” you admonish softly. “We cannot leave.”

“You know the spot,” he says and then kisses the corner of your mouth, bowing in thanks for the dance.

The sound of conversation fades as he steps out of the crowded space into the grand hallway. He moves slowly toward the library, nodding to the occasional servant that rushes by him.

He waits, feeling as if every sound he makes echoes out into the hallway, his footfalls slapping along the stone as he pretends to peruse the books.

Too long after he left you, the sound of soft and swishing fabric builds, and he watches the shape of you appear at the entrance. You cross the room, eyes on his as you slowly close the distance between you.

You pause with just inches left separating you and with no hesitation grab his shoulders and pull him to your lips.

The move makes him moan, eyes fluttering closed as you open your mouth to him and tilt your head. One hand grips your breast and the other digs into your hip. He walks you backward, tugging at your dressings.

Your pulse beats wildly in your throat and he kisses the spot, sucking on your skin until you’re arching against him with plea of his name.

His hand slips under the draped material of your dress, calloused skin rough along your delicate inner thigh and just before he reaches he reaches the spot you need him most you hear the frantic calls of one of the servants.

“I swear to…” Marcus starts, and you cover his lips with your finger.

“General Acacius,” the servant calls again, this time his voice closer, louder.

You hold Marcus’ gaze, and his fingers dig into your thigh, his restraint hanging on by a thread.

Finally, and with a pained expression, he removes his hand and carefully fixes your dress. When he steps back the servant appears at the entrance, his eyes searching the darkness.

“General,” he says in a rushed breath, “I apologize, but this is urgent.”

The young man looks away from Marcus’ intense stare and you take your husbands face in your hands and bring his eyes back to you.

“Go. I will be waiting for you when you return.”

His jaw is tight and his teeth grind. “Tonight.” I will have you, my wife. Over and over again.”

He seals the whispered promise with a kiss, lips lingering until he can dally no longer, and he stalks off toward the grand hall.

His words with the emperor drag on and he quickly grows more impatient. But when the emperor starts motioning to the map sprawled out on the table, one of his advisors rushes into the room unannounced.

All eyes turn to the newcomer, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“General Acacius,” the man says. “Please. Come with me.”

Marcus does nothing to hide his dissatisfaction and takes a menacing step closer to the advisor.

“Whatever it is, I will see to it tomorrow. I am already late to meet my wife.”

At the mention of you the advisor swallows hard and the slight tremble to his hands is hard to miss.

Marcus’ frown deepens and his body goes taut.

“SPEAK!” Marcus shouts.

“Lucius. He asks you to come at once,” the man squeaks.

The double doors swing open simultaneously and with a heavy bang as Marcus barrels through them, his frantic eyes searching the room for Lucius.

“They took her,” Lucius states from just beyond the door.

Marcus nearly crumples to his knees as the words register.

“How? When?” Marcus chokes out.

“I do not know,” Lucius says quietly. “But I was informed by one of ours that she went shortly after she returned to the banquet.”

“I’m going to kill every last one of them,” Marcus growls out.

“You and I both General,” Lucius agrees.

Marcus draws the dark hood over his head and secures his sword at his side.

“We move quietly and quickly,” he says to Lucius. “I will see that she is safe before all else.”

Lucius nods his understanding and falls into step next to Marcus as their silent feet carry them down the dark corridor.

The sound of laughter and snickering grows louder as the two men creep further into the shadows but when your raspy and defiant shouts take over Marcus tenses and quickens his pace.

Lucius lays a strong hand on Marcus’ arm.

“Do not rush into this without your head General. You know what the rebels are capable of.”

For a brief moment, Lucius sees a flash of vulnerability that is masked by Marcus’ stoic and determined expression.

“She is strong. She is smart. You know she expects you to come for her.”

Lucius’ words are a brief balm to the fire of rage burning in Marcus’ heart and he takes a calming breath.

“Get her to safety and you can paint the walls with their blood.”

“I will revel in it,” Marcus replies.

A small fire glows in the center of the stone room and six men sit around it, their shoulders relaxed and their faces flush from warmth.

Marcus sees you slumped against the far wall, your skin bruised and bloodied and your clothing torn.

His chest heaves with his barely controlled and ragged breathing and his knuckles turn white from the grip he has on his sword.

“They will go for her. They will kill her without mercy,” Lucius warns.

Marcus’ lip curls and he bares his teeth.

“They will not lay another hand on her before I have their heads.”

With a silent exchange Marcus and Lucius split apart and stealthily advance on the unsuspecting group.

Their shadows grow tall against the stone and before the rebel men can react, Lucius and Marcus are upon them.

The fire is snuffed out and heavy footfalls echo before the sound of clashing swords and screams fill the air.

You lay yourself down low to the ground, out of the way of swinging swords and stabbing knives. You hear Marcus’ voice boom over the chaos, and you hold onto it, waiting.

A strong and familiar hand wraps gently around your arm and you are lifted to your feet.

“Marcus,” you whisper.

“Beloved,” he says, nearly choking on the words. “Can you walk?”

The sound of battle still surrounds you and you cling to Marcus, answering him with a soft, “yes.”

Lucius appears at your side and grabs you around the waist. “Come,” he says delicately. “I will lead you to safety.”

“Marcus,” you call out, not wanting to leave him.

“Go,” he says, “I will find you soon.”

As Lucius leads you toward the exit he grabs a torch from the wall and lights it with the embers left from the fire. The room illuminates and you get a glimpse of the five bodies that lie bleeding their life onto the stone.

A sixth, however, still moves and you watch Marcus advance.

“Come,” Lucius urges again but you struggle and keep your eyes on Marcus.

“You do not need to see this,” Lucius whispers.

With reluctance you lean against Lucius’ side and walk with him.

The last man, the leader of the rebel group, stands hunched over against the wall, his arm cradled along his side where he bleeds from a wound.

“I will make sure to draw out your death. Slow and painful,” Marcus hisses. “How dare you lay a finger on what is mine.”

The man’s lips curl back in a snarl, and he smiles with bloodied teeth. “I would have laid much more than a finger on her if I had the chance.”

The words barely leave the man’s mouth before Marcus’ hidden knife plunges into his thigh. The man screams out in agony and falls to his knees.

“I will remind you with every drop of blood that seeps from your pitiful body that you will never again have the honor to even look upon her beauty, let alone touch her.”

The further you move from Marcus, the louder the cries of pain from the rebel become and you finally allow your body to relax. Your brain fogs and you start to fade from consciousness, slumping against Lucius’ strong hold.

“Where is she?” Marcus roars. “Where is my wife?”

Lucius knows the anger is not directed at him and he meets Marcus toe to toe in the middle of the room. Marcus has stripped himself of most of his armor, but the blood of his enemies still paints his skin.

“She is here. She is safe General.”

Although they’re the words he wants to hear, Marcus’ body still thrums with unbridled fury.

“I want everyone out. Now!”

Lucius nods and motions to the young ladies that have been tending to you. They bow and Marcus thanks them with a tilt of his head but before Lucius can step out Marcus grabs his shoulder with a firm hold.

“You have my eternal gratitude,” Marcus chokes out.

Lucius crosses his arm over his chest and gently bends at the waist.

“General,” he says quietly before walking out.

With a deep inhale Marcus moves aside the lush fabric that surrounds your shared bed and glances at your resting form. The court ladies have cleaned and dressed your wounds, and you seem to breathe evenly.

He carefully sits on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on your hip, his voice shaky when he whispers your name.

Your eyes open slowly and at the sight of him you smile. He captures your hand and presses it to his heart, letting the first tear roll down his cheek to land warm and wet on your skin.

“Marcus,” you whisper, flexing your fingers into his chest.

He starts to speak but the words get caught in his throat and you see the muscles work with his hard swallow.

“I know,” you whisper.

Your hand falls to his arm, and you trace your nails lightly along the corded muscle as it shifts under your touch.

When you start to sit up he wraps a strong hand around your nape and pulls you to his chest, holding you there gently as you rest your face in the crook of his neck.

“My love,” he breathes, lips brushing your temple. “I am sorry.”

You lift your face to his, gently cradling his jaw and sweeping your thumb along his cheek.

“Marcus. You have nothing to be sorry for. You saved me.”

He bows his head, unable to bear the steadfast love you hold in your eyes. But you don’t allow it and tip his chin up, watching as another tear slides down his face.

You sweep it away and pull him closer. You look him over with tender eyes, noting the dried blood, and reach for the wet cloth at your bedside. Your hands work slowly and gently as you wipe his skin clean.

Then you take his face in your hands, lips feather light as they glide over his, and whisper, “I love you.”

The simple uttering is all that you can say before he kisses you and as with all real emotions, there is immeasurably more left inside that what comes out in words.

You feel the air slide under the linens and sweep over your skin as he climbs into the bed, his warmth and scent cocooning you and filling you with instinctive yearning.

His arms circle around you and his heart pounds under your palm. Warm lips press to your forehead before he kisses one cheek and then the other, brushing his nose along your jaw on his way to your ear.

“I do not want to cause you any more pain.”

“Marcus,” you whisper. “You are here. There is no more pain. I need you.”

His eyes find yours, searching your face from under the fallen curls over his brow, the silver light of the moon highlighting the creases of worry.

“Please,” you say softly.

He tilts your head back with his hand on your jaw, smoothing it down the delicate curve of your neck, strong but gentle.

You push away his tunic, pressing your fingers to his firm, warm skin, his abdomen spasming when you scratch your nails over his ribs, and down, to the soft trail of dark hair that always tempts your hands lower.

His hands smooth over your skin, his eyes watching your face as his fingertips linger on each bruise and cut he finds.

He teases between your legs, finding you more than ready, and when he pushes a finger inside you, it’s slow, as if he’s feeling every inch of you.

“Is this…?” he starts to ask in a whisper.

“Marcus,” you moan. “More. Please.”

His other hand gently massages your breast as he pushes a second finger inside you, and the world fades away to these two points of sensation and then shrinks further as his words of love heat your skin.

Your hips push up and you beg him for more, already close to release but needing to feel him inside you when you fall apart.

With slow movements, intentionally gentle, he rocks into you. Calloused hands drift down your sides, clutching your hips, and his lips press to every inch of your skin he can find, whispering more words of praise and love.

There’s no space between your bodies, nothing but the black of night spread across you both like a velvet blanket, and the intensity of it makes your breath catch in your throat.

His voice shakes and he slides his hand up to your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin at the hollow of your throat.

He follows the path back down again, tracing the curve of your thigh, and moving between your legs, his broad fingertip circling and pressing.

“That’s it my love,” he says roughly.

Your orgasm rushes through you and you cry out his name, arching against him as he fills you up, hips rutting rhythmically.

When you collapse, pliant and spent, he catches you, cradling your head to his chest, and you hear the heavy thud of his heart.

He rolls you onto your back, careful with every movement, and slides back into you, watching your face with clear, serious eyes.

“I will never get enough of you,” he murmurs.

#marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #pedro pascal #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x female reader #general acacius #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #marcus acacius imagine #gladiator 2 #general marcus acacius

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zorange13 · 2 months ago

Text

— your name in wet paint, nishimura riki

vandal art student! nishimura riki x law student! black fem reader

synopsis: in the heart of new york city, you, a driven law student, run into Riki, a reckless street artist who gets you into a bit of tailspin. upon a one-off kiss, he swears there’s something more he has to offer than spray paint. he’s messy, impulsive, and everything that you didn't know you needed. and in just a few hours, your entire world changes.

cw. illegal activity, cursing, forced proximity/deception, emotional whiplash, mentions of hunger and food, eating, police chase, new yorker riki, new yorker reader, riki’s a little delusional but disgustingly charming, small age gap (riki 21, reader 19), pining, riki has slight manic pixie dream boy tendencies, socio-political commentary (gentrification, red-lining, etc.), meet-weird (???), citation/quoting The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot, kissing, smut (fingering, p in v, etc. the whole thing), virginity loss,

minors dni.

wc. 18.7k

inspired by The Sun Is Also a Star and Before Sunrise.

—

— New York City, Lower Manhattan, Greenwich Village: circa 4:26 PM

You were just trying to get home before dinner.

You swear—you were just trying to make it home and out of Bleecker Street before the sun dipped too low. If God could just let you make it one borough up north, back home safely in Baychester, then that’s all you needed. You would never ask Him for another thing again.

But as you start bustling your way through the gentrified streets of Lower Manhattan, you look to your left and are silently deliberating.

Shortcuts at this time, or any time, in a city like this were in fact dangerous and a part of you debated taking the risk. Granted you had taken this way a few times but never a shortcut. Not at this hour.

Still, you had things to do. Legal briefs to write, dinner to reheat—you were starving, shows to watch. Literally anything would be better than being outside right now. Never in life would you travel all of this way to study again—a “change of scenery” was no longer something you desired. Columbia University’s library and your bedroom was more than enough.

Nonetheless, you pondered and pondered. Then figured that the MTA wasn’t going to wait for you. So you veered left.

It wasn’t dark out, no, you weren’t stupid. You wouldn’t have taken this way if you couldn’t see down the abyss that was this alley. But it was narrow, it stank. Smelt of cat pee, weed, and faintly of…cheddar cheese?

But it shaved a solid five minutes off your walk, so putting a little pep in your step wasn’t an issue—nope, not at all, no problem.

You removed your headphones quickly, you weren’t scared. Just alert. What you didn’t expect was a hiss. Stopping in your tracks, afraid it might’ve been a stray cat or human being.

It’s New York, you really never know.

But this sound was ahead of you and curiosity did in fact, kill the cat but you tried not to let it kill you. Carefully stepping forward and looking down slightly to your right, you spotted a figure—someone. Someone crouched in front of the wall, seemingly a guy—hoodie half up and already partially covered in the vibrant colors that lay on his black clothes. A sharp spray of aerosol cut through the air as your eyes fell upon the wall to see what he was doing.

A stupid dumpster was blocking your view, requiring you to take a step forward and accidentally, your foot kicked a stray, empty can. Making you freeze and put your hands up in defense.

The guy turned to you sharply, equally as stunned as you are. “Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me.”

You blinked, “I scared you?” Your hands are still half-up like you’re getting arrested by a particularly dramatic mime. He’s still holding the spray can, finger mid-press, the paint hissing a little tail as it dies out.

Something about him feels familiar. Not in a ‘I’ve seen you around campus or in a dream’ kind of way. But in a weirdly boyish, pretentiously attractive guy you only see on social media kind of way.

And attractive he was. Even though he was crouched, judging by the length of his legs he seemed tall. Sharp jaw, cat-like eyes, and equally as sharp, yet upturned nose. The skewed lighting in this alley complimented him in some weird, sick and twisted way. That somehow, in any situation he still looked akin to a supermodel. Someone that looked like that had no reason being holed up in a dirty, dingy alley.

He was beautiful.

So as he stayed crouched, slightly turned to you in a half-zipped hoodie, revealing the white long sleeve he had on under it that peeked through the cuff. Hair a bright, dazzling silver—he looked at you with something unrecognizable. “I don’t know, thought you were a cop or something.” He shrugged. “You’re not a cop…are you?”

You deadpanned as you tightened the straps on your backpack. “Do I look like a cop?”

He gives you a once-over, suddenly making you super conscious of your appearance. Your tight, coily hair was out. Frizzing from the tad bit of humidity in the atmosphere. Old, faded flare jeans and some beat up sneakers you’ve had since middle school that you just never grew out of. As well as a thick zip-up your mom gave you for your birthday last year. You didn’t look a mess, you just looked like a normal person going about their day.

He shook his head, grunting as he stood up. “No,” he dusted his gloves off as he stepped back to admire his work. “You caught me just as I was finishing though.” Mystery boy smiled, “What do you think? Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Your eyes darted everywhere but the wall. Surprised that he would even want a stranger’s opinion. Partly because you were still sizing him up—trying to clock if this was some kind of setup—but mostly because the last thing you expected was him wanting your opinion. “Um…”

You looked past him to the wall, finally taking in the spray-painted chaos in front of him. It was abstract—vivid and strange—but somehow…weirdly moving. It was the kind of thing you wouldn’t understand in a museum, but might stare at anyway.

“It’s okay, I can take criticism.”

“You know you just graffitied a private building. That’s a crime.” You muttered quietly. “But besides that…it’s beautiful.” You played awkwardly with your sleeve, biting your lip.

He let out a breathy laugh as he tidied up, taking his gloves off and tossing them into a small duffel bag. “Thank you, but…there’s no harm in a little public beautification, right?”

You smiled despite yourself as you bent down to pick up the can that ignited this exchange. “I guess not.” You toyed with the empty can as your eyes found his bag. “Do you always do this?”

“I think you really are a cop.” He turned to you with a smile before zipping up his bag.

“Close,” you nodded, “law student.” You pointed to yourself with a glint in your eyes.

His smile faltered for half a second—just a flicker—but it was enough to clock. “Oh,” he said, like he wasn’t sure if he should keep talking to you or start running.

You raised an eyebrow. “Relax. I’m not gonna chase you down and recite Miranda rights.”

“Thank you,” he said, tossing the duffel over his shoulder. “But I do this enough. Enough to know where the security cameras are and aren’t.”

That wasn’t an answer. But it also was.

You eyed him for a second. He was still watching you, like he hadn’t quite figured you out either. Like maybe he was waiting for you to say something cop-adjacent again so he could bolt—or maybe he just liked the way you were looking at him.

“What’s your name?” You said as you mindlessly sprayed the ground, though there was no give. The aerosol only emits air and lightly sputters out the remnants of some bright blue paint.

He smirked, “You first, you’re the one trying to build a profile on me as we speak.”

You tilted your head, deadpanning, “I said I’m a law student, not a snitch.”

“Those lines get blurry,” he waved his hands cavalierly, “But I’m Riki.”

You nodded slowly, giving him your name, but as you prepared to respond you heard a pointed voice from down the alley. “Hey! You two!” And that’s when you both heard it: the faint static crackle of a walkie-talkie and the distinct sound of boots against concrete. Hurried and heavy.

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Wh—” But he didn’t have time for words, he grabbed your hand and looked at you firmly. “Run.”

Without another word, he took off with your hand in his at rapid speed down the alley. The can in your hands dropping and his duffel abandoned. He’ll come back for it later. But for now, he was forcing your legs to move faster than you thought were physically possible. Huffing and puffing down the way.

As you two reached the end, you stopped and looked both ways, seeing that there was nowhere to go. You had already passed the part that you were meant to leave out of to go to the train. But Riki was quicker. His hand, still held tightly on yours, guided you to a fire escape. “Go, c’mon.”

“This is crazy,” you whisper-yelled as you climbed up the fire escape with awkward finesse and him following closely behind, right on your heels.

As you scrambled up and he hoisted himself behind you, the metal creaked beneath your weight. Your hands slipped once on the rusted railing, but Riki was there—one hand steadying your back before urging you upward again.

“You’re doing great,” he muttered, and somehow you hated how calming his voice was. Like this wasn’t a literal felony footrace.

You reached the top, chest heaving, heart trying to break dance out of your ribcage. He hopped up beside you, barely out of breath, and looked around quickly—eyes sharp and scanning the skyline like he’d done this before.

“You do this often?” you panted, half-joking, half-wheezing.

“Only on days ending in Y.” He gave you that stupid cocky grin and took off again, toward the roof but quickly stopped when he saw you weren’t behind him. “What are you doing?”

As you peered down at the far and wide gap between you and the ground, sweat started forming on your brow. Stomach twisting and lurching. You shook your head frantically, “I can’t do that.”

Riki’s eyes widened as he frowned, looking back at the fire escape as he heard the same groaning that the metal gave them you two when you were on it. Signaling that the cop wasn’t too far behind. “Come on, please? It’s not even that far.”

“Riki, no.”

“Please, just trust me. You really gotta trust me.” He quickly walked backwards toward the middle of the roof. His hand hasn’t let yours go this entire time. “Just don’t look down.”

Seeing the cop make his way to the rooftop with you two lit a fire under both of your asses.

“Shit.” You cursed under your breath, eyes flicking from the cop to the rooftop ledge, to Riki—whose fingers tightened just enough to say we are so screwed unless you jump, right now.

He gave you one last pleading look, that infuriatingly cinematic silver hair catching the wind like this was some kind of indie action movie. “I got you. I swear.”

“I hate you,” you muttered, heart pounding as your legs twitched with hesitation.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna miss me if we get caught,” he grinned—and then he ran, tugging you right along with him.

Your feet slapped against the concrete, wind rushing past your ears as the ledge came closer, faster, too fast, and your brain screamed STOP but your body didn’t listen because—

You jumped.

And for one horrifying second, you were airborne. No ground. No roof. Just air, your hand in his, your scream trapped in your throat—

And then impact.

You hit the other side hard, tumbling into Riki, who had twisted just enough to break your fall—with your backpack that had been performing extremely well—and immediately groaned, “Ow. Okay. Maybe that was a little far.”

You whined at the pain shooting through your back, most likely the stainless steel water bottle having been the thing to jut out and poke you. “Fuck you,”

He let out a pained laugh, “Damn, at least buy me dinner first.” He stood and rubbed his elbow before he reached down to help you up.

You could feel the onset of bruises forming on you, but none of that mattered. “You said it wasn’t even far, that you would—I almost died!” You pushed his shoulder with your not-aching hand.

“But you’re very alive!” He gestured to you as he took the excuse to scan your body. “I’d rather a bruise than a casket.” Smiling as he unzipped his hoodie, taking it off and wrapping it around his hips.

The sound of the rooftop door slamming open across the gap cut off the sarcasm instantly. You both whipped your heads toward it—flashlight beams sweeping the rooftop you’d just left, voices yelling over each other, and then…one of them looked directly at you. He must’ve called for backup.

“There!” someone shouted.

Any and all angry responses you had were all out of the window. You both darted to the far edge of the roof, this one not having a door to follow through. But fortunately, a fire escape to drop down on. Like last time, he let you go down first. And as you both made your way down, he accidentally sandwiched your hand between a rung and his foot. “Ow! Bitch!” You hit his leg as you kept moving down the ladder.

He gasped softly, “Sorry!” He whisper-yelled, sounding more amused than concerned.

You both hopped down onto a stack of milk crates with a loud clatter. You winced. “Subtle,” you muttered.

The momentary silence was broken when there were frantic steps toward your way. Paranoid that it might be the same cop, you both scrambled behind a nearby dumpster. Squatting behind it in close quarters. “Wh—is that—” You sputter out but are shushed by Riki. “Aht!” He holds his finger to his lips as he looks at you.

The world seemed to go silent as you both pressed yourself against the wall. The dumpster reeked of sour milk and corn chips as the sun had baked it, only intensifying the stench. But despite that, amidst the silence, crunching of gravel beneath boots was enough to send your senses aflame.

Your eyes widen, mouthing “What the fuck.” To which Riki shook his head with firmness, not even trying to look your way—but focusing on where the cop was coming from.

As the officer encroached, your stomach twisted and hands started shaking. Panting and trying to mellow out your frantic breathing, you grab the collar of your sweater and cover your mouth with it.

You know for a fact that if he saw you two, you’d be arrested and charged with trespassing, vandalism, fleeing law enforcement, and reckless endangerment. There was such despicable irony in this being a possibility yet you worked your entire life up to this point to resist exactly this. You, of all people—Miss GPA, Law School, Future of the Fucking Judicial System—were now crouched behind a dumpster, next to a guy who thought “Don’t look down” counted as a real strategy.

And still. Still.

You didn’t move.

Because despite everything—sweat clinging to your back, the stench clogging your throat, the very real chance of handcuffs—his hand brushed yours. Barely. Not even gripping this time. Just…there. A silent “I got you.”

Your heart, already trying to launch itself through your ribcage, gave one loud, traitorous thump. And as the cop was approaching and inspecting every nook and cranny you had to do everything in your power to ensure you did not go to jail.

So you grabbed Riki, no build up, no foreplay, no teasing. You crashed your lips against his without a thought. It was hilarious actually, you could taste the shock on his lips but none of that mattered. He complied and wrapped his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer as you both leaned into the lie.

Or, at least—that’s what you told yourself it was. A distraction. A decoy. A get-out-of-jail-free kiss. Right?

Except his fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater.

Except his mouth moved like he meant it.

Except you weren’t looking forward to pulling away either.

Your brain was screaming ‘girl, what are you doing’ but your body? Your body was a traitor. A criminal. An accomplice.

The cop’s boots paused. Peeking over the dumpster and onto you two, but you didn’t stop. It didn’t matter who was watching, no one else mattered. Nothing mattered.

But with finality, the officer smacked his teeth and sighed. “Damn kids,” turning back, retreating to wherever he belonged: giving up.

Riki didn’t let go.

Not immediately as least, his hands found your hair as he mindlessly massaged your soft coils. But his lips lingered, slow now. Like if you gave him another second, he’d kiss you with more than he meant right now.

You finally pulled back—breath catching. “Is he gone?”

His hands left you and he nodded without a word, slightly dazed.

You stand up, surveying the area—scanning for any sign of law enforcement. A person, anything. But no, not a soul. And you didn’t even realize that it was already dark out.

Riki stands up, eyes never having left you as he walks toward you. Still wordless. Heart also clenched but nowhere near from fear.

Your adrenaline was starting to simmer, hands starting to clench but your stomach wasn’t fueled with fear anymore. Now it was solely anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You turned around and shoved Riki, hands practically making marks in his firm chest.

“Ow!” He yelped as he held his chest. “Nothing,” he whined. “What was that for?”

Your brows furrowed, chest heaving and vein in your forehead pulsing as you feel yourself start to see red. “You! You almost got me arrested and made me run from the fucking police!”

Riki blinked, caught off guard by your rage. “Us. I almost got us arrested,” he corrected, hands raised in surrender. “Teamwork makes the felony, babe.”

Wrong answer.

You shoved him again.

“Are you joking right now?!” you snapped, voice sharp enough to cut through the night. “You think this is funny? I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid shit like this, and you dragged me into it like it was a fucking side quest!”

He stumbled back a step but didn’t stop grinning, which only made your blood boil harder. “Okay, okay! Chill! I didn’t drag you—”

“You literally did and said trust you!”

“I meant it!” he protested. “And hey, we’re not in jail, are we? You kissed me, we got away, that’s a win.”

You stared at him like you were trying to set him on fire with your eyes alone.

“Oh my god, I should’ve let them arrest you,” you hissed, turning away to pace, hands flying to your head. “I should’ve said, ‘Yup, officer, that’s the guy, right there! Trespassing, being annoying, fuckass attitude!’”

“Guilty on all counts,” he said with a dramatic bow, still following your every move.

You stopped pacing. Your chest rose and fell in furious silence. “You think everything’s a joke. Like none of this matters.”

His smirk faltered for the first time.

“People die over shit like this—over shit way less than this—and you think this is fucking funny?”

Riki blinked. The playful spark that had lit his eyes the whole evening dimmed like someone had finally flipped the switch.

“I didn’t think it’d go that far,” he said, voice low and defensive.

You let out a dry laugh. “Wow. Not even an apology. That’s crazy.”

“You’re fine, aren’t you?” he shot back, arms lifting in some half-shrug, half-shield. “You made the jump. We’re not in cuffs. I figured you could handle it.”

“Oh, you figured.” You stepped forward, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I don’t know you. You dragged me up there like we were in a fucking movie, and I followed because—for some goddamn reason—I thought you knew what you were doing.”

Riki looked you up and down—less like he was checking you out now, and more like he was trying to piece you together. “So what, you kissed me and screamed at me in the same five minutes? You might be worse than me.”

You bristled. “Yeah? Well next time, maybe don’t nearly get a complete stranger arrested for thrills. You’re not charming. You’re a walking liability.”

And with that, you turned around and stormed off.

And he—stupidly, predictably—followed.

You stormed off, heels of your shoes hitting pavement like war drums—but apparently not loud enough to discourage the cockroach with good hair tailing behind you.

“Okay,” he called out casually, like you weren’t mid-rage, “but real quick—was the kiss, like, fake-fake? Or fake with feelings?”

You stopped. Turned. “Are you serious right now?”

He grinned, slowing to a walk beside you like this was just a post-date stroll and not a felony-adjacent escape. “Because I felt something. Like…chemistry. Heart palpitations. Internal fireworks. You know.”

“You’re about to feel a restraining order.”

“And yet you haven’t run again.” He gave a mock-swoon. “God, you’re into me.”

You groaned. Loudly. “What is wrong with you?”

“Only child. Coddled. Maybe a head injury or two.”

“I don’t even know your last name!”

“Nishimura.” He said it proudly. “And you’re gonna remember it, it might be yours soon. Who knows?”

You turned again to walk away. He followed.

“For real though,” he said, easily catching up. “What if we just…went out sometime? No cops, lore, full names exchanged and everything. I’ll even tell you my shoe size if you want.”

You didn’t even dignify it with an answer.

“Okay, okay, how about I make it up to you with coffee?” he added. “Or tea. Or a smoothie. Or a long heartfelt apology in the form of interpretive dance and slam poetry. I’m flexible.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m persistent,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

You sped up, “Where is this even coming from?”

His voice hasn’t wavered, “Three minutes ago when you kissed me.” He matched your pace, “I can cook, by the way. I clean. I’m like, decently smart.”

You groaned, “If you were smart, you would leave me alone. Wait—how old are you?”

“Twenty one,” He said like he hit the jackpot, voicing it immediately and swiftly.

You blinked, “Ew. Nope. Too old.”

He furrowed his brows in worry, “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you’d just dropped a bomb on him. “Nineteen?!” He almost shouted, his arms flailing dramatically as if he’d just discovered you were a time traveler or something. “That’s barely even a gap! C’mon, you’re acting like I’m forty.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost gave yourself a headache. “Yeah, well, twenty-one feels ancient when I’m still figuring out how to survive college, Riki,” you shot back, not breaking your stride.

“Okay but, besides…what just happened I have a really good future ahead of me. I promise I’m not just some ruffian that likes to vandalize corporate buildings.” He strides widely, ensuring he’s beside you. “I go to Columbia, I major in Design and—”

You stopped, “Wait—where?”

He looked at you with furrowed brows, confusion residing heavily in his expression. He slowly spoke to you like you were five years old. “I said I go to Columbia University…”

That irritated you but you didn’t even care to acknowledge it. “No you don’t…” You said in disbelief. Heart beating rapidly as that weird shaking in your hands reignited.

“How are you gonna tell me—” He smacked his teeth as he reached into his pocket, showcasing a sleek black wallet. Then immediately handed you his student ID.

It was a picture of him, straight faced, again reminiscent of a model. His name and graduating year. Undeniably real. This sent you into a whirlwind. “What the fuck.”

“Do you think I’m not smart enough to be there or something? Because I know you—” You cut him off, putting your hand up as you looked at him. “I go to Columbia too.”

Riki blinked at you, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. “No way,” he laughed, laughing as if you were Kevin Hart or Dave Chappelle and you just said the funniest thing in the entire world. “Columbia Law?”

You nodded, closing your eyes to mediate the aggravation and pure coincidence. “Yes,”

But he just slowly stopped laughing, a bright grin following immediately after. “I mean…this has to be fate, right? Some otherworldly, cosmic sign that we just have to know each other right?”

“Yeah, you lost me.” You brushed past him as you kept walking hurriedly to which he quickly followed right behind you.

“So I had you?”

“Never,” you shook your head and toyed with the straps on your backpack like you always did under pressure.

He jogged up to match your pace. “I mean, think about it. All the schools you could’ve picked. FIT, Parsons, NYU, Fordham, any of them.” He brushed his hair out of his face. “But somehow, someway, you bump into me in a random alley and we just so happen to be in a closer proximity than we thought. That means something, right?”

“Then how come I’ve never seen you around?” Which makes sense, people like him stand out more than anything. Tall, handsome, fit, the school wasn’t that big. I’m sure someone would’ve acknowledged the hot, art major somewhere and put him on Fizz.

He shrugged, “I come and go as I please,”

You scoffed, what a privileged asshole. “Okay…whatever that means.”

“But now I have a reason to go,”

You shot him a look. “Don’t make it weird.”

He grinned, unbothered. “Too late.”

You groaned, speeding up like walking faster could shake him off. But to no avail. “You’re literally insane.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I believe that. Like seriously,”

He tilted his head, smirking. “So what you’re saying is...you’ve been thinking about me?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “I’m still thinking about that restraining order.”

“That’s still thinking about me.”

You stopped walking so fast, your brain buffering. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugged again. “Only about the things that matter.”

You looked up at him, squinting like he was an overexposed camera flash. “And you think I matter?”

He didn’t answer right away. And you hated that. Hated the way his smile fell just slightly—like he was thinking. Actually thinking.

Then, way too softly for your comfort, he said, “I think you could.”

Your stomach did a weird thing. Like it tried to throw hands with your logic and then tapped out halfway through.

So you did what you do best—deflect. “Well, I think you’re lost.”

And just like that, his grin snapped back into place like muscle memory. “Nah. Found exactly what I was looking for.”

You sighed, “Okay,” you rub your forehead as if you could soothe your headache from the outside. “What do you want? Truly.”

His smile faltered a little, simmering into some sort of seriousness. “You.” He edged closer to you, looking at you with gentle eyes.

A part of you wanted to step back, to reject him further. But you couldn’t deny the feelings and attraction brewing between the two of you. So you didn’t step back, because you didn’t want the indirect mention of fate that Riki mentioned to be real. “I don’t know you.” You muttered with little confidence.

He smiled again, letting out a breathy laugh, shaking his head at your stubbornness. “You can get to know me. I promise, I’m not that bad.”

You shook your head, “Then what? What’s your big plan?” Shrugging at his flippant attitude.

He tilted his head like he was genuinely considering it, like this was a business pitch and not some unorthodox meet-cute. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we talk. Maybe we get dinner. Maybe you don’t call the cops on me—crazy idea, I know.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you saw your ancestors. “You’re not even trying to be normal about this.”

“What is normal? It’s a social construct,” he countered, hands waving around like what you said was nonsense. “Girl meets boy. Boy tries not to screw it up in under five minutes. I’m doing my best here.”

You let out a snort you tried (and failed) to muffle. “Your best involves mildly harassing me and romanticizing a chance encounter where you were literally spray painting a wall.”

“Technically,” he held up a finger, “you walked into my crime scene. I was minding my criminal business.”

You blinked at him. “Did you just say ‘my criminal business’?”

He nodded, “I did.” But he held his hands up, “But just give me a chance, please.” He looked around to assess where you two stood. It was already dark out as established, but there were still many people lingering in the streets. The cool weather breezing through your hair as if this were some postmodern, A24 film. The neon signs from the stores meddling about and casting a sensual glow on both of you, melting and simmering into your skin. “What time is it?”

Furrowing your brows, you tap around your jean pockets for your phone. Finally landing on it, you pull it out and read, “6:19 PM.”

He nodded firmly, getting straight to the point. “Give me until midnight.” His eyes looked into yours, a mix of desperation and anticipation. “Midnight, to show you that this wasn’t just some fluke.”

You stared at him, squinting like he’d just challenged you to a duel instead of whatever this was supposed to be. “Midnight?”

“Midnight,” he confirmed.

You blinked slowly. “Is this Cinderella? I’m so confused.”

“If you want it to be then, yes. It can be whatever you want. I can be whatever you want, just please. Give me the five and a half hours.” He nodded as stepped aside, pulling you out of the way of passersby and slightly bent down to plead.

“Oh my god.” You opened your mouth. Closed it. Rubbed your forehead again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “And what exactly happens at midnight? The spell breaks? Do we forget this ever happened?”

He nodded, “We can. But if you don’t like me after then I will leave you alone. Even if I see you around campus I will walk past you like I never knew you if that’s what you wanted.”

You stared at him, trying to evaluate his expression and you didn’t track that smugness, that cocky smile that has been half of what you’ve been seeing for the last two hours. Just him, crouching down to meet your height in the middle of the sidewalk. “You’re so dramatic,” You shook your head with a small smile.

His ears perked up at the fact that he got you to smile. But he didn’t want to get overzealous. “I’m an artist,” he smiled. “Just don’t think too much into it.” He tilted his head, peering at you with gentle eyes. “Take the chance…five hours of your time.”

You stared at him for a beat too long, and maybe it was the mix of city noise and his hopeful expression—or the fact that he looked at you like the universe personally dropped you in front of him—but you felt your resolve falter.

“…Fine,” you muttered.

His face lit up. “Yes?”

You sighed with a nod, “Okay,” pointing at him firmly, “But don’t ask me to do anything.”

He put his hands up in defense, “Swear on everything I love, you won’t. All I’m asking you to do is be pretty.” He smiled, “But what do you wanna do?”

You waved your finger with a smile, “No, no, no. My job is to be pretty, not think. You’ve been hounding me for the last hour, buddy. My only request is nothing illegal.”

He clutched his chest like you’d just professed undying love. “You being pretty and funny? You’re trying to kill me.”

You gave him a look that was this close to amused. “Don’t push it.”

“Right, right,” he nodded solemnly, already walking backward like a man on a mission. “Nothing illegal. Got it. Which really narrows down, like, seventy percent of my plans.”

“You’re not helping your case,” you called after him.

He spun, walking forward now, ensuring you weren’t too far behind. Gratefully, you were now walking side by side. “Are you hungry?” He looked down at you, waiting for your answer.

Amazingly enough, your hunger was one of the contributing factors as to how you even ended up in the situation in the first place. The sudden need for a shortcut being how you ended up walking side-by-side the human form of mono. Easy to get apparently, but hard to get rid of.

But the adrenaline you were running off of had seemed to die down. And now that your body was exiting that fight or flight, it was like a trigger—his words. That you didn’t even remember being hungry until he asked. So as your stomach growled obnoxiously, probably being the loudest thing on the street—even above the cars. Without any thought you wrapped your arms around you, not even wanting to look him in the eye.

Riki smiled endearingly, “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He looked at you, gently asking. “Do you eat meat?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on the sidewalk like maybe if you stared hard enough, it’d open up and swallow you whole. “Yeah,” you muttered, voice small.

“Cool,” he said, like you hadn’t just had your internal organs announce themselves to the world. “I know a spot.”

“Of course you do,” you mumbled, shooting him a side-eye.

He grinned, unbothered. “It’s not even sketchy this time, I swear.”

“‘This time,’” you mimic his words with a smile.

“I said what I said.”

You couldn’t help the huff of a laugh that escaped your nose. He caught that too, of course, but didn’t say anything. Just walked beside you with that infuriating little bounce in his step like he was winning some imaginary game you never agreed to play.

After a block or two, you turned a corner and the world cracked open with the smell of grilled meat, sweet and savory spices, and the unmistakable comfort of street food glory.

“Ta-da,” Riki said, gesturing grandly to a tiny halal cart lit by the glow of string lights and years of character. “Best lamb over rice in the city. You can fight me on that.”

“I’d rather fight you, just cause.” But as you scaled the cart, you noted the rust that crept onto metal signs and the near decrepit wheels and half-faded photos of food that were tacked to the vehicle. This cart was one more bowl away from breaking down and coming apart.

That’s how you knew this food was about to be the best you’ve ever tasted.

You gave him a blank look. “You really like the sound of your own voice, huh?”

“Almost as much as I like the sound of yours,” he shot back with a wink.

You looked away before he could catch the corners of your lips twitching upward again.

—

You walked beside him as he held the plastic bag with both of your guys’ food inside. Simply following his lead, “Do you wanna go on a picnic?”

Your brows furrowed at the request, “A picnic?”

Riki nods with a smile, “Yeah, I think I know just the place. Only mild trespassing, it’s abandoned. So does that count, Ms. Law Student?”

You deadpanned. “It absolutely still counts.”

“Legally?”

You snorted, “Legally. Morally. Every -ly you can think of.”

“Okay, okay.” He held his hands up again, that now-familiar ‘I’m charming please don’t arrest me’ gesture. “But if I told you it had one of the best skyline views in Manhattan and nobody around to ruin it—just you, me, and lamb over rice—would you consider turning a blind eye to justice?”

You squinted at him. “I’m tired of you and your felonies.”

“Technically it’s a misdemeanor.”

You blinked.

He grinned wider. “I looked it up. Once. While hiding.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then gave a long sigh that tasted a little too much like amusement. “Lead the way, Picasso.”

— New York City, West Village: circa 7:04 PM

The rest of the walk was quiet in the way only New York could be—horns in the distance, muffled chatter spilling from windows, and your footsteps synchronized like some kind of reluctant duet. When he led you around the back of an old building, pulling open a rusted side gate with the grace of someone who’s done this many times, you just sighed again and followed.

And as the two of you started the climb—graffiti-tagged stairs, occasional creaks and all—you realized you weren’t even thinking about the risk anymore.

Just the view at the top.

The rooftop door groaned open like it hadn’t been touched in years, and Riki held it for you like a gentleman and a menace all at once. The second you stepped out, the city greeted you—wind tugging at your hair, the buildings glowing like embers in a dying fire. The skyline stretched across the horizon like a living painting. A couple pigeons took off at your arrival like even they knew they weren’t cool enough to be here.

You took a slow breath. “Okay…wow.”

Riki didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, letting the moment do the heavy lifting. Then he set down the bag of food, spreading out two of those obnoxious plastic bags like a makeshift blanket. “Your table, m’lady.”

You sat in butterfly position, trying to play it cool while your knees absolutely did not cooperate. As you took off your backpack, he handed you a container and a plastic fork, and the second you cracked the lid, the steam hit you in the face like a warm hug and a slap all at once.

“You’re gonna owe me when this changes your life,” he said between bites of his own plate.

“You’re real confident for someone who literally just admitted to mild trespassing.”

He grinned mid-chew. “Confidence is all I’ve got.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue.

After a few minutes of nothing but chewing and the sound of distant city life echoing up the building sides, Riki wiped his mouth with a napkin and tilted his head at you like he was switching gears. “So. Bronx girl, huh?”

You raised a brow. “How’d you know?”

“Your accent.” He pointed his fork at you. To which you drew back, “I don’t have an accent, you just hear funny.”

He shook his head with a smile, “No, you do. You say ‘lost’ like ‘law-st.’” He laughs, his mouth partially full as he covers it with his hand.

You threw a crumpled up napkin at him, “I do not! You loser.” Matching his laughter despite yourself. “I think I sound just like every other New Yorker if anything.”

“It’s cute,” He smiles as he takes a sip of his water bottle and lets the charged silence stew between you too. “So, which part?”

“Baychester,” you answered. “You?”

“Queens. Forest Hills.” He smiled. “But I went to high school in the Bronx for like, five minutes.”

You drew back but didn’t want to throw him off. Forest Hills is one of the wealthiest areas in Queens—probably New York in general. Knowing that there was a Whole Foods on almost every corner moves you, making you feel like you and him shouldn’t even be having this conversation. But if you’ve learned anything today, it’s that you never really know anyone. So you let it go, kept it in the back of your mind.

But you nodded slowly, chewing. “Explains a lot actually, which school?”

“Taft.”

“Oh God,” you laughed as you also covered your mouth. “I’m so sorry,”

William H. Taft High School wasn’t exactly terrible. But if there was chaos and extremely mild anarchy in a school it would be this one. Which—hindsight 20/20—makes a lot of sense for someone like Riki.

“Yeah, yeah,” Riki waved you off, dramatically wounded. “Laugh it up. I lasted, like, three fights and a lockdown before my mom yanked me out.”

“You fought?” you blinked, already knowing the answer.

He shrugged like it was Tuesday. “To be fair, only one was my fault. The second one was self-defense. The third was...well. Mysterious circumstances. That was early freshman year though, so it didn’t go on my record.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re the mysterious circumstances, aren’t you?”

“Guilty.” He grinned.

You shook your head, still smiling despite every part of you that knew better. There was something infuriatingly magnetic about him—like if hooliganism had a pretty face and nice hands.

“So, what about you?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Why law school? You trying to save the world or something?”

You poked at your food again. “Not the world. Just…my block.”

He laughed, “Okay, J-Lo.”

You reciprocated the laugh, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up,” Leaning back to where you sat, crossing your legs in butterfly position as you stifled a laugh. “That’s not funny.”

Riki nodded, laughter diffusing. “It was funny,” but his eyes softened as he looked at you. “But why? Seriously.” He let his words hang warmly in the air, like this was the first real thing he’s gotten or even felt all night.

Your own laughter died down, finally leaning toward introspection. “Well…” you sighed, looking up in thought. “Seeing neighborhoods like these in Manhattan compared to the ones near me… The ones that generations of families grew up in, seeing how they slowly start to not become theirs anymore…infuriates me.”

Riki didn’t say anything, just let you speak as he digested your words. Nodding in understanding as he knew exactly the things you were speaking of.

“The Bronx is the only borough that has slowly resisted gentrification and walking through places like Greenwich Village and the Upper East Side upset me because…you see these gorgeous brownstones and high rise buildings. Then you turn the corner and there’s poverty, uncleanliness, liquor stores, weed dispensaries where they don’t need to be.” You went on, “The people that look like me are basically set up to be trapped in these hubs and red-lined areas so we can’t further our lives and only…prove them right.”

As Riki listened to you with intention, eyes never leaving you—his heart softened at the passion behind your eyes. The way you spoke so firmly—yet with care, about the world you lived in. But even as he listened he couldn’t help but develop more respect with each passing word. “And you don’t wanna prove them right…” He said softly.

You nodded, slowly. “Exactly. I want to make it out without selling out. I want to help people stay in the places that made them who they are. That raised them. That’s if they want to. But they shouldn’t be pushed out so…” You sighed, “housing law it is.”

Riki’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words yet. Instead, he just gave a small smile—gentler than any expression you’d seen on him all night. “That’s very admirable and I know I really don’t know you yet but…I’m proud of you.”

You glanced over at him, surprised by his sincerity. Face warming up as you looked down, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks…you?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, tipping his head back for a second like he needed to stall. “Damn, I was seriously hoping you would make this all about you.”

You shook your head, “Don’t deflect, why do you do what you do?” You smiled, “And don’t say ‘because it’s fun’ or I’m kicking your ass off this roof.”

He looked at you sideways, considering, before shrugging slowly. “I just wanna create something that outlasts me.” He went into the bag to grab a huge, saran wrapped, chocolate chip cookie before he broke it in half and gave the rest to you. “I feel like…art has always been an escape for me. My parents have always instilled creativity into me and…there’s nothing more addictive than forcing people to see me.”

You got to understand him in a way. The way he looked at you with such gentleness and a smidge of desire. But it wasn’t demeaning, like he looked at you like you were something to be conquered. Rather something to explore out of curiosity, like not being told to touch that big red button in action movies.

“I firmly believe that if no one wants to hear you, make them listen. Whether it’s in a judicial chair, art on a wall, words on a page, screaming through your window, music, anything.” He says firmly, “I don’t like being silenced.”

You smiled, shoulders relaxing as you felt yourself become a little more comfortable in his presence. Which is something you’d never thought you might feel. “You sound like an anarchist.” She broke a piece of the gooey cookie and popped it in her mouth.

“I’ve had a couple ideas.” He nodded with a quirk of his brow. But something he said before had piqued your interest.

“Wait,” you tapped your knee with your fingers, trying to stir up a proper way to word this. “You said you got into a few fights in high school, right? Your freshman year?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed with a bitter smile. Remembering those days where his mom had to pick him up from school. Forcing him to hear lectures about how she didn’t come to the States for him to act like a dummy and blah blah, immigrant parent lectures, blah blah.

And you hated the stirring in the bottom of your stomach at hearing him call you ma’am but that’s not here nor there. “How did that not get on your record? I mean, Columbia’s pretty strict about shit like that.”

He adjusted himself as he pondered your question, taking his zip-up that was once tied around his hips to ball it up as a makeshift pillow. Groaning as he slowly reclined his body against the cold, empty stone of the rooftop. He shifted, getting comfortable and looking up at the star-polluted sky. “In case you can’t tell,” Riki looked over at you with that same cocky grin. “I can be very convincing.” He rested his hands on his stomach as he folded the cuffs of his sleeves over his large hands a little.

“And a little bit of a liar but this isn’t about me right now.” He waved off, “but I just really pleaded with them to expunge it. I was young, fourteen years old, bright future, blasè blah. That most of the fights were out of character and that I was having a hard time at home. Anything that was going to keep my very Japanese mother from killing me.”

You tilted your head in interest. “Were you?”

“What?”

You clarified, “Having a hard time at home?”

His grin faltered, not completely disappearing but definitely softening—melting into something smaller, something quieter.

He inhaled through his nose, exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower now. “But not in the way they thought.”

You didn’t press him, just let the silence stretch as he looked back up at the sky like it might help him piece the words together.

“My parents...they love me. A lot. But they love me in that ‘you will succeed or else’ kinda way.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “I was dancing since I could walk, painting since I could hold a brush, and speaking three languages before middle school. And none of that ever felt like enough.”

Your brows furrowed, gaze softening. “That’s a lot.”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I didn’t even mind it, not at first. I liked being good at things. But somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t know who I was when I wasn’t performing. Like if I wasn’t impressive, I didn’t matter.”

You sat up a little straighter, the cookie in your hand forgotten. He wasn’t just opening up—he was unfolding.

“So when I started acting out, it wasn’t ‘cause I was angry or whatever. I just wanted to know what would happen if I wasn’t perfect for once.”

You smiled gently, “It wasn’t like you did too poorly. You’re attending one of the most respected and prestigious universities in the country.” You adjusted your legs as they started to tingle, signaling they were falling asleep. “That has to count for something.”

“It counts for everything.” His eyes glued to the sky, swearing he saw a shooting star zip over the moon. “I just knew that fucking around all of my life wasn’t going to really get me anywhere.” He shrugged, “I’m twenty-one. While I’m still young, my time for making dumb mistakes isn’t going to be forever unfortunately. Plus, I wasn’t going to let all of my hard work go down the drain like that, no way.”

You nodded, watching him carefully, understanding the weight of what he was saying. He had a self-awareness that was rare for someone his age, and it made you respect him more. You shifted on the rooftop, legs now crossed beneath you to stop the tingling from spreading.

“I get that,” you said, voice steady. “There’s always that balance between wanting to live and not wanting to screw up what you’ve worked for.” You paused, then added, “But you don’t have to be perfect to succeed. You’re allowed to stumble. We all are.”

Riki let out a slow breath, eyes still on the sky. “Yeah, but I don’t know if I really know how to stumble without completely falling apart.”

There was a slight vulnerability in his voice that he hadn’t shown before, and it made you feel like you’d just uncovered another layer of him—one he didn’t often let people see. You hesitated for a moment, then took a chance.

“Maybe you don’t have to know,” you said softly. “Maybe you just need someone to help you back up when you do.”

His gaze flicked to you then, meeting your eyes with a kind of quiet intensity. He didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between you two. The air felt heavier suddenly, charged with something unspoken.

After a moment, he chuckled lightly, breaking the tension. “Yeah? So what, you’re gonna be my personal safety net, huh?”

You grinned, teasing. “Maybe. Depends on how many dumb mistakes you make.”

He raised an eyebrow, that cocky grin returning. “Well, you might be real busy then.”

The playful banter was back, and it felt like the pressure between you two had lifted just a little bit. But the look in his eyes, still holding yours, said something deeper lingered.

“Guess we’ll see,” you said, the words lighter, but the undertone carrying the weight of everything you hadn’t quite said yet.

Riki’s gaze softened again, but this time, it wasn’t for show. It was real. “You know,” he started, his voice quieter, “I never thought I’d actually...get along with someone like you.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Someone like me? How so?”

His gaze shifted to something a little more playful, teasing. “I don’t know…since I met you, you just seemed so uptight like—”

You leaned up empty containers of food, swatting at his chest again. “I’m not uptight. You just caught me at a terrible time and had me run from the literal police.”

Riki nodded with a small smile, “Yeah? What else did I do…?” He smoothly grabbed your hand as you were leaning back. Leaving your palm burning in his grasp. You didn’t dare pull away.

“Then chased me down the street for me to go out with you.”

The glint in his eyes remained, toying with your fingers with the same hand. Eye contact never letting up. “Mhm, and now?”

You swallowed. The rooftop felt quieter than before. Maybe it was the way his thumb brushed the center of your palm—like he knew exactly what he was doing, but didn’t need to gloat about it.

“Now you’re annoying,” you said, voice a little breathier than you intended.

He huffed a laugh, head tilting just slightly as if he could see straight through your bravado. “You think I chased you down the street because I like bothering people?”

You raised your brow. “You don’t?”

Riki smiled at your jab. “Well…I meant what I said. After you kissed me, what I felt was…electric.” He let out a breathy laugh, but you didn’t know if it was for you or him. Just something a result of introspection. “And I just couldn’t let this go without seeing it through. Everything just feels so uncanny and…like a weird coincidence.” He adjusted himself again, still not letting go of your hand.

“Do you really believe in that stuff?” You tilted your head, curls falling in your face. “The whole fate, destiny thing?”

He laughed, something that you’ve been hearing a lot of recently. Not that there are any complaints. “No, that’s the thing. I don’t.” He turned his head back up to the stars. “But I do believe everything happens for a reason and—like,” Riki sat up, scooting a little closer to you. “Think about it. You just somehow decided to be in the alley I was in. Mind you, no one has ever seen or caught me ever. Then we find out that we go to the same school. When we kissed it felt like I was floating.” He rambled, grip on your hand tightening—but not enough to hurt you.

“So you’ve kissed strangers before?”

“Yeah,” his eyes flitted to the side with a nod, as if it was an obvious answer. But judging what we’ve seen of him thus far…of course he has. “But none of them have felt like this.”

“So, what’s your goal? We met three hours ago.”

Riki blinked once, twice. The kind of pause that held weight, not hesitation.

“Exactly,” he said, like that explained everything. “That’s how I know it’s real. Time doesn’t move normal when something actually matters.”

He leaned in just slightly, not close enough to kiss you—yet—but enough for you to feel it, the magnetism of someone who never did anything halfway. His voice dropped just a bit lower, like it was only meant for you to hear.

“My goal?” He repeated your question, rolling it over like he was tasting it. “To find out what this is. Between us. Even if it’s just for tonight, or a week, or whatever. But I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t feel this. And I don’t wanna bullshit you and say I’m some perfect guy—I’m not.” He offered a small shrug, thumb brushing over your knuckle again. “But I’m not gonna disappear tomorrow, either. If you let me stay.”

You stared at him. Hard. Trying to find the catch. The trick. The usual posturing that guys with smirks like his tend to carry like armor.

But there wasn’t any. Just warmth. Just honesty, tinged with mischief, but solid underneath. And that scared you more than if he’d lied.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” you whispered, half-joking, half-dead serious.

He grinned slowly, devilish. “I already told you,” he murmured, that damn twinkle in his eye again, “you kissed me first.”

The tension held thick in the air, humming like static between your bodies.

Neither of you spoke.

You weren’t even sure you were breathing properly—not with the way Riki was looking at you, like you were something tender and wild all at once. His hand was still curled around yours, steady and warm, like he had no plans of letting go unless you made him.

Your heart pounded so hard you swore he could hear it, but he didn’t comment. Just kept his gaze locked on yours, like he was memorizing the moment. Like he’d already written about it in one of his sketchbooks and was just checking to see if he got the shading of your eyes right.

His thumb skimmed over your pulse again.

The rooftop, the city, the stars—none of it felt real. Only him. Only this.

You swallowed again. That same ache curling low in your stomach, the kind that had less to do with lust and more to do with want. Pure want. Dangerous want.

And then, before anything could tumble out of your mouth that you couldn’t take back, you inhaled sharply and broke the spell.

“So,” you blurted, sitting up straighter, “where are we off to next, Houdini?”

Riki blinked. A beat passed. Then he snorted, full and bright.

“Wow,” he said, letting go of your hand just to shove his own through his hair. “That was smooth. Really killed the moment.”

You smirked, grabbing your water bottle to hide the way your hand was shaking just a little. “Yeah, well. Consider it payback for the ‘uptight’ comment.”

He tilted his head, considering you with a grin that said fair enough. “Okay, well I have some place I wanna show you.” He grabbed a plastic bag to toss the discarded containers in. Even he was decent enough to not litter. You followed suit, grabbing the water bottles and napkins as he held open the bag.

“Is it legal?”

He frowned, “Tragically, yes.”

“Bless your heart.”

— New York City, Upper Manhattan, 116th and Broadway. Columbia University. Circa 8:49 PM

It turned out to be the campus library.

But not the front-facing, normal-people part.

You followed him past the security doors (seeing him type in a few numbers), up two staircases, down a back hallway that smelled like dust and vanilla extract, and into a tucked-away room you didn’t even know existed. No fluorescent lights. Just floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves lined with old poetry books, and a pair of velvet chairs facing a skylight.

You blinked. “Is this…the Rare Books Room?”

Riki turned, that smug glint in his eye fully engaged now. “Mmhmm. Closed to the public after 8. But I may or may not have flirted my way into a key code once.”

You crossed your arms, trying not to look impressed. “All that effort…for books?”

He plopped into one of the chairs and looked up at you. “Nah. For moments like this.”

And suddenly, the silence wasn’t awkward—it was loaded. Safe. Special. Like you’d stepped into a pocket of the night that didn’t exist for anyone else but the two of you.

“Pick something,” he said, nodding toward the poetry shelf. “Read to me.”

You blinked again, thrown off. “You want me to read you poetry?”

“No,” he said, leaning back with a grin. “I want you to let your guard down. But we can start with poetry.”

Surprisingly enough, you hadn’t started to feel nervous until now. Slightly overwhelmed with the array of literature to choose from, but also the guy that was looking at you with a mixture of anticipation and kindness. It seemed that he could never look at you in one way. Nothing ever seemed simple with Riki and a part of you liked the dichotomy. “Which one do I pick?” Your eyes scanned the hardly lit room, the moon being your only source of light.

“Any one. I’m not picky.” He said softly as you gave a small shrug.

You hesitated. The weight of the shelves full of words pressed down on you like an invisible hand. It wasn’t so much the pressure of picking a poem—it was more the pressure of picking the right one in front of him. The one that wouldn’t feel like you were exposing too much.

Riki was watching you closely, his gaze softening as he waited for you to pick something, anything. His eyes never left you, like he was giving you space but also asking you to take the leap.

You ran your fingers over a book spine, feeling the edges of each title like a string of lifelines. Finally, your hand brushed over the weathered cover of one particular collection. “This one,” you said, more to yourself than to him, your voice a little unsure.

You opened the book and began reading softly, the words spilling out into the room, the only sound between the two of you. You could feel Riki’s attention on you with every line you read, his gaze never straying.

“Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets…”

It felt strange reading something so melancholy in this space, in this moment. But somehow, it fit. You didn’t glance up at Riki as you spoke, but you could feel him absorbing each word as if it were more than just poetry—it was a conversation without speaking.

The words felt strange on your tongue at first. But with each verse, something softened. Your voice steadied. You wandered a few steps forward, eyes glued to the page, trying to find a rhythm. But the poetry filled the silence like it belonged there, like it had been waiting in the wings this whole time.

“The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels…”

You were only vaguely aware that Riki hadn’t moved. That he was still sitting in the chair, slightly manspread like some museum exhibit of patience. His expression was unreadable, except for the way his eyes didn’t leave you.

You took another step, and then another. And before you could register what was happening, his hands found your waist.

He didn’t say anything. Just gently guided you down until you were sitting on his lap, your back to his chest, the book still open in your hands like nothing had changed.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you didn’t stop reading.

“…And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:Streets that follow like a tedious argumentOf insidious intent…”

His breath was steady against your shoulder as he eyed the book now. Warm. His arms rested around you without pressure, like he didn’t want to startle you out of the moment. Like he knew you needed this stillness more than anything.

“For I have known them all already, known them all:Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;I know the voices dying with a dying fallBeneath the music from a farther room.So how should I presume?”

You weren’t sure when the words stopped being just a poem.

And started being the way he listened to you.

You read the final lines slowly, like they were something sacred. Like they were the last thing tethering you to the ground.

“We have lingered in the chambers of the seaBy sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brownTill human voices wake us, and we drown.”

The silence that followed was deafening in the best way.

You finally lowered the book, your hands settling in your lap. His arms were still around you, and you could feel the way his chest rose and fell beneath you—steady, like he was trying not to startle the moment. Like if he moved too fast, it would all dissolve. That he would ruin all of it.

You turned your head slightly. His face was close. Closer than you remembered. Closer than you expected. But there was no rush in his eyes. Just that same impossible softness.

And then—quietly, slowly—he leaned in.

You met him halfway.

There wasn’t anything dramatic about it. No breathy gasps or hurried hands. Just his mouth brushing yours with such care it almost didn’t feel real. Like he was making sure you had every chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

You deepened it first.

It wasn’t perfect. Your noses bumped a little. Your hands weren’t sure where to go at first. But it was real. And warm. And—God—it lingered.

You hated the fact that you now understood the electricity that Riki was talking about. Fortunately, he didn’t take advantage. He took everything you were giving him without being overzealous.

Carefully, he placed his hand on your jaw. Tracing your cheek with his thumb as he slowly threaded his lips with yours. Like a puzzle piece, it just fit so perfectly. So naturally.

This wasn’t your first kiss, but it felt like what it should’ve. Not awkwardly, poorly timed, two young teens unsure of what to do but just trying to make something out of it anyway. However, this didn’t feel as such. This felt sure; sure, that the guy you were kissing actually knew what he was doing and was more than happy to guide you. So he did.

The hand that was on your jaw moved to your bicep to guide your arm up. This way your hand rested on his shoulder, he didn’t want to push you or take advantage of the moment and you were grateful for that. But now it seemed less like he was kissing you. More like you were kissing each other. You moved your hand to the side of his neck to deepen the kiss.

Riki subconsciously smiled into the exchange, taking this as a sign that you were just as into this as he was. His hands mindlessly drift to your fluffy curls, which he seemed to do the last time. Savoring the texture in his hands as if he wasn’t ever going to feel it again. Bunching them in his hand gently as he ran his hand down your head and played with a singular curl at the ends.

His silver hair was surprisingly soft considering what it took to get it there. Since he was playing in your hair, you had no problem indulging in his either. And wasn’t ever going to pull away, he didn’t want this to end. But it had to. So just as you pulled back:

“See,” he murmured, voice roughened by something too intimate to name. “Told you this wasn’t just a coincidence.” He rested his forehead on yours as he gently—ever so slightly—let his index finger graze your lips.

“You know what’s crazy,”

“What?”

You sighed, whispering into the solemnity of the room. “I didn’t even pick this on purpose.”

“And you kept doubting me.” He nuzzled his nose into yours with a smile. “I’m starting to think that I have a great intuition.” Riki’s smile brightened as his fingers tightened, bunching around the fabric of your hoodie.

You let yourself lean into a bit, finally letting yourself smile without restrictions. “I think so too.” Sighing, “But what time is it?”

His eyes found the analog clock on the wall in front of your conjoined bodies. Squinting lightly to read it within the dim room. Luckily, the moonlight hit it just perfectly—letting him be able to read: “9:30.” He stroked your cheek as he peered into your eyes. The mixed perceptions of his now soloing into one: kindness. “Two and half hours left. Are you done for the night?”

A part of you was overwhelmed at the thought that this seemingly magical night was coming to an end. The other was happy to make the most of it and now you were all in, and fully ready to adhere to Riki’s impulsivity for the next couple of hours finally.

You shook your head in thought, “No, I’m…not really in any rush to get home. Plus Uber’s cost at least thirty-five dollars and that’s not something I wanna spend money on when I can just catch the train.”

“Yeah, I’m not letting you take the subway this late.” He furrowed his brows as if what you said was ridiculous—which it was.

“No, no! I don’t wanna take it now. That’s insane.”

He brushed his hand over the back of your head, into your hair. “I can get you an Uber if you want. It’s not a big deal.”

You sigh, “No, I have no way to pay you ba—”

“You don’t have to. I’ll eat the money if it means you’re safe. Plus I dragged you out here, the least I can do is get you home—make sure you get home.” He kissed your cheek gently, now taking full advantage of the proximity between you two. Taking in your scent like it was intoxicating, like his kryptonite.

“I don’t want to go home.”

He froze a little, his heart dropping—not in panic, but in that weird way when someone says something so real you forget how to breathe for a second.

You weren’t looking at him. You were staring at the shadows moving along the far wall, like saying it out loud made it too fragile to face.

“I don’t want to go home,” you repeated, quieter this time. “Just…not yet.”

Riki didn’t ask why. He didn’t press. He just nodded like he understood more than you knew how to explain.

“Okay,” he said. Soft. Sure.

He sat up a little, arms still loosely around you. “Wanna go somewhere else? We don’t have to do anything crazy. I just—” He scratched the back of his neck. “I just don’t want this to end either.”

You finally turned to look at him. His silver hair caught the moonlight, soft and out of place in the best way. There was no smirk this time. Just that sincerity again. That stillness.

“Where would we even go?” you asked.

He blinked once. Twice. Then smiled.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I could make an irresponsible financial decision.”

You snorted. “What does that even mean?”

“Come with me and find out,” he said, tapping your arm for you to stand and you do. Riki stands with a dramatic groan and gives you his hand. “I know this is a bit overused today but…trust me.”

— New York City, Upper Manhattan, 242 West 76th St. The Wallace Hotel, Circa 10:09 PM

He paused right outside the glass doors of the hotel, hoodie pulled low like he was ducking paparazzi.

“Okay, real quick,” he said, turning to you with a deadly serious expression that had no business being this funny. “I need you to do me a solid.”

You blinked. “Are you about to propose a drug deal right now?”

“I wish,” he muttered dramatically, glancing behind him like someone was watching. “Nah, I just—can you check us in?”

“…Check us in?”

“Yeah. Use your ID. I’ll pay for everything, I just—” he glanced left and right again. “I can’t put my name down.”

You stared. “Why? Are you literally wanted by the NYPD?”

He threw his hands up. “Technically, no. But like…do I want my name on file the same night I accidentally fled a crime scene? Also no.”

“Riki,” you said, holding back a laugh. “You did graffiti.”

“Which, in the eyes of the law, is vandalism,” he countered, finger raised like a professor. “And also, I left my bag there. It’s got, like, three cans and a half-eaten bag of Hot Cheetos. I’m practically breadcrumbing.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re not a fugitive, bro.”

“Yet,” he said ominously.

You rolled your eyes but pulled out your wallet anyway. “Fine. But if I get flagged for being your accomplice, I’m putting paws on you.”

He beamed as he handed you a thick wad of cash from his wallet. “That’s my girl.” You took it with reluctance.

You shook your head as he pulled open the door for you with a little bow. “Alright, let’s check in before your Hot Cheetos turn state’s evidence.”

—

The lobby was dimly lit and upscale in that “broke people should never laugh” kind of way. You stuck close to Riki, eyes flicking toward the front desk. He didn’t look even slightly nervous. If anything, he looked like he belonged here—hoodie, smirk, and all.

He approached the concierge with the kind of swagger that made you want to check if his sneakers were levitating.

“Good evening,” he said, smooth as silk. “Just one room for the night. Something quiet, if you’ve got it.”

The concierge gave a slow nod, clearly clocking the late hour, your backpack, and the ridiculous amount of chemistry floating between you two like fog. “Name on the reservation?”

“No reservation,” he replied easily. “But she’ll be checking in.” He gave you a quick glance, then looked back at the woman behind the counter.

The concierge hesitated. “I’ll need to see her identification, then.”

You slid yours over. Riki didn’t even flinch. He just leaned one arm on the counter, watching you calmly, like you’d done this a hundred times before.

“And how many keys?” she asked.

Riki didn’t even glance at you this time. “One’s fine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “One?”

He smirked. “Unless you plan on locking me out.”

The concierge paused typing and definitely had to stop herself from smirking too. She slid the keycard across the desk.

Riki took it with a quiet, “Thanks,” and then gently steered you toward the elevators, hand low on your back.

The second you stepped inside and the doors closed, he exhaled. “See? Easy.”

You side-eyed him. “You’re way too good at that.”

He gave a half-smile. “Nah. You make it easy to play it cool.”

—

You two padded down the exquisite hallway, covered with stunning floral wallpapers. The coloring wasn’t abrasive nor was it too subtle to where you misjudged its luxury. Riki held the key card though and you scanned the numbers on the doors:

501…

502…

Yes! 503.

You jut out your hand, just in time to stop the tall man from going further. He stopped and turned, letting out a quiet “Oh…” before opening the door.

You didn’t even have time to comment before you were taken aback by the space you stepped into. It was average sized, nothing too crazy but you didn’t even care. It was for less than a day and it wasn’t like you needed Daddy Warbucks’ mansion to be able to sleep.

But it was so modern and sleek, the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling not those dramatic ones. Though those are beautiful, there was something so cute and kind of chic about it. The two bathrooms. Then the bed. The bed was where your attention landed and absolutely refused to leave. King-sized. Crisp white sheets. Pillows stacked like luxury clouds. It looked like it cost more than your monthly rent. You caught yourself staring too long and quickly turned away like you didn’t just imagine a soft place to collapse after a day of accidental vandalism and heart palpitations.

Riki shut the door behind you with a soft click. He stood still for a second, scanning the room with a thoughtful nod.

“I feel like I should apologize for how suspicious that check-in was,” he murmured, tossing the keycard onto the nearby table. “But I kinda nailed it, right?”

You snorted. “You didn’t really have to do that, but I guess you did a decent job.”

He shrugged off his hoodie and kicked off his shoes, flopping onto the end of the bed like he owned the place. “You’re welcome for the free luxury experience.”

You dropped your backpack onto the chair, slowly lowering yourself onto the opposite side of the bed. The mattress gave slightly under your weight, as if inviting you to sink deeper. “This place is nice.”

“You deserve nice,” he said casually, and it would've felt light if he hadn’t looked at you like that—like he meant it.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, toeing off your sneakers. “You’re really leaning into the whole charming fugitive thing, huh?”

Riki smiled, that same lowkey one that made your chest tight. “Crime’s my love language.”

You laughed—too loud for a place this expensive—and flopped onto your back, staring up at the ceiling.

There was a beat of silence before he asked, voice a bit softer now, “So…what happens now?”

You turned your head toward him. “You tell me, Picasso. I’m just following your lead.”

He leaned in slightly, propping his head up on his hand. “Then let me ask you something important.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Do you want to watch trash TV and eat overpriced snacks from the mini bar...or do you wanna talk about how weirdly perfect this night has been?”

A small smile crept onto your lips. “Can we do both?”

“You’re going to ruin my life, I fear.” He mirrored your smile as he cupped your jaw.

You let out a small laugh, “Says the guy that dragged me into a police chase.”

“And it’s crazy because…I want so desperately to say sorry to you and feel bad. And I do feel bad, for putting you through that emotional distress, so I’m sorry. Sincerely, but I don’t feel bad for what it’s gotten me thus far.” He professed under the warm lighting of the hotel, probably the most flattering he’s looked all day. But he’s looked amazing even in the shitty lighting of the alley so that’s not saying much.

You cleared your throat before your brain could spiral deeper into that thought. “Okay, I hate to ruin the moment,” you murmured, sitting up, “but I really want to shower.”

He blinked. “You—huh?”

“Huh?” You mocked him but then laughed to yourself. “I feel grimy, Riki. Like, totally disgusting.”

He laughed. “Fair. But…you don’t have clothes.”

You raised an eyebrow, already halfway off the bed. “Wrong. This is another very crucial thing to know about me.”

You grabbed your backpack and unzipped a side pocket with dramatic flair, pulling out a little pouch like it was Excalibur. “Behold—pads, tampons, toothpaste, deodorant, toothbrush, and emergency underwear.”

He stared, impressed. “You’re actually…cool as fuck.”

“I know right.” You smirked, holding it up like a badge of honor. “All one ever really needs is a fresh pair of underwear.” You shrug.

“So what are you gonna wear when you get out?”

You firmly stand and stretch, “I’ll just wear a robe to bed.” You walk to the bathroom cavalierly, smiling as you scan the shiny bathroom and open the shower door to turn on the water. “There’s only one robe though.” You call out.

Riki walks to the bathroom and leans against the doorframe, watching you with interest as usual. “I’ll just call downstairs and have them bring one up, or I’ll go down to get one. Whichever works.” He hands you a towel and washcloth that sat on a shelf below the sink.

You take it with both hands as you look up at him, eyes full of warmth. “Thanks,”

He nodded as he stepped to you with ease, “No problem, gorgeous.” Tilting his head, “It’s just a towel,”

“No,” you shake your head. “Thanks for just…not being the shitty person I thought you were. In some weird way, you’ve brought me out of my comfort zone and even though it has been a bit much. Still…” You look up in thought as Riki stares at you, no pressure behind his gaze but encouragement. Like he was just waiting for you to get where he needed you to be.

“This has been one of the best days of my life and I have no one but you to thank for that.”

Riki’s expression didn’t shift much—but his eyes did. They softened in that distinct way only he could manage. Like he was keeping a hundred things behind them and choosing, deliberately, to just show you the one that mattered.

“I’m really glad you didn’t run off when you had the chance,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter, the kind of quiet that sticks in your chest.

You laughed softly, glancing at the now-steaming shower behind you. “You kidding? I almost did. Like five times. You’re exhausting.”

He grinned, stepping back toward the door. “I know. I’m an acquired taste.”

“I expect you to be done when I am,” you called after him as he slipped out.

“Your wish is my command, I live to please you.” he said, blowing you a kiss before the door clicked shut.

The shower was warm. Hot, even. Not just temperature-wise, but the kind of hot that made your thoughts swirl a little. Like the water was washing off more than just grime—maybe a little bit of fear, a little bit of doubt. You let it.

By the time you stepped out, towel-wrapped and robe-draped, the room had dimmed a little. Riki had turned off the overheads, leaving only a lamp by the bed casting a soft amber hue across the room. He was lounging at the edge of the bed in a now-matching robe, legs sprawled, flipping through channels on the TV like this wasn’t the weirdest, best night ever.

His head turned as you walked out, and he stared.

Not in a creepy way. Not in a wow hot girl in towel alert way either. In a stunned, slow-lidded, maybe-a-little-speechless way.

“You got your robe,” you said, padding over to your bag to stash your used clothes.

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes following you. “Had to charm the concierge.”

You snorted. “I swear you’re gonna get banned from like…every Manhattan hotel.”

“That’s okay.” He grinned. “We’ll just start hitting Brooklyn.”

You gave him a mock bow. “Your criminal empire awaits.”

He laughed—really laughed. The kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made his whole chest shake.

Then he patted the spot next to him. “C’mon. Snacks and garbage TV. Your choice.”

You flopped beside him with a satisfied groan. “If they got 90 Day Fiancé on here, I swear—”

Riki tossed you a chocolate bar from the minibar. “We’re watching people ruin their lives together. Very on brand if you ask me.”

You slipped under the thick duvet and scooted closer to him. “Pass the remote, please.”

He did without a word and moved his arm behind you to bring you closer to his chest. His scent clouding your senses, taking in the sweet smell of the hotel soap. A lavender soap and the matching lotion mixed so well with his body chemistry, making you hesitantly poke your face into his neck.

He jumped back a bit with a laugh, “What are you doing, weirdo?” He says playfully, but his words contrast his actions as he’s pulling you closer. Nearly on top of him.

“Nothing,” you pull back and face the TV and flip through the options. “You just smell nice, I like lavender on you.”

Riki smiles as he stroked your robe-covered thigh, testing the waters and sliding his fingertips under the cloth—just barely. “Duly noted,”

— New York City, Upper Manhattan, 242 West 76th St. The Wallace Hotel, Circa 11:10 PM

The TV was still on, but neither of you were watching.

At some point, the half-eaten snacks were left to the side, and you both shifted down, bodies facing each other under the plush hotel duvet. The lights were off—completely this time—just the low, flickering glow of the TV playing muted chaos across the room. But your eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, and all you could see now was him.

Riki. Inches away. Head resting on the pillow, hair slightly tousled, lips parted like he was mid-thought.

You blinked slowly, barely breathing. “What are you thinking about?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze scanned your face, gentle and a little too knowing.

“Whatever you’re thinking about,” he said, voice hushed.

You smiled, but it was small—honest. “That’s such a cop-out.”

He shrugged, face still close enough that his breath tickled your skin. “It’s the truth.”

You shifted a little closer, like your body made the decision before your brain could. “Okay. Then what do you think I’m thinking about?”

He let the silence stretch for a moment, a soft exhale escaping his nose. “I think you’re wondering if this...us…if this is just some weird blip. Like a temporary high.”

Your eyes searched for his own in the dark. “And is it?”

He swallowed, barely noticeable. His hand moved slowly between you, fingers brushing against yours like he was asking for permission to say what came next.

“I don’t want it to be,” he said. “I think this is the first thing that’s felt real in a long time.”

Your heart thudded, loud enough that you were pretty sure he could hear it too.

“I was thinking something similar,” you whispered, like saying it louder might shatter it.

You both stared at each other again, and that stretch of silence that followed didn’t feel empty. It felt full. Heavy with everything neither of you were saying. Warm with things you didn't know how to name yet.

Riki’s fingers finally laced with yours under the covers.

And then he said it. Soft. Stupidly soft.

“I don’t think you ruined my life.”

You tilted your head, barely smiling. “Yeah?”

“I think you might’ve saved it a little.”

Neither of you said anything after that. You didn’t have to.

You just stayed there. Still. Quiet. Staring.

Letting the warmth between you speak louder than anything else. But you just couldn’t let it be still. You couldn’t just be in this moment, feeling every single thing in every square inch of your body and be still.

For once, you wanted to take a page out of Riki’s book.

Mirroring your prior actions, you lean in swiftly to plant your lips onto his. Almost as if you were fearless of this outcome, and you were.

He responded instantly, resting his hand on your cheek as he tenderly ravished your lips. The kiss was calm, both of your heads lying against the pillow, just lazy. Quietly, chastely hearing the smacking of your lips in the nearly silent room.

The calmness felt like a haze, like you were meant to do this. Just to be here, with him until you couldn’t anymore. But you just wanted more, a part of you yearned for more. So you pulled back slowly, resting your hand on his own cheek. Gently stroking it and letting the illumination from the TV cast a varying glow on his face.

You pecked his lips one time before hesitantly moving to his neck. Letting the tingling in your body control you more than you thought it ever could. As you continue your ministrations, you could feel the clenching in his body as he tries not to react. Like he’s trying to act like he’s not affected by you being this close to him. Pulling back again, you look at him. “Are you okay?”

Riki nods, “Yeah,” he rests his hand on your waist. “I just…I don’t want us to ruin it.” He says tenderly, like he was afraid to hurt you.

“You think we’ll ruin it?” You hesitated—something you’ve been doing a lot in the last few minutes. Maybe you hadn’t been as much like him as you thought. “Are you—do you not see me like that?”

Urgently, he shook his head. “No. Wait—no I—I mean.” Riki sat up, turning on the bedside lamp so he could look you in the eye. His eyes and lips were slightly puffy from impending slumber and earlier activities. “I do want you, and see you like that. I just don’t want this to be ruined by one night of lust. Because I genuinely like you.”

You nodded in understanding, “I get it. But…I just want to…can I be honest with you?” Your eyes looked down at the pillow as you adjusted your robe beneath the covers.

“Of course you can, baby.” He strokes your cheek in earnest.

You sighed, looking at him. “No guy has really…liked me before.”

Riki blinked. “What?”

You smiled a little, embarrassed but trying to keep it together. “Not really. They’ve wanted me. Or they liked the idea of me. But no one’s actually liked me. Not like you do.”

There was a moment of silence—soft, heavy silence that made your heart race.

Then Riki tilted his head like he was trying to get a better view of your soul. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, voice low but full of fire. “You’re beyond likeable.”

You let out a breathy laugh, half in disbelief. “Riki—”

“No, I’m serious.” He leaned closer, his palm still warm on your cheek. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re absolutely gorgeous, stunning. You’re interesting. You challenge me, which, by the way, is annoying, but I love it. And you’ve got this look when you’re thinking real hard—like right now—where your eyebrows do this thing…” He reached out and lightly traced your brow with his thumb.

You were speechless. The kind of silence where your whole chest aches a little, because someone just said something that wrapped around a wound you didn’t know was still bleeding.

“So yeah,” he whispered. “I like you. I like you more than I probably should. And if this is you trying to run from that by kissing me until we forget it—I’ll let you, because I like the way you kiss.” He smiled gently. “But just know I’ll still like you tomorrow. And the day after that. Even if we never do anything ever.”

Your throat tightened, your eyes hot in that way they get when someone sees you too clearly. “And I’m not really an impulsive person but I just really want this. But I don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to convince you to want to have sex with me.”

“You don’t have to convince, babe. I will have sex with you.” He nodded calmly. “I just like you enough to consider how you’ll feel after. I just want you to be sure. That if we do this then we don’t regret it right after.”

“I won’t. And I know I won’t because I know that if it felt right in the moment then it wasn’t a mistake. Especially when you’re the first person to make me feel like this.” I grab his hand from my waist and hold it to my heart. “I want my first time to be with someone like you.”

Riki blinked. “You’re a virgin?”

You nodded slowly, feeling suddenly so small under the glow of the bedside lamp. Like the confession shrunk you.

“I mean, not like...because I didn’t want to ever. Just that it never felt right. And with you, it just...does.”

He sat back, eyes widening just a fraction—not in surprise, but in recognition. Like something about you just clicked into place. Then, after a beat of silence, he smiled softly and whispered: “Well. I’m honored.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, but your chest still ached. “I just didn’t want that to make this weird.”

“It’s not weird,” he said instantly. “You’re not weird. You’re...you’re incredible.” He took your hand from where it rested on your heart and pressed it to his lips. “But thank you for telling me.”

You searched his face. “Are you sure you still want to?”

Riki nodded, “Yes, I want to. Only if you’re sure.”

Nodding firmly, “Totally sure, a bit nervous—but sure.”

He stood and went into his jean pocket for his wallet, pulling out two condoms then placed it on the bedside table. Then went onto the bed back next to you. “Nervousness is normal.” He kissed your cheek gently. “But at any point if you wanna stop, tell me. I’m not kidding, okay?”

“Okay.”

He nipped at your neck skillfully. “It might hurt a little, and that’s normal. But I’ll go slow…slower than slow.” He smiled into your neck as he traced his hand down the lapel of your robe. “Can I open this?”

You nodded, eyes low and chest slightly heaving. “Yes, please.”

Without untying the belt, he opened the neckline and revealed your tits. You shivered at the cool air of the room hitting your bare body. He continues kissing your neck and raises his hand but stops himself. “Can I touch you?”

You nod, “Yes, anything. Please. Just don’t stop. Do anything you want—” Chest heaving, vision blurry and he’s barely touched you. You’re just overcome with anticipation that you don’t even care what he does anymore. You just want him.

He places his hand over your tit carefully as he massages it, eliciting a quiet moan from you. His lips track from your neck to your chest, kissing the valley of your breasts as his left hand is still holding your tit. “Isn’t this so perfect already?” He kissed just above your stomach. “Your beautiful body, your tits fit so perfectly in my hands. Like you were made just for me.” He leaned, still leaning on his side next to you, and swirled his tongue around your nipple.

Watching your back arch off of the bed he smiles, clearly enjoying the pleasure he was giving you. But he didn’t stop, he latched his lips around it and gently sucked, at this point flicking your other nipple with his other hand.

Your heart is in your stomach and you feel nothing but his warmth, the muscle on your breast and its wetness. And even with the warmth, it feels like heat. Like fire, spreading through your body just like it was earlier when you were close to him. But now the heat moved to your core and it was pooling into the underwear you had on.

He released your tit from his mouth quietly, a string of saliva still between and his lips still puffy—appearing thicker than they already were. At this, you had a reaction beside yourself and clenched your legs closed. A stinging, aching feeling between your legs that signified that you needed something from him now. You didn’t want to be overzealous or greedy; but it seemed like he knew what he was doing. Or like he knew you. “You want more from me?”

“Mhm, I do.” Your brows furrowed in discomfort. “Please touch me.”

He smiled as he kissed your lips, “You want me to touch you? Give your pretty pussy some attention? Give you a little taste before you get what you’ve been waiting for? My gorgeous girl. Is that what my baby wants?”

You whined, his words going straight down to your core. Only making the blood rush even worse. “Please,”

He untied your robe finally and looked down to see that your underwear was on. He laughed quietly, “Why do you have these on?”

Shrugging, unsure how to answer that question. “I–I just didn’t want her to be out. In case I slept weird or something. Didn’t wanna flash you.”

Riki nods, “I think I’m the last person that would care about you flashing me. But I get it.” He slowly runs his hand down your stomach, smiling as he lightly squeezed the pudge on your sides. “Can you take them off for me, please?”

You lift your hips as you slide them off and let them fall to the carpeted floor. Now you laid barren, fully exposed, only the robe on your arms. You watched as his eyes scanned you attentively, like he was trying to remember every last inch of you. But when his eyes laid on your pussy, you subconsciously threw the robe over it—afraid that he would judge you. “Sorry…I haven’t shaved—”

Riki smacked his teeth as he moved the robe back. “I don’t give a fuck about shit like that. Hair ain’t never stopped me.” He laughed as he traced his fingers down your slit.

“Are you sure? We can sto—”

He shook his head, “Relax…I know this is a very vulnerable position you’re in and you want this to be perfect but I like you. I like this. Hair is not a big deal, I don’t care about it. I like women.” He nodded, “I actually prefer a little hair, it’s hot.” Riki didn’t even wait for a response before he slipped one finger into your soaking wet folds.

You gasped at the sensation, not knowing what to do with your hands. Instead, one hand gripped onto the ivory sheets and the other balled in a fist. Riki smiled kindly at this, “It’s okay…relax. Come here, let’s try this.” He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. Then he parted his legs and patted the space. You, still stuck for words but nonetheless compliant.

As soon as you sat down, back against his chest as he sighed of relief. “You got it, all you have to do is relax. Touch me how you want, this is all for you, my love.” He kissed your shoulder as he caressed your stomach and slipped his finger down to your core. “You’re so wet, is this all for me?” He gently, slowly, brushed his finger along your clit, eliciting a moan. “Hm?”

You threw your head back on his shoulder, shivers rippling through your body. “Yes, all for you. Because of you.”

“Mmm,” he smiled into your shoulder. “I’m gonna put my fingers in, please tell me if you don’t like anything. I’ll stop.” He kissed your bronze skin, smelling like the sweet scent of the hotel lotion—lavender and vanilla.

Then he slowly inserts a finger into you, carefully watching the way your body reacts. And after seeing your body respond positively to it, he slowly thrusts his finger all the way in. “You’re so tight around my fingers, my love.” Then bottoms out, then slowly inserts another finger just to test the waters. Your arousal made it easy.

As the sweetness you felt in your core spread to your heart, you smiled. The pleasure clouding your brain and the position he had you in, the heat from his chest spreading to your entire body as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you. The wetness squelching and your panting being the only thing heard in this quiet room. He curled his fingers inside of you, brushing them against the walls of you, making your hips lift off of the bed. Without a word, he kissed your neck. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you climbed off of him and next to him to grab a condom from the table, handing it to him. He took it with a small laugh as he put it between his teeth, freeing his hands as he laid you down on the bed again. Letting himself climb on top of you, grabbing the condom from his mouth to put it on the bed next to your head.

And it seemed like this was him letting himself go slightly; he pressed some of his weight onto you as he pressed his lips to yours. Releasing a groan into your lips as he gently groaned into the exchange. Grinding his hips into yours and this is the first time you registered how hard he was.

His tongue meshed well with yours, the warm, wet muscle working to taste every inch of your mouth. And he sat up, finally, and untied the robe. Letting it fall down his shoulders and onto the bed to reveal a lean, muscular figure. Strong pecs, toned arms, a sculpted torso that told you that he knew exactly what he was doing. He just wanted you to see him, he wasn’t trying overly hard to impress you.

You sit up yourself and mindlessly reach out to run your hand along his abdomen. His laughter made them contract, “You like them?”

Not answering, you move your other hand to his cock. He was the perfect mix of girth and length, just perfectly thick and not too long to where it made you afraid. You were already nervous, no need to add to it. But regardless you took him in your hand and slowly moved it. Making his head fall back with a sigh, “You don’t have to do this, babe. T-This is about you.” He said that, yet his body was twitching like he was trying to hold himself back.

You shook your head, “Then let me try this.”

He bit his lip, leaning into it. “Then…can you move your hand faster for me? Just for a second.”

Smiling gently, you increased the speed of your hand; stroking him with a firm hand. Riki sighed, letting out a slight whimper. Whispering your name as his body almost gives. But he can’t let himself go yet. “Okay, okay.” He huffed out a smile, “Lay back for me, baby.” He grabbed the tin next to your pillow and opened it with his teeth, putting it on his length. Sliding it down like he’s done this multiple times which he probably has.

He settled between your legs, stroking your thighs gently as he lifted them. Nearly putting them to your chest but just high enough not to make you uncomfortable. “I’m gonna go slowly, I think I prepped you enough but…I just wanna make sure you’re good.” Riki leaned down to kiss her knee. “I’m gonna make this so special for you, my love. You have no idea,” he kisses down your thighs. “My sweet, stubborn girl.”

You smile at his little jab, “Shut up,” you run your hands through his hair.

He sits up, lining himself up with your pussy but before he pushes in, he looks you in the eye. “It might hurt a little but I can stop if it becomes too much. So…are you sure?”

You looked at him with wide, doe eyes. “I’m sure,”

Riki exhaled, chest rising and falling like he’d been holding his breath for hours. He nodded once, slow. Then, with steady hands, he guided himself in—the tip pressing into your warmth as he kept his eyes on you the whole time. His jaw clenched, his breath hitched, but he moved with care. Inch by inch.

Your walls stretched to accommodate him, the fullness almost overwhelming—a burn that bordered on unbearable for a second. But he was there, kissing your temple, murmuring quiet things: “Just breathe. You’re doing so good. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he bottomed out with a quiet groan against your skin.

He stilled.

“Okay?” he whispered.

You nodded quickly, voice barely there. “Yeah. Just…give me a second.”

He didn’t move—just kissed your cheek and ran his thumb along your side. Letting you adjust. Letting the pain melt into something else. Something warmer. You felt it start to bloom slowly—the tension easing, the pleasure starting to lap at the edges.

When you gave a soft nod, he pulled back just a little and rocked into you again—slow and controlled, like he was afraid to break you. But he didn’t have to say it.

You were already breaking for him.

The slight stinging was there still but pleasure began to make it subside—making you let out a whimper as you felt a mixture of sweetness and relief where you needed him most. But he worked his hips into yours, his cock gliding against the walls of your wet pussy. His girth brushing against your swollen clit from stroke to stroke. “F-Feels so good, Riki.” You cry out, “S’good,”

He held your leg as he buried his face in your neck, kissing your neck alongside other parts of your face: nose, lips, cheeks, ears, eyes, everything. “You like my cock? You like what I’m doing to you?”

His words ignited you, “Mhm, yes, baby I love it. More. More.” You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

He smiled into your neck as he let your leg go, hugging you back as he lost himself in you and the skin to skin wasn’t making it easier on him. But he whispered into your ear, his thrusts increasing in roughness. “More? You want more? Because I can give you—”

You cut him off with a moan, crying out as tears pool in your eyes. He kisses your jaw, “I can give you more.”

Your skin, covered in goosebumps and body clinging to him like a koala, heart pounding—your eyes rolled back at the sensation and you didn’t think it would take you nineteen years to have a full sexual awakening. You had toys, masturbated regularly, but none of that seemed to compare to the real thing and a swirl of fear, excitement, and lust overtaking your senses.

And you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Give it to me.” You pant out, sweat collecting along your forehead.

“Yeah?” Riki pulled back from you, leaning in close to your face. “Want me to give you everything I’ve got?”

You nodded, eyes glassy and lips parted as your body trembled beneath him. “Please,” you whispered, and it sounded like surrender. Like reverence.

Riki let out a ragged breath, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re so fucking amazing.”

Then he gave it to you.

Every stroke after that felt like he was carving himself into your memory — deeper, harder, more urgent. Your name left his lips like a prayer, like a promise. His hand slipped under your lower back, lifting your hips slightly to hit that devastating angle again and again until your legs were shaking around him.

You were gasping now, sobbing his name, clutching his back like he might disappear if you didn’t hold tight enough. Then, somehow you got curious. “Wait,”

He immediately stopped, leaning up and sitting on his knees. “Everything good?” Riki nodded with lifted brows.

You, still winded, mirrored him. “Yes, perfect. I just…wanna be on top. If that’s okay.”

He smiled as he caressed your thighs, “That’s more than okay, come on.” Before you could even reposition yourself, he leaned forward and flipped you both over in one swift, fluid motion—still buried inside you. The sudden shift pulled a gasp from both of you, your laughter caught between moans as your bodies adjusted.

But the moment passed fast.

Because once you were on top—eyes locked, chests heaving—it was like everything else disappeared.

Your hands braced against his chest, and as you started to move, his grip tightened on your hips like he was trying to anchor himself. He watched you like you were a miracle—eyes dark, lips parted, head thrown back against the pillow with a groan that could’ve torn the sky in half.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Just like that, baby. Ride me just like that.”

You rolled your hips, the angle hitting a spot that made you whimper, and you could feel him twitch inside of you.

His hands wandered—your hips, your waist, your chest—like he couldn’t decide what part of you he wanted to hold most. “You feel so good,” he choked out, voice hoarse. “I’m losing my mind.”

You leaned down, pressing your forehead to his, your rhythm picking up as your bodies slid together like puzzle pieces soaked in sweat and lust and love. He moaned into your mouth, both of you chasing that same high with each movement, each breathless kiss.

“I don’t ever want this to stop,” you whispered.

And Riki—Riki looked at you like he meant it when he said, “Then don’t. Stay right here. With me. I want you forever.”

As you felt your thighs start to give in slightly, Riki could feel it in your movements. He pulled you down, your bare, pillowy tits meeting his firm chest. And lifted his hips to drill into your pussy, going at a nearly inhumane speed.

Your world blurred—breath, heartbeat, and the heat of his body flooding every sense. The headboard thudded a slow rhythm against the wall while his name tumbled from your lips in shaky fragments.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, voice raw. “I’ve got you. First time or not, I know your body—let go for me, I’ve got you. Cum for me, please.” He let out a chilling, guttural moan. “Let me be your first, your last, everything you want. I just want you—please. Together.”

You clung to him, nails raking his shoulders, thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tight—hot and sudden—then snapped. A broken cry tore free while your body clenched around him in waves. Seeing white behind your eyes as let him ride you through it.

Riki followed a heartbeat later, burying his face against your throat with a low, helpless groan. He held you there, hips shuddering through the last pulses, arms wound tight as if he could fuse you together right before spilling into the condom.

For a long moment neither of you moved, the only sound was your mingled breathing and the hush of late‑night traffic far below.

Finally he smoothed a damp curl from your forehead, kissing the spot it had rested. “You okay?”

A breathy laugh escaped you—equal parts spent and stunned. “More than okay.”

He smiled—soft, boyish, a little awed—then eased you onto your side without letting go. Blankets came up over bare skin; his palm settled over your heart as if to reassure himself it was still beating. “Did I do good for you?” He said quietly.

Your eyes were half open, considering how you managed to stay awake for the entire day was beyond you. But this was more than enough motivation to keep you awake and you were grateful for all of it. “It was…everything that I thought it would be. And more.”

He took the condom off and disposed of it at the bedside table. “I’m glad…” he smiles. “I…really care about you.” Riki kisses your lips gently, as if the lust just evaporated.

“I care about you too. I don’t want this to end.” You shook your head with a smile.

Riki stood up but not before kissing your hand and padding to a bathroom to bring a damp washcloth back. He wiped you down gently, muttering apologies when you flinched from the sensitivity. And when he finished, he tossed the cloth aside and crawled back into bed—pulling you into his chest, arms cocooning you like a shield.

Your eyes catch the digital clock that resided on a nearby desk, it reading 12:00 AM on the dot. You nudged him, “Look,” your mouth gaped in awe.

Riki’s eyes went in the direction of the desk but he squinted. “Fuck I need glasses.” He leaned up closer. “Oh shit!” He laughed, pointing at the clock. “If fate isn’t on our side then I don’t know what is. Truly.” Riki threw himself onto you, enveloping you in a hug. “Oh…my baby.” He squeezed you closer, the only thing between you both at this point being the duvet.

You hugged him too, smothering a laugh. “Well I guess I gave you those five and half hours.”

“Mhm, so…what do you say?” He leaned back, already knowing your answer but still wanting to take the formality. “Am I worth keeping around?”

You rolled your eyes fondly, letting your fingers trace the lines of his jaw. “You already know the answer.”

“I do,” he whispered, smiling like it still surprised him anyway. “But I think I just wanted to hear it.”

You leaned in to kiss him—slow, soft, and lingering. The kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

“I’m keeping you,” you said against his lips. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

“Forever then,” he said without missing a beat, his voice low and certain. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin. His heartbeat was slow and steady against your cheek, his breath fanning across your temple. Silence settled over the room, not awkward or empty, but full. Like it had been waiting for the two of you to claim it.

And maybe you didn’t know what the morning would bring—what the world outside this little cocoon of blankets and whispered confessions might say.

But right now, here, with his arms around you and your body still humming from the aftershocks of being truly wanted, truly seen, for the first time…

You let yourself believe him.

That forever didn’t sound so impossible after all.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #kpop x black reader #enhypen fic #niki x reader #kpop #enhypen niki #niki smut #kpop smut #nishimura riki #niki nishimura #enha #enhypen au

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l4lenthusiast · 26 days ago

Note

How do you think Spencer might react to reader taking care of him after he's injured on the job? Do you think he'd accept it or try to say he could take care of himself, especially since he's used to being the caretaker with his mom and etc???

Taking care of Spencer Reid after he got hurt on the job⊹ ࣪ ˖

Season 5 Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Warnings: Spoiler for season 5, shooting injury.

A/n I focused on when he got shot in the leg in season 5 also I love this idea!!

At first he would be angry, not directly at you but at the fact he can't do anything himself especially because he's become so used to taking care of not just himself but other people too, so not being able to just stand properly bothered him more than anything.

He tried to stand and walk around to do productive things, but you caught him in the act.

"Spencer!" You walked (dragged) him back to his new designated spot on the couch. "The doctor said you have to sit and rest if you want your leg to heal."

"I am a doctor!"

As much as he tried not to take his annoyance out on you because all you were doing was helping him, there was no one else to huff and puff to.

"Spence," you walk into the living room where he's sprawled out on the couch a pile of read through books besides him with a look of annoyance on his face.

"What is it?" He offered a smile that didn't take a profiler to notice it was forced.

"Do you want some tea?" You sat next to him to try and offer some form of comfort.

That's when he accepted it. You were being so nice, and he was being a childish brat.

After that he would let you take care of him, even if he wasn't used to it and still a bit frustrated he loved you and you clearly loved him enough to put up with his childish behavior.

You sat beside him and he would lay his head on your lap, waiting for your hands to move to his hair mindlessly, bringing him more comfort than his crutches and cast ever could.

"Spencer, do you want to go to bed?" You looked down to find his face when you realized he was already asleep, probably dreaming about being able to take care of you instead.

Coming to terms with your care made his days simpler. Instead of re-reading every book in his grasp, you would bring him cross word puzzles on his food tray and frequently go to the library for him to make his days at home go by faster.

Once the day came that the doctor told him he could walk without crutches, he was grateful he thought until he realized he missed you taking care of him because it was nice to be the one taken care of instead of being the caretaker.

#Juna's requests🧸⋆˚࿔#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #reid #reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon

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rafesslxt · 4 months ago

Note

tom riddle headcanons with a reader who is bubbly, likes to wear too much pink, is naive etc (she could still be a slytherin, just not the evil sterotype yk) this is my first time requesting something i really liked your headcanons<:

PRETTY IN PINK

warnings: fluff, some tears, mention of sick family member

note: english is not my first language + this is a little rushed so excuse me pleeease

❀ y/n loves pink since she was a little kid. it almost came naturally

❀ when Tom first met her, he felt like he was in a feverdream. you crushed against him and stumbled backwards a little, his right arm wrapping around your middle to catch you while his body didn‘t even budged. "oh! hi! thank you so much wow uh i guess i didn‘t really see you. I mean you‘re really tall so i guess it‘s my fault for not seeing you since you couldn‘t be taller right? I‘m y/n by the way, I‘m a Slytherin too! You‘re Tom, right? I heard a lot about you and –" "Do you even breathe?"

❀ since that day you wouldn‘t get out of his head. he always catched your sweet perfume - matching your whole aesthetic in the hallway no matter which time or day it was. It lingered around him like a spell.

❀ he always had such a poker face no matter what his emotions deep down were – he never showed them. He only smiled out of formality or to be charming. Then there was you - always smiling, laughing, giggling at everything. There was nothing and no one that wasn‘t able to make you smile.

❀ one evening when everyone was outside the castle to watch a quidditsch game, ravenclaw against gryffindor, Tom decided to walk into the library. It was even quieter than usual when the room was full of students. He sat down in his usual spot pulled out some homework. After a few hours of reading, he heard a quiete giggling coming from a few bookshelfs behind him. His curiosity got the best of him and he searched for the source of the disturbing sound. he walked around the bookshelf and looked right at you with your owl next to you. "oh hey tom!" your voice sounded high pitched as you waved at him. "I didn‘t see you when you walked in! How are you? What are you doing he-" again, he intereupted you. "Can you be quiet?" "oh sorry!" you whisper yelled at him realizing he might wanted to study and needed a quiet place.

❀ you were good with almost everyone in school. everyone in your year greeted you like you did too. helping everyone felt natural to you since you were so caring and loved being there for your friends and even strangers

❀ one night tho, you felt as alone as you never did before. Tom found you sitting alone at the astronomy tower on the wet ground in your light pink floral dress, while it was pouring. and even tho he wasn‘t able to see your tears during the rain on your face, he could see your puffy lips, red eyes and nose. oh, and the heartbreaking look ln your face. "what are you doing out here?" he opened his umbrella and crouched down in front of you, holding the umbrella over you both

❀ you tried not to sob to loud and looked away. "i came outside and uh - it started pouring but–" "i asked what you‘re doing here, y/n." you took a deep, shaky breath before you answered his question properly. "my dad wrote me today and.. my mom is sick.. it‘s not getting worse bit also not better and i‘m so scared that sonethings going to happen to her- i mean-" another sob leaves your throat. "she my mom.."

❀ tom didn‘t know what do do or say, to make you feel better. so he just helped you stand up and took you back inside into the warmth of the castle. he folded the umbrella together before he took of his jacket. "here.. put this on." he says, wrapping it around your shaking body before you could even grab it by yourself. he guided you through the floors and walls, until you both were in your common room. he sat you down on the couch in front of the fire to dry up again.

❀ "thank you tom.." you whispered after a while as you two sat there next to each other in silence. his presence alone comforting enough.

❀ that night was the start of your friendship. you sat next to each other at breakfast and dinner, in class, went studying together, visited hogsmead on the weekends. that night was the start of a very long friendship and the start of a very deep bond.

taglist | masterlist

tags: @supernaturaldawning @belle-blue @cardibre91 @rriddlexx @aussiehufflepuff @aegonsslxt @helendeath @theblogformydeluluself @juliet-017 @lilith28zero @delacourdarling

xoxo sarah <3

#tom riddle #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle masterlist #tom riddle headcanon #tom riddle drabble #tom riddle oneshot #slytherin boys #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys fluff #tom riddle imagine

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dreaming-of-epiphanies · 2 months ago

Text

𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂 - part 2

Link to part 1 if you missed it

Description: As the unresolved tension between Reader and Tom continues, Tom decides to make it clear where they stand. (Slytherin!fem!Reader x Tom Riddle, academic rivals to lovers, smut warning)

A/N: Soo like I said this was supposed to only be one part but I wrote too much and now this is the second (and final) part. Tbh, I'm not sure how the flow of the two feel together so if anyone thinks I should re-edit and add another part, let me know! Also, full transparency, this part is really just seven pages of smut (in google docs format).

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. mdni, 18+, unprotected p in v, language. This is the most explicit fic I've posted yet (so I'd love feedback on whether the smut was too much, written well or not, etc!)

For the next couple of weeks, you felt like you were playing some sort of strange game of cat and mouse. You’d stalk up to Riddle to talk to him, then change your mind at the last minute and scurry away. He’d ignore you in class and in the halls, but somehow be in every room you were in. It was infuriating, and the worst part was that you didn’t know if you were supposed to be the cat or the mouse in this scenario.

As yet another week went by without any resolution to the tension, you got more and more agitated. Other than a couple more staring matches (as in, he stared at you when you stopped sitting next to him in class and you resolutely ignored him), you didn’t have any interactions with him. You tried to keep yourself from thinking about it, but as they had a tendency to do, your thoughts always seemed to wander back to him.

It was fairly obvious what was bothering you, so in an effort to distract you, your friends dragged you along to the Quidditch game the following weekend. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, so naturally the stands were packed. Seemingly everyone went, but Riddle was conspicuously absent. You let yourself be carried away in the fun, and agreed to come to the afterparty in the Slytherin common as well. After what had happened the last time you’d drank too much, you told yourself you’d only have one or two shots of firewhiskey, but two hours and three very persuasive friends later, you found yourself drunk once more. Not as bad as the last time, you were sure, but still enough you were talking way more than you should’ve been.

And talking to people you shouldn’t have been.

Sometime during your tipsy haze, you spotted Riddle walking quickly from his dorm towards the exit of the common room. You hadn’t thought about him until you started drinking, but once you had you’d started to get mad and upset and hurt, and seeing him gave you a fantastic idea.

You were going to go talk to him.

He had his bag with him and was presumably on his way to the library, but that didn’t stop you from stumbling over to him and grabbing clumsily at his cloak sleeve.

“Riddle!” You said abruptly, and he turned to look at you. His brow furrowed as you put your hands on your hips and tried your best to look commanding. Obviously, you just looked funny, but in your mind you were the perfect picture of confident and imposing.

You opened your mouth to tell him just how mad you were that you couldn’t even remember sleeping with him, when you got distracted by his careful sweep of hair and sparkling mahogany eyes.

“Yes?” He said when a full thirty seconds passed in silence.

“You’re pretty,” you mumbled, smiling up at him. He stared at you, and then just as he started to say something, someone roughly grabbed your elbow and pulled you back towards them.

“Nope!” You heard Amelia say. “You are not talking to Riddle while drunk. We all know how that turned out last time.” You glared up at her but allowed yourself to be dragged away. She was probably right, after all.

You cast a longing look back in Riddle’s direction, only to see he had left the common room. You tried not to feel too disappointed. If he wanted to talk to you, he would. Maybe he didn’t want to take things further after your one-night stand.

You blinked back tears at that prospect.

༺ ✧ ༻

The weekend passed without any other encounters with Riddle. You were half relieved and half disappointed, because although you didn’t remember your drunken hookup, you did remember calling him pretty. You winced every time you thought of it.

On Monday, though, things took a turn.

Since you hadn’t seen Riddle since the party, you weren’t looking forward to seeing him in Defence early Monday morning. You arrived early to class, as usual, and began unpacking your things. The classroom was empty when you came in, but not even two minutes later Riddle walked through the door. Your gaze flicked up to him and your eyes met for a split second before quickly turning your attention back to your quill and inkpot.

The classroom slowly began to fill up, and once Merrythought arrived and started the lesson, you resolved to keep your attention focused on your notes and definitely not on Riddle.

Unfortunately, barely twenty minutes in, you were absorbed in a mindless daydream of not being on Riddle, but under him.

It really was a spectacular daydream, and you would’ve happily continued on with it for the rest of class were it not for the feeling of someone’s intense gaze on you.

You slowly turned your head and immediately, your eyes cut to Riddle’s. He met your slightly horrified expression with a small smirk. Oh God, he was reading your mind!

You stood up instantly. “Excuse me,” you said, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “May I visit the Hospital Wing? I’m afraid I’m going to be sick.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You did feel a little like you were going to vomit.

Professor Merrythought excused you, looking a little concerned, and you quickly gathered your stuff and rushed out of the classroom, making a beeline for the dungeons to go to your dorm.

You didn’t make it far before you heard your name being called sharply behind you.

“What?!” You exclaimed, spinning to face Riddle. He was smirking at you, and without another word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a small study room.

“You’ve been thinking about me.” He said matter-of-factly as soon as the door was shut behind you.

“No! I- I just…” you stammered, and he laughed, stepping closer.

“It’s alright,” he murmured in a low voice. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

His tone and words sent a shiver down your spine. “You have?” You whispered, as he put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I have,” he echoed, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone. You shuddered. “I’ve been remembering…” He kissed another spot a little harder, sucking until you let out a small moan. He hummed and drew back.

“Have you been remembering too?” He asked, and you could only stare at him for a second before shaking your head mutely.

“I was too drunk to remember much,” you admitted, swallowing as his eyes dropped to your lips.

“How much do you remember?” Riddle asked as one of his hands drifted up to your face, gently stroking your jaw and down the length of your throat.

“I remember the first part of the party… I took a few shots and had a couple of goblets of firewhiskey, I know. And I remember falling onto you, then us talking and dancing.” You explained, frowning. “And I think I remember leaning up to kiss you. But that’s where my memory stops.”

Riddle nodded, continuing to look at you curiously.

“That’s it?” He asked.

“That’s it,” you confirmed. He nodded again, eyes still trained on you. “I don’t even remember the sex,” you added with a wry smile.

“Hm,” Riddle stepped closer, tilting his head to the side and smirking slightly. “I remember it.”

Your eyebrows raised, but you didn’t say anything as he nodded, taking another step closer.

“It was good,” he continued quietly and your heart picked up speed. “Very good.”

“Yeah?” You said breathlessly as he stepped up right to you, face inches from your own.

“I believe you said it was the best you’ve ever had,” he said and your face flushed, but you couldn’t help biting back a smile.

“I’m not surprised,” you admitted, and his lips twitched in a smirk, humming satisfactorily.

“It’s a shame you don’t remember it,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave suggestively.

“It is,” you agreed, leaning your head back to look at him. His eyes were on yours, dark and filled with lust. Your breathing hitched as he took the final step closer, backing you against the door, your hips hitting the wood with a soft thud.

“Let’s help you remember,” he murmured, and he bent down, connecting his lips to yours.

You immediately leaned into the kiss, wasting no time in opening your mouth and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His lips were warm and soft and he tasted faintly spicy, like firewhiskey but more tangy. He slid his hands from your shoulders down your side, brushing the side of your breasts in such a tantalizingly brief touch that a shiver ran through you.

His hands found your hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs as he continued to kiss you, slow and sensual. Your hands ran up and down his arms, gently squeezing at his biceps and slightly sinking your nails into his skin. He let out a low, almost choked groan and all of a sudden roughly grabbed your waist and pulled you into him as the kiss turned fierce.

It wasn’t long before his lips moved from your lips to your jaw, down the side of the neck, and to the neckline of your shirt. You pulled your hands away from where they were ravaging his hair long enough to yank the shirt off, tossing it on the ground before leaning back in, already reaching back up around his neck. His hands on your shoulders stopped you, though.

You looked up in confusion to see his eyes raking down your figure, taking in every inch of the skin you just exposed to him like he has to memorise it for a test. A smirk appeared on his face when he saw you were wearing the same green, lace bra you did when you first hooked up.

“You wore that just for me, hm?” He said with a satisfied smirk that’s so damn sexy you wanted him to shut up and kiss you already. “You wanted this to happen.”

“I did,” you said breathlessly, smiling up at him in challenge. “So are you going to do something about it, or-”

The rest of your sentence got cut off as he swooped in again, kissing you harshly and running his hands up and down your torso, kneading your breasts with a firm pressure that had you sighing with pleasure into the kiss.

Less than five minutes in and he already had you moaning. Merlin, the sex must’ve been really, really good.

One of his hands slid behind you, deftly unclasping your bra. You reached up to slip it off but his hands stopped yours, breaking the kiss to murmur in a low voice; “Let me.”

You nodded quickly and lowered your hands. He slowly slid the straps down your arms, grazing your skin with such a hot touch it had you shifting side to side, needing his touch everywhere else. He gave you a wicked smirk, continuing to slowly remove the bra until it reached your wrists and he let it drop, stepping back to admire you.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly. “But there’s something missing.”

You quirked your eyebrows at this. “What?” You asked curiously. His eyes cut to yours, gleaming dangerously.

“Something that marks you as mine,” he whispered in a gravely tone before latching his lips onto your neck.

“God,” you gasped as your head fell back, overtaken by the sensation of his lips on you. He kissed across your neck, nipping at the delicate skin there. You distantly registered that it was going to be difficult to hide them tomorrow, but then you forgot how to think because he began grazing his mouth down your chest.

“Tom,” you choked as he kissed your breast, overwhelmed and more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life. You were pretty sure your panties were soaked at this point.

“Yes?” He asked, barely pulling away from your skin. You were going to say something about how maybe you should go to his room or somewhere that has a bed, but the way he was looking at you told you he wasn’t intending to wait, and neither were you.

“My skirt,” you panted, “take it off.”

He grinned wickedly, pressing another kiss to your chest before drawing away and back up to eye level. He leaned his face close to yours, slowly sliding his hands down your sides. He trailed his fingers teasingly across your stomach until you were groaning in frustration.

“Fuck you, Riddle, just touch me already!” You exclaimed, and his fingers hooked into your skirt, quickly pulling it down around your ankles. He stepped in again, hands going immediately to your ass as you pulled him into another kiss.

He ran one hand all across your body as you kissed him, biting at his lower lip until you tasted the deliciously metal flavor of his blood. He groaned and pulled both hands to your front, leaning away just slightly.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he promised, and you frowned in confusion for a split second before you heard a rip and your panties were torn off of you. Then his lips were on yours again and his hands were moving down, down…

He brushed his fingers over your folds and you gasped, an electric shudder going through you.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, voice low and enticing. He slid another finger against you and you tossed your head back in blind pleasure, landing it hard against the door. You barely felt the sting from it though, because all you could focus on was his hand working between your legs.

You grasped at his arms, tightening your hands as his fingers moved, slowly stroking you until your breath started coming more shallow. Only then did he gently insert a finger, barely into you but you let out a moan, inhaling shakily as he chuckled, deep and throaty.

“You want this, don’t you?” He asked, adding another finger to tantalizingly dip into you. “You want me to touch you like this until you come all over my fingers?”

“Fuck, Tom,” you panted, barely able to contain yourself or stop your legs from trembling.

“As you wish,” he murmured, and pushed his fingers in. All at once you let out a moan as his fingers stretched you, dizzy with the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, sliding his fingers back before pushing them in once more, overwhelming you with friction. Your head fell back against the wall again, breaths coming in short gasps and legs shaking beneath you. He curled his fingers and you cried out, clawing at his arm.

“So needy, so desperate,” he hummed, adding additional pressure on your clit, making you cry out even more. “I like that.”

He continued on like this until you started seeing stars at the edge of your vision and electricity pulsed through your veins. You felt a rising in your lower belly and you chased the high, about to be pushed over the edge when all of a sudden Tom’s fingers vanished.

You looked up immediately in confusion and mild irritation, but your mouth went dry when you saw him shrugging off his shirt and roughly pulling at his belt.

“Need to be inside you when you come,” he got out in a strangled tone, throwing his belt to the ground and shoving his trousers and underwear down. You barely had time to react before his lips were on yours and he was grabbing your hips, roughly lining himself up with your entrance.

You gripped his shoulders, holding on so tightly you’d be surprised if he didn’t have marks on there tomorrow. He hovered his mouth over yours, gently nudging at your nose until you met his gaze. His eyes were dark and steady as he nodded, encouraging and tantalizing at the same time.

“This could be a lot,” he warned, and all it takes is you nodding once before he thrusted his hips forwards, sliding into you much faster than he probably should’ve. You let out a cry and he gripped you against his chest, humming his approval.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasped, deep and throaty.

Your eyes were shut tight as your head rested against the wall behind you. God, the feeling of him was amazing. Every single bit of your awareness was focused on him inside of you and you could already feel the anticipation building, a buzzing low in your stomach.

A hand at your throat pulled your attention back to his face.

“Look at me,” he murmured, voice low. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

And then he started to move.

It was slow at first, slow and sensual. He was letting you adjust to his size and the feeling of him in you, but it wasn’t long before you were clawing at his hair and gasping for air as he moved faster, roughly rocking into you as one hand supported you and the other ran across your body, all while he was kissing you hungrily.

Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and your hands were everywhere- in his hair, down his chest, across his biceps, and down to where he was still harshly rolling his hips into yours. You couldn’t get enough of him, he was hot and perfect and you just wanted to-

The hand that was currently tangling in your hair vanished suddenly, and then it was pulling your hands away from him and yanking them upwards. He pinned your wrists forcefully against the wall behind you and broke away from your mouth long enough to mutter “if you want me to last for much longer, darling, you’re going to have to stop touching me like that.” All you could do was nod as he pushed his mouth back onto yours.

He kissed you, pushing into your hips and tearing into you until he had you throwing your head back in sheer bliss. He moved his lips down to your throat, tracing a savage path across your neck. It wasn’t long before you’re both completely lost in sensation, his lips everywhere on your chest and your hands struggling in the vice grip he has them pinned in.

“Fucking hell, Tom,” you gasped as he pulled his mouth away from your neck and pressed a rough kiss to your lips, rolling into you faster and harder now.

The blood roared in your ears and static started to fill your senses, blurring out everything until all you could focus on was the feeling of Tom rocking into you, hitting that perfect spot and you were rising, electricity racing through you. You furiously chased that high until the heat in your lower stomach burst into flames and white-hot fireworks exploded at the edge of your vision as you came all around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he moved into you faster until he caught his own high, barely seconds after your own. He came just as hard, throatily rasping your name. He gripped your hip with one hand, the other still holding your wrists to the door as he kissed you roughly, letting you both ride out your climaxes.

When everything finally stopped being wonderfully hazy for you, you inhaled deeply and got a strong whiff of Tom’s woodsy-smelling cologne and the salty tang of his sweat. You were both panting against each other, lips still so close you were practically breathing the same air. Everything still felt heightened- every point of contact, every breath against the other’s skin, everything. You’d never felt anything quite so perfect.

Finally and much too soon, he released your hands and you dropped them onto his arms in exhaustion, holding loosely on. He bent his head and kissed your skin almost reverently.

“You,” he rasped, “are amazing.”

You let out a laugh despite yourself. “That was incredible,” you gasped, smiling at him and his completely sated expression. “I can safely say that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He laughed at that, rolling his eyes fondly as he slowly started to let you down, pulling out as he did so, though he kept his arms around you for support until your legs stopped shaking. Only then did he drop another kiss onto your head and pull away fully, bending to pick up your haphazardly discarded clothes.

You stepped forward to take your shirt and skirt for him when you caught a glimpse of yourself in a mirror. Your lips were swollen and you had a smattering of red marks across your neck and collarbone. Your makeup was all ruined and your hair was a mess.

“Tom, look what you did!” You exclaimed, smoothing at your hair in a half-attempt to get it to behave. “I have another class right after this.”

He smirked, stepping up behind you with his shirt half-buttoned. “I have no regrets,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. You turned to him and smiled, tilting your head to the side.

“Neither do I,” you agreed. “In fact… my room is open tonight, if you’d like to come.”

“‘If I’d like to come’?” He repeated slyly, and you winced slightly at the double entendre.

“You know what I mean,” you rolled your eyes, though you’re barely trying to bite back your grin.

“Well, then I would like to come.” He said, the roguish gleam still in his eyes. “Very much.”

“Good,” you smiled playfully, already leaning up to kiss him again. “Because I do too.”

A/N (again): Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated. I always get so excited when I get a comment notification!

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