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marsolgy · 2 years ago

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LYAFLS 🕸️ Miles Morales ( prologue)

LYAFLS! ╱ spiderverse ❛ loving you almost feels like something. ❜ ━━━ written by venus! © venusdraco - 2023

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ➷ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

𝑰𝑵 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑯 in every fathomable universe Spider-Man fell in love, and the romance was epic, though often riddled with tragedy. Whether it was Gwen Stacy or Mary Jane Watson, Cindy Moon, or Felicia Hardy, Peter Parker had options, and in each iteration, whatever story, whatever world, Spider-Man did whatever he could to protect the girl he loved. Miles Morales could say the same for himself as Spider-Man. He'd do whatever he could to protect the people he loved, the girl he loved. Soraya Wright ( born Kira Khan ) was the girl he loved. and whether he was Spider-Man or Miles, it seemed those feelings for Soraya were concrete, never changing. He just never expected that to be the case across the entirety of the multiverse.

━━ or the one where you get to see miles and soraya form a bond of a life time once on earth-199999 and then again when kingpin's super collider pulls villains and spider people alike to earth-1610.

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟗𝟗𝟗 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘

Soraya Wright, born Kira Khan, had been Harlem's very own Spectacular Spider-Girl since she was fourteen years old. A field trip to the Oscorp Science Center was supposed to be meaningless, in the sense that neither Soraya, nor Peter Parker, her closest and longest friend, expected for a regular school trip to end with them being bitten by radioactive spiders. Pretty cliche, right? I mean, what are the odds that two friends would manage to be in the same place, and happen to fall into the exact same role as New York City's trusted protectors?

Apparently the odds were fucking amazing, because radioactive spiders weren't the hot commodity they seemed to be, they couldn't be, not when there were so many others. Spiders like Gwen Stacy, Cindy Moon... And Miles...

Miles Morales.

Miles Morales, was the son of Jefferson Davis, the Police Chief for the NYPD's 72nd precinct. How did Soraya know that? It was a simple ( but equally long story ) ... See the reason Soraya went by just that, instead of Kira Khan, was because of her past. You know the gist by now, every unsuspecting kid, or teen, or adult that was unexpectedly thrust into greatness usually had to ensure some tragedy to make them the great hero, or person that they were.

━━ Soraya Wright knew a thing about tragedy.

Born Kira Soraya Khan, to Armen and Solana Khan, Kira's life was set to be nothing short of incredible. Her parents were scientists, two of New York's brightest minds ( they had the medals and honors to prove that this wasn't just a load of smoke ) They even had offers from some of the richest people in the world, who fought and vied for a chance to have the genius couple working alongside them. And maybe choosing to work for someone as sketchy as Octavius Thatch was a step in the wrong direction, but he had promise, and he didn't have that bloated sense of importance that the other "genius, billionaires" out there were known for.

And in hindsight, if they had never agreed to work with Thatch, chances of sickly six-month old Kira making it to her first birthday would've been slim. ━━ if you asked me, the humanity of the scientists responsible for the trials they'd reduced an infant to, were highly in question.

━━ But it's not my job to judge, I just tell the story.

Kira endured six years of tests, six years of radioactive toxins being passed off as some sort of medical breakthrough and shot straight into her bloodstream. (Strike one, if you were to mention her to Miguel O'Hara) ━━ and I know what you're thinking, if the tests were so bad, if they were so inhumane, why didn't her parents do the right thing, and pull her out of them? The best answer to that one was the heartbreaking one. Armen and Solana Khan were people of science. They didn't believe in praying away a sickness, waiting on a miracle.

So if Octavius Thatch's trials were working, and helping their daughter live another day, who were they to deny him of the chance to make a breakthrough.

In 2006 when Thatch approaches Anthony Edward Stark with a proposition to go public with his trials ( of course with the hope that Stark Industries would fund the trials. Unsurprisingly, Tony denies him ━━ to be more specific he laughed him out of the meeting. In Tony's words, there was NO WAY in Hell that radioactive mutation could be beneficial to human beings. In the history of superheroes there was nothing that made a villain faster than rejection and humiliation. And Tony Stark had made a villain that was gonna be everybody's problem.

Specifically he was going to be Soraya's problem.

Why? Because in his rejection-fueled rage, he'd decided to press full speed ahead with the trials. Muddle-brained, and all. Which was bad, because precision was paramount with things like this, and Octavius Thatch was nowhere near precise when his mind was frazzled. Ignoring the warnings of all the scientists, including Kira's parents, Thatch proceeded with testing like normal, but messed up bad. You can probably figure out the rest.

His mistake left Soraya an orphan, killed twenty men and women, and left him blind in one eye.

Nadji Wright, was a beat cop at the time, patrolling the area after the precinct got a tip about shiesty behavior taking place. Which was lucky for Soraya. Nadji Wright became like a mother, a surrogate for the one she'd lost, and never get back. Nadji was training to be police captain someday, and Soraya was certain she'd make it and even farther someday. She was married to Damalie Wright, a SHIELD agent ( pretty cool, no? ) , and they were trying for a kid.

Soraya sort of fell into their laps, and a family was formed.

━━ BUT BACK TO THE POINT.

Knowing about Jefferson Davis-Morales came from Nadji, being part of his squad. Jeff was Nadji's superior, which meant when Rio Morales would host house parties for all of the cops on the force, Nadji ( and then Damalie ) would tell Soraya to make sure she put on something nice, and after picking up Gordo from daycare, the family of four make their way to the Morales residence. It was there that Miles, the boy from Brooklyn, and Soraya, the girl from Harlem would be reduced to hours ( and she stresses the HELL out of hours ) HOURS of isolation.

Mostly they'd isolate from the overbearing adults that would ask them fifty times in one conversation what their plans for the future looked like. So they'd sit in his room, sometimes on the roof, sometimes on the fire escape. They did a lot of talking. Venting mostly. Miles was easy to talk to, he made Soraya laugh until her stomach churned. He pulled her out of her shell, she was certain it was impossible to be a recluse in a house with parents like Rio and Jefferson, who were both balls of fire and extraordinary personality.

Either way, the more frequent these parties became, the more Miles and Soraya became acquainted. Which was fine, great even, until Soraya started thinking about the next time she'd be able to see Miles. The problem? Feelings were junk, and as her life had made it clear, the more she cared about people, the more the universe would take them away.

Miles was so cool, that's about as deep she could get while she was on this anti-feelings kick. But of course the truth resided in her heart, the way his grin would make her stutter step. The way she'd pretend not to give a damn when he'd show her a photo he'd drawn of her. Or the way he noticed things about her face that she had never even seen, and made these photos look so ... what's the word? Breathtaking?

Point was Miles was everything. He had great style, and good music taste, and he was so interested in her culture, he'd even learned some Farsi just so he could relate. In turn, she'd learned some Spanish, which Rio found admirable, and scored her major points in the Morales home. And while she attended Midtown Tech in Queens, and Miles was at Brooklyn Visions, they still had a lot in common ( maybe even more than they thought ) but of course, it's hard to focus on trying to build anything with Miles when this new Spider-Man ( because apparently now there were two? ) had a real bad habit of trying to hold all of her attention.

my name is soraya wright

and for three years, i have been the one and only

𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳

𝒊'𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕

ᵖʳᵒˡᵒᵍᵘᵉ / ᵒᵒ¹

October 19th, 2006 — New York City

[ everything spoken in Farsi, will be italicized and bolded. ]

"Hello." Nadji Wright says the greeting quietly, breathing heavily, albeit proudly of how she'd managed to recall the phrase, and the way to say it properly. It immediately seemed to put the six year old, who at this time was still just Kira Khan, at ease. Nadji was crouched in front of Kira, one knee pressed into the concrete as she tried to look less threatening while in her uniform.

"Did I say that right?" She asks this question politely, making sure not to raise her voice too much, for fear she might startle the young girl. Kira nods her head, and she feels the start of a smile coming on. Most people didn't bother to try and communicate with her, once they realized that her first language wasn't English. While she understood it well, speaking it was much harder. Her mother was patient with her, but often reminded her that the rest of the world would not be.

"My name is Nadj, can you tell me what yours is?" Her pronunciation wasn't half bad, which made Kira all the more comfortable with her. She was trying, making an effort, which was more than she could possibly say for any adult she'd met outside of her family. Her family. Her parents were gone. She wondered when the tears would start again. Six years, all she could possibly do was cry, and now it was almost impossible to even try and force them out.

She couldn't cry now anyway, Nadji needed an answer.

"Soraya." she forces the lie out quietly. Kira was her name, Kira was what her mother and father had named her. But she remembered, sometime back when she was much younger, her mother had taken to calling her Sora, and while no one outside of her family was privy to her middle name, this woman was in a way a brand new beginning for her. New beginnings required new names, right?

"Soraya... that's... it's a very beautiful name." Nadji compliments. "T-That means star, doesn't it?" she asks and Soraya is quick to nod her head. "Soraya." Nadji repeats it again, this time much quieter under her breath. "Do you speak any English?" Soraya takes note of the way Nadji signs with her hands as she speaks. She wondered just how many languages this woman before her understood.

Soraya nods her head, mulling her brain for a good phrase, before her mind becomes muddled and leaves her out to dry. "I understand better." she admits as Nadji hums in understanding. Soraya had never met someone that knew or understood her language, outside of her parents.

Thatch didn't bother to try and relate, all he cared about were tests, and progress. As if alerted by her thoughts, Soraya's eyes swivel, and she finds herself looking in the direction of the decimated building. Octavius "Otto" Thatch was being led out at the moment, hands restrained behind his back with a pair of glittering cuffs.

Nadji follows Soraya's line of sight, frowning as she vies for the child's attention again.

"You don't have to worry about him anymore. He's going exactly where he belongs." She speaks, and Soraya's eyes are back on the older woman, she takes in her braids which stretch prettily down her back, and Soraya is reminded of her mom, Solana Khan, who had an affinity for switching her hair up like she switched up her clothing.

She mostly liked locs though, and Soraya thought her mom's were the best in the world. She'd been growing them out since she was a little girl, even younger than Soraya was. Her locs had been long, went all the way down her back, and she'd even cut bangs into them. Soraya fizzles at the thought of her mother, who she'd never see again. Why was she still not crying? Shouldn't she be sad, shouldn't she feel something?

"Do you know where your parents are?" Nadji asks as Soraya stiffens. Her gaze is pulled back to the building once again. She sees the loads of ambulances, the black bags, the sorrowful glances. She turns back to Nadji and sighs deeply. Nadji wasn't sure she'd ever seen such exhaustion before. "They're gone now." Soraya answers quietly, and her accent is thick, a sign of her Brooklyn roots, but there's still uncertainty.

As if to prove her point, Soraya turns and motions to the commotion, and Nadji suddenly understands. Sorrow grips her immediately, frown cementing itself on her face. "I'm so sorry." She mutters, and it doesn't do anything to help. Simple words couldn't make up for the fact that a six year old was now parentless. "What did he do to you in there?" Nadji asks and in Soraya's mind all she hears is what her parents told her.

All of this is for your own good.

"They said he made me better." Soraya's tone is clipped, quiet. Nadji's eyebrows furrow as she tries to decipher the meaning behind this. She doesn't want to speak ill of the dead, but it seemed the entire team, everyone involved with what when on with Octavius Thatch had blatantly failed this child. Nadji's eyes fall back on the scientist, and she curses under her breath. She stands to her feet, hands resting on Soraya's shoulders. "We're gonna get you out of here." she makes this promise, and Soraya is prone to believe her.

"He won't be able to get to you again." Nadji says this with bass attached to her tone. She wasn't sure if those natural motherly instincts people spoke so highly of, were actually kicking in. All she knew was that she'd only known Soraya for about five minutes, and she wanted to protect her. First step, ensuring the next place she laid her head was a place that was safe. Even if it was only for the night. "Hey, don't move, I'll be right back." Nadji promises, and lots of adults had made promises to Soraya, this was the first one she believed in a long time.

She nods her head slightly.

Nadji is reluctant to peel away from Soraya, but she has no choice but to reach her boss. She makes sure to look back at Soraya every few seconds to ensure she doesn't book it, and run off into the night. "Sarge." she mutters approaching the older man. "Did you get anything out of her?" he asks and Nadji nods her head firmly. "Yes, she told me her name." Nadji mutters as Sergeant Morales nods stiffly. "That's good. Anything on her parents?" he pauses briefly.

"Anywhere she could go?" Jefferson Davis-Morales asks as Nadji purses her lips. "Uh, her parents were inside during the blast. They brought her here." Nadji admits as Jefferson blinks, shock radiating in his bones.

"Are they..." he trails off as Nadji grimaces. "She's all alone now." she finishes as Jefferson sighs deeply. "What do you suppose we do?" he asks, hands falling to his hips. "We can't put her in the system, there's no telling what type of trauma she could have from being in that place." Nadji mutters, and both Jeff and Nadji turn to look at Soraya. She's watching Octavius get booked, knees bouncing nervously. "What are you thinking?" Jeff asks as Nadji inhales deep.

"Dom and I have been talking about kids." she says with a shrug. Jeff's surprise is instant and evident. "Are you sure?" he asks, "That's a lot of responsibility." he says, and his mind flits to his son.

Miles had just turned six years old back in May, and he was a handful. He also was a planned addition to the Morales home, and it wasn't like he didn't believe in Damalie and Nadji as a couple, but there was no telling what she'd been through, he didn't want them to be in over their heads. "I know, but... there's something about her." Nadji looks back at Soraya, as Jeff hums lowly. That he understood. "Of course." he agrees. "She'll be just fine with you guys." Jeff says and Nadji looks to her superior with a surprised glance. "Thanks, Sarge." she mutters.

Jefferson nods, "I'll handle getting Octavius processed, you go ahead, and get her out of here. I had a look at her medical records, her routine checkup, everything came back just fine." he says and Nadji nods. "Thank you." she says and Jefferson hums, placing a comforting hand on Nadji's shoulder before he heads towards the rest of the commotion. Nadji approaches Soraya again, and Soraya's face lights up at the woman's promise being kept.

"I didn't move, just like you said." Soraya exclaims and Nadji crouches again, so they're eye level. "How you feeling?" Nadji asks.

Soraya merely shrugs her shoulders, and Nadji understands. "That's alright if you don't know right now." she promises, and Soraya seems to relax even more. "How about this. Tonight, you━ you can stay with me. We'll make sure you get to eat, we can━ do you have a favorite song?" Nadji asks and Soraya falters for a moment. There's a beat before she nods, "Remember the Time." she says, and Nadji's lost for a moment. Soraya blanches, and wracks her brain.

She remembered how hard her mother pushed her to make an effort to connect with people once they tried to connect with her. She supposed Nadji speaking in a foreign language was her trying to connect. So she could try and speak in a way that Nadji could understand without pause. "Remember the time." she says it again, this time in English. "Michael Jackson?" Nadji asks and Soraya nods quickly. "Me too." she says with a fond smile, as Soraya's grin grows.

"We can play Remember the Time." she says and Soraya suddenly looks wary, pulling back.

"They'll take me away." she says suddenly, gaze dark. "Not if I have something to say about it." and it's childish, maybe, but Nadji extends her pinky finger. Soraya stares at it momentarily, before letting a tiny giggle slip from between her lips. She interlocks her and Nadji's pinkies, and for the first time in a long while, Hope, is a feeling Soraya's heard of, and also felt.

wrd. 1.8k

TIMELINE. captain america: civil war - no way home

DEDICATED TO. @shinsousliya ( LIYA you know why you get the first tag ) @inmyheadimobsessed , @pantherheart , @shaisvibes , @naomis-daydream , @sapphicvqmpires , , @quintessencewrites , @marsolgy ,@shurismainbxtch , @iseebeautyinwords , @oceean , @saintwrld , @vampzxi , @tishsrealwife— love y'all baddddd. you guys literally never stop supporting me and i hope you feel the love is reciprocated.

taglist. @shaisvibes , @eciipsedpoet , @imjusthere2readbruv , @jordisblogg , @pantherheart , @oceean , @pinkroses98 , @melanated-queen , @6-noir , @letitiaslabyrinth , @naomis-daydream , @cafehyunji , @tishsrealwife

requested?: noooo, i just really really love miles morales AND world building... maybe i've got a problem

( much much love for everyone that reads this... 🖤 )

#screams #morgan’s recs

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marsolgy · 2 years ago

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I Don't Play Nice

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: don't fuck fans. this was your rule. unfortunately though, the development of this rule came only after you'd done just that. and now, you cannot seem to outrun your mistake.

word count: longg <3

contains: singer!reader, obsessed!fan!riri, mean!reader, semi mean!riri, possessive!riri, jealous!riri, ooc riri, tbh riri herself is a warning, toxic dynamics, some darkish themes?, mentions of stalking, smut (18+), dom!reader, sub!riri, bratty!riri, riri is mouthy & very unhinged, oral, choking, knife play (riri loves her knife), light nipple play, mentions of blood, car sex, public sex?, strap!reader, fingering (riri receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, spanking, crying, biting, pain!kink, masturbation, strap sucking (barely), use of drugs (pills), rough sex

tags: @verachii @venusdraco @quintessencewrites @cjariot @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @marsolgy @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @shuriri4life @cafehyunji @yunhofingers @yamsthoughts @iseebeautyinwords @ihearttish @vampzxi @sapphicvqmpires

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: uhhhh, just stay with me, walk with me!!! see it the way i’m seeing it first!!! the car scene/smut is heavily inspired by ohmami by chase atlantic & maggie lindemann, i've had that song on repeat for weeks just sitting in my ideas. i would suggest listening to it to understand some of the references lol. other songs that inspired this fic: misunderstood - kodie shane, don't fight it - kodie shane, f&mu - kehlani, triggered - chase atlantic, off my head - kodie shane and then ohmami last. also this is dedicated to that anon who was screaming in my askbox for sub!riri for like a month, i saw you fren. i had too much fun writing this even though it killed my brain, i didn't even think i was gon post it fr. but anywhoo, hope y'all enjoy! mwah, mwah!!

Bright neon lights illuminated the stage, your crimson-hued silhouette resembling that of a deity from where you stood, bathing in the crowd’s continuous chant of your name. There were distinguishable cracks in the voices rushing you, throats more than likely sore from the ear-piercing screams bellowing out of them, yet still, they endured, glazed eyes stalking you in sheer adoration. Your audience clung to your every lyric, your every move down to the bounce of your sweaty curls as you pranced around the stage.

You were in your element, entrancing their minds with a power you had yet to grow used to.

In your chest, your heart gained life, its thump a deafening pound resounding in your ears; if the beating were any louder, the microphone clasped in your fist would surely pick it up. But it was yours to hear, just like the sensation of your stomach in your throat was yours to feel — the absence of your mind yours to know.

Calling your love for performing an addiction would be an understatement. You were your most authentic self on stage, every surge of adrenaline dosing the high you were jonesing for. Your confidence blossomed, not as a mirage, but as the most corporeal entity your body could conjure up, differing greatly from your branded media persona of an arrogant, entitled, asshole.

These were titles intended to condemn following the very messy breakup with your now ex-girlfriend, renowned actress Syla Slate. Gorgeous, talented, beloved by all of America; she was their sweetheart, so naturally, she won the public’s favor in the split. But your resilience had been a thing miscounted, and woefully so; you wore your scarlet letters with honor, refusing to clear up rumors surrounding your infidelity.

If there were words to be said, feelings to unpack, you would express them on the stage before the thousands of people holding your word as bond, which happened to be the exact thing you did now.

“London!” You commanded the audience with outstretched arms, your very presence eliciting a thunderous uproar. “I ain't think y'all could get any louder.”

The drove of onlookers read your disbelief as a challenge, shouts climbing the arena walls as the sharp octave punctured your eardrums.

You popped out your in-ears, unable to halt the slow smile stretching across your features. You were proud, proud that they risked the health of their voices just to hear yours. “Well alright, I guess y’all could get louder.”

They chuckled as a collective, making you follow suit, “I got one more song for you lot. That's what y’all be saying over here, right? You lot? Shidd, my southern ass wouldn't know,” They laughed again at your terrible rendition of a British accent. “Anyway, like I was saying, I got one more song, y’all cool with that?”

Just as you expected, shriek after shriek bled into one another, melding to create a boisterous sound that expanded around the O2 Arena, and you let your smile broaden as you secured your microphone back into its stand. “Ooh, y’all sound excited!”

The slowed tempo of your closing track began its waft, filling the speakers, the ears of your admirers, and your system all at once. They recognized the beat within seconds, the bass now competing with their cries.

A little bit of that arrogance you chose not to refute came peeking through as you adjusted your mic stand, “Oh y'all know this one, huh?” And they yelled again, satisfying you.

You shut your eyes, expiring a shaky breath into the grille of the mic in preparation, allowing the music to seize hold of you. Your digits trembled around the mouthpiece, and your rings scraped the surface.

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.

Instinctively, the lyrics vacated your mouth, and instinctively, your sockets began to well. You fought the tears, keeping your lids tight in protest of the tumble they threatened.

But, every time I try to up and walk away,

You come around and start to love me, love me better.

Your emotions and your wet eyes were both the epitome of irony. How many shows had you closed with this very song? Why were the waterworks threatening to spill now?

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way

Perhaps they were due to the truth stewing inside you. Tonight wasn't just the last show of your tour, it would be your last live performance for a while. You would be leaving your heart on this stage tonight. A difficult decision made, but a necessary one nonetheless. Perhaps this was your body attempting to accept this fact.

Every time I try to up and walk away,

You make a promise that you'll love me, love me better

Love me, love me better

After a moment, your eyes fluttered open and the tears swelling your orbs rained down, fogging your vision. You loosened your strangle on the mic, only now realizing how tight you held to it. As you gazed at the sea of bodies, you noted their red eyes and damp cheeks. They were screaming your song back at you, your lyrics dragging through the air.

It wasn't uncommon to witness your fans crying at your shows; your music overwhelmed them; their connection to you overwhelmed them, and the vulnerability birthed from this emotional exchange overwhelmed you.

I think I'd rather just be misunderstood,

Found out your love ain't no good.

You took in the masses, scanning their dazed smiles as you continued to sing, and that's when you saw her.

Through the mist in your eyes, she emerged out of nothingness. Clad in lace, sporting that devilish smirk that curdled your blood, wearing those dark irises brewed to the brim with mischief. You could always pick her out in any crowd, which looking back, had been the commencement of your own undoing.

Had me at hello, got me with a kiss, left me in abyss.

She swayed to the music, mouthing the words with those dangerous fucking lips. Lips that could ruin your life with a single utterance, lips that did ruin your life, your relationship.

When you finally let your eyes meet, she bared her white teeth, taunting you in that way she often did. You were seething and she knew it, her swift little wink a testament to her knowledge.

You should turn away, rip your gaze from hers, focus on the tear-stained faces in the audience. You should ignore the abrupt shift in your heart’s thump, how it rattled in rage now at an uncomfortable rate. You shouldn't allow her to get to you just by simply existing.

Don’t want my heart cold, so I took it off of my neck and my wrist.

But, in an arena sculpted to house twenty thousand, a lone Riri Williams faded your performance high just by being.

God she was maddening, and inescapable it seemed, no matter the continent you ventured to. To the rest of the world, it'd look like you were serenading her in a bubble where just the two of you existed, but you both knew better. Your anger was palpable to her alone, something she counted on; you’d played this game of hers long enough to hone certain skills, like how to bury your building fury. Your muscles tensed, your knees locked in place as you returned to choking the mic yet again, sizzling under your elevating temperature.

You sang through your irritation though, spitting your venomous lyrics directly in her face as she watched, amused. She wouldn't ruin this parting performance for you.

Found out it was mostly lust but not love.

You kept your eyes on her for the duration of the song, earning jealous stares from the other girls rallying around her, their own hopes of soliciting your gaze made obvious. They were shoving, and yelling, yanking the barricade aggressively, yet still, all your focus lay on Riri. It's what she hoped for, to ensure chaos, to make it obvious she did not need to vie for your attention, she just… simply had it.

You were strengthening her pride, the last thing you sought to do, but looking away from her proved to be impossible.

Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.

But, every time I try to up and walk away,

You come around and start to love me, love me better,

Love me, love me better…

Confetti raining from the heavens emulated her skin's shine, golden and distracting, the showers causing you to rip your stare away from her briefly. When the dust settled, she’d vanished, disappearing like she'd never existed, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself with a head shake.

“London, thank you, I love you. I’m gonna miss you!”

With that, the lights dimmed, giving you time to evacuate the stage swiftly and stealthily. Off you went, mind still muddled with the smugness she wore on her features as she gawked at you with feral eyes.

Riri being in town meant trouble, and you wanted no fucking part in whatever she had planned.

•••

After leaving the venue your entire body felt numb and fatigued, so you instructed your driver to take you straight back to your hotel. Typically, your routine concluding a performance would involve saying hello to fans who stayed behind after the show, you'd done it countless times, but not tonight. With Riri on the loose, you couldn't chance running into her anywhere, not in your current state of exhaustion. If she was to meet you this way, you were ashamed to admit that it would take zero effort on her part to coax you into doing whatever she wished.

You weren't too tired to be furious though, allowing the emotion to take precedence over your shame; you intended to use said fury to venture as far away from Riri Williams' deranged ass as you could manage.

The length of your silent car ride was spent with your head propped on the cool window, pondering her being in London. You didn't have to question her why; Riri fought valiantly to be wherever you were, but her how, that remained somewhat of a mystery.

How was it plausible for her to be in Europe right now? Her finals should be consuming the majority of her time, clashing with the schedule for the last leg of your tour. You knew this because you planned this.

For the first fifteen stops, there were no tour buses broken into, no dressing room locks tampered with, your shows remained uninterrupted, and you hadn't had to suffer through your usual internal battle when facing off with your biggest weakness. All was fine until tonight, your final concert.

How convenient, you thought, though you supposed her powers should in no way surprise you anymore. You knew the things Riri was capable of, experienced the fate of her actions.

Which was why you decided a quiet night in your hotel would be your chosen way of decompressing. When you pulled up to where you were staying, you shot your manager a text informing her you would not be attending the after-party thrown in your honor. Parties meant paparazzi and their intrusive questions about your relationship, or rather, the lack thereof. But most annoyingly, parties meant Riri, and her covert ways of always weaseling past security at events she presumed you to be at.

And you would pass on dealing with either scenario tonight.

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open on your floor and you stepped out, trotting swiftly toward your suite with a hot shower in mind, one that would rinse away your stressors.

Upon unlocking the door though, there was an immediate sense of something being off, the instinct an acquired habit after your colossal mistake of intertwining your life with Riri's. Every day since you'd been made to look over your shoulder. You stalked deeper into your room, eyes trailing to your rumpled white comforter pulled back as though someone had lain in your sheets.

Before you left that morning, you'd made your bed, another acquired habit, this one drilled into you by your grandmother growing up, and one you practiced diligently when sleeping in threads that weren't your own.

So naturally, with the sight laid out before you, your mind ran straight to the only person you knew could be responsible. The pillow on the right side of the bed was dented, and one of your silk button-ups from a previous concert sat in a pool on the carpet. You bent over to pick it up, pulling it to your nose for a deep inhale to find that you were indeed correct; the intoxicating aroma of Riri's perfume misted the fabric, forcing an unintentional smirk to crack across your lips. You battled against its appearance and lost, as usual.

She was here, in your room, in your bed, wearing your clothes. And recently too, her floral scent still lingering on your linens serving as proof. Your eyes rolled on command, but you decided to ignore the knowledge you'd just gained, mind still set on that well-earned shower. You figured you could still get to it, if Riri had still been around, her presence would've been made known the moment you stepped through the threshold.

Her absence indicated one thing though; she wanted you to come find her, but you wouldn't play into her hand. You were far too tired, and far too over her games.

You began a leisure strip, stepping out of your leather pants and dressing down to your undergarments before making your way to the bathroom. You stopped short when your toes met the tiled floor, gawking at the scene awaiting your attention.

Scarlet petals floated atop long departed waters, blanketing the bath that had now run cold. They were scattered across the floor as well, and the lasting whiff of outed lavender candles filled the air. A discarded bra hung off the side of the tub, matching panties too, and you sighed, stepping on the torn roses as you walked further into the bathroom. She sure knew how to make herself at home.

When you stood before the sink, your eyes dropped instantly to the counter, glued to the promiscuous polaroids littered across it.

Every last one of Riri, every last one taken in your bed. Your shirt draped her body in some, the golden shade making her skin pop beneath the material, mimicking the confetti from earlier. But she was fully naked in most, bare breasts and nipple jewelry exposed with her perfectly manicured fingers playing in her pretty cunt. You picked them up one by one, examining the images further.

The angles were impressive, you couldn't lie, and you appreciated her effort. Like her position in the picture your thumb grazed now; Riri was bent over, ass high in the air, her dripping folds glistening in the perfect shot.

The more time spent gaping at the photos, the stickier your underwear became, clinging to your own saturated cunt. Riri's effect on you wasn't some unknown thing, you were aware of it, she was damn sure aware of it, and these polaroids displayed below you were her version of a reminder, but you chose to stare anyway, reveling in the building throb at your center.

In the final one, her locs cloaked her shoulders, slightly shielding her nipples from your view. But your focus did not lie there, instead, the hefty-looking purple toy rammed into her tight hole stole your attention. It stretched her wide, the pleasure causing her head to sling backward, and those pretty lips to part, forming the most pitiful little 'o' you'd ever seen.

It was this shot that compelled your hand's betrayal, your shower partially forgotten as you slipped your digits beneath the waistband of your panties. One stroke of your swelling clit had your throat craning, imitating Riri's in the photo, a rugged moan slipping free as you splashed around in your wetness, eyes fluttering in response to the sensation.

Before you could really delve into pleasuring yourself though, you glanced at the mirror, reading the words written on it, words you'd somehow missed upon entry.

You rolled your eyes and freed your damp hands from your pussy, arousal on a mission to flee your body. It was replaced instead, by your previous rush of agitation as you reread her cheeky message.

“Did you miss me?” Scribbled across the glass in ruby-red lipstick, the question enclosed in her literal kisses.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

•••

In an interesting twist of events, you'd found yourself in the hotel bar nursing a rum and coke with your thumb looming over a poorly typed text message, those photos still weighing heavy on your head.

Under steaming streams meant to wash her likeness away, your pussy had a vastly different idea in mind, wrangling your fingers in on the plan against your will as you fucked yourself to the thought of her. You came harder than you had in weeks, though the orgasm did nothing to relax your spinning mind.

That's what the alcohol was for, or, what it was supposed to be for anyway.

You’d wandered downstairs in disgrace, desperately needing to drink your actions away. But rather than the escape you chased after, you were met with only more shame at the bottom of your glass. It was your single drink that prompted the idea of texting Syla. A risky move, and a cliché at that, texting your ex the second a drop of liquor kissed your lips. But, you’d done worse things, quite literally moments before drafting the unsent message you still stared at.

You supposed it was the guilt of your shower excursions truly driving your choice. She deserved an explanation for everything, a proper one, and providing that hadn't been an accessible opportunity over the past few months. She was busy on set, and you were on tour, battling the everlasting presence of the demon at fault for your parting.

Riri Williams.

You'd met her a year and a half ago, when your career was on the climb, and the line of girls willing to do whatever you wanted on the promise of a good fuck and a shot at being your next video vixen was unending. You never delivered on the latter part of that promise, but after experiencing the former, they hadn't the capability to mind much.

It was a routine you developed, sleeping with girls after every show, slutting them out, then sending them on their merry ways immediately after. So when the girl with full lips and sinful eyes caught your attention in a Chicago crowd, you knew immediately she was to be your next conquest.

She was alluring, unsettlingly so as she bopped to your singing with a smirk hanging off her blood-red lips. Danger lurked beneath that smirk, lying wait, and you took notice. It should've been your first sign to steer clear of the menacing beauty, but, you were stubborn by nature, and evidently your own worst enemy. So you stooped on the stage, extended your hand to meet hers, laced your fingers together, and sent the audience into a frenzy when you dedicated your celebratory ode to the soul foretold to doom your life.

Riri was the first of your plethora of playthings able to keep up with your stamina. She was fucking feral, and insatiable, hell-bent on riding your strap off of its harness. You weren't ashamed at the time to admit she was the best you’d ever had, and that was only after one night together.

You hadn't even questioned her appearances at multiple gigs and events afterward; you were way too gone off the sex to notice the sprouting problem. Much like performing, you were developing an addiction to her, and the heat between her thighs. Submerging your tongue deep within her wet walls provided the same jolt of adrenaline you received from being on stage, if not more. Bending her over to demolish her from the back got you higher than the chants from thousands of fans ever would.

When you finally did come up for air long enough to acknowledge your predicament, it had been far too late. You began to pull away, wanting to wean yourself off of the drug that was Riri. But she wasn't going for that.

Where you tried dousing your addiction into a dwindling flame, Riri's obsession flourished like a forest fire.

Denying her access to yourself was possibly the worst decision you could have ever made. It didn't stop her from finding your studio, damaging your car engine and conveniently being nearby to help fix it, she even went as far as getting jobs at the venues you played just so she could see you, only to quit directly after your set.

Her ways of maneuvering were mind-boggling, frustrating you to your very core because no matter the effort you poured into it, leaving Riri alone was a task you found to be formidable. She'd show up, and you'd give in. Every. Single. Time.

All of that came to a crashing halt when she obtained your home address, deciding to break in as some grand romantic gesture to “win you back.” You didn't read it that way, obviously, and you branded her a lunatic who had no part in your life. You fucked her like she was nothing and sent her packing, threatening a restraining order if she didn't leave you alone from then on.

Dating Syla forced you to make good on that threat. Your relationship was fairly new at the time, but you liked her enough to want to keep Riri miles and miles away from her. You were at a place of contentment in your career, the need to collect a harem of women washed from your system after the nightmare of your last encounter, and peace seemed like an obtainable thing, or at least some semblance of it, with Riri gone for good.

It's what she allowed you to believe anyway, until she'd apparently had enough of watching you be happy with a woman who wasn't her.

You'd received a text composed of the same words signed across the mirror upstairs.

Did you miss me?

And it wasn't much longer before Syla was on the line, screaming obscenities at you through the phone.

“Lying bitch.”

“Cheating ass hoe.”

“Fucking slut.”

“We're Done.”

She hung up without letting you get a word of defense in, leaving you more so angry than heartbroken. Because it was undeniable that the cause of Syla's unrest and the text on your screen somehow coincided. A truth confirmed when your phone started dinging off the hook.

Riri liked to take flicks.

“To commemorate the moment.” She'd say, and it had already been discovered that telling her no wasn't a thing you could do, so you always let her pull the camera out, far too turned on by the idea of your own personal collection of home movies with Riri in your phone.

In hindsight, you should've guessed they'd come back to bite you in the ass eventually, despite Riri's accomplished skill to manipulate. How she'd managed to convince you the tapes existed in your phone alone was embarrassingly beyond you.

Because there they all were, coming through one by one as you sat on the edge of your bed, dumbfounded.

Syla had forwarded every piece of incriminating evidence that backed up her accusations to you. There were dozens of photos, dozens of videos, all of you and Riri over the year she spent in and out of your sheets. None of them recent, but that ceased to matter. Your girlfriend had seen images of your strap down Riri's throat, watched videos of her back arching impressively for you. And your words; her ears were exposed to the vulgar phrases you hissed as you fucked Riri senseless, phrases you'd never once mouthed to her in the bedroom.

Which was why your conscience scolded you so, because the hurt dampening her words that day was unmistakable for anything else. Yet, you ignored that fact in the shower, huffing Riri's name as you permitted a climax brought on by her image to rattle your bones.

You sighed, finally hitting send on the message just as the bartender approached you, “Oof, you look like you could use another one of those. My shift ends soon, but I could make you another if you'd like.”

Her name tag read Esperanza. Pretty, you thought, a pretty name for a pretty girl. Almost pretty enough to tempt a yes out of you, “Could you ask me again, preferably in an accent that isn't as attractive as yours so I can say no? Because I really, really wanna say no.”

She laughed when you groaned in frustration, rewarding you with a blinding smile that unexpectedly heated your cheeks, “I mean I could, my Swedish accent is pretty terrible, that might work. But I won't, seeing as it's in the job description to seduce guests into buying more alcohol with my voice.”

“Is it?” You questioned with a small smirk.

“Yeah. Especially the pretty American ones like yourself.”

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to retort with something equally as flirtatious, but then your phone buzzed in your palm, capturing your attention as your eyes fell to the device in hopes of seeing Syla's name lighting the screen, only to be met with disappointment.

You wanna fuck that bitch or something?

The number unknown, but the sender was far from.

“Would you excuse me?” You spoke finally and Esperanza nodded, returning to her business of cleaning the counter down.

You stood up from the stool with darting eyes, scanning the bar for any signs of her presence but to no avail. When your phone rang, you answered it without a second thought.

“Where are you?”

Soon, Riri’s permanently teasing voice chimed in your ears, “Hi baby, you miss me?”

She giggled, and you imagined her somewhere twirling her hair around her finger, smiling innocently to herself.

You huffed into the mic, already beyond irritated with her antics, “Riri, where are you?”

“Ugh, baby, why you always so hostile?”

“I told you to stop fucking calling me that.”

“Don't be mean to me. I'm sensitive, baby.” You could hear the frown in her voice, the way her tone took a dive indicating she'd been truly hurt by your words, which only annoyed you more.

“No, you're fucking crazy.” She paused, just like you'd anticipated, and you listened for her intake of breath, smirking when the faint sound of her gasp blessed you. You knew her eye twitched like it always did, you just wished you had the pleasure of witnessing it for yourself.

“I don't like that word.” Her declaration blew through the speaker cold as ice.

You dragged your hand over your face, losing the patience you barely had to begin with. “Riri, what do you want?”

“Did you see my pictures, baby?” Just like that, she did away with the chill lacing her voice, returning it to its usual chipper pitch. “Did you like them? I figured you'd need something to… relax you after your big performance. You did so well by the way, I’m proud of you.”

The thrill that shot through you from her praise would have to go ignored, because you weren't trying to deal with any of your conflicting emotions for the psychotic girl on the other end of the call. “What do you want from me?”

“You and Esperanza looked cozy flirting at the bar. Can't say I wasn't jealous, you never talk to me like that. But if you like her, I could help get y’all together, give you a helping hand and shit. Now that you single.” She giggled slightly after finishing her last sentence.

You turned, eyeing the bar once again. It was mostly empty, save for the three girls in a corner booth, the security guard posted at the door, and yourself. Esperanza had left it seemed, clocking out like she promised, leaving you alone with the ghost of Riri on your line.

You rolled your eyes, remembering how you still suffered the ramifications from the last time she felt inclined to offer a helping hand, “Your crazy ass blew up my fucking relationship and you think I want your help?”

She remained silent for a lengthy amount of time, almost tricking you into believing the line went dead. It wasn't until you were lowering the phone from your ear that she cleared her throat, and you braced yourself for impact. “She could never satisfy you and you fucking know it. You ain't even like her for real, you just wanted a new bitch laid up under you after I stopped giving you access to this pussy baby.”

If the word delusional existed as a person, her name would be Riri Williams.

“You're fucking insane do you know that? Like something is genuinely wrong with you if you think–”

Riri cut you off, “Let's not forget I wasn't alone in our little movies baby. You can't blame your fuck ass relationship failing all on me, because if I remember correctly, you was the one holding the camera while you was blowing my shit, wasn't you?”

Your throat dried, your vision reddened, and your phone shook inside your fist. You couldn't speak because there were no words to be said. “Ri–”

“You know what? I change my mind, I won't help you with Esperanza after all. I like having you to myself anyway. You still want me, and with ole girl out the picture, we can go back to how we used to be.”

“Tell me where the fuck you are Riri.” There was a thud on her end, one that you also heard inside the bar. She was definitely somewhere close.

She tsked, “Nuh-uh baby, you gotta come find me. I got a surprise for you.”

And she hung up the phone, the beep forcing an exasperated sigh from your lips as you stood hopeless in the middle of the bar.

•••

For as long as you’d known Riri, she'd always been obsessed with the never-ending game of hide and seek she trapped you in, forcing the role of being it on you every time. She wanted you scouring the hotel for her while she waited, sitting pretty in whatever cranny she'd made herself comfortable in. She wanted you to do what you always did when you inevitably smoked her out of hiding: punish her for her bad behavior.

Fuck what she wanted.

You wouldn't give in, not this time, and what better way to ensure this case than leaving the hotel entirely? It was late, the night breeze dry as the valet pulled your brand new Ferrari GTC4Lusso around the front, the street lights reflecting off its bold cherry tint. A destination was the furthest thing from your mind when you climbed inside the car, but truthfully, you didn't require one. Driving was merely a ploy to put some distance between you and Riri.

The car’s rumble when you pulled off wasn't one loud enough to drown out your screaming thoughts, much to your dismay. You’d hoped, at the very least, that the revving engine, and the openness of the endless motorway you were now zipping down recklessly, would be enough to dampen your anger. But alas, vexation was an ever-present emotion whenever you found yourself in proximity to her, or rather, when she forced proximity between the pair of you, and it didn't emerge for the reasons you wished it did.

Your adrenaline was rocketing, heart rate spiking in tandem with the numbers on the dash as your toes pushed into the pedal, but despite all this, your sour mood remained. Because you could not discredit Riri's infuriating claim; you wanted her still. You'd endured months without her, abiding by the useless lies that failed to convince you otherwise. That lust for her taste lingered, that lust for her feel, all of it.

Lust that Syla could never satiate, and you often got the sense she wasn't heedless to that truth.

“Fuck!” You cursed aloud, eyes flickering to your dinging phone screen colored in her text messages.

You almost reached for the device resting in the mount, crippling guilt once again driving your decision-making. But you reminded yourself you were behind the wheel, just as an identifiable sensation against your bobbing larynx sent a chilling shiver down your spine, and molded you still in your seat. Briefly, cautiously, you allowed your eyes to leave the road, causing the car to swerve unintentionally into another lane when your gaze became acquainted with the object pinning you down. Beautiful, black, and blinding; the razor-edged blade tacked to your flesh was accompanied by the sweetest pain, and a deeply sultry voice. “We don't text and drive, baby. Leave the bitch on delivered.”

When she spoke, it irritatingly settled your breathing, but not enough to assist you in regaining control of the steering wheel clutched in your fists. There were other cars on the road honking at your continued shifting, but what could you really do when there was an insane girl holding a knife to your throat as you drove? “Riri...”

“I told you to come find me and you didn't.” She spat harshly. Just your fucking luck, she was upset.

“Riri, Ima crash this fucking car if you don't move that shit from my throat.”

She ignored you of course, opting to press the knife in harder. If it were her goal, she could break through skin, the choking pressure indicative of the power she wielded, and in any other circumstance you'd probably be enjoying her lethal way of incapacitating you. “Why didn't you come find me? I was waiting for you.”

“I'm not finna play this game with your psychotic ass tonight Riri. I said fucking move that shit.”

Once again, your cry fell on deaf ears. She kept her hand looped around the driver's seat, knife firm in her fingers as she tightened her grip on the decorative, golden handle.

You listened to her airy exhale, flinched beneath its warmth when it plowed into your expecting cheek, and it was then that you allowed your glare to capture hers in the rearview mirror. Her lips, pouty and red-stained, twitched at the corners, morphing into a foreboding smirk that traveled straight up to her smoky eyes. Eyes that were deep, eyes that were dark, and exceedingly dangerous; like a void you were destined to forever fall victim to.

Riri launched her body forward, nibbling on your bare earlobe. “You're being mean again baby. Real mean for somebody with a knife pressed to they throat right now.”

The sting from the blade began to heighten, building into a burn so glorious, it shot through your limbs, and you found yourself inadvertently tilting your head backward to relish in the hurt.

“I could slit your fucking throat right now and you wouldn't even be quick enough to stop me.”

Words of your own were difficult to come by, you were entirely consumed with combatting the violent throb increasing in your pants, all amidst your efforts to keep you both alive in the drifting Ferrari, but it seemed your soul was the only one inside the car yearning to live another day. “Ri–”

“Just kidding!” The dagger levitated, undoing its imprint in your flesh, and you coughed, one hand instantly flying up to your bruised throat while the other remained on the wheel, regaining full control of the vehicle.

She planted a long, sloppy kiss on your cheek before climbing over into the passenger seat, giggling all the while.

“Jesus fucking Christ Riri, what the actual fuck?!” You spared her a glance, of course she was grinning.

“Were you scared for your life, baby?” She giggled again, biting her lip as she tried reaching for your phone, but you smacked her hand away before she could get to it. “Rude!”

You sighed, “How the hell did you get in here, Riri?”

“Mmm, semantics.” She huffed, seemingly bored.

You relaxed, eyes fixed back on the road now that you were somewhat confident Riri wouldn't be slicing you open. Your muscles loosened and you fell into a leisure position, tossing an irritated scowl her way. “What are you doing in London? You should be at school. Don't you have finals and shit?”

“Aww, look at you all concerned about my studies. You're so cute, baby.” You tried your hardest not to cringe at the pet name and the heat it churned inside your abdomen. “But, obviously I had to see you. You all single now, your tour just ended, and you announced that hiatus, I didn't know when I'd get the chance again. Aren't you happy I'm here?”

“Not at all.”

She frowned, “That's not funny.”

“I wasn't tryna be fucking funny, you shouldn't be here.”

You hadn't needed to see her face to know a smirk played in her features. “You didn't think that lil restraining order was gon stretch all the way across the pond did you? They don't got jurisdiction over me out here baby. I can be as close to you as I want.”

You groaned inwardly, unaware of who you were truly annoyed with; Riri and her actions, or yourself for being so damn turned on listening to her insane logic. She was correct, because you knew that her stunt with Syla wasn't a one-off, and you'd eventually be seeing her again.

Riri was immensely smart, so it made sense that she waited until you were no longer on American soil to corner you, and making you think you'd finally escaped her by being in Europe had to certainly be part of her plan as well. Fuck, why was her conniving nature so damn sexy?

“How did you get in my car?” You asked again.

“I'm not that big, and you should know by now that I'm very…” Riri paused, deliberating on the word she wished to use. “Efficient, when it comes to getting into places I probably shouldn't be in.”

“Yeah, cause you're crazy.”

You could see Riri's body turning towards you in your peripheral, she bent her knees in the seat, eyes locked on your form as she skillfully maneuvered her knife in between her digits. “You like your tongue, baby?”

“What?”

She sneered, “Your tongue. Do you like it?”

“The fuck are–”

“Cause I like your tongue. When it's inside me, when it's rolling over my clit. Yeah, I actually kinda love your tongue, and I really, really want you to keep it.” She surged forward with a quickness, almost diving the point of her ebony dagger through your jugular. “So Ima suggest you stop fucking calling me that shit, I'd hate to have to cut it out.”

All you could do was roll your eyes. “Dramatic ass.”

“And you love it.” She plopped back into the seat with a satisfied smile, extending her legs so they now rested in your lap, to which you did not protest.

Riri giggled, reaching into the bosom of her dress to retrieve a small, clear baggie harboring those circular blue pills that she loved so much. Her wet tongue awaited the tablet's arrival, extending out of her mouth in preparation for its landing. And you turned, one hand on the wheel as you watched a gradual cerulean bleed cover her tastebuds. “Want one?”

“No.” All your attention shifted back to the road and your lack of destination. You'd left the hotel to get away from Riri, yet here you were, essentially taking a fucking joyride with her after she broke into your brand-new car.

“Ugh, lame.” She stashed the pills back inside her titties, once again reaching for your phone, and this time you didn't stop her. “Can I put my song on?”

Your brow quirked, “Your song?”

Riri nodded, “Yes, my song. The song you wrote for me!”

“You think I give enough of a fuck about your deranged ass to write a song about you?” You did, write a song about her that was, a couple in fact. All of them about your reprehensible escapades with the groupie who wouldn't leave you alone, the groupie who you couldn't leave alone.

Your entanglement with Riri had managed to bypass public perception, the only thing you executed correctly when it came to her, so her name had never been in the running when the speculations of who your last album could've been about arose. You knew she'd figure it out though, because of course she would.

She kicked your thigh, causing you to smack her ankle in retaliation. “You do. I'm your muse.”

You bellowed a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "My muse? Oh, you're very unwell, Riri." She pointed the blade your way as a warning, causing you to grin triumphantly. "And which song you think I wrote about you?”

“Don't play dumb baby, you can't pull that shit off.” Riri placed your phone back into its holder, her lips curling into a bashful smile when your voice drifted from the speakers, and her song coasted the car's air.

We done played all these games,

Only now I can't wait, I want you now, I can't wait, oh yeah.

The track she chose had indeed been one she inspired. It was also one you avoided entirely, purposefully leaving it off the set list for all of your shows. But again, here you were, subjected to listening to Riri's painfully off-key rendition of the lyrics that symbolized the relationship you two shared.

But she just wanna off my head, I just want the neck instead.

She just wanna fight in bed, I wanna get high instead, oh yeah.

“You think this is about you?” You teased, only seeking to rile her up. “This could be about any of the other girls I done fucked.”

“You know I can't leavе you alone? You know I could never tell you no? Hmm, definitely sound like this is about me. Cause I know you wasn't running back to none of them other hoes like you was running back to me, let's be for real.” She continued to sing, spreading her legs in the process.

It was muscle memory that had your hand descending to her ankle perched in your lap, making you squeeze it before you began to massage it in the way only you knew she liked. And the smile that you failed to disguise when she whimpered was one of instinct, not intention.

“How many girls have you f-fucked on tour, baby?” The question straggled out of her mouth behind a breathy moan.

You hadn't wanted to award her inquiry with any sort of answer, largely in part due to the answer being one that would please her, so you elected to lie.

“A few.” You retorted with a sanguine smirk you deemed sharper than the blade she flaunted, but when your gaze panned her way, the sight awaiting you dulled your smile into a flaccid frown.

She was bunching her dress, thumbing the fabric of her underwear once the hem circled her waist. “Mmm, that's a l-lie.”

Riri made you weak, downright helpless and impotent whenever her authentic huffs of pleasure gained volume. So it wasn't the least bit surprising when her whines from beside you nabbed your attention from the freeway, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything apart from the wet sounds emitted by her dripping center.

Your eyes drifted, and you stifled a moan of your own when you realized she'd graduated from touching herself with her fingers. Riri had the blade locked in her fist, dragging the handle up, down, and around her throbbing clit above her panties.

“Riri, what are you doing?” You bit your lip, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

She slipped her sticky panties to the side, finally bridging the gap keeping the hilt of the knife apart from her eager cunt. “If you was fucking bitches I would know. Sticking to your rule I see.” You watched the tip of the handle orbit her hole, just before it slowly sank in, getting swallowed by her grip all the way up to the bolster. “F-Fuck baby, I guess this p-pussy really changed your life, huh?”

“I don't want your fucking pussy juice all over my seat. This car is new.” Your scolding tone was feigned, only in an attempt to express a fragment of restraint, but truthfully, every ounce of it slipped swiftly away from you the second you bore witness to that molly hitting her tongue.

You weren't even sure if you were driving on the right side of the road, far too fixated on keeping your composure as your fibers mastered the art of persuasion. They insisted you pull over and allow your fingers to replace the knife, have your tongue relieve the shiny gold hook of its lewd duty of fucking Riri's cunt.

She was thrashing, pumping the back end of the blade in and out, in and out as her squishy pussy sang to you. “Am I the f-first g-girl you let r-ride in your new 'Rari, baby? Ooh, I feel so special.”

“I'm not letting you, your crazy ass broke in. And I mean it, close your damn legs.”

You did the only thing you could think of to get her to stop: you pushed the pedal to the floor, the speed sucking you into the seat as the car surged forward. But beside you, Riri remained a moaning, giggling mess. It was like your accelerated driving, and your admonishments motivated her to fuck her cunt faster as she slicked the knife, making herself wetter. “Hear h-how wet this pussy is for you b-baby? You haven't even t-touched me and I'm fucking drenched. Oh, oh! Shit!”

“Do not fucking come on my seat Riri.”

“Or what? You gonna p-punish me?” She used her free hand to rub coaxing circles into her twitching clit, biting down on her lip as the tool dove deeper into her stretched hole, prodding her sensitive spot just right. “Fuck! It f-feels so good! I'm close!"

You took your eyes off the road, watching her lids droop from the pleasure building deep within, tuning in to the cry clamoring from her tightening stomach.

“Don't.” But you knew she would.

“I can't baby. I-I… Oh fuck!” She groaned, long and breathy, her back arching inward, chest bouncing rapidly from the build-up. Riri screeched the second her orgasm knocked her down, and it was the sexiest sound you'd ever heard. Droves of bliss pillaged her frail body, and she shook violently next to you. “I'm s-sorry... I-I c-couldn't.”

“It's okay.” You were soothing her as she declined from her climax.

The handle glided out of her used pussy, dragging out strings of her oozing cum with it, and the hilt glistened brighter than it did before her hole consumed it. Your quick glances from the knife to the road, from the road to Riri’s seeping cunt weren't enough, you needed to taste her, and it was apparent that she read your mind. “Wanna taste?”

You tried for reluctance, at least your brain did, your body not so much. A steady nod was your only offer, eyes never leaving the road ahead, and you could sense Riri’s grin after receiving your answer. She was excited, pleased, surprised that you gave into her off the first ask, usually she'd have to work harder to earn your compliance. She was on her knees seconds later, left hand propping her up on the center armrest while her right carried the glimmering dagger to your mouth.

She smeared the tip across your full lips, her slickness coating them like gloss, and out came your tongue, drinking in her juices like a parched animal. As always, Riri's cum tasted fucking fantastic, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of moaning. “You like?”

You remained silent, and she smirked, “You love.” She beamed, tapping your mouth, “Open wide baby.”

She was taunting you, this you knew. You were also aware that you were on the verge of doing exactly as she requested without a lick of shame, and you glared at her, unimpressed.

“Please? For me?” She whined.

You couldn't resist her pout, you couldn't resist her, not anymore. So immediately, you promptly parted your lips, offering the stem of the dagger a seat on your watering tongue, your saliva mingling with Riri's sweet, sweet nectar.

This time you did moan, and loud too, fueling her fire just like she wanted, just like you always did. You twirled your tongue around it, sucking and licking every last drop of her creamy cum off the knife handle.

“Backseat. Now.” The only words out of your mouth when she pulled the hilt free, and she clapped, climbing over you as you smacked her ass before pulling the car over on the side of the highway.

•••

“Bend over.” You tried tearing your lips from hers as you spoke, but Riri snagged your bottom lip between her teeth, biting fiercely while her cunt brushed your lap. She kept her eyes on yours, smirking, wanting you to behold the peril swallowing her pupils when she slipped the point of her blackened blade between the buttons of your shirt. She dragged it down, the sharp knife popping each one clean off until your top flew open under her swift slicing.

Your own eyes twinkled encouragingly; you were far too into this; you always enjoyed those seldom moments when you permitted Riri's belief that she held the upper hand.

The tip of her pointed dagger grazed the valley of your unbound breasts, their exposure earning her marvel as she used the bountiful view to aid her desperate humps against your thigh. And you could hear her pussy, you could feel the sticky puddle created by streaks of her first climax seeping through her thin underwear. Her moans were so broken and docile, it almost seemed criminal to make her stop, but you needed her splayed across you.

“You gon make me say it again, mami? You know how I like you.”

With fogged-out eyes, she nodded, stealing one more kiss and shoving the knife into your palm before stretching her small body across the extended center column. Her plump ass elevated to eye level, and you sat back to enjoy the view presented to you.

Lace complimented her skin's deepness far too well. The material embraced her curves, molding to her hips like a second skin, and you nearly let guilt get the better of you for the actions that followed. Your movement was one of speedy precision as you slashed through the bottom half of Riri's dress with the blade she awarded to you, making her gasp.

“This good baby? This how you wanted me?” She backed up a little, seeking some sort of comfort and it clicked then, that this position must be an awkward one for her with the armrest slanting her, and jabbing right into her abdomen.

You bit your swollen lip, moaning from the sweet pain left behind by Riri’s incisors. “Mhmm,” The blade's handle trailed her sticky crotch, “Just like this mami.”

In seconds, you were cutting her cunt free from her messy underwear, kneading and jiggling her exposed ass cheeks in your hot hands. But your pace wasn't up to her liking, and Riri never shied away from voicing her opinion. “You moving too fucking slow. If you gon hi–”

Before her complaint could force its end out of her mouth your palm collided with the meat of her ass, hitting her with unruly force. Her body jerked on top of you, and she yelped, the fragile screech music to your ears. “What you was saying, mami?”

Riri groaned under the rush of pain, then exhaled, and you took this as your opportunity to slap her behind again.

As you ran your hand along her bare skin, you absorbed the heat drummed up from your two hits alone, chuckling. You skimmed the area with your nails, growing more excited watching her twitch. You'd almost forgotten how hopelessly responsive her body was to your touch, even under the faintest brush of it.

“You're a fucking problem.” You slammed an open palm up against her right cheek, smiling at the ripples the collision created in her skin. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

Of course she knew how her actions dictated your decisions, how her guise plagued every divot in your brain. Riri understood her power over you, and it was this very knowledge that had you spanking her again, and again, and again.

“H-Harder!”

Her ass was hot, sore, and damn near swollen. Her tears were heavy streams rolling from her eyes and into her gaping mouth, yet still, she desired more. A resilient little thing she was; you admired her moxie. With every lash, her sopping pussy called on your digits, needing them to plug the dribbling hole expanding the wet patch already existing on your thigh.

“You like that shit don't you? Being in pain?” Your handprint painted her butt cheek, pulling a guttural scream from her throat. “That scream wasn't an answer to my question mami.”

She was full-on bawling, blubbering in your lap when your fingers forced their way inside her cunt unexpectedly, and she lurched.

She sniffled. “Yes! I l-like it!”

“Then shut the fuck up and stop fucking crying.” You smacked her tired ass for the umpteenth time, sliding your fingers through her soaked folds, coating them with all the slick you could collect before ramming them back within her welcoming walls. “You asked for this shit, and you gon take it like the slut you are.”

“Y-You hit like a b-bitch.”

You spanked her once, twice, three times, four times, five; each hit reprimanded her unacceptable behavior as she sobbed with the brown seat leather aching between her shaking fingers.

She wiggled in your grip, wanting desperately to escape the hurtful blows that just kept coming, smack after smack after smack echoing throughout the car. “Not you tryna run Ri, thought I hit like a bitch. Nah, bring that ass back here.” You laughed.

“Please!” Each of her screams made you fuck her pussy faster, encouraged you to slap her ass harder just to revel in her burning skin as Riri cried herself to the edge of her second orgasm.

You pushed up against her nerves, thumb swatting brashly against her swollen clit. “You squeezing my fingers real tight mami, that must mean you finna come.”

“I'm, I'm…” Riri kicked her feet, whining around the deepness of your digits. When she glanced back at you your heart softened just a little. Her big brown eyes were blown the fuck out, leaking fat tears and mascara that seemed never-ending, and she chewed on her lip hoping the action would alleviate some of the hurt. “C-Com…”

Your thrusts slowed, and your hits morphed into a massage as you groped her cheeks tenderly. “Yeah, give it to me, come on my fingers, come all over them.”

“Ooh, baby you f-fucking me s-so good! I’m coming for you!”

She poked her ass out, twisting from side to side as she permitted spasming shocks of pleasure to surge throughout her body at a rapid pace, still backing up into your digits that had yet to depart her hole. “That's it, fuck yourself on my fingers Ri. Show me you can be a good girl, fuck yourself through it.”

It was a difficult thing you’d tasked her with, but luckily for her, Riri thrived off hardship. When the aftershocks subsided, her movements halted and she sighed, moaning low in her throat at the gentle pace in which you extracted your digits from inside her.

“Sit up and come taste it.” You commanded, rolling your eyes when she looked back at you weakly.

With your hand inching toward the hair hanging over her sweaty back, you looped the ends in your fist, yanking her body up until she shifted, then you turned her so her sore ass could plummet right onto the slim storage compartment she was just bent over. “I said sit up.”

Her naked cheeks being forced against the car’s leather prematurely earned you a painful cry. But you didn't care, the reaction only adding to your arousal. You used her parted, wincing lips as an opportunity to stuff her swollen mouth full of your cum covered fingertips, and she gagged from the intrusion before beginning a light suckle. “That's my good girl. Suck them clean for me. You like how you taste?”

“Mhmm.” She hummed around the digits you thrusted in and out of her mouth.

“I know, mami.” You moaned, feeling your clit jump in your pants. “Open your legs, lemme taste that pussy I just made come.”

Riri giggled, separating her sticky legs to grant your salivating tongue entrance. They made a loud squish when she spread them apart, and you could hardly contain your grunt when presented with her messy, bare, pussy lips; your drug of choice. Her cunt's shine danced like diamonds, entrancing you with a beaming glow that could not go ignored. “Shit…”

You reached out for the lever on the driver's side that pushed the seat forward, never once denying yourself face time with her spilling sex. And then you were dropping to your knees, licking your lips before burrowing open-mouth kisses into her sprawled, wet thigh.

Easing her into it failed to make your list of priorities, you wanted her wriggling, squirming with her legs trembling around your face as you slurped her folds. You were also on a mission to feed the starvation gnawing at your gut; it'd been too long since you last feasted on her, and you didn't plan on letting a single drop go to waste.

Your tongue nudged her pulsing clit, licking firmly before you wrapped your thirsty lips well around it, and Riri screeched. “W-Wait baby, wait… Ooh shit.”

And so it began, her pleas for a pause, for you to slow down and allow her to regain her strength. But sadly, her wants were of no importance to you. You trudged on, running your famished tongue around her sweet hole before slipping it all the way in. Riri tapped your head aggressively when you began a slow thrust through her aching walls, and you laughed when your eyes drifted up to see her scrunched face.

“Fuck! Oh.. w-wait..”

“What I'm waiting for Ri? You getting soft on me?”

It was apparent that your comment struck the nerve you intended it to, her huff of annoyance lighting a smile across your face. You refused to let up, licking and sucking the length of her leaking core as she jerked in between broken grumbles. “Ain't nobody s-soft. Eat it r-right and I won't have no c-complaints. Fuck!”

You simply shook your head before diving back into her pussy, rolling her clit in your tongue once more. She whined, the drugs in her system clearly heightening her stimulation, but she took it like a champ, moaning your name breathlessly from above you with her head thrown back.

Riri fisted your curls as you sucked her watering cunt, whimpering where she sat, hips rolling hard into your already stuffed mouth. “Yes! Yes! Just like that!”

“Fuck, I missed this pussy so much.”

“Yeah?” She huffed, tugging your hair to detach you from her center so your stares would align.

Wild eyes scanned your drenched face over, then she tilted your chin, boring straight through your soul with her hopeful gaze. “You missed me?”

You knew what she wanted, and you were fully prepared to give it to her.

“Yes.” Your answer elated her. It didn't matter that in your mind you were admitting to missing her cunt and the way it drooled cum right onto your accepting tongue, to Riri you were confessing to something far more intimate; to Riri you were confessing that you missed her.

The one word, the yes, was enough to bring her to the brink of her third orgasm. But she wouldn't win that easily. You stopped then, just as she was about to fall over the edge, and you let her saturated labia fall freely from your lips before smirking up at her through plotting pupils.

“The fuck are you doing? I was about to come!”

“Ion know, it don't seem like you want it enough.” You teased, making her whine in annoyance. “Need you to beg.”

You'd learned fairly early on that Riri Williams was not a girl easily deterred. With your refusal to allow her release, the job fell on her to complete. Carefully, Riri began to drag her puffy pussy along the lid of the storage compartment she was perched on, hissing in both pain and pleasure as she attempted to make herself come.

You watched her, forever wonder-strickenn by her fortitude. You should stop her, she’d already undergone one orgasm that didn't come from your hands or mouth, and you didn't want that happening again, but the image of her working through the pain brought on by her sore ass cheeks creating friction against the leather was a sight to behold.

“I’m so c-close! Please can I come?!” Her hands found her erect nipples, the standing nubs threatening to rip their way out of her dress. “Please, let me come!”

Her pussy sloshed against the column, her hip jolts splashing her wetness everywhere. Granting her permission would be easy, considering how badly you wanted to enclose her clit in between your lips again, have her juices course your veins like your own personal brand of ecstasy as she convulsed from the shock waves you caused to ripple throughout her body. But you weren't looking for easy, not tonight, not after her behavior.

Your fingers located her waist, holding her still and making her groan in frustration when your strength prohibited her humping. “Mm, do you deserve it?”

“Yes I fucking deserve it!” She yelled, irritated, “Let me fucking come oh my god!”

“That mouth mami. How you gon talk to me like that and think Ima let you come? Hmm?” You parted her thighs, nuzzling your face back into the sweaty space before planting a kiss on her hot skin. “Say you're sorry.”

“No!”

You'd predicted her protest, and you took it as your opening to sink your teeth into her pretty waist. You didn't stop amidst her wails, instead, you dove deeper, biting her flesh with more ferocity. “Say you're sorry Ri.”

Still, she shook her head, standing her ground.

Fuck, you loved how stubborn she was, but you'd never admit that out loud. Luck had been on her side it seemed, because she gave in merely seconds ahead of you puncturing skin, weeping through her words. “I'm s-sorry! I'm s-sorry, baby pl-ease let me come!”

Truthfully you were in awe of how long she held out, surprised by even your own restraint with her pussy lips shoved directly in your face. You were spitting on her bud soon after, suckling her bundle of nerves harshly as you hummed into her quivering sex. “Come in my mouth mami.”

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Within seconds of your go-ahead, Riri was gushing onto your face, your seats, squirting on everything in her vicinity with a scream so powerful, the hairs on your neck rose to attention.

“Shit Ri, you made a mess all over my fucking seats. I told you this car is new.”

She awarded you a weak chuckle, on the edge of collapse before you steadied her frail body. “You think I give a damn, baby? You can clean all that shit up with your mouth if you so bothered.”

Her smirk was a thing contrived of pure, unbridled deception, and she sported the smoky eyes to match. These were reasons to incite terror, but for you, they only bustled your intrigue.

•••

The blade danced beneath the strap of Riri's dress, leisurely cutting her shoulder free and you watched from in front of her as the frayed fabric fell gracefully away from her skin. “You putting a lot of power in my hands right now Ri.”

“Mhmm. What you gon do with it baby?”

You moved to the other, repeating your destructive motion before finally positioning the gold-trimmed point at her clavicle, gliding the jagged dagger down her chest. Thread after thread bursted under your descent, doing away with everything left of her torn gown, exposing more of Riri's tender flesh.

Riri watched, bewitched by the way you skillfully maneuvered the blade she'd entrusted to you. “You so fucking pretty mami.”

Words that made her brazen, words that bestowed upon you the power to control her body without the need of a weapon. But you used it still, grazing the edge up her bare stomach as she twitched beneath its scrapes. You stopped once you met her bra, slicing it clean down the middle with your lust-filled eyes glued to hers. Riri gasped, startled by your abruptness and the twinge of danger you knew she caught swimming in your irises when her boobs bounced free, and the small baggie of pills fell from its warm hiding spot.

“You sure you don't want one?” She waved it in your face, and you began to contemplate her question. Riri was no stranger to a pill or two, so her enthusiasm hadn't been a surprise. She always offered, and you always declined, more than content with the natural high you floated on from merely making her come undone for you.

Tonight though, something about the tension building in the car was about to coerce a yes right on out of you. But, something else thieved your attention just as you were about to offer her an answer.

Letters. A word. A name. Your name.

Inscribed into her flesh, squarely below her left breast sitting gorgeously in your face, was a tattoo illustrating your name. You blinked, believing you'd somehow imagined the ink and its placement. Unconsciously, you hoisted the knife up toward the tattoo, running the dagger along each and every letter in amazement.

“Do you like it, baby?” Meek words leaving generally poised lips.

Riri had marked herself in your name, in you. And you decided you did indeed like it, you loved knowing that no matter where she ventured, no matter whose fingers wandered her skin, your claim on her would still exist. Permanently. “This my surprise? Cause yeah, I do like it mami.”

You let your lips replace the blade, kissing the tattoo that exemplified your ownership of her body as she giggled from the heat your breath blew onto her.

“Not your main surprise, but I guess it's a s-surprise.”

Soon your lips were latched to her poking nipple, your tongue swirling and tugging on it. She was moaning, a sound that intensified when she felt the sharp jab of the weapon you wielded circle her other bejeweled nub. “Shit… that hurts so damn good baby. Keep it right there.”

Her whimpers traveled directly to your sopping pussy still locked away in your pants. You were swimming in your own wetness, floating atop a wave that threatened to crash down on you the longer you dragged the same knife she held to the column of your throat around her responsive tits. “Yeah? It hurts?”

“L-Love when you make me hurt baby.”

After letting go of her spit-covered nipple, you flattened the sharp tool against it, watching her hiss under the cool contact. You scuffed the steel bar poking through her pebbled nipple with the knife, humming on key with the scraping sound of metal on metal. “I can keep hurting you, or you can give me that surprise I know you want me to have so bad.”

You aligned the pretty dagger with her sweaty neck, and she grinned menacingly. Before the chance to process her guile even arose, Riri regained control of the knife, using it to assist her in widening your mouth. She wiped the back against your tongue, swiping it down the length of your wet muscle. “Your surprise is up next, in the meantime I need you to stick this tongue out for me before I cut it clean off like I promised.”

“You're cute.” You laughed, but you did as she said. Your tongue extended out, and Riri leaned forward, plopping one of her little happy pills directly in the center, waiting for you to swallow it.

“Extraordinary.” She smirked. And then her lips were on yours, kissing you roughly as she sat her naked form in your lap.

•••

Riri attacked your lips with gusto, kissing you like the air you expelled into her was the very breath she desired for survival, and every one of your pecks matched her intensity. “Baby, lemme make you feel good.”

She broke the kiss slowly, tentative in her release of your hot, wanting mouth. But you refused to let her go, holding and compressing her throat amidst her hand fumbling around on the floor. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm…” A second attempt to pull away made you curious as to what she could be searching for. Usually, her main method of action would be to eat you out until your quaking knees detained her head in their hold, and even then she'd still refuse to let up. But that didn't seem to be her intention here.

You groped her boobs, trying your hardest to pinch one of her sparkly nipples, but yet another threat was tossed your way. This time it was your fingers in jeopardy of severance, so you let her go with a deep chuckle. She leaned to the side, pulling her backpack free from under the front seat and you looked at her inquisitively.

Riri upheld her silence, unzipping the bag from her perched position in your lap.

“What–”

Your question hadn't the chance to escape your lips, because soon the lavender glint of the sizable toy Riri used in the photos dispersed across your bathroom counter reflected in your curious eyes. “Tada!”

“Riri what is that?”

“Um, the fuck does it look like?” She tossed you the harness, worming out of your lap and onto the floor in between the driver's seat and the one you sat in now. Your eyes raked the dildo, examining its shape and the intricacies put into its creation. It looked more… advanced than the ones you were used to, an observation that awakened your fascination.

Riri on the other hand, appeared beyond excited. She fumbled with your belt impatiently before deciding to hack at it with her sharp tool. She popped your button open, and mechanically, your hips levitated so she could guide your bottoms down your legs.

“You this wet and you was talm bout some you not happy to see me. Just be lying for no reason baby.” She laughed, tracing a finger over your pulsating clit and you sighed. With all the straining, and all the buildup you'd been suffering through, that lone stroke could've been enough to do you in, a fact Riri was privy to when she smiled up at you. “Strap up baby, need you inside me.”

You wasted no time assembling the strap and securing the toy in place, and with Riri’s help, the harness was adjusted to your body. She positioned herself across the center console for a second time, sticking her ass out as you kneeled behind her in the seat, admiring the display of her used hole. She backed up onto nothing, trying, and failing to get the tip inside on her own. “You're taking too long! Please, I need you!”

Fuck, you supposed by now Riri's unwavering stamina shouldn't be a thing that caused bewilderment, but it would forever be an entertaining sight. She was sexiest like this; eager; desperate for you to destroy her. “You need it so bad, don't you mami?”

“Yes! Please fuck me!”

She needed not to state her demand again, so you snaked your palm around the tip, pumping it gently before invading Riri's soaked cunt.

The instant you bottomed out, Riri trapped the strap inside her narrowing walls, restricting your movement at the same time your eyes began to roll to the back of your mind. Her wetness, her constricting tightness, the heat derived from stretching her velvety cunt wide; you could feel all of her. It was way too overwhelming, the stimulation weakening your muscles.

You hadn't even gotten a single stroke in and you were already fighting off an orgasm, gripping firmly to her hips in hopes of stopping your collapse. “W-What– Why can– Ri, I can f-feel you. Shit…”

You remained still for a few beats, wanting, needing to savor the snugness of Riri’s warmth before drilling her as she deserved. Her squeeze was intense enough to make your eyes well just a little, and you were certain whenever you did allow that pleasure rush to stifle you, the tears would be unavoidable.

“Surprise! You like it, baby? I made it special for you.”

Of course she made it. You pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, still consumed by the sensation, barely able to keep a steady rhythm as you rocked into her dribbling pussy. “Fuck Ri, this is…”

“Shit! Tell me how good my pussy feels, I'm tight, huh?” Your stamping fingers dented her skin as you began to create a rapidly growing pace of stuffing her full of the faux dick she craved so much, and your thrusts had her quaking around you. Feeling every divot in her pussy walls had only ever been a fantasy, one that existed now as your reality, because you unknowingly chose to fuck a super genius who just so happened to be a little off her rocker.

If you thought you were addicted to her cunt before, this strap just changed the game entirely.

You were fucking her with abandon once completely adjusted, snapping into her again and again with an unrelenting grip on her hips; you’d be admiring the marks you left behind later on. Each thrust sent Riri’s small body forward on the armrest, her cries meshing with your breathy moans that fogged the car windows. “Ooh mami, you so fucking tight. Your crazy ass really made a strap so I can feel this pussy, god.”

Your hips crashed into her bouncing ass cheeks, the impact forcing rushed whines out of her throat. You couldn't tell if the sounds were intended to be words, but truthfully you didn't care, far too enraptured by the feeling of fucking her obnoxiously loud cunt.

Every thrust caused her seeping pussy to squish louder, every squish making your clit thump faster as your high began its heightening.

“Your desperate ass always so damn wet for me, I bet you don't let nobody else fuck you, huh? You know I’m the only one who can treat this pussy right.”

She groaned, attempting to speak through your abusive jolts, “Don't f-flatter yourself, I let plenty of other people hit. This ain't y-your p-pussy.”

It was a trap, an obvious one designed to rile you up, but you chose to fall victim anyway, using the molly floating in your bloodstream to control the power dives you took into her tired little cunt. “Oh it ain't?”

She couldn't even speak with the tip of the strap bludgeoning her sensitive nerves, but she still shook her head defiantly. Riri’s hole gobbled up the girthy toy impressively as you leaned back to marvel at the way it disappeared, then reemerged from inside her convulsing walls.

“Why she leaking this much then? Messing up my fucking seats. So damn wet mami.” You slammed into her cervix. “You make special straps for all them other bitches? You let them slut your nasty ass out on the highway like this? Who else you let use your needy little pussy like this?”

Riri was sobbing, loud and boisterous, almost able to give your screaming fans a run for their money with her pitiful little sounds. A few cars honked on their drive past your parked vehicle, certainly aware of the goings on inside. The Ferrari rocked in tandem with your jabs into Riri’s g-spot, the back and forth motion assisting you in pushing deeper into the smaller girl's sex.

“You hear me talking to you don't you Ri?” A deliberate slap met her welted ass cheek, forcing her to scream. “Why you so quiet? This wet ass pussy louder than that fucking mouth right now. You hear that?”

You fucked her harder, grunting loudly into the air when she squeezed your shaft; she was close.

“Pl-ease!”

“This dick shutting you up or something? Pl-ease what?” You mocked, spanking her again, and rattling her entire being.

She pushed back on the unrelenting curved member digging her out, a whimpering mess when she glanced back at you, catching your eyes with her helpless ones. “Wan– Wanna c-come! M-Make this pussy come for you!”

You tsked, “Thought this wasn't my pussy though. Can't make you come if this ain't my pussy.”

Her broken voice made your cock twitch deep inside her, something you hadn't expected and couldn't control.

“M’sorry, it's yours! M'sorry, it's your pussy b-baby, pleaseee!” She cried, squirming as you rammed into her special spot.

“Fuck… What you sorry for Ri?” You tugged on her locs.

You freed one of her hips, looping your hand under her sweaty abdomen so your digits could press into her clit. God, it was too much for her, the endless pounding, the swift flicking of her bud, the jarring hair pulling. You were barely able to move inside her contracting cunt, but you weren't letting her off that easily. “Tell me what you sorry for.”

“All of it, baby all of it! Sorry for s-sending those videos to y-your girlfriend, s-sorry for breaking into your room, your car, s-sorry for hurting that girl at the bar! I'm sor–”

Your thrusts stopped, “You did what?”

“I didn't mean t-to…”

Cautiously, you pulled the strap from inside her reluctant cunt, falling back into the dampened, sticky seat in disbelief.

And Riri followed you, outwardly panicked when she dropped into your lap. She hung her head in shame as she rambled, wanting to explain herself. “She was just flirting with you and you were flirting back, and I didn't like that, cause you're mine, and–”

You thought back to the bar, to Esperanza, to the thud you heard when you were on the phone with Riri earlier, and you tilted her chin so she could look you in the eyes. “Riri… what did you do to her?”

A sound you hadn't expected, but most certainly should've anticipated rumbled out of her: a chilling chuckle. Gone was her frown, in its place stretched a smile that accentuated her unruly eyes. And of course, her seductive response to your pressing question was not an adequate answer. “Put it back in baby, or I’ll fucking bleed you dry.”

You smirked, teasing her clit with the head of the strap. “Crazy girl.”

Damn her, you shouldn't be enjoying this, but you became smitten with the idea of her hurting someone all because she wanted you to herself. It was sick, you were sick, maybe just as sick as her.

Her pussy was dripping onto your dick, coating the length of it with each grind meant to coax you back into fucking her, and it was certainly working.

Riri brought her trusty blade back up to your throat. She pressed in harder this go ‘round, threatening to drag it along your skin, and you were prepared to let her. She leaned in, her breath a warm ghost kissing you instead of her lips. “How many times do I have to tell you I really, really hate that fucking word. Stop saying it.”

“Would you prefer insane?” You clipped back, spitefully teasing as Riri quite literally held your life in her hands. You should be terrified, the bitch was deranged enough to kill you, but the feeling coursing through you was more akin to fear's distant cousin — thrill.

“I'm not crazy,” You could feel the knife's indentation, and your throat bobbed beneath it. “I'm not insane.” She was gliding the dangerous tool against your neck now, and you felt your skin tear, small streaks of warm blood rolling down your tilted neck, catching Riri's wild eyes.

“I just know what I want, and I always get it.”

You moaned, still rubbing up against her overly used clit, head spinning as you reveled in the heat of your crimson liquid staining your chest and Riri's.

Riri lowered the knife, pecking your cheek lovingly before extending her tongue to the shallow little cut she drew into your neck, running it along the length and licking the beautiful blood decorating the area. “And right now I want you to let me ride you, want you to slam into me and punish me for all the bad things I’ve done. I deserve it.”

The head of the toy was still trapped in your fist, twitching from Riri’s every word. You glided it through her crying folds, brushing her hole but not quite shoving your way inside, and she whined.

“Don't p-play. Please just f-fuck me baby.”

And that was all it took for you to slam up into her hovering hole, bullying your way inside her walls as she screamed from the intrusion. “Fuck! Just like that! Keep fucking this pussy like that! Go deep baby, make me take it!”

“This how you want it Ri? You want me to fuck this greedy pussy like this?” Your violent pumps shook her, and she slapped her open palm up against the window to keep herself upright, the knife clattering to the floor. “Use that nasty mouth and answer me when I fucking speak to you.”

But how could she?

Your hands needed something to grab onto as her addictive heat consumed every inch of your dick yet again, nearly rendering you unconscious, so naturally, they gravitated to her neck.

Your fist was strangling her throat, blocking her airflow and her ability to say words. You used her neck to pull her down onto the throbbing member ravaging her tight wetness, enjoying the melody performed by her pussy far more than any of your own.

Shit, you were going to come, and from the feel of things, you were going to unload inside her. An unfamiliar sensation began to brew inside your abdomen, a tightness you knew well, but tucked behind it was something far more rattling, and you weren't prepared for it at all.

“Ooh mami, I'm finna– I think I'm–”

She tapped your stifling fist, unable to breathe and you let her go so she could cough. “I-Inside… do it ins-side!”

And oh fuck, you felt it, the hunger that Syla had never once been able to truly feed. Riri could though, her strangling pussy walls could do that and more.

Your vision went white, and you were quite certain every star in the galaxy resided behind your welling eyelids. Ropes of your release spilled into her accepting cunt, filling her so much, everything that didn't fit leaked right back out and onto your already filthy seats.

“Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck!”

“Tell me you love me.” She continued to bounce on the strap. You were so sensitive, you could barely take it, but you tunneled your fingertips into her ass cheeks anyway, aiding her as she rode you through your orgasm.

Riri leaned in, kissing your dry lips, “Say it. Tell me.”

“I love you…” You didn't mean it, not in the way she hoped you did. You never meant it when she made you say it, but it made her happy in the moment, and it made her flood your dick, so you always obliged.

With her pussy drowning in cum, hers and your own, she gingerly eased the strap from inside her, slithering onto the floor to wearily envelop your twitching dickhead in her swollen lips, but your ringtone stopped her.

“It's your girlfriend.” She chuckled jeeringly when she turned to read the name flashing your phone screen in the front.

“Let the bitch go to voicemail.” Your final words before you felt Riri swallow you whole, slobbering on the dildo as she permitted your second load to trickle down her throat.

•••

Serenity swaddled you while you lay there, helpless, following Riri's skillful performance with her mouth and jaw. You were still as the unbound night outside the steamy car windows, watching through drooping, fucked out eyes as Riri climbed into the driver's seat. She revved life back into the Ferrari's engine, stealing you, and driving you off to a destination unknown.

#wipes drool from mouth #morgan’s recs

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