Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
can we get more of art teacher!reader x ryland đŤŁ
yes đĽš
throwing ideas around but i think that quiet eye i said he would keep on you in the first part wouldâve been deathly silent, almost creepily so đ and ryland was definitely aware of how it seemed. like this teacher all the kids loved and who gave his coworkers a small good morning when he passed them in the hall did not want to engage with the new hire at all? heâs surprised you didnât think he hated you, or maybe you did and tried to settle it down when you came up to talk to him about the project. thinking back on it, it made him sad when he thought of that being your reasoning to approach him (and he definitely apologizes about his aloofness on your project-planning-definitely-not-a-date date)
the âdateâ began his slow progression of getting comfortable with you. it took a week and a half before he finally gained the courage to sit next to you in the teachers lounge because he was terrified of being annoying. those small conversations youâd have during your lunch would only make him fall stupidly harder. heâd sit there and listen to whatever you wanted to rant about and pretended like he wasnât bringing up specific topics that he knew would get you talking. he learned that critique on contemporary art and wanting to get rid of movie theaters were topics that got you riled up. he gets animated when it was his turn to talk about his studentsâ projects or random facts he read the night before. he definitely catches himself in the middle of one of his rants about space colonization (that started as a talk about lego sets) and immediately back tracks and begin to apologize until you stop him and ask him to keep going because you were interested. his stomach flipped and he continued to talk your ear off with the biggest smile you've seen on him.
i also think heâd learn almost all of your habits (to add onto his suspicion of him being creepy with you đ) heâd noticed you were most beat in the middle of the dayâwhich he learned from catching sight of you after second period with slumped shoulders and eyes you could barely keep open. you liked spending your free period's aloneâwhich he noticed one time when he kept trying to amp himself up to go inside to ask you for a stapler. you had told him he was the 'exception' when he asked you if you would've preferred to be left alone and he got dizzy. also noticed how you take care of your classroom and supplies. there would be paint flecks on the tables and the sinks full of muddy-colored water by the end of the day, your storage closet full of drying clay projects and half-open paint jars. he loved your classroom most like that, and liked how you let it be until the next morning when you began to clean everything up for a new day. that's why you would always be one of the firsts in the building, he finally learned.
he would gradually begin to spend as much time in your classroom as he could, just popping in two or three times a day to ask for things he definitely already had in his classroom. how could he not when you always gave him an eager "of course" and immediately jumped to help him? it definitely got to the point of it not being discreet at all. you'd mention to him how your students had told you that "mr. grace talks about your class a lot" or "mr. grace told us we'd learn about this!", with a gentle "you mention my class a lot?"
he'd try to diffuse and play it off, telling you "not that I talk aboutâ I mean, I'm just familiar with a lot of... lesson plans..."
you'd say a small "okay" with a smile that made his heart flutter and he felt relieved you found it funny instead of creepy. he knew he wasn't being subtle about his interest in you at all, but at least you weren't completely shutting him down.
also throwaway idea that I might write something longer about... 8th grade trip to washington dc with both of you grouped up... idk i have so many of these... ryland grace i need u
â âšËÖ´ Ë will I get stoned to death for thinking about getting high with RYLAND GRACE, hmm...
(nsfw under the cut, fem!reader, mdni)
it would always be routinely with him. ryland hates the unknown, and having the experience from before settled the nerves that always arose. he wouldn't be interested in doing anything more, he was familiar with the current set up, familiar with you always being there to calm him down when he began to spiral.
he knows he's not the funnest person to be around when he does that, but you've constantly reassured him by that you didn't mind. you knew how much he relied on you to make sure he doesn't think he's dying, and you get a small show of his dramatics when his head's all hazy.
you two agreed to schedule â yes, he schedules the days he gets high â it to happen once a month. he's too worried about what will happen if he begins to do it too often, or if he has a bad trip because it landed on a stressful week.
however, heâs become adjusted to it and is finally able to experience the relaxation you told him he would have once he stopped freaking out. it was also becoming normal for him to get clingy when his heads in the clouds. not that he wasnât already, his hands were touching you more often than not, but never as tight or close as when he was high.
youâd always been a safe ground for him, and itâs easy for him to get too into you when heâs calm. nothing would be in his mind but you and the way you gave that ragged laugh when he stared at you like you hung the stars. the dazed look in his eyes would always reveal what he was thinking. well, that and the way heâd trail kisses down your neck. more mouthing and licking than pressing his lips to your heated skin.
he was too messy when he was like this, not that you minded. always dragging a stripe up your stomach with his tongue when he knelt between your legs, your arousal spreading all over his five oâclock shadow when he made out with your cunt. your pants and moans only encouraged him. heâs never felt this light, tasting heaven and listening to your noises, he could die happy here. you have to push his head away when you finally cum, too lost in your essence to even realize he already got you past that point.
it was a funny sight, ryland, usually so jittery and tense, so composed and controlled, staring at you with half-lidded eyes and his chin glistening with you. he was starved for you, leaning into whatever touch you offered him before he pulled himself back over you.
the night would end with him pressing you against the mattress, kissing you clumsily as he softly whimpered against you. his hand would tangle in your hair, unaware of how tightly heâs gripping the strands while his hips continued to thrust into you. soft mumbles of âyou feel so good,â or âthatâs the spot? right there?â would tumble from his lips every time he watched your brows knit together or legs wrap around his waist.
he could do this all night, and he might. he doesnât even know how many times you both came before he finally falls beside you to catch his breath, his arm wrapping around your shoulder to bring you into his chest. it would be ten minutes of him whispering sweet nothings against your temple, describing every thing he loved about you even until you fell limp in his arms. heâd just continue murmuring it to himself until he followed you shortly after and drifted off himself.
ËÖ´âšËÖ´ Ë want RYLAND GRACE so bad its got me writing again...
picturing him and an ART TEACHER!READER, walk with me
rylandâs been keeping a silent eye on you since you were first hired at grover cleveland middle a year ago, your classroom was two doors down from his, and you both coincidentally taught the same grade. even being an art teacher, there had been the occasional time one of his students mentioned a familiar concept you taught in class. the fibonacci sequence, golden ratio, color theory, sound waves, light spectrum, etc.
he was surprised by how quick you settled in, the students loved you and his colleagues enjoyed making joint projects with your class. he wanted to do the same, badly. he knew there could be an opportunity there to approach you, talk with you, get to know you. but his mouth stayed shut, sticking to his usual lesson plan and definitely not searching up any direction correlations for a science and art class.
thankfully for him, you had bumped into him at the teacherâs lounge before winter break and proposed an adjacent project. apparently, you had noticed the decorations scattered around his classroom â when did you see that? â and explained to him how you were going to introduce chesley bonestell as well as techniques including lightings, shadows, and scale. he would have said yes either way, but the shared interest in cosmos only had him thinking about you more. What else did he have in common with you? Was that finally his opening to be able to approach you more?
if it was, he (un)surprisingly did not take advantage of it. the days he had spent brainstorming the project were only filled with him trying to distract himself from your proximity and trying to get back to the safety of his solidarity the moment it had been over. he never regretted something more.
and thatâs why he was here. new year. new classrooms. new students. it had been a little early in the year, school just began three months ago, your project wouldnât happen again until second semester, but he wanted to get ahead of it, share some new ideas with you, and maybe⌠finally be able to talk to you. outside of the classroom.
ryland has paced the entirety of the hallway for the fifth time now. his hands were clammy, he was fidgety. constantly rearranging his tie, fixing the way his glasses sat on his nose, or adjusting his hair in the reflection of the small window on his classroom door. it was a silly thing to be stressed about, you. what was he expecting, for you to bite off his head and tell him to leave? his worry was irrational, you werenât that type of person⌠he hopes you werenât.
he told himself this was the day he was going into your classroom to ask you about it. he had tried earlier today during his free period, but he got jittery halfway through and sped past your classroom door to make his way to the bathroom. he tried again a few minutes later, only to do the same thing and head towards the teacherâs lounge instead.
but now, the eight graders were at recess and the second floor was silent, for once. he completed his sixth walk down the hallway now, eyes fleeting towards his watch for the umpteenth time. recess was over in ten minutes, the conversation would last at most five minutes. he swallowed, rubbing his hands over his face before finally making his way to your classroom. âyouâre a teacher,â he muttered to himself. âyou talk for a living. this is the same thing.â
he stopped at the door, hand hesitant as it moved between wrapping itself around the doorknob and falling back to his side. ââŚthis is not the same thing.â still, he finally decided to let out a breath and open your door with a soft knock. he stepped in and saw how your head perked up at the sound, a small smile on your face as you greeted him. Oh God, you looked like moonlight. Why did you have to look so nice today? Right now?
âhey,â he said sheepishly as he hovered near your desk, unsure what to do with himself. âi, uh..â he cleared his throat, looking at your expecting eyes. did you think he was making a fool of himself? âi was just wondering about the project, yâknow, the⌠thing.â
he mentally berated himself. the thing? seriously? âi wanted to know if you ever wanted to meet up some time, outside of school⌠justâ to talk about the project! nothing else.â
âŚif you didnât think he was a fool then, you definitely did now.
if you did, you definitely didnât show it. you just gave him a small smile and nodded, telling him a âthat would be great.â heâs sure he accidentally scheduled a time to meet with you during one of his grading times, but he doesnât know how he was expected to focus when your eyes glimmered under the schools lights.
you settled on a coffee shop two blocks away from the school after work on friday, and he had to stop himself from grinning until his cheeks hurt. he bid you a small goodbye before walking out your classroom, closing your door with a soft click before punching his fist in the air, practically skipping back to his classroom.
he was more animated during his lectures for the rest of the day, his students had noticed it, and he brushed off their questions, simply telling them that it was a beautiful day while the rain pattered on the windows. whatever, none of it mattered to him as long as he got to see the way your eyes light up with ideas on friday.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
â âšËÖ´ Ë up thinking about STANFORD!ART taking you back to your dorm after a date
his eyes had been lingering on you since the start of sophomore year, a pretty little thing seated across from him in his french class. art never considered taking the class, only when he was in the locker room after practice and one of his teammates made a comment about how he âbetter start learning french, man. youâll be in roland-garros in no time.â
he knew it was a joke, knew he probably wouldâve dropped the class if he hadnât met you. and when he brought you up during early-morning drills, he learned your name through another one of his tennis friends. he mentioned that you were his girlfriends roommate. how convenient.
it was after three weeks of staring at you from across the room and interrogating his teammate about you that he was assigned to a project with you. two weeks after that, he asked you out. you said yes, thankfully.
he told himself he was going to be good, take it slow with you and let you decide when to take it further. and he mostly kept his promise, even after the small side hug you gave him after he brought you back to your dorm after the first date. even after the kiss on the cheek you gave him after your second and third. so he doesnât know why this moment had him winded.
he had the whole night planned out in his head. heâd drive you back home from dinner, walk you to your dorm, and maybe plant a quick kiss on your lips if the moment called for it. sweet, slow, and respectful. the kind of thing your roommate would ask you about in the morning and youâd smile and say âit was sweet.â
but that was before you had slipped back into his passenger seat, still laughing over a joke he forgot he told. your eyes bright under the streetlamp, your lips glossed over with a soft pink like an invitation he forced himself to deny.
he couldnât even remember the ride back to campus. he didnât remember the songs playing, all the turns he missed. all he can recall was your hand interlocked with his over the center console, the way you bit the inside of your cheek whenever he made you laugh, the faint scent of your perfume hitting his nose each time the wind blew through the open windows.
he turned off the ignition when you both finally arrived at the parking lot, the keys jingling in his hand as he fidgeted. he looked over at you, ready to say something polite, maybe something else that wouldâve made you blush, but when you looked at him, it was over.
before he knew what was happening, he was leaning over the console, his hand cupping the side of your neck like heâd been dying for the proximity all night. you met him halfway, lips soft, warm, and open before he even asked.
it deepened fast, almost too fast, like you both have been waiting for this moment since the first night out, and he silently cursed himself in that moment for ever wanting to play the long game.
his fingers slipped into your hair without thinking, your hand moved to grip the collar of his white button-up. your teeth grazed his bottom lip, just barley, and he moaned into your mouth without meaning to, hips shifting in the driver seat as he tried not finish right then and there.
his hand dropped to your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh. he didnât mean to go higher, he really didnât. but your dress hiked up and your breath hitched when you felt his hand reach your inner thigh. that was when he pulled back, just barley. his pupils blown and breath shaky.
âokay,â he whispered, more to himself than you. âokay, i⌠i should walk you in.â
you nodded, but he could only focus on your kiss-swollen lips, your eyes wide as you stared at him like you were expecting something else. he wanted to give in, close the distance and take you right there in the passenger seat, but he tried to remind himself that he had a plan for the night. he promised to be decent, wait until you asked him to come back to your dorm. he wanted to appreciate you in full for the first time you did anything more.
âcan iâŚâ he cleared his throat, his hand squeezing your thigh. âcan i walk you up?â
you nodded and he let out a breath, getting out the car and adjusting his jeans before beginning to walk to your side to open the door. his hand rested on the small of your back as you both walked through campus all the way to your residence hall.
youâd given him a small smile, thanked him for dinner and he had to act like he wasnât hoping for you to ask him to come to your dorm. still, he smiled at you, even though his heart was pounding.
he complemented you, told you he couldnât wait to see you in class again, hoping you wouldnât notice the way his eyes roamed over your body. you gave him a small kiss on the cheek before heading inside, he had to bite back a moan. he looked at your through the doors, waiting until you were out of his sight before turning around and heading to his own place. he knew he was going to spend extra in his shower that night.
ââď˝ď˝ ďź˘ď˝ ďźłď˝ ď˝ ď˝ď˝ď˝ ďźšď˝ď˝â Riff Lorton x Fem!Reader
đđ¸.° summary : the dog days dance had left you feeling like riff would be a lot better without you, and it wonât get better when he comes around to tell you about the rumble he planned against your brothers gang.
notes : fem!reader latina!reader mentions of discrimination some internalized racism self-esteem issues angst fluff (?) smut nipple play fingering cunnilingus p in v porn w heavy plot oops 18+ w/c : 7.5k a/n : billie holiday song for the title yay (it reminds me of severance </3)
Riff has never been known to move quietlyânot when it wasnât necessary. Heâs loud and rough, jagged and disruptive. Youâd know he was around moments before you saw him, and you could still feel his presence long after he was gone. And he knew it. He liked being seen. He liked feeling important. Just enough to let himself believe that he was.
Especially when he was with you, youâd think he crafted the universe with his bare hands by the way you looked at him. The way you held him like he was made of glass, like he was something worth keeping.
And he hated it, at first. Hated how you handled him like something precious. How you looked at him with soft eyes instead of scared ones. He hated how every time you kissed him, it felt like it was the last time youâd ever be able to. He could never escape his circumstances, never allow himself to imagine how easy life might be with you. He despises that he gets to be loud about every other part of his life, except the one that matters most.
He would be, if youâd let him. Heâd hold you close when you walked down the street. Heâd take you to the local diner and smirk whenever someone saw you and realized you were his. Heâd bring you to a drive-in and kiss you stupid in the front seats of his busted car. Heâd help you get ready for a dance and sway with you in the middle of the floor. And his heart aches when he realizes heâll never have you in that way.
Instead, heâs forced to see you only in the dark corners of an alley, in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, in your bedroom after sneaking up to your windowâlike youâre a secret he doesnât have to explain if he keeps you hidden. A star forced to hide in the shadows.
Itâs mostly your decision to keep it quiet, a logical one. With your brother being a SharkâLuis, if Riff remembers correctlyâthereâs no possible way you could be with Riff freely. Especially not in this neighborhood, where people who look like him would treat you like the dirt on their shoes. And you force yourself to take it. Who knows what could happen to your family if you acted out in the wrong place, at the wrong time? You donât even want to imagine what it would look like between Luis and Riff if he ever found out.
Youâve already gotten a taste of the gangsâ rivalry tonight at the Dog Days Dance, and that was supposed to be a chance to get along. But you didnât expect much from boys who fight like animals.
You hadnât planned on going at first, but Riff had his ways of persuading you.
âCâmon, girly,â heâd drawled, his calloused hands sliding up your arms. You remember trying to bite back a smile.
âYou donât gotta stay long. Jusâ wanna see you all dolled up, havinâ fun. Then you can give me a dance âfore you leave.â
But heâd failed to mention that he was bringing a date. Graziella. Gorgeous, in a vibrant blue dress that complemented her blonde curls. A laugh like bell chimes. Eyes like emeralds. It stung, having to stand on the opposite side of the gym and watch Riff twirl a girl he wouldnât be shamed for. To pretend you didnât suddenly hate your complexion. You didnât stay for the dance you promised him.
Nights like this were always cruel. The gods dangling a pearl just out of your reach, something you werenât allowed to hold, only ached for. As if you could ever stop wanting the one thing that made you feel whole. You hadnât noticed the tears until you were in your room, undressing, tasting them on your lips. The dress was velvet, soft like rose petals, glowing under the lights when you spun. You wore it for that reason. You wore it for him.
Now it was thrown over your laundry basket as you lay in bed, like the whole night had meant nothing. Your eyes were finally starting to dry, the faint street noises outside beginning to lull you toward sleep. You almost let yourself drift off until you heard a knock at your window. Soft, but loud enough to get your attention. You didnât need to guess who it was.
You stayed still for a moment, debating whether you wanted to face Riff again tonight. But your body moved before your mind caught up, and before you knew it, you were on your feet. You glanced in the mirror, wiped away the remnants of your tears, and made your way to the window. You exhaled heavily before parting the curtains.
And there he was, standing on the fire escape. Still dressed from earlier, hair slicked back, blue shirt matching his eyes. You hated how badly you wanted to kiss him at that moment.
You sighed, pushing up the window. The cool summer breeze raised goosebumps on your skin. Riff was already starting to climb in when you stepped in his way. His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing slightly as if you had offended him. Not mad, just surprised. Like he had expected a smile and hug instead.
âYou shouldnât be here.â
His expression dropped into something duller, worn-in. âYou gonna play this game again, girly?â
âNo estoy jugando. Go away before someone sees you.â Your voice stayed firm, even as your chest tightened. You didnât move.
He scoffed, but it didnât have its usual bite. âAinât nobody saw me. I was careful, yeah?â He paused. âJust wanted to see you. Got somethinâ I gotta say.â He added, his voice quiet.
âRiffââ you warned, but he was already climbing the rest of the way in.
âI gotta talk to you,â he said, voice low but firm. He wasnât pleading or asking. Just telling you.
You stared at him for a moment. Then, with a sigh, stepped aside. He moved past you into your room, eyes adjusting to the soft glow of candlelight. It was dark enough to keep the worst of you hidden. You stayed near the shadows. Far from the moonlight.
His gaze flickered around your room, analyzing the lit candles, your slept-in bed, and the books on your shelf. It smelled like lavender and warmth. Safe. Yours.
He stood in the middle of the room, looking almost out of place.
âWhereâd you go?â
You didnât answer.
âAt the dance,â he added, like youâd somehow forgotten. âYou disappeared. Didnât even say goodbye.â
You let out a short and bitter laugh, the type that didnât reach your eyes.
âWhen were you planning to say it, huh? After you were done⌠doing whatever it was you were doing with your little date?â
He blinked, caught off guard. You could almost see the words trying to make sense in his head.
âWhat are you talkinâ about?â
âÂżQuĂŠ crees?â Your tone sharpened, frustration bubbling in your chest. âMaybe in the dark corner where no one would see us again?â Your voice cracked towards the end despite your best efforts. Damn it. You turned your face, as if hiding could stop your lip from quivering.
He stilled at the sound. Said your name softly. The way he only ever said it when no one else was around. When the city was quiet and his guard was down. Like it was something precious.
You shook your head, trying to keep that wall up as the tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You felt stupid. Weak.
âIâm tired of this, Riff. Ya no lo puedo aguantar.â
âI know.â
âNoââ You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold it together. Your voice could barely push the words out. âYou donât know what itâs like. Nunca lo vas a entender.â
He looked at you like he was trying to solve something he didnât have the pieces for. âYou know I tryââ
âDo you?â
The air thickened between you. His jaw tightened. ââCourse I do. You think I like livinâ like this?â
âYou donât mind it when youâre running around with your little gang,â You shot back. âNo te da ni un carajo cuando ellos lo hacen. You let them say what they want.â
âThat ainât on me,â he snapped. âI canât control what they think or sayââ
âArenât you their leader?â
That made him pause. The silence stretched. You saw it in his eyes, the moment when all his excuses left him.
âYou think I want it to be like this?â he finally asked, quieter now, less sure. âYou think I ainât tried to make âem see different? Theyâve been like that way before I ever met you. It ainât about you.â
Your brows pinched together when you looked at him, at the tiredness in his face, the way he kept fidgeting like he didnât know what to do with his hands if they werenât holding you.
âIt feels like it.â
He looked at you, like he was finally seeing what all of it had cost you, and something in him softened. His voice dropped.
âIâm sorry. I mean that. Iâm sorry I canât change âem. But you gotta know I ainât like them, alright? I donât think like that. I donât feel like that.â
He took a step closer, slow and deliberate. Like one wrong move might shatter whatever thread still held you in place. You didnât back away, but your throat closed up. You felt helpless, stripped bare in front of him, and still unsure if he could see you.
ââŚI love you. You know that.â His voice barely cracked above a whisper, but it landed heavy. And he meant it. That was the one thing you never questioned.
âAnd I wanna give you everything, doll. You deserve it allâŚâ He breathed out, like it physically hurt to say. âBut I donât wanna lose you.â
You sniffled, eyes glossing as your brows drew together. You didnât know what to do with that; it didn't feel like enough. It had started to feel like a reflex, accepting whatever scraps he gave you just to have something.
You swallowed hard. âNo lo podĂa aguantar, viĂŠndote con ella.â
He blinked, head tilting. â...What does that mean?â
You rubbed at your eye, not even trying to hide the crack in your voice anymore. âI couldnât stay there and watch you with her. So I left.â
He blinked. Like it hadnât even crossed his mind.
âThatâs what this is about?â He stepped in, tone teetering between relief and disbelief. âYou know I donât feel nothinâ for Grazi, right?â
âNo, thatâs notââ You cut yourself off, throat closing up. You tried again. âJust standing there. Seeing you with someone like her, someone you deserve to be withââ
âDonât start that.â
âSomeone you should be with.â
âDollââ
âLo odio,â you whispered, and your voice cracked clean down the middle. âI hate it. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing this skin and knowing what it means. Knowing what it costs me.â
He stared at you. Silent. His face shifted into something like sympathy. You hated that look. âI canât stop thinking about how it could be for us if I just⌠looked like her.â Your voice wavered. âLike any of them.â
His expression cracked. Like the words physically hurt him. He took a measured step closer, as if he moved too fast, youâd vanish. His hand came up, hovering for a second before cupping your cheek gently. He tilted your face up toward his, thumb brushing slowly over your skin like he could smooth out the pain.
âThereâs a reason Iâm with you and not Grazi,â he said, steady. Like it was the simplest truth he knew.
âRiffââ
âNo. Listen to me.â His tone didnât leave room to argue. âI donât care what you look like. I donât care if itâd be easier with someone else.â He took a breath, jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. âYou think I want easy?â
His hand dropped to your arm, thumb rubbing gently over your skin, a nervous habit he probably didnât even realize he had.
âI know I've got no clue what itâs like. Walkinâ âround every day with people starinâ at you just âcause of where youâre from.â His voice dropped even lower. âBut Iâve seen you. How you carry yourself. How you are with your people? Youâre proud of it.â He looked you in the eye. âDonât let âem make you ashamed of somethinâ theyâll never understand.â
Your lip trembled. He reached up, gently tucking your hair behind your ear, like he needed to see every part of your face when he was talking to you.
âIâve only ever wanted one girl,â he said. âAnd sheâs standinâ right in front of me.â
You exhaled shakily, the words barely tumbling out. âI just wanna be with you.â
âYou are with me.â
âSin escondernos. Like you were with her. I wanna dance with you. Love you where everyone can see.â
He nodded slowly, like he already knew that truth and hated it. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes shutting as he breathed you in.
âI want it too, girly,â he whispered. âI hate havinâ to pretend you ainât mine.â
The whimper you tried to swallow broke something in him.
He pulled back just enough to see you again, thumb brushing away the tear trailing down your cheek. His hand curled gently around the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering like he didnât want to let go. His eyes shut tight, and his brows pulled together like holding you was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
âI couldnât care less if youâre a different color than me, doll,â he whispered. âDonât give a shit if you have darker eyes. None of it matters to me âcause Iâm in love with you. Just you.â
He tilted your head so you would face him. He could feel his heart begin to break when he noticed your bloodshot eyes and your tired expression. He sighed, placing another soft kiss on your forehead. His lips slowly trailed to your temple, lowering to your salty cheeks. Your breath hitched. He kissed the tip of your nose before leaning in close, his lips brushing yours like a question. When you tilted your head up, he answered.
He kissed you slowly, reverently, and his hand cradled your face. It was gentle and tender, like a silent prayer of devotion and promise. It wasnât like any of the kisses youâve shared before, it felt like he was baring his heart out to you in hopes that youâd accept it.
He pulled back enough to catch a breath, his nose pressing against yours before he tilted his head as he leaned back in to kiss you, deeper. He didnât push for any more than youâd let him; instead, his tongue brushed over your bottom lip in a plea to let him in. And when you did, he cradled the back of your neck to tilt you up, his tongue slowly moving into your mouth to memorize every part of it.
You sighed at the intrusion, and he groaned in retaliation, his slacks starting to feel restricting. His hands moved to encircle your waist while his tongue sought out yours. Your hands moved to grip the openings of his jacket so you could begin to push it off his shoulders. He helped you, pulling it off before he mindlessly tossed it to the side, his arms returning to your waist.
You felt him, hard and hot through his pants, pressed against your thigh, and the quiet moan you let slip into his mouth made him tense. That was what snapped him out of it.
He pulled back from the kiss, like it hurt him to do it. And it did. His eyes lingered on you, your big eyes, kiss-swollen lips, and he looked like he might break and dive right back in. When you leaned forward to kiss him again, he held you still with a hand on your waist.
âWait⌠Iââ He cursed under his breath, jaw tight as if forcing himself to stay rooted. âI gotta tell you somethinâ.â
You were still breathless, lips tingling, and heart pounding in your ears. He looked like he was conflicting himself, debating whether or not to keep the peace youâve made.
ââŚYouâre not gonna like it.â
Your brows furrowed. Your chest was rising and falling fast. âWhat, Riff?â
He hesitated, a pause that felt unnatural to him. Riff never hesitated, but now it looked like he was walking on eggshells. âAt the dance... You know Tony, right?â
You nodded. He gave a dry little laugh. Not funny at all. Just nerves. âYeah. Tony got into it with Bernardo.â
âÂżQuĂŠ dices? How?â
He rubbed at your side absently, like he was already trying to calm you down, like he knew how you were going to react. âHe saw him dancinâ with his sister. Wasnât too thrilled.â
You sighed. Of course. No one ever was when it came to crossing lines. Not here, not in this neighborhood.
âSo I went to talk to him.â
Your head snapped up fast. He hesitated again, then forced it out. âTold him we should settle it. Jets and Sharks. One big fight.â
His voice dropped to almost nothing. âTomorrow. Midnight. At the salt shed.â
You didnât wait to think, didn't give yourself time to process. You shoved him back, hard enough that he stumbled a step before catching himself.
âWhatâ?â
âHijo de puta. ÂżEres estĂşpido?â Your voice shook with rage. âYou come here tellinâ me how much it hurts to be apart, how you hate it â and then you go and plan a rumble?â
âIt ainât about you.â
âWhat the hell do you think it looks like?â you shot back. âYou say you wanna be with me, and then start a war âcause someone else tried the same thing?â
âIt ainât about Tony and Maria!â he shouted, frustrated. âIt ainât!â
You just stared at him, stunned. Heart racing, disbelief turning hot in your chest. Your hands were trembling, and you didn't bother hiding it.
âThen what is it about, Riff?â
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like the walls were closing in, already knowing you werenât gonna like any answer he gave. âItâs about territory.â
âPinche idiotaââ
âItâs about control,â he bit out, firmer this time. âWe were here long before the damn Sharks. You know that.â
âYouâre risking your life over some block that doesnât even belong to you?â
âIâve done this before, doll.â He brushed off. âAinât riskinâ nothinâ.â
âDonât lie to me.â Your voice cracked under the weight of the entire night. âIâve seen you after. Iâve patched you up with my own hands.â You swallowed. âIâve done the same for my brother.â
âI ainât ever asked you to do that,â He said quickly, defensive.
You stepped back like heâd slapped you, the space between you already getting colder. âThatâs not the point, Riff! If thatâs how you come back from the easy ones, what the hell do you thinkâs gonna happen when they show up ready to kill?â
âYou donât gotta worry âbout me.â
âDoesnât mean I wonât.â
He sighed hard and dropped his head, hands braced on his hips. Then rubbed a hand over his face like he could wipe away this whole conversation. âIâll be fine,â he muttered, more to himself than you. âHell, Iâll come see you right after if thatâll make you feel better.â
You shook your head, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to keep from crying again. You could taste the metallic of your blood from wearing the skin all night, it was no use.
âAnd my brother?â Your voice came out low and tired. âWhat happens when I come home and find him half-dead?â
Riffâs jaw clenched, like he was trying to fight off the words, but they beat him anyway. âThen tell him to learn to fight.â It was out before he could stop it.
The silence was almost deafening. Heavy. You stared at him in disbelief. Your voice was flat. Cold. âYouâre an asshole.â
And for once, he didnât argue. Just stood there looking back at you, regret already pooling behind his eyes. âYeah. Maybe.â
You stared at him, arms limp at your sides, chest tight enough that it hurt to breathe. Your throat burned with everything you wanted to say but didnât. It always felt like this, like trying to scream through a wall that never cracked.
âWhyâd you even tell me?â you asked, voice quiet but heavy. âIf youâre gonna do it anyway⌠why come here?â
He blinked, looked down at the floor like it had the answer. Shrugged like it didnât matter. ââŚI dunno.â
The silence stretched before he spoke again. Softer this time, not defensive, almost like a confession. âDidnât want you hearinâ it from someone else.â
A beat passed, and you didnât move.
âFigured if you were gonna hate me,â His voice was rough. âIâd rather it be to my face.â
You bit your tongue, holding back words too heavy to say. ââŚI donât hate you,â you said, barely above a whisper. And you hated how true it was. How you fell in love with chaos and expected it to hold you gently. How, even now, after everything, you still wanted him close. âI just donât understand why you do the things you do.â
His jaw worked, grinding back and forth like he didnât want to answer. ââS all Iâve ever known, doll.â
âThat doesnât mean you have to keep livinâ like this.â
He sighed as he stared off, his eyes unfocused. âWhatâs the point in doinâ it different?â
âÂżNunca quieres parar?â Your voice is tired, quiet, and frayed at the edges. âLet it all go? Be something new?â
That made him look up. Really look. Like the words had pulled him out of some deep, familiar fog.
âDonât you ever want to start something new with me?â
He swallowed hard. Youâd talked about it before, leaving the West Side, leaving New York entirely, finding a place that didnât bleed. A house with still walls, no yelling outside the windows. A life that didnât tick like a time bomb. But those hopes always lived out of reach, locked behind the things you were both tied to.
Still, he answered.
âYou know I do.â
He stepped forward, hands drifting toward your waist like he was unsure he had permission. When you didnât stop him, his arms slid around you, slow and sure, drawing you in like you were the only thing he needed.
âIâd do anything for you.â
His eyes searched yours, frantic, almost like he was reading a language heâd never quite learned. And before you could say anything else, he kissed you again. Slower this time, more reverent than before. Like he was trying to memorize your shape, your warmth, your breath. Like this kiss needed to mean everything the words couldnât carry.
You tilted your head into it, letting him take the lead, letting him guide the pace. His plush lips moved with yours, a soft, aching, steady rhythm, full of unsaid things. And for one second, just one, you let yourself believe that nothing else existed beyond the space between your mouths.
Your hand glided up his arm, fingers curling over his bicep. You pulled back just slightly, his lips chasing yours as your breath shivered out.
âCan you come see me before?â It came out suddenly. Unsteady. You didnât mean to ask it â it just slipped, like something fragile cracking free.
He paused, eyes flicking across your face like he was etching you into memory. The candlelight danced in his irises, making them look golden.
Then he nodded once.
âIâll come.â
You nodded too, lips parting like you wanted to say something else but couldnât find the words. Instead, you leaned in. And he met you halfway.
The kiss turned desperate, like he was clinging to the moment with everything in him, like he knew it might be the last. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fingers skimmed up your spine, slow and deliberate, and even through the thin fabric of your nightgown, you shivered.
You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone, and he moaned softly into your mouth as his tongue pushed past your lips in a slow, familiar rhythm that felt like home. He kissed you deep, mouth warm and steady, the kind of kiss that said, please, donât let this be the end.
When you sighed into him, soft and aching, his grip tightened, fingers twitching against your back like he didnât want to let go. His lips left yours only to trail down the line of your jaw. He breathed against your skin, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling loose the gelled waves heâd styled for the dance. His hair spilled through your fingers â soft and unruly, like it never quite obeyed him, like he never quite obeyed anyone.
His teeth pulled at your skin, soothing over the mark with a kiss. His hand moved to your hair, tugging just enough to get your head to tilt, bearing your neck to him. You let out a soft sound when you felt the first press of his wet, open kisses trailing lower. He latched onto a spot just above your collarbone, his lips hot and deliberate against your skin. You felt the suction first, slow and purposeful, then the gentle graze of his tongue, the sharp edge of his teeth. Your breath hitched as he sucked harder, like he wanted the mark to show.
He pulled back, eyes lingering on the bruise beginning to bloom, dark and tender against your skin. His thumb brushed over it, almost apologetic. His fingers slipped beneath the neckline of your nightgown, dragging it over your shoulders, low enough to where your chest was bare to him. He kissed the space just above your heart first, then moved to your sternum, mouth slow and sure as he began to suck.
It was the same kind of kiss, deep and purposeful, leaving a piece of himself behind. Like if he couldnât say what you meant out loud, heâd press it into your skin instead.
His mouth trailed lower, unhurried.
You felt his breath against the hardened peak of your tit before anything else, his lips brushing over it. He kissed there first. Soft. Careful. Like he was asking before he took more. When his mouth closed over your nipple, your breath caught in your throat. It was gentle at first, just the heat of his mouth and the press of his tongue, but it made your back arch anyway, your fingers curling in his locks.
Riff hummed at your reaction, the sound low in his throat. And when he sucked, slow and deliberate, it felt like your whole chest tightened with it. A soft moan slipped past your lips, spurring him on. One of his hands came up, sliding over your other breast before he began toying with it, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them.
He pulled away from your chest with a soft pop, only to shift his mouth to the other side. His licks were languid, lazy, almost, but purposeful. Meanwhile, his fingers didnât stop on your nipple now slick with his spit; they kept rubbing in slow, wet circles that made your breath stutter.
He nipped the peak before pulling away to look at you, catching your lips once again. The kiss turned feverish, pushing you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you fell back onto it.
He followed, hovering over you a second later, his nose nearly bumping yours as he paused to catch his breath. He smiled blissfully, like he was the one being unraveled instead of you.
âYou okay?â His thumb grazed over your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.
âNeed you to say it, doll,â he muttered against your skin.
âYes,â you said softly.
He smiled, giving you a quick and deep kiss before he trailed down your neck, his lips pressing over the exposed skin of your chest. His hand gathered the hem of your nightgown, bunching it up to your waist and over your stomach.
Riffâs head lowered as his body moved down, kissing the center of your stomach and slowly trailing to your belly button. Your head fell back against the pillows when he pressed a kiss above your heat. He shifted, moving to hook your thighs over his shoulders, his eyes fleeting up to admire you from his position.
He nipped at the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, running his tongue over it when you softly winced. He continued his way to your center, pressing wet kisses all the way. The first kiss on your clothed cunt was soft, barely there, but then you could feel his tongue licking over your clit, the fabric adding a rich feeling of friction.
He hummed against your heat, his eyes closing as he continued his broad licks. He pulled back, watching the way your arousal and his spit dampened your panties. âYouâre drippinâ for me,â he mumbled, a smirk growing on his lips as his middle finger moved to lightly rub your clit, making you softly whine. He hummed, looking up at you. âCanât wait to taste you, doll. Jusâ you.â
You couldnât even process his words before he pulled the fabric to the side, exposing your glistening lips to the cool air of your bedroom. Your hips rut against nothing, and he laughs, low and gravely, like seeing you this desperate is amusing.
âWhat do you want, girly?â His voice was low, warm with mischief, but his eyes were almost black with desire. Locked on yours, heavy-lidded, sharp with focus. As his fingers hooked under the soft cotton at your hips, he pulled slowly, like he wanted to draw it out.
You groan, lashes fluttering shut. âEres horrible.â
He huffed a laugh, raising a brow as he slid the fabric down your thighs. âNot what I wanted you to say.â
An exasperated breath escaped you as you propped yourself up on your elbows, your glare aimed straight at him. Or, at least, at the smug grin he wore like armor. You wanted to wipe it clean off his face..
â âCause I got lots of things I could use,â He added with a shrug, tossing your panties to the side. âMâgivinâ you options.â
Your mouth opened, about to snap something back, but your breath caught when he leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above your knee. You felt it everywhere.
âYou know what I want, Riff,â you muttered.
âThen why not say it?â
His voice dropped further, coaxing. Daring. Like he wanted to hear you say it. Not just for the words, but for the power it gave you to ask. To want.
You glared harder, and he just smiled, unbothered. His lips brushed against the inside of your thigh andâ
âAh!â Your gasp broke the air as he nipped at the soft skin there, enough to make you twitch.
He chuckled, low and pleased, eyes flicking up to watch the way your chest moved, how you squirmed under his mouth.
âCâmon, doll. Weâre both thinkinâ it.â His hands tightened around your thighs just enough to anchor you. âJusâ ask nicely.â
You swallowed, throat dry, watching how his pupils had swallowed nearly all the blue in his eyes. His voice was smug, sure, but the hunger beneath it was undeniable. He looked like heâd been starved for you.
âWant your tongue,â you finally mumbled, your voice small but clear.
His grin turned wolfish, satisfied, but there was something deeper beneath it, reverent, like heâd been waiting for that.
âAtta girl,â he said, his voice thick. The praise landed heavy in your chest.
He guided your thighs back over his shoulders, settled in again with a softness that contradicted all that teasing, and just before he dipped his head, he looked up at you once more, like a silent promise. Then he disappeared between your thighs, his tongue licking over your entrance.
You both moaned as his tongue collected your arousal, his eyes fluttering shut to focus on tasting and licking every last piece of you. You fell back against the mattress, biting your knuckles to try and keep your sounds muffled. Your free hand flew to Riffâs hair, gripping and tugging at the strands.
His fingers dug into your thighs as he ate you out, youâd tell him how it hurt if you werenât so focused on the feeling of his tongue swirling over your clit. You were sure he was doing it on purpose, another mark to claim you in his silent way.
He groaned every time you tugged at his hair, the vibrations against your cunt elevating your pleasure. You could feel the warmth start to pool at your stomach, your heart flutters at the way heâs pressing your pussy to his face like he needs it to live. It felt like heaven anytime his nose would bump against your clit while fucking you with his tongue.
âTastes so good,â he muttered, the words almost lost against your heat. You whined when he pulled back before feeling the absence of his tongue get filled by his finger. He smiled when you moaned against your hand, his eyes watching you as he slowly worked the digit in. He swallowed, his head getting hazy when he felt your walls flutter around him and eagerly let him in.
He pumped his fingers a couple of times before slipping a second in. His digits moved faster the more he heard your muffled sighs and groans, his mouth attaching back to your clit.
You were trying to be sensible and keep quiet, be careful not to wake anyone else in your house, but it seemed like Riff was always desperate to make his presence known. You didnât even know if you were successfully being silent; all you could hear or feel was Riffâs fingers repeatedly entering your soaked cunt.
He suddenly pulled away, your walls clenching around nothing, before you heard the sound of his belt buckle. You watched him settle back up, your thighs making space for him.
âCanâtâ canât wait any longer, doll,â he muttered, his voice heavy with desire. He looked at you, his eyes dark. âGotta feel you.â
You sat up, pulling his shirt up while he tried to unbutton his slacks. You tossed it to the side, your hand running down his toned chest. He hastily kicked off his pants and boxers, leaning down to kiss you.
You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue gently dancing with yours. His hand cradled the back of your head, pressing a palm against the mattress to gently lay you back down, following after you. His hips settled against yours, and you could feel the precum leaking against your stomach.
You softly moaned against his lips, and his hips rutted against yours. You let out a small laugh, and he pulled away, staring down at you.
You felt bare under his gaze, stripped down in a way that had nothing to do with skin. Even though youâd seen each other like this countless times, something about now made it feel new. Different. Like there were no walls left.
His eyes moved over your face slowly, like he was trying to memorize you. The soft moonlight pooled across your skin, catching on your hair, and you watched the way his lips parted like he was seeing something holy. He reached up, brushing a few strands from your face with a gentleness that caught you off guard. His thumb smoothed over your temple, slow and steady, calming himself more than you.
âI love you,â he whispered. Like speaking it too loudly might break the moment wide open.
Your heart clenched. There it was, that look in his eyes again. Love-sick. Open. Vulnerable in a way he only ever let show for you. You could see it in the way he held you, like you were something delicate. In the way his voice softened at the edges. In the way he looked at you, like there was no one else in the world.
You could feel what he wanted without him saying it. He wanted you to say it back. You reached up, fingers brushing his jaw as your chest tightened, full.
âI love you, too.â Your voice came out as soft as his, but steady. Certain.
A smile bloomed slowly across his face. Not wide or cocky, just quiet. Real. The kind of smile that only ever showed up when he didnât think too hard.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, lingering there for a moment like he didnât want to pull away. âDo you want this?â His voice brushed against your skin, low and careful.
You didnât even hesitate. You nodded once, firm, and pressed a gentle hand to his chest, guiding him back just enough to see him. His face was inches from yours. You could see the swirl of blue and brown in his eye, pupils still wide. He looked like he was holding his breath. âI want you, Riff.â
The words hit him like a shiver. His lashes fluttered just once before he surged forward, catching your lips in a kiss that was all heat and aching. His hand slid between your bodies, touch careful but hungry, and you felt your breath catch as you melted into him again. Every inch of him was electric, every movement steeped in something more than want. This wasnât just about needing you. It was about having you, even if the rest of the world never made room for it.
His hand wrapped around his shaft as he gave himself a few pumps, moaning into your mouth before he pulled away to look at you. The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, and your eyes closed.
Without another word, Riff slowly pushed inside you, gripping your hips as he filled you. He moaned deeply, his head dropping beside your ear as he fought the urge to rut into you like an animal. Your head fell back, your hands pressing against his back to bring him close.
He groaned as you held him close, his hips slowly beginning to move. He started with slow, shallow thrusts, trying to let you adjust to his size. He lifted his head to look at you, his eyes dark and wild with desire. He leaned down to capture your mouth in a rough kiss. "So tight, doll,â he murmured against your lips.
Riff moaned into your mouth, his pace faltering for a moment as your legs locked around him. His tongue tangled with yours, his hands squeezing your waist as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.
He broke the kiss to press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning over your face. His eyes locked on yours, watching your every expression. His grip on you was possessive, almost needy.
âYou feel so good," he panted.
âRiffâŚâ you said in a soft gasp, his heart racing at the sound of his name falling from your lips, the sweet sound only fueling his movements. His hips snapped against yours with increased fervor, his pace turning rougher and more desperate. He leaned down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his lips sucking and biting as he moaned into your skin. His hands continued to hold you firmly in place, keeping you from moving with his thrusts, trying to keep the bed from squeaking.
His breath was hot against your neck as he continued to push himself into you. His hands roamed over your body, his fingers leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. He needed to touch as much of you as he could, to feel every inch of your soft skin.
His thrusts were relentless, driven by a raw hunger that he couldn't control. He moaned your name against your neck, his grip on you was strong and possessive. "You're perfect." He growled.
He could feel you begin to clench around him, his fingers digging into your skin. His pace increased, his hips slamming into you with even more force. He moaned your name, his mouth hot against your skin. His lips found yours as his hand moved to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing rough circles against the sensitive spot.
Your nails dragged down his back, making him hiss at the burn. âCâmon, doll,â he grunted. âI can feel you. Youâre close, yeah?â
You donât know if he expected you to respond; you couldnât, not with how deeply he was thrusting into you, not with how his thumb is pressing down against the swollen nub. You couldnât even comprehend the sweet nothings he mumbled against your cheek, the 'I love youâs he kept repeating. All you knew was that the coil in your stomach finally snapped, your orgasm ripping through you in pleasurable waves.
Riff didnât stop his motions, watching the way your release moves through you before moving his arm to wrap around your back, tilting you upward as he pushed as deep as you could take him with a barely muffled grunt. His hips stuttered, letting his thick ropes of cum paint your velvet walls.
He kept you in that position until you both came down from your highs, his pants against your ear making you shudder. He pressed a chaste kiss on your lips before sitting up on his knees, slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of you. He didnât stay there for long, getting off the bed to take a towel from your bedside and going to run it under water. He came back soon enough, being careful to avoid any sensitive areas as he cleaned his remains off of you, but he couldn't help the amused smile that he got when your hips jerked away from him.
He soon lay back by your side, the mattress dipping with his weight as his arm reached out and curled around your shoulder. You felt yourself shift with him, pulled into the warmth of his chest as he tugged you close.
You were still boneless, floating, your breath just starting to steady after everything he gave you, after everything you gave back. And for a moment, you wanted to stay like that. Suspended. Weightless. To pretend this was your life. That he could stay in your bed and never have to leave.
But the feeling came creeping back, sharp, and familiar. Dread pressed into your chest like a hand you couldnât swat away. You tried to push it down, tried to focus on the way he held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth. The way he kissed your hair so gently, little brushes against your temple, your forehead, like he was trying to quiet something, too.
Then he said your name. Soft. Like he didnât want to startle you. His fingers found your chin, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. Heâd caught onto it. He always did.
âHey,â he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your jaw.
âStop thinkinâ âbout it, okay? Wonât do you any good.â
You wished you could. You really did. But the thought of something happening to him, of him not coming back, sat like lead in your stomach. Made your breath feel sharp. Made your skin cold, even in his arms.
So you didnât answer. You just nodded, forcing yourself to believe him for now. And then you leaned up and kissed him, grateful, aching. Like it might be the last time.
Something about that kiss made him melt all over again. His mouth moved against yours with a softness that hurt, slow and lingering. You held his face between your palms, memorizing the way he kissed when there was no one watching. No noise outside. Just you and him. Just this. But even now⌠even here⌠it felt like a goodbye.
He pulled back after a moment, just enough to look at you, his eyes gentle. His smile is small but sure, trying to pass that confidence onto you.
âNothinâll happen to me,â he said quietly. âI promise.â
And he said it like it was law. Like it was fact. Like it was enough to rewrite the world.
You wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. And for tonight, you did. You let yourself fall for the beautiful lie. You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as your hand curled against his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady beneath your cheek. A lullaby. A promise. A prayer. You let it pull you under, into sleep. Into safety.
And as you drifted, you wished for a life where this could be real, where the world didnât rip things like this apart. A life with just you. Just him. And the love that held you like a shield.