fic recs by lyric

a/n: hi friends, so sorry for the delay, I've been pretty sick with how harsh the cold is where I'm at which is the reason why these are pretty short.

🔥: @diouna @mariquitaaa @glimreaperss @blkqueeninspired @criaaturaa @ohyouluckysaint @pvnks0ul @riris-heart @shuririsecretl0v3r @enaspaces @idyllicbby @naomis-daydream @chxxms @lyfeofbilly

dividers from @cafekitsune

sfw

she’s so so strong. She’s not super toned, and doesn’t wanna be she’s already lean for her height and weight. You always watch her bicep bulge when she works. 

she’s always sleeping when she’s home. She works long ass grueling shifts. 

Will always eat the lunch you pack her. Not a day goes by that she doesn’t absolutely clear that shit. 

 she knows how anxious you get when she’s running super late, so she texts you. 

she’s always workin out, mostly at home, doing body weight like push-ups. 

 her hands are so calloused from work and she hates it because she tries to exfoliate them. 

her hair is always done in either straight backs or slick backs. Anything else is reserved for vacations or special occasions. 

she has the appetite of a fuckin linebacker and you don’t mind at all but for someone so tiny you can’t comprehend how she downs as much food as she does. 

who tries to make the best out of her off days, takes you out to eat, plans thoughtful dates or takes you shopping. 

who wears her wedding ring around her neck as a necklace. 

comes home covered in soot sometimes and tries to hug you anyway even if you are freshly showered. 

Is so so adamant about certain things because of what she’s seen on the job. “Ri, I think I want a motorcycle.” “Like hell you do, go do sumn.” “Put yo seatbelt on.”

She got a dog. She just came home with it one day.

Her uniform genuinely fits her so well it’s sickening

She has a tattoo on her v-line with your nickname on it and you only see it when she’s getting dressed in the morning.

nsfw

your sex life has definitely changed since she started picking up more hours. She’s always sleepy or working, or both. 

she wakes you up with head like 7/10 times a month because she knows she works late shift. It’s not the nice kind that just wakes you up. She’ll like purposefully eat you out like there’s no tomorrow a good 2 hours before your work shift. 

she loves lazy sexy, she likes when you ride her, or she’s got to do less work. But if you ever joke about it, she’s putting you face down ass up into that mattress. 

she has great stamina, at first she’s lazy but the second she’s riled up, she’s locked in. 

Killswitch chap.1

warnings: mentions of violence and injuries

summary: after a unaccountable night lands RiRi in your care, the two of you get off on the wrong foot.

author’s note: chapter oneeeee!! im so essiteddddd and I hope y’all really enjoy it! this idea has been festering for damn near over a year, and I’m finally putting this pen to work. this is my first series, I’m more of a one shot girly, so I’m kinda nervous about my writing. constructive criticism and feed back is welcomed and appreciated. Now enjoy! <3

🏷️: @bubbleblowinggirl @blkgworlamplified @solanaszn @pvnks0ul @onyxstones-world @inmyheadimobsessed @mitchesmoon @riris-heart @shurisbathwater @lvmxih @rheas-ripley @mrsudakuwilliams99

a/n: ur girl fell asleep mad early last night my bad lmao. hopefully y'all enjoy this!! roomie!riri fic out next. prof!boxer!ririxblack!fem!reader. sfw and nsfw. y'all know it's october!! amateur language cuz i lowkey don't know shit about boxing. i js know fine women box. 21+ activities mentioned (drinking, smoking, clubbing, etc) mentions of reader smoking. will be editing these l8r. if i forgot u on the taglist im so srry!! pls lmk

@riris-heart @mrsudakuwilliams99 @lyfeofbilly @mitchesmoon @glimreaperss @rheas-ripley

boxer!riri who talks abt u in every interview she goes on. she wants everyone to know she’s yours. she floods her (only) social media with pictures of her gym, engineering shit, and you. her fans cant get enough of you, and of course, neither can riri.

boxer!riri who rushes to hug you after a match before signing any autographs. everyone, including her fans, know you come first. there's 'you' time before matches, after matches, and no one can complain.

boxer!riri who has you in the gym just to look at ur pretty face. you don't know shit about boxing. and after seeing riri's matches, you surely don't want to. but when your girlfriend rewuests to spend time together at a place that means the most to her, you can't not go.

“you my incentive.”

boxer!riri who takes every chance to check you out and put her body on yours while working out. she stays overly looking when you're doing squats or ldrs and can never wipe that smirk off her face. if you ever need help with spotting, she is the first to volunteer. bodies pressed all the way together for a weighted squat and will without a doubt sit on top of you when lifting overhead "just to be safe"

boxer!riri who teaches you different boxing workouts little by little. and although you know this is her way of being riri, you very much so enjoy it. who else gets custom wraps, gadjets made to help them learn how to box, or personal spotters who touch a little too much.

boxer!riri who comes over just to sleep on you. after working out or a long day welding in her garage, she's a different typa exhausted. you may not hear from her all day. but when she texts you midday

"im coming over. i got food."

you know she's not leaving and you're taking the best nap of your life.

boxer!riri who insists on being the big spoon. she could never get sick of feeling you near her. although she always enjoys being the litle spoon: relaxing in your arms, being engulfed in your warmth, hearing your voice in her ear. but her body cupping yours is superior. her arms searching your body, her whispering random thoughts into your ears.

boxer!riri who tells you all the athlete drama. whether its the fight that she got in at her match, or the tea she heard from her friend in the national womens soccer league, if it reached her ears it will reach yours too

boxer!riri who talks a big game but hates scary movies. she is absolutely petrified of horror movies, especially psycological thrillers. for a long time she was embarrassed to tell you, so when she came over for a movie night and watched get out she couldn't leave you for three days and was afraid to talk to white people.

boxer!riri who only likes going out if it's with you. she never truly consdiered herself an introvert but she was surely a homebody. the only person that can get her out of the house without dragging her is you. when you're with her, she can enjoy herself.

boxer!riri who doesn't drink in the club/at parties to ensure you have a safe ride home. riri needs to be alert 24/7. if someone comes up to you, they have to answer to her first. and if y'all are out with your friends, she's responsible for allllllll you guys. she's the self-appointed designated driver because she doesn't trust anyone else with you. only she knows you, your body, and how to take care of you.

boxer!riri who only goes to the fuction to make sure you're safe, not to dance. but when those couple songs come on she knows she has to dance with her girl. you will never find riri throwin some in the club, but you will find her catching for you and you only -- your personal holster.

boxer!riri who sports a chain with your initial on it. when people look at her, she wants everyone to know she's yours. she wears it all day, every day to every party, every workout, and -- of course -- every match. after every win, she throws up her arms and holds up her chain for everyone to see.

boxer!riri who can't rid of her grin when you pull up to her matches in a jersey with her lucky number and boxing name on it. y'all barely made it in time to the match; in the car she couldn't keep up off you. her lips stayed on your neck while her hands massaged your jaw and waist, pulling you closer. when y'all finally got inside, the amount of flashes lighting up your boddess only conflated her ego. even in the ring, riri observed you. she observed your smirk as journalists asked questions about you, she observed your smile as fans told you how pretty you looked. she truly couldn't wait to get home and take that jersey off of you.

boxer!riri who needs to hear your voice every day. its like a drug she can't live without. if you guys don't call, even just for a few minutes, you send voice messages throughout the day to let eachother know what you're doing. she tells you everything and expects a response, she needs to hear you use your words

boxer!riri who pulls up to sports events once in a blue moon with you on her arm just to let her competitors know y'all still going strong. it only took one time for some random male athlete to ask her

"who's that?"

when y'all were very obviously together. even after riri told him she was your girlfriend, he still had the nerve to question her. she was so turned off by that night cuz no one is ever gonna make you uncomfortable. but those few mandatory events she absolutely has to attend, she brings you in y'alls baddest fits. every single time, people tell you how pretty you are, compliment you guys as a couple, and ask how she got you.

boxer!riri who loves compliments. who loves recieving compliments. who loves giving compliments. who loves watching you recieve compliments. she loves watching you be loved, especially if it's from her. she loves watching the nervous look that plaugues your face everytime she looks at you and lowers her voice to start speaking.

boxer!riri who may love compliments but doesn't like people hitting on her girl. she will let people know real quick you are not available. a hand on the waist. an "you good ma?". a "yea we're good. thanks for checkin up on her.". and a stare as they walk away usually does the trick

boxer!riri who doesn't smoke, but hits the blunt every once in a while when she wants to let loose. as she watches you take a puff, she gets stuck in a trance. although she stopped smoking after her manager got on her ass about diet restrictions and lifestyles, the way the smoke exists your lips just convinces her in a way nothin else could.

"you look so pretty ma"

"you wanna hit?"

"what you askin me to hit?"

boxer!riri who flies you out to see her, depending on how long she is away from you. even if you can just stay for one night, she is blessed to be in your presence.

"i only got you for one night. lemme make it worth it."

boxer!riri who can never control her emotions after a tough match. some time in your arms may center her for a moment, but truly she just wants to let it all out on the mattress and have her way with you.

boxer!riri who never fails to kiss you like she's dying of starvation. her mouth pushing into yours, her hands grabbing at the fabric veiling your body, her groans every time she feels your tongue on hers.

"you give me life, you know that?"

boxer!riri who is obsessed with the way your body feels in her hands. the more she roams your body, she gets drugged at the thought of you. half-lidded, she palms your hips -- pinching them with all 5 of her fingers. she pulls you closer and inhales your scent, feeling your backside. her brown eyes look up at yours while chin rests at your stomach, dazed.

boxer!riri who tenses when your hands reach her abdomen. riri considers herself a person with great self-control. but when you touch her, she loses her mind. she can't contain her nerves nor control what her body does. so when you kiss her neck a little too long and venture your hand over her abs she, also, can't control what comes out of her mouth next

"don't start something you can't finish,"

boxer!riri who can't get enough of you squirming under her. your pleads for more and whines at her pace only riles her up. she adds another finger and somehow moves slower, massaging the spot that makes you jerk one too many times.

boxer!riri who loves to finger you. she loves the way your face furrows every time her fingers enter you. she loves the way you back arches, chest rising and falling as you get closer. she loves your whines. she loves the way you needily try to grab onto her. she loves it in the car. in the shower. in the bed.

boxer!riri who gets off to watching your pleasure alone. as she watches as you scream and struggle under her, she can’t help but rut her hips into the mattress under you. she could come any second — hearing hear name fall from your lips, the sheets catching at her clit, the pressure was building all too high

boxer!riri who refuses to shut up as you get closer.

"you still got somethin to say'?"

"talk to me then baby, don't go quiet."

"use your words."

boxer!riri who, above all things, loves to hear your moans. if her face isn't between your legs, it's next to yours -- her ears hoping to catch the next note leaving your chords

boxer!riri who will never fully admit her favorite position is any with you on top. cowgirl will always be her big finale. she makes you work for it a bit, sure. but when her hands find your hips and she starts pushing her strap into you with the same rhythm you used, it sends a shock up your spine.

"you got it baby, i got you."

imma go put myself in time out now ok bye

Your eyes rolled as you inhaled, willing the smoke to fill your mouth, then your lungs. Riri stood by, watching your fluid movements like she was drawn to them. You puckered your lips and blew your residual smoke right into her face. She didn’t flinch. Just smiled. That stupid, sweet little smirk that sent shivers down your spine.

Warnings: smutty lil fic, so 18+, dom!Riri, sub!reader, pantysniffing!Riri(she just likes your pheromones), striptease!reader, fingering(reader receiving), oral(reader receiving, she just wanna spoil you this time around)overstimulation, no doesn't mean no, slight mention of Riri impregnanting you, Explicit language, N-word usage, angst (mom and daughter relationships are tough), brief mentions of a sick family member, established secret relationship, ends in heartbreak (I'm sorryyyy), probably some that I forgot Word Count: 6.7k+ Tags: @percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rose @saintwrld @someshuriposts @jessiap @ilikegecos @iiluvl4n @katymae12344 @shurismainbxtch @crookedsaladlover @motheroffae @saintwrld @marsolgy @ogbells16 @verachii @shuriszn @playgurlxoxoo @ashleighshaw @te-23 @dominquesheart @shuridefenselawyer @iminlovewithdomandtish @limbozqueen @cansah2002-blog

Enjoy <3

“You sold your soul-” Riri’s voice echoed across your mother’s front stoop, cutting through the warm evening air. 

The sun had run its course, dragging through the sky until it was sitting low, casting a muted orange hue across the south Chicago street. Street lamps were flickering on for the night, and kids raced to make it over the threshold of their mama’s houses before the moon claimed the sky. 

“Here you go with the dramatics, Ri,” your older sister, Niq, responded with a shake of her head, her shoulder-length locs jerking subtly with the movement. 

She was going to have to cut those locs tonight, and the realization felt like a punch to the gut. You remembered how excited she was to start them finally; she’d been begging you to twist her hair for weeks. 

“C’mon, y/n, you got somethin’ better to do than your big sister’s hair? I practically raised you-” she’d followed you around the house like a lost puppy.

“You ain’ raise shit, Niq. We’re 15 months apart,” you’d dismissed her, cringing as you heard your mom's sharp “Language!” echo across the house.

“My bad, ma!”

“Please, doll?” she rattled off your childhood nickname. It was what she’d called you until she was five, having thought you were a baby doll that your mother had brought home for her. 

“I got a pile of homework, Niq-” It wasn’t an excuse. Niq might’ve graduated last May, but you had a whole year to go until your high school career ended, and you were trying to graduate with ‘valedictorian’ in front of your name. You were already on the right path. Known as a straight A student and a teacher’s pet, captain of the debate team, and ol’ girl who got a perfect score on her SAT. You heard the way they spoke about you in the halls, thinking you weren’t listening. “That’s Niq’s sister? Niq Davis?” the teachers would whisper when you walked past. “You sure they got the same DNA?” the nosy adults wondered aloud. 

The other students who knew of Niq Davis avoided you altogether, and you were much too smart not to notice why. She threatened anyone who so much as breathed at you wrong, leaning way too hard into the ‘older sister’ bit. There wasn’t enough of an age difference between the two of you for it to matter who was older. 

Still, she knew that with enough persistence, you weren’t going to tell her no. Ever the people pleaser, you’d started her locs that same night, pushing aside the assignments you knew needed to be completed. 

Your mind drifted back to a time before any of this. Before the distance. Before the choices. You remembered the days when it was just you, Niq, and the smell of cocoa butter in the air while you twisted her locs, smoothing them with tender fingers, lost in the rhythm of your shared space. The hours felt like minutes, the moments like treasures.

Niq and Riri didn’t acknowledge your presence, seated in one of your grandmother’s rocking chairs on the porch, face illuminated, but hidden behind your large laptop screen, tabs open and forgotten. You didn’t bother to make yourself known, blending into the background without a care. They knew you were there, allowing you to take up space in their bubble. Ri’s eyes flickered over to you every so often, catching your gaze when you happened to be looking up.

Riri had been around since Niq was in the 8th grade, with you in the 7th. She and her mother had just moved to the neighborhood, but really, it was like she surfaced out of nowhere. One day she wasn’t there, the next day, she was. You don’t remember their first meeting, just that Riri’s been around ever since. 

Niq hardly ever came home without Riri in tow. She was present for Sunday dinners and holidays. Hell, you’d lost count of how many times you’d passed her in the hall first thing in the morning as if she’d never gone home the night before. 

Last night she hadn’t, laid up on the couch with a thick blanket and the plate your mama had handed her, balancing on her lap. She was there when you descended the stairs this morning, giving you a passing grin, accompanied by the tick of her brow when her eyes traveled over your figure, taking in the length of your bare legs beneath a shirt three sizes too big. Her sleep-laced voice muttered out a “Hey, doll,” to which you responded with only a nod.

You hated that nickname, wishing that your mom or grandma had pushed your sister to learn your name instead of cooing over her struggling to say ‘doll’ with no front teeth. 

Riri sat across from your sister, tightly rolling a blunt between her nimble fingers, lifting it to lick the wrapper before sealing it in place. Her hand lazed to the side, offering the piece to Niq, who shook her head, rejecting it idly. “I can’t, Riri.”

“Tell me why you doing this shit again,” Ri’s voice was calm, tucking the blunt into the corner of her lip, turning to blow smoke in the opposite direction.

“I don told you bout thirty times-”

“Tell me again,” she interrupted. She wasn’t really asking; she was pushing.

Niq leaned back on her hands, stretching her legs out until they reached the step below her. You took the moment to study your sister, taking mental images of her face as if you could forget it when she was gone. It was the same face that you bore, the two of you often being mistaken for twins, all because your mom’s genes were strong as hell. 

Niq got your dad’s lighter brown eyes that you’d only ever seen through photographs, while you got your mom’s almost black ones. Other than eye color, the similarities were identical. Same wide nose, same plump lips. You and Niq used to joke that you were supposed to be born as twins, but you ‘needed an extra year to finish baking.’  As you got older, the joke started to make less sense. Niq continued to grow past your shorter frame, straightening out all of her curves and sharpening her features. 

“I gotta get outta Chicago, Ri,” your sister responded. “This ain’ my end-all, be-all.”

“Who said it gotta be?” 

Niq’s head fell back like it was too heavy for her slender shoulders, a humorless laugh escaping between her lips. “If I don’t get out now, imma be stuck. We both know that.”

“Nigga, why you talk like you ain’ never gonna come back?” Riri asked, accidentally blowing smoke in Niq’s direction. 

She fanned it away, annoyed. “Man, watch that shit. I gotta report in the morning, I can’t go in smelling like weed.”

“My bad, my bad,” Riri said solemnly, assisting Niq in dispersing the smoke through the air.

“Imma come back, Ri. My baby sister here, and my momma.”

“Baby my ass,” you grumbled lowly. Riri let a small grin spread across her face like she heard you.

“Why the military, though, Niq? You used to be the life of the party, man. Won’t nobody coming out if you wasn’t there, and now you risking your life? For what?” Ri started, though she had no intentions of actually letting Niq answer. “For a country that wouldn’t risk they life for yours?”

“Ri-” Niq started, trying to interrupt.

“You a stud black woman that dress like a nigga. You a minority if I ever seen one, man,” Riri set the blunt on the cement step next to her, freeing her hands to form a fist to accentuate her words. “You gay, a woman, and black! How bout you pick a struggle before you go off to war to fight for mine-”

Niq flexed her leg, kicking Riri swiftly in the shin. “Will you shut the fuck up?” She asked, turning to look through the open front door to see if your mom or grandmother were lingering. 

The eyeroll you gave came from deep in your soul. Yes, you were the genius of the family, but Niq couldn’t be that fucking dense. Both your mother and grandmother knew of her sexuality; they’d spoken to you about it on many occasions, mistaking Niq and Ri for a couple.

“This girl think I don’t know what go on in my own house?” Your moms scoffed. 

You reached for the pack of grapes she was washing, risking a pop to your hand before popping one into your mouth. With a crunch, you’d responded, “They don’t go together, ma.”

“I’m not stupid, y/n-”

“Never said you was, mama,” you’d cut her off, biting back a smile. “They can’t, though.”

“And why is that?” your grandmama chimed in from the other side of the kitchen. “Back in my day, it was frowned upon, but don’t yall got that ‘pride’ shit now?”

“Language, mama,” your moms chimed in without looking up from her task.

“Girl, I gave birth to you. You not gon correct me on my language, I’ll say whatever the fuck I want-”

You were quick to interject; they could go all day if you didn’t. Reaching for another grape, you spoke up, “They’d kill each other tryna decide which one of them is the man in the relationship,” you joked, quickly turning on your heel and exiting the room before they could ask any more questions. God forbid they get you to slip up about the girl Niq used to sneak into her room when she thought everyone was asleep.

“I’m tryna make life better, Ri. My future gotta be better than my past, and there ain’t no way Imma bank bankroll that without giving something up in return.”

“What was wrong with the way we was doing shit before?”

“I’m too pretty for jail is what was wrong, Riri.”

“Nigga, please-” Ri tucked the blunt back into her mouth, holding a lighter to the charred end and inhaling deeply. “So what now?”

“What you mean?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do while you gone, Niq? How I’m supposed to get this shit off me?” She gestured to the illegal drug rolled solid and burning between her lips. “What-” her voice cracked in a way that was unlike Riri.

A cough brought it back to life, but you’d noticed the disregarded tear in Riri’s right eye. “What am I gon do without you?”

Niq’s shoulders dropped, weighing heavily from the same emotion Riri was trying to hold at bay. She looked back at you, locking eyes for what felt like a solid minute. “You gon take care of doll for me.”

Her words shocked you, leaning your frame forward until you almost fell out of the chair. “She gon what?” You finally spoke up loudly enough to be heard, causing a second pair of eyes to land on you.

This pair burned a bit, clinging to you as if it didn’t want to let go. “Imma what?” She questioned without looking away.

Niq turned back to Riri. “Look out for doll for me, Ri.”

“What the fuck I need taking care of for Niq?” you broke your gaze off of Riri, feeling a tug in your chest as you did. 

“Language!” your mother yelled from inside the house.

“How you hear me and not them?” you yelled back, sweeping your hand towards the girls seated across from you, still on the steps. 

“You starting college next month, doll. You need to stay on the right path; Riri gon make sure you do.”

“I’m starting college next month, Niq. Meaning I am an adult. Meaning I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly what I was volunteering for, Niq-” Riri went unheard as the argument between sisters grew louder.

“I’m not gonna be here to look out for you, y/n-”

“I don’t need you looking out for me! You’re going to basic training, nigga, not war!”

“I don’t know when imma be back!” Niq’s voice rang over yours, shutting you up as what seemed like a street full of nosy neighbors went silent. “I got basic training, then AIT, then who knows where the fuck imma end up.”

Riri’s head dropped, not wanting to imagine the possibilities, while you glared at your sister, not backing down from hers. “I graduated, then dipped, y/n. You graduated top of your class. You got into every college you applied to, and I barely got into the community college.”

Her leg rose as she climbed the steps, reaching you in three quick movements. “You got something going for you,” Niq said, grabbing your hands. “Ain’ nothing wrong with joining the military, but this was my last resort, doll,” she stated with a small smile. “Selling dope couldn’t be it for me. I wanna not live with ma and granny one day.” 

Both your lines of vision dropped to your connected hands, and you squeezed tighter. She was leaving you in the morning. Your older sister, your first friend. 

“This the only way imma make a name for myself,” she said before turning back to Riri. “Promise me you gon look out for her.”

Riri lifted her head slowly, dragging her eyes up to meet yours. Gazes locked, she promised, lips barely parting. 

“Good,” Niq replied, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “My doll better be in one piece when I get back.”

Niq didn’t come back. Not on some morbid shit, she was alive and well, just caught up in the U.S. military’s fucked up sense of humor. South Korea, they said, for the next two and a half years. Over six thousand miles away, with a 14-hour time difference. Which meant, for the past six months, texting had been your lifeline, and even that was spotty. By the time the sun rose in Chicago, she was well into her work day, and when she went to lay her head down at night, you were well into yours. You’d heard your sister’s voice less in these couple of months than you ever had in your entire life.

And of course, shit hit the fan once she left. Grandma got sick, real sick. The type of sick that at-home remedies and late-night prayers couldn’t touch. The nursing home three miles up the road had been the only option left, and she wasn’t exactly willing to go. Dragging her there had damn near broken something in your mom. “When it rains, it pours,” she’d murmured that night, wiping at the tears she wouldn’t allow to fall. 

With you and Mama being the only two at home now, things got tense. You were her sole focus, and arguing had become a daily task, and you were sick of it. She was hyperfixated on you, the way you dressed, how you wore your hair, even how often you were coming home.

 “We spent time and money decorating that dorm room, and you don’t even wanna stay in it!” She said it like a punchline every time you walked in the door. No greeting. Just disappointment dressed in a sigh.

As unbearable as she was making it, home was your escape. It was frozen in a time before everything changed and everyone left. Niq’s room still looked the same—messy, loud, alive. Her dirty laundry littered the floor like she’d just stepped out. Her vinyls still clung to the wall, crooked and fading, collecting dust. Grandma’s room hadn’t changed since you were a kid. Same heavy curtains blocking out the sun, same stack of books in the corner, like she’d be back any minute.

And college? A fucking joke. The workload hit you in relentless waves, and you couldn’t stay afloat. Your grades were in free fall, D’s scattered across your progress report like bruises. You were too tired to even pretend to care anymore.

Your roommate didn’t help. A bubbly blonde from ‘Bama who “didn’t get why you needed all those products” for your hair. She partied constantly, stumbled in loud as hell, and crashed wherever she landed. Once, you found her asleep facedown in your hamper.

You were over it. Done. Ready to tap out

That’s what tonight’s argument was about. “I’ll be damned if you dropout, y/n! That’s not an option!”

You leaned over the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so hard your knuckles ached.

“I can’t do it anymore, ma-”

“Yes, you can, and you will! Take a break. Set a damn schedule," she snapped, waving her hands like she was shooing a demon. "Sleep in that dorm room we paid for so you ain’t commuting back and forth every night!"

“You not hearing me-”

"You’re damn right I’m not!  Your sister made it through basic training; You can survive a few essays!"

And there it was. That sharp little blade she loved to twist—Niq.

 “Niq wasn’t walking out my house with her belly out-”

“Niq didn’t spend hundreds of dollars on some braids-”

Niq didn’t curse, cry, or crumble. You were sick of living in her shadow.

“Whatever, ma,” you mumbled, stomping towards the front door.

“Whachu say, girl?”  she shot back, sharp and fast. She heard you. She just wanted to give you the chance to backpedal.

Instead, you doubled down. “WHATEVER, ma!” you shouted harshly, yanking the door and slamming it behind you. “Fuck!”

The air outside hit your face like a slap—cool, grounding. You closed your eyes, and sucked in a long breath until your lungs felt full enough to float.

“Your sister would beat your ass, she heard you talking to your mama like that,” a voice spoke up from the far corner of the porch, casual, but heavy. Familiar.

“My sister ain’ here,” you retorted, eyes still shut. 

The creak of wood under their skeptical footsteps. Then the warm, familiar scent of lavender and amber rolled over you, soft and cloying. Your curls lifted in the breeze before dropping back down like they were tired too.

“Then maybe I should beat your ass for her.” It sounded like a tease, but you knew of the real threat that hung beneath those words.

You sighed, deep and heavy. Like it was too much effort to drag your eyes open and stare at her like she was the last person you wanted to see and the only one you needed. “What you want, Riri?”

She stood across from you now, just an arm’s length away. Her signature cornrows were gathered into two buns at the nape of her neck, where two chains hung, glittering in the sun. The plain black tee she wore was skin tight, a stark contrast to the baggy pants that hung low on her hips. Your eyes dropped—unapologetically. You took your time dragging them back up to hers. Her gaze was already waiting.

“Checkin’ on you like Niq asked me to,” she said with a sniff and a smirk, dropping her head to hide it.

She’d kept to her promise, you had to give her that. Riri had slipped into your routine like she’d always belonged. Calling, dropping by, showing up unannounced just to make sure you were still breathing.

You heard her voice more than Niq’s now.

Saw her more, too.

Her eyes rose when you moved, watching you reach up to gather your hair into a puff atop your head. “You talk to her today?” you asked.

Riri shook her head, causing the chains to twinkle as they brushed over each other. “You?” she questioned back, noticing you staring at the necklaces. 

“Nope,” you responded, popping the ‘p’. 

“What was that just now?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the house where your mother could still be heard fussing behind the thick wooden door. 

“Nothin’ I wanna talk about.”

She didn’t press. That’s what made it easier. “Ight, ight,” she lulled off. “You going back to the dorm tonight, or you crashing here?”

“I ain’ ‘crashing’ nowhere, Ri. This my house.”

Riri sucked her teeth. You smiled before you could stop yourself. “Girl, answer the damn question,”  Her soft laugh made your stomach tighten.

“Imma let ma calm down some, but I’ll be here.”

Riri nodded, already stepping down from the porch. She fished a blunt from her pocket, lit it, and turned. "I’ll see you later, then?"

You hesitated, then: "Ri—"

She turned fast, eyes scanning you like something might be wrong. "Yeah, doll?"

You jogged down the steps, heart thudding—not from the run.

Her eyes dropped. She saw it. Saw the way your chest moved. Saw everything.

The blunt rested between her teeth, balancing on her pretty brown lips, when you plucked it from her. Placing it in your mouth instead, you mumbled, “Light it.”

She shook her head, but obeyed. “Quit giving your mama a hard time.”

Your eyes rolled as you inhaled, willing the smoke to fill your mouth, then your lungs. Riri stood by, watching your fluid movements like she was drawn to them. You puckered your lips and blew your residual smoke right into her face. She didn’t flinch. Just smiled. That stupid, sweet little smirk that sent shivers down your spine.

Her eyes locked on your mouth for a beat too long before she finally turned away.

No goodbyes. Just silence.

You both went in opposite directions—her swaggering off into the twilight, you back toward the porch with the blunt tucked between your lips, just like she always wore it.

You curled up in one of the rocking chairs on the porch, not daring to go back inside until the scent of marijuana on you was washed away by the wind. The daytime hue crept away as night crawled in. One by one, the streetlights flickered on, and the world softened.

It had been a while since you heard your mother stomping about the house; long enough to assume she’d gone to bed. You rose, stretched, crept to the front door, and silently prayed it wasn’t locked.

It clicked open easily. You whispered a quiet "Thank you" and slipped inside, up the stairs, to the one place that still felt like yours.

You had just shut the door, hand on the lock, when you heard it—a faint tapping on your window.

It slid open slowly.

And then, with the grace of a secret, a familiar figure slipped inside.

Riri didn’t say anything as she landed, just brushed off her pants and locked the window behind her like she’d done a hundred times before.

You didn’t speak either.

You just watched her. In your space, moving like she belonged.

She kicked off her shoes with one lazy push, letting them land wherever. Then she sat at the edge of your bed like it was her own, legs spread, elbows resting on her knees, head tilted as she studied you. That same unreadable look on her face, tension running through her body, leaving her rigid.

You leaned against your desk, arms crossed, heart thudding a little louder than you liked. The room was quiet except for the soft creak of your box fan oscillating in the corner and the hum of the streetlight buzzing through the curtains. Riri sat like she had all the time in the world, like your room was her room and you were the one visiting.

"Why you staring at me like that?" you asked, the words heavier than you meant them to be.

She raised one brow but didn’t answer right away. Just leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Like what?”

You shrugged, eyes dropping to your feet. “Cut the shit, Ri. What’s the problem?”

"Mm," she hummed, leaning back again, letting silence stretch between you. "Maybe I just don't like seeing you fight with your moms like that."

You scoffed, turning toward your desk to fidget with the loose cord of your lamp. "Then don’t come over."

A pause weighed all too heavily between the two of you.

"You want me to stop?"

You didn’t turn around, but your hands stilled.

She let the question hang there, testing the air like smoke.

When you finally turned to face her, Riri was still watching you, eyes soft now. No teasing. No smirk. Just her, open in a way that made your chest ache.

"No," you said quietly.

"Then quit saying dumb shit."

You walked toward her slowly, like you were approaching something delicate. She didn’t move. Just let you come closer until you were standing between her knees again. Her hands came up, settling on your waist like a habit.

“I’m tired,” you murmured, voice cracking on the edges.

“I know,” she said. “Come here.”

You climbed into her lap without hesitation this time, tucking your face into her neck like it was the only safe place in the world. Her arms wrapped around you, firm and sure, and for a second, you let yourself pretend the rest of it didn’t exist—school, your mama, Niq, the weight of trying to hold it all together.

Just her. Just you.

And when she turned to kiss you, it was deep and desperate, like she needed it to hold shit together just as badly as you did.

A sigh escaped from you, and Riri swallowed it without a second thought. These nights, these moments were the only thing that made the tough days worth it. Her hands crept up beneath your shirt, stopping just shy of your bra line. 

She pulled away, much to your demise. You leaned into her, silently begging for her lips back on yours, groaning when she dodged your attempts with a lazy smile. 

“C’mon, baby, this ain’t new to you.” Her hands left your skin, taking their warmth with them. “Tell me what you want,” she spoke lowly, propping her arms behind her to support her weight. Her command was lustful, sharing the feeling like a disease. Your stomach coiled. 

“I want you to touch me, Ri,” you whined, grabbing at her hands in futile attempts.

“Where?” she asked, nipping your chin when you got close enough. 

Annoyance growing, you yanked the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and discarding it somewhere on the floor with Riri’s shoes. Your bra was just as easy to slip out of. The dainty pink piece dangled on the tip of your finger in front of Ri’s face before floating to the ground as well.

Your breasts sat pretty and perky, right under Riri’s nose. She was hypnotized by your dark areolas and the way your nipples were already pointing towards her mouth. The scent of you made her mouth water. She sat up, wanting to get closer, and you took the opportunity to contort her hands like a marionette.

You couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped when you placed one of her palms right on your breasts, just like she couldn’t help the way her hips bucked into you involuntarily. You spilled into her hand, filling it up properly, sinfully.

The other hand brushed against your naked abdomen so tenderly as it trailed towards the button of your jeans. She tapped at it absentmindedly, never taking her gaze away from the goosebumps sprouting across your bosom. “Take these off,” her order was whispered, but direct. 

Now it was her turn to whine when your body left hers. Standing and ready to give her a show, Riri gazed up at you with literal hearts in her eyes, mesmerized, watching you spin until your back was to her and your hips were shimmying the pants down past them.

She watched as they pooled at your feet and you stepped out, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties. “These, too?” you questioned, fingers already tucked into the hem, ready to be rid of them. Riri nodded pathetically, having lost her voice at the sight of you.

Off came those, as well, and she barely gave you a moment to blink before her hands were on your waist. The way she threw you onto the bed was quick and rough, the frame creaking. She ignored your coos and open arms, bending instead to pick your panties up off the floor. Bringing them up to her face, she inhaled deep, filling her lungs with you. The thin lace disappeared into her pocket with a dark smirk. “My trophy.” Her look at you was drool-worthy, and the coil in your stomach wound tighter.

“Nasty girl,” you hummed to her, watching as she stalked to you. Like an animal. Predator to prey. 

“Baby, I’m not nasty,” her hands wrapped around your ankles, tugging you to the edge of the mattress. You were foldedin half as she bent at the waist, stuffing her face in your cunt. Her nose brushed too lightly against your tender clit, holding on tighter as you twitched beneath her. “I’m grown.”

Her tongue lapped you, from slit to clit, flat and wide. Just once, and then her puckered lips were blowing cool air onto your wetness. Your whines were soft and low, much too quiet for Riri’s liking. “You must want me to stop.” She licked you again, slowly, placing a kiss to your clit when she reached it. “I know you can be louder than that, baby.”

She was lapping at you like one would an ice cream cone. “I know your mama’s home-” she conversed with herself, your brain having turned to mush. “I’ll make sure ma don’t hear us.” Her lips closed around your clit, sucking lightly. Your hips lifted from the bed, trying to push your cunt further into her face, needy and begging. Ri held you down like you weighed nothing, hands pressed to the parts of you where pelvis connected with thigh. “I just wanna hear you a lil bit,” she spoke again, lulling her tongue to rub tight circles over your bud.

Moans caught in your throat, not good enough for Ri. Her fingers dragged across your skin, reaching the wetness on your thighs before teasing your puffy lips. Her nails dragged against you, watching you clench around nothing while her tongue still worked. “I can make you scream, y/n.”

Your eyes widened in horror, one that was quickly washed away by pleasure as her fingers toyed with your entrance. “That what you want, doll? Want the whole neighborhood hearing you scream my name?” She thrust into you, two fingers deep. You moaned, deep and guttural, but still too quiet for the prideful girl digging you out. 

Your pussy fluttered around her, squeezing tight and pulling her in. “Louder for me, baby.” Her fingers scissored inside of you, curving to hit that squishy part and pulling away, before thrusting back into it. “How I’m ‘pose to know I’m doing a good job if I can’t hear you?”

She kept one hand thrown across your pelvis, in a lazy attempt to keep you glued to the bed. As strong as she was, the way she was fucking you lifted your body like you were possessed. Riri curved her fingers even further, digging into you. You could feel the pressure building, the way you felt like a too-tight rubber band about to pop.

She could feel you clenching around her fingers, so tight, she could barely move. “Shit, baby, I wish I could feel you like this on my cock.” Her nasty words hit you straight in the cunt, splashing around her further. “I’d be in this shit every fucking night.” Ri was hovering over you now, her movements not slowing. “Pumping you full,” she described, hips thrusting, pushing her digits into you. “You’d walk out this house with a belly full of me.” 

Your head lifted, watching the place where you and Riri were connected. The sight was a filthy one. Her crotch sported a wet spot that could only be explained away by the way you were leaking onto her. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead, and she glowed beneath the artificial yellow light coming from the streetlight through your window. 

You were a beautiful, bumbling mess beneath her. Breasts bouncing, stomach wet with sweat and your own juices. You looked downright pornographic. 

“Fuck, Ri,” you gasped. Bottom lip tucked between your rows of teeth, you bit down so hard you were afraid it would bleed. “Fuck, fuck me,” you choked out.

So vocal, so vulgar, but still, too quiet. 

The pumping into your cunt stopped, but only for a moment. Long enough to send a lustful groan from between your lips. Your gummy walls stretched as Riri added a third finger, resuming her staggering movements. “There you go, baby, that was almost loud enough.”

One hand cupping your breast, the other scratching at Riri’s wrist. “Nuh-” you tried, but the words were sloppy, almost as sloppy as your pretty pussy. “Too much, Ri!” You sounded like a habitual drunk, slurred and slack.

“No, it's not.”

You nodded fast. “Is-it is!” You cried, uncaring of how shrill you were becoming. 

“You can take it.” She thrusted harder, deeper, fingertips drumming against your cervix.

“Ri, please-”

 “You can take it because I said so, baby. Take what I give you.” She growled at you. 

“Ri,” you dragged out the last syllable in her name, singing it as your pussy tightened, contracting. Your orgasm came fast and without warning. Riri’s come covered hand was quick to seal your mouth, muffling what remained. 

She saw the way your eyes darkened, ready to lash out at her. You were silenced by her slick fingers forcing their way between your lips. “I know, I know, too loud. My bad.”

You bit down on her hand, earning a small slap to your cheek. “Clean me up,” she shoved her wet fingers back into your mouth, pulling forth a gag from the back of your throat. “Good girl,” she praised, noticing the way your legs clenched together at her words. “Clean yourself off me.”

And you did, hollowing your cheeks to suck yourself from her fingers, licking inbetween each of them with your eyes locked on hers. “Nasty girl,” she whispered, unable to look away.

“Not nasty,” you released her fingers with a pop, planting a kiss on her palm before pulling away. “Just grown.”

Riri's hand traced slow, absent-minded circles against your lower back, the two of you tangled together in the glow of your nightlight. Her heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek, but yours had started to trip.

You spoke without lifting your head. “You ever gonna tell her?”

Her fingers paused for half a second. Just long enough.

“Niq?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.”

Another pause. Longer this time. You could almost hear her thinking, feel the tension slip into her muscles.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. Soft. Like the words might bruise. This wasn’t the first time you two had tried having this conversation; you’d just hoped the answer had changed this time.

You sat up just enough to see her face. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean, I don’t know, baby,” She sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s not like I planned for this to happen. I was supposed to watch out for her little sister, not fuck her little sister! Not fall for her-”

You laughed, bitter and low. “You planned to sneak through my window every night?”

“No,” she snapped, sitting up straighter. “I planned to look out for you. That’s it. Be your big sister’s responsible friend. That was the job.”

“But that’s not what this is.”

Her eyes met yours, jaw tight. “No. It’s not.”

"So, what—this whole thing just stays in the dark forever?" You gestured vaguely between you two. “You get to touch me like this, hold me like this, but I gotta pretend we’re just cool every time Niq calls? Every time I say your name around her, I gotta pretend I don’t feel anything? You fuck me at night, go about your business during the day? I don’t get to take pictures of us, we can’t go on dates-”

“Don’t do that,” she warned, her voice suddenly sharp beneath the darkness. “Don’t act like this is just that easy for me.”

“I’m not,” you snapped back. “I’m saying I’m tired of acting like it's not what it is.”

Silence again.

She leaned back on her palms, eyes flicking to the ceiling like it might hand her an answer. “You know she’d lose her shit if she found out. That we been doing this behind her back, lying to her and shit.”

“And what?” you challenged. “You scared she won’t fuck with you anymore?”

Riri didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

You saw it in her face.

You deflated, more hurt than angry now. “Damn. So that’s what this is.”

“She’s my best friend, y/n. My first friend in a long ass time,” Riri said quietly. “I can’t just throw that away.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. The words caught in your throat like smoke.

Riri sat up, reaching for your hand, but you pulled it away before she could touch you. She flinched, barely, but enough.

“I’m not asking you to throw that away,” you said. “I’m just asking you to stop hiding me. I’m grown, remember? Niq can handle finding out about us.”

The room felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest ached in that familiar, dull way—like disappointment had taken up permanent residence.

She reached for you again, slower this time. “You know I care about you, right?”

You looked at her, eyes burning. “Then act like it. Love me out loud, Riri,” you challenged.

And for once, she didn’t have a clever answer.

Your gaze bounced around her face, studying it for some type of reaction, as hers did the same to you. Every glance you shared was cloaked in the kind of silence that spoke louder than any confession, a secret only you understood.

The silence had stretched so long, it didn’t even feel like silence anymore. It felt like its own thing—loud, alive, sitting between you like a wall you hadn’t built but somehow helped keep up.

You rolled over, turning your back to her. A coward’s move, sure, but you didn’t want her to see your face break.

Behind you, Riri shifted. The bed creaked, and for a moment, you thought she might leave—slip out the window like she always did, disappearing before either of you had to deal with the mess.

But then she spoke, voice low, wrecked.

“I hate this shit.”

You stilled.

“I hate feeling like I gotta choose between wanting you and keeping my friendship with her.”

You turned just enough to glance over your shoulder. “Who said it has to be a choice?”

“She didn’t,” Riri admitted, laughing bitterly. “But she will. You know Niq. She’s not gonna just roll with this like it’s cool. She’s gonna feel betrayed. We betrayed her, baby.”

You sat up, tugging the blanket around your naked chest. “Then what? We keep sneaking around forever? I’m your dirty little secret until she moves back and this whole thing blows up in our faces?”

Riri stared at the ceiling again, jaw clenched, before reaching your glare and shaking her head. “Nah, baby. You’re so much more than a dirty little secret. You don’t deserve that. Don’t deserve this.”

You blinked. “What?”

“This.” She waved a hand between you. “Being with someone who can’t give you everything you need and more without shit falling apart.”

Your throat burned. “So what—this is it? That’s your answer?”

She didn’t say anything. Just let the weight of it hang between you.

That was the moment it cracked. Not in some dramatic, yelling kind of way—but quiet, and devastating. Heartbreaking

“I’m not gonna beg you to choose me,” you whispered, giving up. Your voice didn’t even sound like yours.

Riri’s eyes finally met yours. And for once, they looked scared.

Not angry. Not stoic.

Just scared.

You slid off the bed, heading to your closet to grab an oversized sleep shirt. Without bothering to look back, you added, “I love you, Ri.”

The words landed like a punch.

You didn’t wait for her to say it back. You didn’t even expect her to. You just needed her to know.

Because if she wasn’t gonna fight for this, then at least one of you had to be brave enough to say what it really was.

You slipped out the door towards your bathroom, leaving her in the darkness with silence, and all the pieces of what you could’ve been.

Let’s Watch It Back

Kinktober Day 14 — Video Camera

Summary: You and your girlfriend, Shuri, decided to make a sex tape!

Pairing: Shuri x Black!Fem Reader

Warnings: smutty smut, cursing, praise kink, sextape, vibranium strap

Word count: 682

Kinktober 2025 Masterlist

You found her in the lab early, dressed in her usual lab attire, holograms circling her like lazy fireflies. She was smiling at the air. It was barely seven in the morning. Surprisingly, she was alone. You knew she had to be up to something mischievous. There was a charge in the room you couldn’t ignore.

“Good morning, genius,” you said, voice still scratchy with sleep. “You’re up early.”

“I could not help it,” she said, tapping a command into her kimoyo beads. The beads blinked, and a soft image flickered to life above the table. The both of you on the bed. You are on your hands and knees. Shuri is behind you, gripping your hips as she buries her 8-inch vibranium strap deeper inside you.

You gasped, checking over your shoulder to make sure the assistants were gone. “Shuri! You’re watchin’ that?”

She laughed, waving her hand through the projection. “Relax, entle. It is encrypted. Only I can open the file.” She raised the volume. Your cheeks heated instantly as the obscene sounds of your wetness and deafening moans filled the room.

pairing: riri williams x black!fem!reader

word count: 4.0k

summary: in the summer of 1995, a heartbreaking betrayal between you and your lifelong best friend riri williams erupts into a storm of buried feelings, painful truths, and a kiss that changes everything.

contains: heavy angst, closeted lesbianism, internalized homophobia, description of panic attacks

a/n: ngl this chapter lowkey did a number on me. but i always like for my stories to have depth, so it felt necessary to make it as authentic as i could. part 2 contains a lot of internalized homophobia and a descriptive panic attack towards the end, so if those two things could be potentially triggering for you (hell it was almost triggering for me to write) then tread carefully if you decide to read. and thank you for all the love on part 1 🫶🏽

tags: @riris-heart @mitchesmoon @impinkalicious @riridefender @theyna-will-happen

iii.

The heat lingered, even at dusk. A sticky kind of warmth that made every inhale feel like swallowing smoke. It clung to Riri’s skin and coiled around her ribs, squeezing every time she so much as thought your name.

Which was always.

She hadn’t slept right in almost two weeks.

Not since that fateful Sunday morning. Since you slammed the door in her face, simultaneously closing the door on your friendship forever. Since your voice—once the softest place Riri had ever known—cut through her like a blade and left her bleeding out on your front porch with iced coffee on her shirt and glazed donuts crushed under her sneakers. Since the slap that still echoed in her cheek every time the wind hit just right.

But none of that compared to the words you left her with.

“We’re fucking done. Forever!”

Not even her worst nightmare had sounded like that.

The words followed her everywhere. She heard them as she locked her front door. When she passed the park bench where you two used to sit together after school. While filling up her tank at the gas station where you once held her hand during a thunderstorm—not because you were scared, but because you knew she was.

Twelve days…

It was the longest she’d ever gone without speaking to you. Not since elementary school. Not since your first loose teeth and shared Halloween costumes. Not since that fourth-grade spelling bee where you cried in the girl’s bathroom after losing and Riri gave you her trophy just to see you smile again.

You were her person. You had always been her person.

For as long as she could remember, it was you and Riri. Riri and you. Thick as thieves since the third grade. Block parties, public pool summers, corner store candy runs, double Dutch ropes cutting through hot air.

People didn’t say your name without hers attached. It was just how it was.

But now?

Now all Riri got from her former best friend was the cold shoulder and complete radio silence. You ignored her calls, her texts, her knocking.

Even the city felt quieter without you.

She wanted you back.

God, she wanted you back.

But you weren’t making it easy.

You were everywhere and nowhere at once — haunting the places you both used to go together, but never staying long enough for her to get near. She’d pull up to the corner store and hear someone say you’d just left. She’d stop by your cousin’s house and catch the faint smell of your perfume lingering in the air. Once, she passed the White Castle in your neighborhood and saw your jacket on a booth by the window, but when she stepped inside, the seat was empty and the bell above the exit was still ringing.

Riri had lost people before — her first best friend Natalie and her stepdad Gary. Gone without warning. Both gunned down right inside of the old car garage they’d called a second home. That pain had nearly eaten her alive. But what she felt now? This fresh ache hollowing her chest and tightening her throat every time she looked at her hands?

This was worse.

Because this time, she’d caused it.

This time, she was the bullet.

You were a ghost. And she was the one who killed you.

Even driving past your house hurt. Which sucked, considering her mom had her running errands every other day now. Every time she passed your place — like she was doing now, behind the wheel of Gary’s old red Barracuda — her chest clenched so tightly she had to press a hand to her sternum to remind herself to breathe. She wasn’t even sure why she still took this route.

Maybe because every other road led nowhere.

She ran a hand over the steering wheel, the cracked leather familiar beneath her fingers. She thought about all the times you rode passenger side with the windows down, hair whipping in the wind, music blaring as you shouted lyrics to songs you half-knew.

Now even the car felt too quiet.

She glanced at your window as she passed.

Lights off. Curtains drawn. Cold silence.

You’d made damn sure she couldn’t get close again.

You hadn’t just shut her out.

You had erased her.

“You’re fucking dead to me.”

And damn it if it didn’t make her almost wish she was dead.

Riri gripped the steering wheel tighter as she made a right turn. That morning she had woken up with the bitter taste of memory in her mouth. The taste of him. Damon. The kiss. That room. His hands. Her guilt.

Her stomach twisted violently.

She remembered every second of it.

It was like watching someone else wearing her skin. Like she’d blacked out and watched the wreckage in slow motion.

She remembered going into that room just to breathe. To get her head right. To stop thinking about the way your body had felt against hers when you’d stumbled on the dance floor. How close your face had been. How badly she’d wanted to kiss you.

And then Damon had walked in. Said she looked like she’d seen a ghost. Asked if she was good.

She should’ve told him to leave.

But she didn’t.

Because in that split second, something broke. Something selfish and twisted and scared.

She was the one who kissed him first.

And for what?

She didn’t even like Damon.

Every time she replayed it—sweaty palms, a pull of hair, a nauseating moan that didn’t belong to her—she felt sick. The way he looked at her like he expected something she couldn’t give. The way his lips moved like they were trying to suck the truth out of her. She had gripped him out of impulse, trying to chase something that would make sense of the feelings rotting in her chest. Feelings for her best friend. Feelings for you.

But she felt nothing.

No butterflies. No clarity.

Nothing but regret. Nothing but self-disgust.

Why Damon?

Why risk a decade of friendship for a boy who did nothing for her?

Maybe because that’s what she thought she was supposed to want…

Boy meets girl. Boy kisses girl. Girl forgets girl.

It had been drilled into her since forever. Girls like boys. Girls date boys. Girls marry boys. Even when it didn’t feel right. Even when it didn’t feel like anything.

But you — you had always made her feel everything.

And that was the part that terrified her the most.

She hadn’t been drunk that night. She wasn’t high. There were no excuses. Just a broken, scared version of herself desperate to destroy the feelings she had been choking down for years.

That kiss was supposed to be an escape. A test. Something to prove she was normal. A way to convince herself she didn’t want you as anything more than a best friend. And she’d pretended—for one devastating moment—that he could give her what she wanted. That maybe if she let a boy put his hands on her—if she played it straight, just for once—everything she felt for you would go away.

It didn’t.

And when she imagined you catching her like that—her gut dropped. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shove Damon away and beg the universe to rewind time.

But instead she let it happen.

She let him touch her. She let herself drown.

Because the honest truth was… in some messed-up part of her mind, she thought kissing Damon might be the closest she would ever get to kissing you.

But it wasn’t close at all.

It wasn’t anything.

The whole time his mouth was on hers, she was thinking of you. Wanting you. Needing you.

It was pathetic. It was shameful. It was cowardly.

And now she had to live with it.

Every memory she had of you — of late-night talks under pillow forts, of playing Street Fighter on your Sega, of the way your laugh made her knees weak — was twisted now. Corrupted.

Riri didn’t even have the guts to tell her best friend what happened. She knew that only broke your heart more.

And when you threw that coffee in her face, when your palm cracked across her cheek, it was the exact punishment she deserved.

It was the worst thing she had ever done.

The guilt sat on her chest like a cinderblock. It followed her everywhere. When she brushed her teeth. When she picked up groceries for her mom. When she folded her laundry earlier that day and pulled out the hoodie you’d given her two birthdays ago.

It didn’t smell like you anymore. Nothing did.

iv.

Gary’s garage was only a few blocks further. She pulled in without thinking, killing the engine and sitting there in the quiet for a moment. The red paint of the Barracuda gleamed under the last light of the day, untouched and sharp like everything Gary ever owned.

She slid out of the car and walked inside. She wanted to build. Needed to build. That’s what she always did when the world got too loud or too ugly. When her thoughts and feelings became too much to handle.

The scent hit her instantly — motor oil, old sweat, rusted metal, and faint traces of the peppermint gum Gary used to chew. The same scent that made her feel safe once. Now, it only reminded her of everything she no longer had. Everyone she no longer had.

Gary.

Natalie.

And you.

It always came back to you.

Even now, her mind betrayed her — flashing back to the day when this internal mess all started. It was a few months after the drive-by. Riri sat alone in Gary’s garage for the first time since his and Natalie’s deaths. The hot scent of burning rubber and the metallic taste of blood clung to the back of her throat as she polished a socket wrench. Fourteen years old. Sweaty. Tired. Grieving. And then you showed up out of nowhere in vintage Levi jeans and a faded Boyz II Men tee, holding your busted Walkman and a bag of gummy bears. You said you wanted to hang while your mom ran errands.

You stayed with her all day.

You sprawled out on the hood of a junked Mustang while Riri tweaked the carburetor, tossing gummy bears into her mouth and humming softly to the mix tape she had made for you both — old SWV and TLC songs scratchy with overuse.

And then you looked at her.

Not with pity. Not like she was weird. Not like she was some tomboy grease monkey with a sob story. You looked at her like she mattered.

And that was the first time Riri realized she might be in trouble.

But it was never clearer than the following summer before sophomore year.

⸻

You were fifteen.

It was the first real day of summer break — no jackets, no homework, no parents breathing down your necks. You’d just come from the park with push pops dripping down your fingers, and on a whim, you and Riri ran straight into the open spray of a busted fire hydrant.

No one was out yet. The street was still waking up.

But you laughed so hard — mouth open, soaked through your T-shirt and cut-off jean shorts like you didn’t care about anything but the water and the heat and the girl next to you.

You had dared her to slide across the slick patch of asphalt in her socks. She did. You screamed, clapped like it was the funniest thing you’d ever seen, and tried it yourself—only to slip and land flat on your back, laughing so loud the birds scattered from the wires above.

Riri dropped beside you on the wet concrete, water pooling in her shirt, socks ruined, and the two of you just laid there. Side by side. Sunlight hitting your faces. Your fingers brushing hers.

You turned to her, eyes squinting from the light. “This is peak dumbass behavior.”

She grinned. “You’re the one who fell on your ass.”

“And you’re the one who followed me.”

“Always.”

You laughed again, freely and fully, and Riri couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe.

That was when it clicked.

Because in that exact second, with your cheeks flushed and your curls stuck to your forehead, teeth biting into a push pop, laughing like nothing in the world could touch you—

That was the moment Riri Williams realized she didn’t just love you.

She was in love with you.

Not like she said she loved you when you gave her half your fries. Not like the way kids said it to each other before hanging up the phone. Not the childish crushes she pretended to have. Not the ones she forced herself to imitate just to blend in.

Real love.

The terrifying, steady kind that grabs you by the ribs and doesn’t let go.

And it scared her so bad, she shoved it deep down and told herself it wasn’t real. Buried it under layers of “best friend” and “just close” and “you know how girls are.”

The way she looked at you wasn’t the way girls were supposed to look at girls—not in 1995. Not in their neighborhood. Not with their parents, their teachers, their world. She grew up in a society that didn’t talk about girls loving girls unless it was in whispers or locker room jokes. She didn’t know how to name what she felt. So she boxed it up, tied it shut, and stuffed it into the farthest corner of her mind. Of her heart.

She built a fortress around it. Smiled when you dated boys. Kept her hands to herself when you shared a blanket during movie nights. Pretended she wasn’t looking when you changed in front of her like it was nothing.

She locked herself in the closet and threw away the key.

Until that night.

Until that party.

Until she broke everything with her filthy mistake.

Until Damon.

Fucking Damon.

Who never made her laugh so hard she had to hold her ribs. Never picked her over everybody else. Never brought her candy cigarettes from the corner store just because she liked the fake puff of sugar smoke. Never held her as she cried her eyes out at Natalie’s funeral, then Gary’s two days later. Never told her that they’d have joint weddings one day just to stay in each other’s lives forever.

Because he wasn’t you.

He was the placeholder. The substitute. The closest solution to a problem she didn’t know how to explain, let alone solve.

Because what she really wanted — who she always wanted — was something she didn’t have the language to say out loud.

v.

Riri pulled out her tools and got to work. For hours, her fingers moved on their own, sanding, welding, carving metal. Her only refuge. She didn’t eat. Didn’t drink. Didn’t even blink, really. Only when the shape finally started to emerge—small, imperfect, but unmistakably hers—did she pause.

On that twelfth day, she built something small. Delicate. Pointless, really, in the eyes of anyone else. But to her? It meant everything.

It was a wind chime.

Your favorite kind. The kind made of scrap metal and flattened bottle caps. The kind you both used to make when the two of you were kids, sitting on the garage floor with Gary humming in the background and your laughter bouncing off the concrete walls.

This one was different, though.

It was the exact design you’d built together on your sixteenth birthday. She remembered how your hand had brushed against hers that day and how she nearly dropped a wrench because of it. You’d caught it, laughed it off, said “clumsy ass” and kept going.

And now she held up the replica in her hands — this small, useless little trinket that nobody would ever see.

She smiled, just barely. And then the smile vanished.

Because along with the memory came the guilt.

And the shame.

And the grief.

Riri had spent years wishing she’d said something back then. Told you. Admitted it.

But she never did.

And now, all she had was silence. Cold, unforgiving silence.

That wind chime didn’t matter anymore. You’d never take it from her hands. You’d never even let her close enough to hand it over. You’d never hear her say the things she should’ve said years ago.

Because she ruined everything.

She didn’t know what she was going to do with it. But she needed to make something that could hold a piece of you close to her. Something real. Something that hadn’t been tainted.

She thought about the spray of the hydrant. The wet socks. The way your smile felt like it could bend time. Damon might’ve meant the world to you, but you were Riri’s whole universe. You were everything.

And now, she was nothing more than a ghost haunting the edges of your life.

Riri rubbed at her eyes and stood up, the wind chime dangling from her fingertips. The metallic pieces clinked together softly, the sound almost swallowed by the emptiness of the space. She was about to hang it up on one of the hooks by the workbench when a sudden, sharp ache bloomed in her chest—so fierce and immediate it nearly knocked the air out of her.

It wasn’t the usual dull weight she carried around since losing you. This was something else—a restless hum beneath her ribs, growing louder by the second. One she recognized with quiet dread.

Her body froze. Completely. As if someone had yanked a plug out of socket and every working mechanism inside her just… jammed. The first thing to come was the ringing in her ears—thin, high, and relentless. Her palms began to sweat, and not just from the heat of the garage. Her heart rate spiked sharply, each thud pounding heat into her bloodstream until it felt like her veins were boiling.

She tried to take a step forward, to shake it off, but her legs wouldn’t obey. When they did move, it was only to stagger her backward in an unsteady, jerking motion. Her heartbeat became a full-blown thunderstorm in her eardrums. Her vision started to mist over, shapes blurring into shadows. She backed up again—too far, too quickly—and her spine met the cool, unyielding wall of the garage.

Now there was nowhere else to go.

The outside world faded—the faint hum of traffic, the creak of the garage roof in the summer heat—drowned out by the blood-rush pounding in her head. Her breathing grew faster and faster until it dissolved into uncontrollable gasps.

Her eyes squeezed tight, snapping closed like shutters. But behind closed lids, she could see everything. Hear everything. Feel everything. 

She could see your smile — warm and unguarded as you laughed and spun around in her hands, fingers laced through hers.

She could hear the moan she let out when Damon’s tongue slid into her mouth that same night — a sound that made her stomach lurch with nausea.

She could taste the bitter iced coffee as it ran down her lips — the wet shock freezing her skin after you threw it in her face.

She could feel your palm collide with her cheek — the blow backed by the pure, unfiltered weight of your rage.

“You’re a two-faced treacherous bitch, Riri!”

Her knees buckled. Tears streaked hot down her face as she slid down the wall and folded in on herself, curling into a small, protective ball on the oil-stained concrete. The wind chime rolled from her palm and landed with a soft, metallic clatter.

Her breath came in ragged bursts, chest rising and falling like she’d been running for miles. The ringing in her ears grew so loud it was painful, and her heartbeat… it didn’t just race now—it hurt.

Aside from Natalie, there had only ever been one person who could calm her down when her body and soul reached their breaking point.

You.

But Natalie was gone. Dead.

And as far as you were concerned, so was Riri. Dead to you, that is.

She had tried to cope. Told herself she deserved the distance. Convinced herself that giving you space was the only decent thing left she could do after what she’d done.

But space wasn’t healing anything—it was tearing her apart. Destroying her from the inside out.

And if this was how she was feeling… she could only imagine what you were going through.

Every time she passed your block and didn’t see you on the porch, every time she caught herself reaching for her phone only to remember you weren’t answering, it twisted something in her chest until it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Like how she felt now.

It wasn’t just the guilt anymore. It was the absence. The empty place you used to fill so completely. And Riri couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t bear the distance anymore. Not another day. Not another hour. Not even another minute. The need to see you again was clawing at her ribs—to look you in the eye and just… exist in the same space, even if you still hated her.

But no matter how much she wanted it—hell, yearned for it—she didn’t know how or when she’d ever get the opportunity. Not when you were avoiding her like the plague—bending over backwards to ensure there was absolutely no reason, no excuse whatsoever for your paths to ever cross.

Riri stayed there against the wall until her breathing finally slowed, until the burn in her chest mercifully dulled into a lingering ache. With trembling fingers, she wiped away her tears, a heavy, raw resignation settling in her bones. She didn’t have the how, but she had the want. Desperate, aching, reckless want.

And then, almost a week later, she finally had an opening.

She overheard a conversation outside the corner store — two neighborhood girls chattering over now & laters and Bubblicious, running their mouths loud enough for the whole damn block to hear.

“You going to that party on Friday?”

“Girl, hell yeah! It’s at Y/N’s place. Pretty sure she ain’t thrown a bash since middle school.”

Riri’s heart stopped mid-beat.

You were throwing a party?

After all this?

The same girl who used to say she hated hosting anything because “too many people in one space gives me hives”?

But now?

Now you were planning a whole damn party?

And you hadn’t told her…

You used to tell her everything…

Riri stood there, her breath trapped in her throat. The wind chime she’d started carrying around in her bag suddenly felt like a weighted anchor. She swallowed hard.

It was something.

Maybe nothing.

But maybe, just maybe, a chance.

Her one shot.

And she was going to take it.

Riri didn’t know what the hell she was going to say. Or if you’d even let her say it. She didn’t know if she’d cry or scream or freeze. Didn’t know if she’d show up and be immediately thrown out.

But she had to show up.

Because you were her best friend.

Because you were more than that, even if she never got to say it out loud.

You had every reason in the world to hate her — but Riri only had you.

She wasn’t trying to be forgiven. Not yet. She didn’t deserve that.

She just needed to see you.

To say something.

Anything.

Because the silence was killing her.

And even if you screamed, even if you hit her again, even if you never looked at her the same way—she couldn’t keep pretending the world still made sense without you in it.

So she’d go.

To your party.

Even if she had to climb through your window or beg on her knees or look like a damn fool in front of the whole block—Riri would show up.

She was ready.

Because somewhere deep down, she still hoped you hadn’t thrown away that wind chime.

pairing: riri williams x black!fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

summary: in the summer of 1995, a heartbreaking betrayal between you and your lifelong best friend riri williams erupts into a storm of buried feelings, painful truths, and a kiss that changes everything.

contains: angst, slut-shaming, internalized homophobia, closeted lesbianism

a/n: this story is set during the 90s when homophobia and slut-shaming were a lot more normalized by society. nothing too extensive, but still could be potentially triggering for some people.

tags: @riris-heart @mitchesmoon @impinkalicious @riridefender @theyna-will-happen

i.

Chicago, Summer 1995

The air was thick with heat and the scent of barbecued ribs, sweet corn, and charcoal smoke. Music spilled into the streets from someone’s boombox — This Is How We Do It was blaring as kids ran through open fire hydrants and grown folks danced on cracked sidewalks with paper plates in hand. It was the kind of summer night that only Chicago could conjure: too hot, too alive, and too familiar. It was the kind of summer night made for memories.

You had barely been back in the city for a week. Freshman year of college had chewed you up and spit you out, and all you wanted was home — your mama’s cooking, your old bedroom, and long lazy afternoons on the porch with your best friend, Riri Williams.

Since transitioning into early adulthood, everything felt different now. But Riri was the one part of your world that hadn’t changed. She was still the same motor-mouthed, curly-haired genius you’d grown up with, still wearing those baggy jeans, beat-up sneakers, and her signature mischievous grin like armor.

Riri had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. Ten years of friendship. Since y’all were kids riding bikes and scraping knees together on the South Side. Since the sleepovers. Since the lemonade stands. Since before either of you knew what true heartbreak even meant. The two of you had been inseparable since you were eight years old. Your families became intertwined — holidays, birthdays, even funerals. If you weren’t at her place, she was at yours. A decade of secrets, of loyalty, of dreams whispered on rooftops and blood oaths sealed with pinky promises.

Now you were both eighteen. Different colleges, different majors, different campuses — yet still the same when you reunited. Still you and Riri.

“Girl, come on!” Riri grinned, already tugging you toward the crowd gathered around the speakers. Her braids bounced behind her as she weaved through bodies, her silver hoop earrings catching the light every time she turned back to make sure you were still following. “They playin’ our song!”

You laughed, breathless. “You didn’t even let me finish my popsicle.”

She gave you a smirk over her shoulder. “Cry about it on the dance floor.”

You rolled your eyes but let her pull you into the crowd, where bodies moved in waves to the beat of Groove Thang. Somewhere behind you, Damon was trailing. Your boyfriend of one year. You turned to glance at him just before Riri’s hands found your hips, swaying in time to the music.

Damon wasn’t looking at you. He was already scanning the party for his boys, immediately lighting up when one of them shouted from across the lawn. Before you could say anything, he turned to you with a quick “Yo, babe,” and leaned in to kiss you—slow and lingering like he had something to prove. You let it happen, lips pressed awkwardly while his hand settled too firmly on your lower back.

“I’ma catch up with you later, alright?” he whispered.

And just like that, he was gone. Again. Practically sprinting toward his friends like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

You blinked after him, trying not to let your disappointment show. As he made a beeline for his crew, you caught movement out the corner of your eye. Riri was watching the exchange with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

Her smile faltered—just for a second. A tight little scowl had flickered across her features when Damon kissed you. It was gone almost as quickly as it came, wiped clean by that bright, blinding smile you knew so well—as if the shadow had never existed. But it had. And it was long enough to catch your attention.

You blinked. Jealous? No. That couldn’t be right. You were probably imagining things. It was too hot. The music was too loud. She was your best friend, not—

“Let’s dance!”

She spun you around without warning, laughing as you yelped, her hand firm in yours.

You shook off the weird moment, chalking it up to nothing. Riri always had a complicated relationship with Damon—never liked him, never trusted him. But she tolerated him for you. Because that’s what best friends did.

You let yourself forget everything else. All your questions were drowned in laughter as you allowed your body to fall into the rhythm of the music. Riri danced like she wasn’t afraid to be ridiculous — like every beat was a joke she was in on. Her tank top clung to her in the heat, dark jeans riding low on her hips as she moved, and her joy was infectious. You matched her energy move for move.

Time slowed into a blissful blur. You danced with Riri like no one else existed. Damon was off somewhere — you barely noticed. You didn’t care. Not when Riri had you doubled over laughing, gripping your hands to keep you from toppling over during a clumsy attempt at the running man. The two of you twirled and dipped and swayed, your bodies falling into a rhythm that felt older than both of you. You’d never felt more alive. Or more free. You lost yourself in the beat, in Riri’s laugh and the way she sang every word slightly off-key but with her whole chest. She twisted you under her arm like you were still kids in your bedroom blasting the radio.

Then it happened—your foot caught on the edge of someone else’s sneaker. Your balance tipped backward with a startled gasp. But before gravity could claim you, Riri’s hands found your arms in an instant. She yanked you forward, quick as ever, the reflexes of a girl who once caught you when you nearly fell off a jungle gym at age eleven. But this time, you didn’t just right yourself. You crashed into her—full weight colliding, chests pressed together, faces so close your noses nearly touched.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around her waist. Hers found your back. The laughter from your near fall got trapped in your throat, replaced by something quieter. Deeper.

For a moment, the two of you just… stayed there. Caught in each other’s orbit. She smelled like coconut oil and cherry soda. Her arms around you were solid, grounding. You didn’t move. You didn’t want to. You felt a smile stretch across your face — one of those honest ones that came from someplace warm and safe. Riri mirrored it, leaning her forehead against yours briefly. Her fingers trembled lightly against your back, like she wasn’t sure if she was holding on or letting go.

The world slowed to a breathless pause.

Something passed between you. Something wordless.

Your heart beat too loud in your chest.

And then you both laughed — nervous, ridiculous giggles bubbling out as you pulled away slightly. But not all the way. Never all the way.

“That was almost real tragic,” she said, brushing curls out of your face.

“You would’ve broken my fall,” you joked, giving her a lopsided grin. “You always do.”

She held your gaze for just a second too long. Then she cleared her throat, stepped back, and tugged her tank top straight. “I gotta hit the bathroom real quick. Hold it down for me, okay?”

You nodded, still dazed, not questioning it as she disappeared into the house behind the party. Your heart fluttered, skin still buzzing from where her hands had been. You stayed outside, letting the air try to cool the heat spreading across your face.

And you waited.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. You scanned the crowd. Still no sign of her. You looked around the yard, craning your neck above the crowd. Damon was still nowhere to be found either. You hadn’t even noticed he was gone. Hadn’t seen him since he kissed you goodbye.

After twenty minutes, you started toward the house, concern pricking at your chest. You slipped inside, figuring maybe Riri had gotten caught up or ran into someone she knew. But the more you searched, the more an uneasy knot began to coil in your stomach. One you couldn’t name yet.

You weren’t looking for Damon. You told yourself that over and over. This was about finding Riri.

It was quieter indoors, only muffled music seeping through the walls. You called Riri’s name once. No answer. Checked the downstairs bathroom. Empty. Eventually, you made your way upstairs into the dark hallway. The first two bedroom doors were cracked open. Empty. Upstairs bathroom? Door wide open. Light off.

Then the last door.

Closed.

You stood in front of it, suddenly aware of how quiet the hallway was. But your pulse was loud in your ears.

You didn’t knock.

Instead, you pressed your hand to the doorknob. It turned without resistance. You pushed the door open—slow, quiet, the kind of quiet that said you weren’t even sure why you were sneaking.

Until you saw them.

Saw her.

And the world stopped.

Riri.

Your best friend. Your girl. The one you trusted more than anyone on earth.

On her back. On the bed.

With your boyfriend.

Damon’s body was on top of her, hands tangled in her braids, his mouth crashing into hers like he couldn’t get enough. Like he was trying to consume her. His hands were everywhere. Gripping. Touching. Owning. Her hands were on his chest, not pushing him away, not even hesitating. She arched up into him, a low sound escaping her throat. And then—

Riri let out a soft moan.

Something in you shattered.

You couldn’t breathe.

Your breath caught in your chest so hard you thought it might tear straight through your ribs. Your eyes burned, wide and unblinking. Your chest caved in. You didn’t speak. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move.

You just stood there, your heart cracking open, piece by piece, until all that was left was a hollow shell where something bright used to live.

And still—neither of them noticed you.

Maybe that was the worst part.

And sure, you could interrupt and make a scene. You could slam the door or somehow alert them to your presence. But you don’t. Instead, you watch them for longer than you should — watch her closely — before doing the only thing your fractured soul could manage.

With a steadiness you didn’t know you had, you slowly backed away and closed the door.

Softly.

Gently.

So quietly, it didn’t even creak.

Like you were afraid it might wake you up from a nightmare you didn’t want to be real.

There was no need for a confrontation. No point in asking why or how or when. The answer had been in the way she scowled when he kissed you, in the way Damon always looked away just a beat too soon.

And then you left.

Down the stairs. Through the crowd. Past the grill smoke. Past the laughter. Past the music. Past the life you’d built in your head with the two people who just destroyed it.

Outside, the air was still thick with heat. But your skin felt cold.

You didn’t stop walking. You couldn’t. Because if you stopped, you’d fall apart right there on the cracked sidewalk.

Only when you were a full block away did the tears start to fall. Silent at first, then violent. Cars rolled past with bass-heavy speakers and headlights blinking in rhythm with the beat of your broken heart. But you couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in your ears. You clutched your arms around your ribs like it could hold you together, like it could keep your soul from shattering completely.

But it couldn’t.

You didn’t know where you were walking to.

But you knew you couldn’t stay.

Not here.

Not with them.

Not with the echo of her laugh in your ears and the sound of her moan replaying like a skipping record in your mind.

Your tears continued to flow uncontrollably, blurring the sidewalk and soaking into the collar of your tank top. You felt something inside you die — something sacred. A part of your soul you’d always entrusted to Riri Williams.

Your best friend.

The girl you never thought would hurt you.

The girl who just did.

It was the kind of betrayal that didn’t feel sharp—yet—but dull and smothering. A weight you couldn’t breathe under.

She took that piece of yourself you’d trusted her with…

And she’d given it away.

To him.

To Damon.

To the boy who said he loved you.

And the girl who you’d loved, in ways you never let yourself name.

Until now.

Until it was far, far too late.

ii.

Two days passed.

Two days since the block party.

Two days since the betrayal.

Two days of silence where your heart used to live.

You hadn’t answered a single one of her calls. Hadn’t opened her voicemails. Every text message on your little Nokia phone sat untouched and unread. You couldn’t bear to see her name lit up on your screen without feeling sick.

You’d spent the weekend trying to scrub the image from your mind — Riri’s legs tangled with Damon’s, his hands all over her, the sound of her moan ringing louder than any memory of laughter the two of you had ever shared. But no matter how hard you tried, the betrayal sat heavy in your chest like a swallowed brick. It didn’t budge.

Sunday morning came anyway, humid and gray, cicadas buzzing in the trees like static in your brain. And right on cue, there was a knock.

Three quick taps. The same every week since you were thirteen.

Like clockwork. Like nothing happened. Like nothing’s changed.

You didn’t move at first. Maybe if you stayed quiet, she’d leave. Maybe she’d get the message.

But then she said it—cheerful and sunny, like she hadn’t ripped your entire fucking world apart:

“Open up, sleepyhead! I got your coffee and chocolate frosted!”

Your blood turned molten.

You threw open the door.

And there she stood. Riri Williams. Your ride-or-die for the past decade. The girl who knew every shade of your laugh, who’d seen you cry during movies, who’d helped you sneak out your bedroom window in middle school just to dance in the rain.

And now, the girl who had made out with your boyfriend behind an unlocked bedroom door while you danced outside like a fool.

She looked the same as always. Braids tied up in a messy bun, gold hoops gleaming in the morning light, baggy cargo shorts, and that goddamn oversized Fresh Prince of Bel-Air t-shirt she always stole from your closet. She held a pink Dunkin’ Donuts box in one hand, two iced coffees balanced in the other. Her smile was infuriatingly innocent. It gleamed like a weapon.

“Damn, girl,” she said, grinning. “You look like you ain’t slept all weekend. Where you been hiding, huh?”

Her voice was light, teasing. That soft Sunday energy. That routine between you two. She had no idea.

You stared at her—expression hard, teeth clenched, arms stiff at your sides.

She tilted her head, brow furrowing slightly. “…You good?”

Your gaze flicked down to the drinks.

“Is that my French vanilla swirl?” you asked, your voice tight and brittle.

Riri blinked at the abrupt question. Then she nodded, flashing that infuriatingly perfect smile again. It took everything ounce of self control you possessed not to give her a black eye.

“You know it, baby,” she said brightly, as if nothing was broken between you two. “The Y/N special, as always. Just how you like it—“

You didn’t hear the rest. Rage boiled in your chest so fast and so violently you could feel it in your fingertips.

You snatched your usual order from her hand with trembling fingers, your entire body vibrating from the effort to keep your anger contained. You took a long pull from the straw, the chilled brew sliding down your throat in a useless attempt to cool the fire inside you.

Then Riri stepped forward. One foot over the threshold. One breath into your space. About to waltz into your house — your home — where every room held pieces of your bond like family heirlooms. Where the walls still echoed with ten years of laughter, all-nighters, and whispered secrets in the dark. Where she’d built a lifetime of memories with you that were now tainted forever thanks to her betrayal.

And something in you snapped.

Without thinking, you ripped off the plastic lid and threw the entire drink in her face.

Riri shrieked as she stumbled back, dropping her own drink and the donut box in the process. The coffee splashed everywhere—into her braids, soaking her shirt, dripping onto her sneakers. The pink box tumbled to the porch, donuts rolling out like casualties of war.

“The FUCK is wrong with you?!” she yelled, scrubbing her eyes, her voice sharp with fury and confusion.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t feel bad. If anything, a savage part of you wished the coffee had been scalding hot. Hot enough to leave a scar. Hot enough to burn a hole through her skin the way she’d burned one clean through your heart.

“You think you can play in my face like I’m fucking stupid?!” you shouted, voice cracking with the weight of your rage.

Her eyes widened in shock, but you didn’t give her a second to speak. You stepped forward, voice climbing, venomous.

“You got the fucking nerve to show up on my doorstep? Acting like everything’s all fine and shit after what you did?! You think you can cheat with my man one day and come skipping over the next like you’re not a trifling ass ho?!”

Riri froze. “Wait—hold up—”

“Don’t,” you spat, voice blistering. “Don’t you dare even think about trying to deny it. I saw you. I fucking saw you.”

Riri’s mouth went utterly slack. Her face morphed into sheer horror, the color draining from her skin like the coffee dripping down her cheeks. “Y/N, I—“

“NO!” you cut her off viciously, eyes burning with the pressure of tears you refused to let fall. “Ten years! I gave you TEN YEARS of my life! And you were sneakin’ around behind my back so you could fuck Damon?!”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” Riri stammered out, shaking from more than just the wet t-shirt clinging to her skin. “I swear—I swear on my life—I didn’t sleep with Damon! I know that don’t fix shit, I know it doesn’t, but I would never do that to you—”

“I don’t care!” you screamed. “I don’t care if you fucked him or not, Riri! You let him touch you! You wanted him to! That’s worse!”

She looked wrecked with shame, lips parted but no sound coming out. You barreled forward.

“I loved you,” you bit out coldly, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. “With everything I had. You were my person, Riri. But you—” You laughed bitterly. “You couldn’t keep your hands off my boyfriend long enough to remember that.”

“It was a mistake!” she cried, panic lacing her words. “I didn’t mean—it wasn’t like that—”

“Shut the fuck up!” you snapped. “Like I’d ever believe another goddamn word out your lying-ass mouth again. As far as I’m concerned, you and that limp dick cheating fuck don’t exist anymore. You’re fucking dead to me. Both of y’all.”

She stepped forward again, her sneakers squelching in spilled coffee. “Wait! Y/N—just let me explain, please—”

You turned sharply to go back inside.

But her hand shot out, grabbing your arm.

It was instinct. Reflex. Familiar. Her touch, so soft and desperate, almost unraveled you. For a second, the feel of her skin against yours was a memory you wanted to believe in.

Until it wasn’t.

You wrenched yourself free from her grasp, whirling around with fire behind your eyes. And in a blind flash of rage, you slapped her. Hard.

The sound cracked through the humid morning air like thunder, louder than your own heartbeat.

Riri gasped, her hand flying to her throbbing cheek, mouth trembling. You could already see the red bloom across her dark skin, see the glossy shimmer in her eyes. They searched yours like she was looking for the girl who used to love her.

But she was gone.

And you didn’t feel regret. Not in that moment. All you felt was the heat of betrayal. The weight of your world collapsing piece by piece.

You pointed a trembling finger at her. “Don’t you ever put your fast-tailed ass hands on me again! You don’t get to grab me. You don’t get to fix this.”

You felt a vindictive sense of pleasure when she recoiled, chest heaving, eyes wide with disbelief—no, fear.

“You’re a two-faced treacherous bitch, Riri! And I swear to God, if you ever come near me again, you’ll be lucky if the next thing you catch is just a backhand.”

Her own eyes brimmed with tears, but you didn’t care. You were too far gone. Too hollow. Too broken to be anything but cruel.

“We’re fucking done,” you whispered, then screamed it for the whole neighborhood to hear. “Forever!”

And before she could say a damn word, you slammed the door in her face.

The sound echoed like a final nail in the coffin.

The tears came before the lock even clicked shut.

You didn’t care that your iced coffee was still staining the porch.

Didn’t care that the donuts were ruined.

Didn’t care that your palm still stung from the force of the slap.

You slid down to the floor, breath ragged as shaking sobs racked your entire body. You leaned against the closed door, and you didn’t care if she heard you crying from outside. Because if she did — maybe then she’d understand just how badly she’d broken you.

What you didn’t know — couldn’t know — was that on the other side of the door, Riri was crying now too, tears pouring down her own face.

Silent.

Stunned.

And shattered.

Neither one of you moved.

—

“Crash Back” (Riri Williams x Fem!Reader)

| Riri comes back to Chicago and the part of you that's always untethered when she’s gone finally settles.

| SFW, fluff, slice of life, a pinch of angst, common mcu civilian shinanigans, established relationship

| A little bit of mutual pining for my best girl. (Pic source: Ironheart S1EP1; “Take Me Home”)

| 2k+ words

Watching the kids playing in the street beyond the suggestion of a gate around the front of your house always makes your gut pang in warning.

No matter that it would’ve been you on the road a few years ago, feet aching with a big ass smile on your face. A few years ago aliens weren’t so much the norm that the world was having placement disputes over them, though — disputes you know won’t go anywhere good for a long time considering in America alone the interim president’s penchant for human deportation was ghastly and the fact that you all’s last three presidents have either been murdered or are in jail all now. Shit, a few years ago dangerous shit falling from the sky that could obliterate a whole block in a blink was still the stuff of nightmares only (so long as you didn’t live in New York).

Now, though?

Now there was a laser in one of the boys’ hands across the way, playing with it like it was a toy, and you were busy answering emails while caught between the decision to call the cops or rely on the daddy the lil Jackson boy got the laser weapon(?) from to properly put the shit away next time.

What a fucking mess.

From here you can’t really tell what it is, but considering his dad was always hanging around Stuart’s forever-up-to-something ass you weren’t confident it wasn’t real. You just weren’t sure enough to act on anything in any direction either, and weren’t willing to sound unnecessary alarms because a thirteen year old was using his imagination to play tag with an over designed but harmless laser pointer.

Whirring makes you look up, head snapping towards the boys still playing in the street before you quickly realize the sound is coming from overhead.

“i know i’m trouble, know ur way around so just stay around”

when riri returns from MIT and gets introduced to the crew —your crew, all your worst fears are more likely to come to life than ever before. riri’s return, her getting hurt, you being stuck in the crew forever; its all too much. every escape plan you create keeps failing, or is it being sabotaged? the death of your best friend has found a way to haunt you again, and one crew member is constantly on your tail about secrets you don’t have. but even through all the chaos, you can’t stop running back to riri, and she’ll always fall into your arms.

a/n: this is gonna be a long series and im SO EXCITED FRIENDS. this is abt 2.5k words and written in (semi) chronological order. theres some flashbacks. lesbian. riri williams x black!fem!reader. everyone is an adult. tension. mentions of death (natalie and gary). john being an instigator. tension. tiny bit of angst. comment to join taglist. tension. this part sets up a lot for the rest of the story so theres not a TONN of action but yur

"Damn, she's good." Slug smiles, popping a kernel in their mouth.

"Duct tape. She’s totally gonna use it." You look at Roz, who obviously doesn't know the girl on the screen; the girl you haven't expected to see for the rest of your life.

"Nah," The word escapes your lips as a whisper, as words you debated to say aloud. "She's probably gonna use the wires to start the elevator back up." A slurp erupts from your cup as you take a swig of your drink. "She doesn’t mess with bombs like that.” You shift uncomfortably, arms crossed and a finger tapping on your cup.

John's eyes bore into you. He watches your every movement: your eyes lying stuck on the screen, your fast breaths, your hands dropping to rub against your pants and rid of sweat.

You were the calmest person on the team. A level-headed logician, you planned missions with ease. You knew a way in and a way out. You knew people's strengths and their weaknesses. John considered you an equal – he sometimes considered you more intelligent than him. The hell is your reaction to Riri?

"What, do you know her or something?" John's gaze refuses to break from you. He questions and expects you to answer honestly.

Your body contorts. By lifting your once-leaning hips, you try to shake the discomfort storming through your chest. You stood tall, arms stiffened across your chest. The computer was no longer in your eye view. Instead, your gaze locked with his.

"Not anymore." You grabbed your now-empty cup and raced past him to throw away your drink. John's brows furrowed.

John’s eyes followed you."This girl and her weird ass riddles.”

…

Tense. Your body was tense. Every time you moved. You felt like you were pulling 1000 pounds with each limb. What was she gonna do when she saw you? Would you drive her away more? Maybe she should be driven away. Parker's commune wasn’t a place for Riri. She’s many things, but not a criminal. Soft-hearted, curious, ambitious; too ambitious. Parker would abuse her genius and therefore make her more curious. A combination like that makes for a shitty end result.

Your foot is already halfway out the door with no sign of looking back. You had been planning to leave the crew for months now. Silently. With haste. With ease. There was no other way to plan an exit. Past members came and went never to be heard from again. You hoped to keep your life, to escape the wrath of Parker’s hood. But with Riri back? Fuck, plans have changed. She needed protection and guidance. Someone had to be the one to do it.

Applause erupts from the other side of the room. Shit. A part of you was hoping Riri wouldn’t make it out of that elevator. Maybe then you’d still have a reason to fight, to seek revenge. Maybe then you’d have a reason to see the woman who raised you. But now you’d have to face Riri. And god knows what she’d have to say.

The metal of the elevator door creaks as Riri emerges through. And you see her. Damn, it’s really her. All the memories come rushing back. The days you spent braiding her hair, the sleepovers you held each other a little too close, the promise you made the last time you saw her:

“No matter what happens or who we become, it’s only us.” You tightened your pinky around hers. If only she knew the lengths you’d have to take. Would it still be “us”?

Riri’s hand cups your chin, bringing your eyes to meet hers. “You know I love you,” The words rung heavier than they should’ve. You guys said ‘I love you’ all the time. Why did it feel different now? “right?”

Your gaze flickered down to her lips. You wanted to stay like this forever. In her arms, loved by her, under her gaze. “I love you too, more actually.” But you knew it would never last. And it didn’t.

She was supposed to be at MIT right now. You were supposed to be at NCAT. You both have truths to confess to.

All your body allows you to do is sigh in anticipation. Your legs eventually take control, slowly inching over to the table to stand with the rest of the crew. The wooden desk croaks under your body as you lean on its stature, and you wait.

“I heard Riri Williams was a genius,” Parker claps. You look down at your feet, inspecting the floor below you. Riri looks at the team of people in front of her once over, then twice. She sees you but doesn’t know if it is you. “but I said to myself… I gotta meet this kid up close.”

She isn’t allowed to decipher the contents of your face, its orgins, its ancestry before her impulsiveness pulls at her heartstrings. Immediately, Riri erupts, “What makes you think you think you can trap me-”. She knows. You know she knows.

“Please,” Parker insists, “it wasn’t personal.” Your face slips her mind for a moment. It was all too much. She doesn’t wanna be here; she shouldn’t be here. Riri’s face contorts. What the fuck is he talking about? He continues, “Does it matter why I did what I did? What matters is you did what you did. You beat Stuart’s time.”

Stuart's lips pull into a line. He shyly raises his hand and confesses,“Present”

Overwhelmed with everything, everyone, all at once, you panic. “Fuck.” The words slip louder than you expected. “Can we just get this over with?” Riri’s gaze locks on you. Your voice alone was enough confirmation. Panic flooded her irises. She froze. There was nothing else to do but freeze the same way you froze when you saw her on the monitor.

“Nah,” she mutters, her voice riddled with denial. Your eyes stay locked in each other for longer than you’d like to admit. Silence filled the room, but what was there to say?

Riri’s eyes scanned your body. You looked different. Different in a way she couldn’t put her finger on. Different in a way that made her heart skip five beats per minute. Different in a way that made her hands drip with sweat. You had gotten piercings since senior year of highschool. Her bare face felt naked looking at yours. Your afro decorated your shoulders and chest. It had grown. A lot. Maybe she needed to invest in some of that hair growth serum you were always talking about.

You scanned Riri’s body. She was always fit but damn, was she this fit? Her biceps and abs stuck out to you and just you apparently. Riri wasn’t one for cardio but she was one for working in the garage. You could tell she’s been spending more time there — for the better or worse. Her cornrows enhanced her bone structure in a way they hadn’t before. Or maybe she’d just gotten more mature, so her face naturally looked like that. Regardless, maybe you needed to get some cornrows to snatch you up a bit. Your eyes traveled back down to her abs. Maybe you needed a cardio routine too.

She shouldn’t be here. As if being trapped in a bomb laced elevator was enough, she shouldn’t be here.

“I’m out.” She proclaims with an exasperated sigh. She walks towards a door, yanking on its knob.

“That’s a closet.” John warned, scratching his head. He walked toward Riri and guided her to a door.

“I knew that!”

…

10pm struck the clock. Water soaked your body. Droplets fell down your back and caressed your shoulders. Even under this hot ass shower, your body couldn’t relax. It couldn’t let go of earlier. It couldn’t let go of Riri.

When she looked at you, all the air left your body. It was like you never left, like she never went to mit, as if you guys never stopped talking. You never meant for it to be this way, for you to be this way.

It was once you, Riri, and Natalie; the three musketeers. Since childhood you guys were neighbors and best friends. Every day was spent at Riri’s house or in her dad’s garage. So when you came back from a corner store run to find your best friend and the man who treated you like his own in a pool of their own blood and Riri crying over them, helpless, something in your brain’s hardwire changed.

After Nat, you couldn’t bear to see Riri’s pain. You couldn’t bear to see her cry, her grief. Sure, for you it hurt but for Ri? She never seemed to process it all.

All you wanted to do was avenge Natalie. It wouldn’t fix a thing, you knew that. Revenge would never change Riri’s tears but it would give her clarity, right?

The journey to revenge drove you insane. Wild goose chases, dead ends. Eventually you found the identity of the shooter. But what could you do? Turn them in? When you handed over evidence the fuckers only got 5 years in jail. The hole in your heart as well as the grief Riri constantly endured somehow grew larger.

The case closed two years ago, the same day you turned 18. You needed a job. Clown was a friend of a friend. She specialized in explosives and you knew strategy, management, and law. She said she knew a guy. So you ended up here. Parker said he was beginning a start up company and he needed a manager and some tech guys to compare to the competition. You vastly underestimated what he meant. Obviously.

…

After John guided Riri to a door you assumed she left. She didn’t. You were packing up your stuff when you saw him talking to her in that big ass not so secret glass room he calls an office.

Did she take the deal? What has she gotten herself into? Parker really flashed a wad of cash and she came like a mouse to a cheese trap.

The light from the TV reflects on your wooden floor, changing colors every few seconds from you changing channels. Sounds fill your ears, quieting your thoughts but not your mind. You couldn’t shake the anxiety that riddled your body.

Riri being home in the middle of the school year means one of two things: she dropped out, or she got expelled. Knowing her, both are equally possible, but it’s most likely the latter since she’d never willingly miss out on MIT’s resources. So if she got expelled, the real question is: what the fuck did she do?

And her energy, her face, her body. It wasn’t just you that had changed, that had grown. When Riri saw you it was as if she saw a thousand worlds collide. Your thousand worlds came together at that moment too. Lost possibilities, tear stained prayers meshed into one singular moment. Just to see her. A changed Riri, a Riri without you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every thought was her.

You bring your hand to your face, rubbing your forehead and temples to wake yourself up. “Fuck, should I just go see her?” A sigh leaves your chest, “I don’t even know where she’s at,”

…

You knew where she was at. There was only one place she could be. You walk up the pavement and see the steps you haven’t seen in years just to open the door to the complex, walk up some more steps, and see the door to the apartment you haven’t seen in years. This isn’t a good idea. Nothing about this is a good idea. Riri being in the crew, you being here. Its not a good idea.

John is already on your ass. He knows. “No prior outside connections” your ass. He didn’t do his job correctly. Anyone with a Facebook and 3 minutes of free time can see we know each other. Ms.Williams has you plastered all over her page. But John won’t like this. He will do whatever it takes to stop it.

..

You couldn’t do it. Blood pooled at your feet and your whole body pulsed, nearly making a heartbeat of its own. Your hand hadn’t even touched the handle and you were chickening out. You just couldn’t.

You snuck around the back patio. It had only gotten easier since you guys were younger; sneaking around. Oddly, it felt like old times. Like when riri made you sneak into her room so you guys could be together. Or when you, natalie, and ri snuck back in the apartment when you were all supposed to be sleeping. You snuck into Riri’s apartment so much that it became a habit, it became home.

The house appeared empty when you looked through the glass door. But if everyone’s sleep, why are all the lights on?

BANG!

“Shit! Sorry, Mom!”

You look through the door again to see Riri dragging her ironsuit through her kitchen. You bite back a smile and stepped a few inches backward. Back facing the wall, you fall, body sliding down the brick and arms resting on your knees.

All these years and she’s still working on that ironsuit.

Cicadas serenade you for a while. After all these years you never realized how pretty the view was from this patio; how you can see into the chi at night.

“I see you still haven’t shaken the habit of sneaking places you ain’t supposed to be, huh?” Her voice is gentle, almost hum-like. You look up. Leaning against the doorway, Riri’s sweatshirt sleeves are rolled up and hair is tied back.

Wrinkles appear between your brows when you furrow them and cross your arms. A grin sneaks on your lips; you’re really with her. “I see you still haven’t shaken the habit of getting into trouble you don’t need to be in.. huh?” Your voice was low. Riri noticed the drop. You slowly rose to meet her gaze. She inhaled sharply, looking you up and down. Not only did she forget how tall you were, but the white shirt you wore was loose. It hung off your shoulder and exposed your stomach. The sweatpants you wore hung low on your hips, your tattoos and boxers peaking through.

She straightens her back, attempting to stand as tall as you. After clearing her throat, she begins, “Did seeking revenge mean you lost all your clothes?” She looks you up and down once more, raising her hand to pull at the hem of your shirt. The air seemed to leave your body, eyes snapping to the girl in front of you. “You broke or somethin'?” Her eyes finally met yours again. She didn’t know why, but her volume got lower and lower as she continued talking.

A pause followed her words but neither of you seemed to notice, you were too caught up in the girl in front of you. It was only when you began to speak when you realized how little space was in between you and Riri, how she was looking up at you expecting an answer, how your neck was craned downward not wanting to look away from her doe-like eyes.

It was all to much, the racing hearts, the heat radiating off each other's body, the knowing you weren’t supposed to be here but wanting more.

You pull back with a grin returning to your face, only in an effort to forget your nerves - “You know I look good.” You pushed past Riri and walked into the house, the place you used to call home. Her head peeked over her shoulder, watching you as you stroll into her home like it’s your own, as if you never left.

“Yea, alright.” Riri pulled the glass door closed and followed behind you. It’s gonna be a long night.

ok hi so i hope u enjoyed lmao. pt2 coming out in the next week or so hopefully

taglist— @mitchesmoon @onyxstones-world @pvnks0ul @shuririsart @newctrll @mariquitaaa @mrsudakuwilliams99 (comment to be added)

vamp!riri who immediately had to give in and confess to her being a vampire because she was horrible at hiding and lying about it.

“sooo.. can i come in?.. ima need to hear you say it. it’s more… reassuring”

“ma.. i’m not a big fan of taking mirror pictures… i don’t like the way i be looking..”

“a beach date? in this heat? and as bright as it is?? how about if we go at night?”

you also kinda suspected it because she would always become distant when you wore silver jewelry.

“ma, you gotta stop wearing that jewelry…. gold is the best anyway.”

vamp!riri who eyes turn into different shades of red depending what mood’s she’s in.

vamp!riri who refused to feed off you unless you were ready to be 100% end game.

“you sure you want this? because i promise you ain’t no going no where after this.”

vamp!riri who likes to hypnotize you/play with your mind for fun and because she can. (harmless hypnotizing, she’s a tease)

vamp!riri who’s incredibly strong and fast. getting hurt/falling around riri is such a negative. she’s always quick on her feet to catch you to make sure you’re good.

“you are blessed to have me y’know? as clumsy as you are, you’d have so many broken bones by now if it weren’t for me.”

vamp!riri who’s vangs always pop out when you start to piss her off. sometimes she doesn’t even know they appeared until you told her to ‘put those teeth up’

vamp!riri who can always tell when you’re horny. her smell is so enhanced she always knows when those panties are dripping.

“baby, if you wanted your pussy ate or something you could’ve just told me yeah? i can smell you from all the way over here.”

vamp!riri who never blinks. she doesn’t really need to. you had to get adjusted to it. especially during heated arguing. you would always have to look to the floor because those still red eyes would always put you in a frenzy.

vamp!riri who eventually marked you and turned you because there was no way she was living an eternal life without you.

These are my original characters for Killswitch! I've spent so much time brainstorming about them and im sooooooooo excited to finally share them with you! I love this lil found family that I created and I hope you do too. Now, these are my characters that I designed and drew myself! So please do not share them anywhere without crediting me, thank you!

🏷️: @bubbleblowinggirl @blkgworlamplified @solanaszn @pvnks0ul @onyxstones-world @inmyheadimobsessed @mitchesmoon @riris-heart @shurisbathwater @lvmxih @rheas-ripley @mrsudakuwilliams99

Between juggling being a full time college student and Chicago’s own Ironheart, Riri Williams has more than enough on her plate. Fighting villains by night and having to drag herself to her dorm to finish homework took more than a toll on the young genius’s life. You on the other hand, had a big part in keeping the city safe behind the scenes. When an unfortunate battle leaves the hero in the care of your unusual friend group, Riri has to heal and regain her strength under the care of you. Two strong personalities in one house couldn’t be too bad, right?

This series contains: violence, angst (of course), fluff, slow burn, mentions of death.

billy’s babble 🕷️: omgomgomg! this is the first series i’ve ever written, and i’m saurrrrrrrrrr excited to share it with y’all! this is an idea i been sitting on since last summer, but I was scared I wouldn’t do it enough justice. I hope y’all enjoy!

🏷️: @bubbleblowinggirl @blkgworlamplified @solanaszn @pvnks0ul @onyxstones-world @inmyheadimobsessed @mitchesmoon @riris-heart @shurisbathwater @lvmxih

Meet the Crew

Shuri x Riri

Shuri’s gaze lowered, and her plump bottom lip rolled between her teeth. “Hamba.” “Nigga, I don’t know what you just said, but I’m going, I’m going,” Riri sloppily raised her arm to shoo Shuri off before turning her back on the Wakandan fully. "Watch and learn, niggas!”

Warnings: Explicit language (duh), underage drinking, angst(?), mention of death, fluff!!!, probably some I missed Word Count: 4.6k+ Tags:@percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rose @saintwrld @someshuriposts @jessiap @ilikegecos @iiluvl4n @katymae12344 @shurismainbxtch @crookedsaladlover @motheroffae @saintwrld @marsolgy @ogbells16 @verachii @shuriszn @playgurlxoxoo @ashleighshaw @te-23 @dominquesheart @shuridefenselawyer @iminlovewithdomandtish @limbozqueen @cansah2002-blog A/N: We backkkk yall!!! I missed it here <3

Enjoy!!!

Shuri Udaku was the friendliest “loner” Riri had ever met. 

 Riri was the real type of loner. The one who could walk through the halls of MIT like a ghost, unnoticed. You might spot Riri at a few campus parties, tucked away in a corner with a drink in her hand. She danced, she vibed, and then she left. Riri was the person in the room observing everybody else silently, and she was fine with that most of the time. Can’t lose somebody you never get attached to, right?

It was the times when the grief got too heavy to carry that she wished she weren’t so alone. Times like several weeks ago, when she crumbled to the floor in the middle of the hall because the grief began to weigh more than she could bear. It crushed her beneath a massive mound of sadness, and her legs buckled as she fell. So many pairs of feet, some slowed, others pacing, passed her by as if she weren’t an anomaly, sobbing too loud to ignore. But they were ignoring her. She quietly begged for somebody to stop, to see her, to help.

No one did.

No one except the goddamn Princess of Wakanda, that is.

“For somebody with no friends, everybody seem to know you,” Riri murmured under her breath.

She trailed a few steps behind Shuri, unable to keep up with the pace of the taller girl as they trekked across campus with no real destination in mind. They were just walking together, wanting to be in each other’s space, but not wanting to admit it. 

Shuri nodded a silent greeting back to the group of girls who had just passed, giggling their “hello’s” with hearts in their eyes. 

Shuri was lonelier than Riri could even fathom. She missed her mother and her brother. Missed the country she called home for her entire life. Wakanda housed everything Shuri held dear, yet she couldn’t bring herself to go back. It hurt too much to return home and not have her father waiting for her. To see her T’Challa struggle to carry the burden their father left behind in a position he wasn’t supposed to hold for many more decades, at least.

Within moments, everything Shuri had ever known was torn from her gentle hands. Her father, her family, her pride. How ashamed he would be if he knew of the coward he’d raised. He died, and everyone else assumed the roles they were expected to fill. Everyone except Shuri. 

She ran away from her country, from feelings and emotions she wasn’t quite ready to process, to a new world where everybody was fascinated by her. 

They all knew of Shuri Udaku. Her name held meaning and status, especially when you threw “Princess” in front of it. Her accent was captivating; everybody wanted to hear her speak, as if she had something to say. Her brain was brilliant, thinking up new gadgets and inventions not even her professors could comprehend.

“They know my name,” Shuri responded thickly. “They don’t know me.”

They didn’t bother to. Being able to say ‘I go to school with the princess of Wakanda’ got them far enough. No need to actually know the princess.

“Wow, nigga. That was deep.”

Shuri turned slightly to face the smaller girl, unamusement swimming in her vision. She didn’t grace Riri with a response, though she wanted to chastise her for the slur she used so casually. Instead, she stood to face Riri fully, stepping directly in her path to stop her from going any further.

A smirk danced across Shuri’s lips as she tucked her hands away into her pockets. Her eyes drifted upwards before she spoke again, unable to meet the question behind Riri’s stare. “There’s some party happening over in East Campus tonight. You tryna go?” Nerves bounced around in Shuri’s abdomen, fluttering like butterflies as she awaited a response. Butterflies! Like she was a damn American high school girl with a crush. 

Shuri had only ever had one crush in her life. It was many, many years ago, on a girl who interned in her lab back in Wakanda. It was the first time Shuri had ever felt those little flutters in her stomach. 

She’d run home, straight to her brother. “It must be an illness, right? I’m dying! These are my final days-”  

He’d held up a hand to his little sister while the other hand attempted- and failed- to wipe away the smile hidden behind his lips. “Slow down, Shuri, slow down! You are not dying.”

“I must be! My stomach is turning over itself, and it only happens when Sade is around, and-”

“Does your heart beat a little bit faster?”

“Yes! And-”

“And your cheeks grow hot, and you feel nervous. Like you will stumble over your words and freeze?”

Tears welled in a young Shuri’s eyes as her panic grew. “Am I dying?”

T’Challa stood over his little sister, his laughter finally breaking free. “You are not dying. You have a crush.”

“A crush?”

Mhm, he hummed. “You like Sade.”

“I like Sade?” Shuri whispered, trailing off.

“Yes-” T’Challa started, but Shuri spoke first.

“I can not like Sade.”

His brows furrowed together, and he put his hands on her shoulders, his tone shifting as he bent at the waist. “Why not?”

Shuri’s long braids swung with a vibrant force as she shook her head back and forth. “Because Sade is a girl.”

“And?”

“And I am a girl-”

Several beats of silence passed between the siblings before T’Challa spoke again, riddled with confusion. “And-?” 

Shuri stilled, turning her brother’s words over and over again in her mind, inspecting them as though they held the answer she searched for. Their father had married their mother. T’Challa was sneaking off with Nakia, though they thought no one knew. Her liking Sade wouldn’t fit the status quo. It couldn’t be.

He could read the bemusement on his sister’s features. He lowered to her level, looking her in the eyes with a profound sincerity. “Shuri, it is okay for you to like a girl. It’s okay for you to love a girl if that’s what you feel.”

“Is it?” She sounded so small, so scared. “Nobody else does, and I don’t want to be different. Ubhuti, I don’t want to be wrong.”

Brother and sister, standing together with broken hearts at Shuri’s confession. T’Challa inhaled deeply, his lungs collecting what seemed like all the air in the room to hold his tears at bay before responding. “You will never be wrong, my Shuri. You are only wrong if you hide yourself, allow yourself to live a life of unhappiness because of what is ‘right’.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “Have you ever felt this way over a boy?”

Shuri’s “no” in response was meek.

“Then this is what is right for you, usisi. It is right, and that makes you right, just the way you are.”

He stood back to his full height, demanding Shuri’s eyes to flit up to follow his figure as the tears rolled down her face. “And for you to be this country’s genius, Bast Shuri, you’re oblivious as hell.” His humorous tone returned, permeating the space as he headed toward the exit. 

Shuri’s jaw dropped, a chuckle escaping through her sobs. “And what do you mean by that?” She demanded after him, the bass and confidence returning to her voice.

He turned smoothly, walking backwards out of the doorway. “Aneka and Ayo, Shuri? Sure they would love to hear how you just declared yourself the only lesbian in Wakanda.” And with that, he was gone.

“Aneka and Ayo?” Shuri questioned with a whisper. Realization washed over her all at once, chilling her nerves and turning her cries to a crow. “ANEKA AND AYO?!”

Riri’s response to Shuri was a smart-ass one, but the poor girl was genuinely puzzled. “Do I want to go to the public party that’s taking place on the campus of the college that I pay to attend? Did I need an invite?”

Shuri couldn’t do anything but blink down at the girl standing before her. It took too many moments for the Princess to realize Riri’s question was real, and when she did, laughter charged her belly as the butterflies flew away. “Really, Ri? You gon make me ask?”

“Ask what, nigga?”

All it took was one tiny step for Shuri to enter into Riri’s personal space. She stood too close, with Riri’s breasts barely grazing Shuri’s abdomen through her loose top. Riri’s breathing hitched, but she didn’t move away; instead, she leaned forward a bit to beckon Shuri closer.

Shuri bowed until her lips were right next to Riri’s studded ear. “You gon stop calling me that,” she whispered loud enough for just the two of them to hear, as though they were sharing a secret.

Before Riri could regather her wits, Shuri was already standing upright once again, not moving to put any space between them.  “Do you want to go to the party with me?”

A thick silence suspended between the two girls like a fog until Riri’s shaky voice dissipated it. “Like a date?”

Dimples decorated Shuri’s cheeks, a too goofy grin threatening to plaster itself onto her face. Instead, she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down hard, an action that Riri’s hypnotized gaze followed. “Yeah, Ri. Like a date.”

The butterflies returned, swarming Shuri’s intestines as she waited for Riri to respond. She wished so badly that reading minds were a part of her powerset. Ri had perfected her poker face long before she met the princess, a skill she’d learned from her father after losing one too many games. She was a master at masking her expression to give away her thoughts.

“Why me?”

The question threw Shuri for a loop, and she blinked hard, unsure of how to react.

“What you mean ‘why you’?”

Riri was tense, eyes downcast like she was embarrassed. Shuri finally untucked a hand from her pocket, slipping it beneath Riri’s chin and guiding her head back up until their visions aligned. “Why wouldn’t it be you, Ri?”

This tender shit had Riri’s nerves vibrating. Her body’s natural reaction was to flee and escape what her heart was reaching out for. She tried to take a step back, to bolt from the suffocating atmosphere surrounding them both, but Shuri’s next question left Riri immobile.

“I told you we was gon go together, didn’t I?”

It was a memory Riri hadn’t been able to ignore. It slipped back into her mind with ease, just like it had in her dreams for several nights before. 

The recollection was hazy due to their inebriated state at the time, but the feeling was genuine. It caused a low warmth to start in her middle and crawl all the way down to her toes, taking her voice with it; she could only nod her retort. 

Shuri’s touch parted from Riri’s chin to wrap around her shoulders, joining the other hand that was hiding away in her pocket. “Good, I’ll pick you up at 9.”

Riri rediscovered her words then, and with a smile she couldn’t bite back, stretching across her face from ear to ear, she declared, “I’ll be ready at 10.”

The drink in Riri’s hand was rancid. “You mixed this shit?” She shouted over the music thumping through the house, hammering at the foundation. 

Shuri rolled her eyes, curls dancing along to the beat as she swayed. “Yep!” She called out in response, plucking the cup out of Riri’s hand and taking a mouthful before the taste even had time to register on her tongue. “Just how I like it!” 

“That type of shit gon put some hair on your chest, nigga!”

“Nah, you just drink that weak shit! Might as well be drinking a juicebox,” Shuri downed the remaining drops of the red solo, tossing it to the sea of other empty cups that already littered the floor. She threw an arm around Ri’s neck, guiding her to the kitchen and bending to ear level to speak at a tone that wouldn’t strain her voice. “That’s okay, though. Imma fix that shit.”

The kitchen island was packed tightly with bottles, both light and dark, some half empty, others untouched. Shuri plucked two fresh cups and filled them with a bit of whatever was within her reach. She took one for herself and handed the other to Ri. “Take a sip. Loosen the fuck up.”

She threw back the liquid like it was water, waiting for Riri to do the same. 

The damn thing burned as soon as it touched Ri’s tongue and she hesitated for a second too long before swallowing. It scorched her throat going down, and the cough that followed was robust. Shuri was already refilling the cup, shaking her head in disappointment. “You took that like a bitch.”

“Nigga, fuck you-”

Shuri thrust the cup back into Riri’s hands. “Do it again.”

The fire in Riri’s throat was now in her eyes. “Why the fuck would I-”

“Because you know you can do better than that weak shit,” Shuri’s words silenced Ri. “Again,” she instructed.

Riri downed the liquid again, trying and failing to contain the coughing fit that followed. Shuri had already refilled the cup once more.”Kwakhona.”

Riri did it again, and again, and again. The burn in her esophagus spread, settling in her chest. Her buzz was building, blurring her vision and relaxing every knot in her neck. “Again,” Shuri said for the sixth time, boredom lacing her tone.

This time, it did go down like water, pooling in Riri’s chest with a burn, but no cough. Shuri took the cup back out of Riri’s hands slowly, with a smile that made more than Riri’s chest hot. “Good girl.”

Riri froze, stuck in a trance from those two little words. Her glossed-over eyes were glued to the Wakandan royal, mouth hanging open. Shuri’s head fell back as her face broke into two with a smile that spread across it. “What, you ain’ never been called that before?”

The ringing of Shuri’s laughter snapped Riri free, and she shook off the remaining nerves. “So what now?”

Shuri set her empty cup down on the only vacant spot left on the counter and stepped forward. Slipping her hand into Riri’s felt too easy, like it was already a habit. She tugged on it gently, lacing their fingers together and leading Riri out of the kitchen. “Now, we dance.”  

Riri had a stupid grin on her pretty face, and it spread to Shuri’s like a disease. “Nigga, who dancing?”

“You telling me you don’t dance?”

“What kinda dancing you want?” Riri countered, letting her body sway with the bass that filled the room. The concoction of alcohol spiked through her system, her muscles slacking, and her brain long gone.

Shuri had just as much liquor pumping through her blood, if not more, though she wasn’t sure she could blame her dizziness on the drinks. It had to be the smaller girl standing before her. Her clothing was simple: a pair of low-rise black cargo pants that hung dangerously low and a white cropped top. The gold chain around her neck couldn’t be worth much, and her braids had gone a bit fuzzy around the edges due to sweat, but goddamn, it pained Shuri to look away. 

The moment she did, her eyes landed on a petite girl across the room who seemed to have gathered the attention of every partygoer in attendance. She danced like no body else mattered, and a handful of niggas had embarrassed themselves trying to keep up.

Riri’s blurry vision followed Shuri’s, sharing the view. “Damn,” Riri whispered, not realizing her body had gone limp and was now leaning against the princess. Shuri gave in, pressing her front against Riri’s back, their hands still intertwined, when a lightbulb went off atop the genius’s head. 

The frizzy curls that swung in her face bobbed with the slight nod she gave. “Go,” Shuri spoke lowly, lips brushing against the shape of Riri’s ear.

“Go?” she questioned, unable to comprehend Shuri’s command. 

Riri stifled a drunken whine when she felt Shuri’s hand fall from her own. “Go. Catch it,” Shuri said, pressing her delicate fingertips into the curve of Riri’s back to urge her forward.

“What? You some type of exhibitionist?” Riri wondered aloud as her foot took the tiniest step in the direction of the dancing vixen.

Shuri’s gaze lowered, and her plump bottom lip rolled between her teeth. “Hamba.”

“Nigga, I don’t know what you just said, but I’m going, I’m going,” Riri sloppily raised her arm to shoo Shuri off before turning her back on the Wakandan fully. "Watch and learn, niggas!”

Arms crossed and tongue swiping across her lips, Shuri stood back, surveying the reaction of the room as Riri took center stage. With one arm up and her body bent to fit the other girl’s body just perfectly, Ri was letting loose just as Shuri had asked. 

For Riri, it was a night of drunken mischief; for Shuri, it was a test. An exercise of discipline, if you will. How long would Shuri be able to stay idle and just watch before her muscles moved on their own to claim the person she’d had on her mind for weeks?

Shuri watched, stuck in a daze with a slick smirk pasted on her face. She counted the seconds that passed, waiting for the ugly feeling of jealousy to creep its way in.

But it never came. The only emotion Shuri could feel through her inebriated state was pride. It billowed in her chest, watching Riri be able to let go and have fun in a way she’d yet to see in the small girl.

In the brief weeks that they’d known one another, the two lonely souls had found happiness. It was the type of joy that they only felt when the other was around, despite being around everyone else. It was just the two of them.

Riri and Shuri. 

The noise of the party started to drift, growing fainter the further their footsteps took them in the opposite direction. 

Shuri’s arm was thrown over Riri’s shoulder, more for support than affection. The alcohol still in their systems was weighing heavily on their muscles as they trekked slowly through the night. 

“Where we goin', Ri?” Shuri slurred sloppily.

Riri snickered, a loud and awkward sound intruding on their silence. “Nigga, you sound stupid,” she swirled over her words just as badly as Shuri had.

“I’m smarter than you, though,” Shuri shot back, leaning further into Riri’s small frame.

“Shidd, I’d be a genius too if I had my country’s taxes funding my projects.”

Shuri stopped abruptly, causing poor Riri to stumble from the jerky movement. She was heading straight for the ground, her reaction time inebriated with the rest of her, until a slender hand wrapped around her torso before her pretty brown face could kiss concrete, pulling her back upright.

“Eh?” Shuri questioned once Riri was standing on her own two feet once more. “I could fund every single one of your projects, Ri, and you still wouldn’t hold a candle to me.”

Riri’s brows jumped to her hairline as shock spread its way across her face in a devious grin. “Oh word? That a promise, baby?” The pair kept walking in the moonlight, the air surrounding them light and measured. 

“I’d almost rather you call me the slur-” Shuri started, steps slowing as they approached a large metal door locked with a deadbolt. “Riri, where we at?”

She was met without a response. It took all of Riri’s focus and energy to bend at the waist and grab the lock in her small hands, reaching into her pocket to fish out the key.

“I don’t do breaking and entering, Ri-”

“Nigga, will you shut up?” Riri put the key into the mechanism, turning it until she heard the satisfying click. “How we gon break into something I own?”

“You own?” Shuri followed Riri into the space, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. “What the hell is this?”

“My garage,” Riri responded, flipping various switches to encase the entire room in LED lights.

A whiteboard full of indecipherable scribbles took up much of the area. Next to it sat a desk below a sea of scattered papers that extended onto the couch behind the desk. In the distance, Shuri could make out the outline of a car collecting dust.

“Your garage?”

Mhm, Riri hummed, sweeping the sheets off the couch and onto the floor. A loud huff escaped her lungs as she collapsed onto the cushions. “This where my genius comes to life.” 

Shuri made her way towards Riri, dropping into the seat beside her. Her eyes were scanning the room in awe, from one thing to the next. “You built all this?”

“Hell nah,” Ri started, throwing her little legs into Shuri’s lap as she sat back, leaning her head against the side of the armrest. “I built some of it.” She pointed to the papers beneath them. “Blueprints, schematics, calculations.” Her finger trailed over to the scraps of metal in the opposite corner. “I collected those from a few junk yards around the city. Some of them are thrown out by the university,” She shook her head. “They don’t even know how much shit they wasting.”

Shuri nodded towards the car in the distance behind them. “And that?”

A tone of somberness cast itself onto Riri’s face as she met Shuri’s gaze. “It was my pop’s car,” she stated quietly. She turned to face the vehicle fully, and Shuri could almost see the memory playing out behind Riri’s eyes. “Me and him would spend summers rebuilding it. Man, it took us so long just to get the damn thing running,” she recalled with a light laugh. “I had to beg to drive it once I finally got my license, and for months after that. I wasn’t ever allowed to take it out the driveway.” Shuri could see the tears swell, and she sat with Riri in her grief, wondering if she would let them fall. “I finally got to ride it around the block with him, the night before he got shot,” she gulped hard, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Ma dukes drove it here for move-in day. Said he woulda wanted me to have it.”

“You drove it since that night?” Shuri asked, tightening her hold around Riri’s legs in her lap.

“Nah,” she shook her head sharply, blowing out a steady stream of air. “Can’t bring myself to.”

Shuri nodded in understanding. “Speaking of cars,” she said plainly, “We gotta go back for mine tomorrow.”

Riri smiled at Shuri, grateful for the space to talk about her father and move on.

“And the second date is for you to plan.”

“Who said you get a second date?”

Shuri slipped her hand under Riri’s thighs, pulling her legs to either side of her body until Ri was straddling the princess. 

Riri relaxed into this new position, sitting fully so her cheeks were pressed into the top of Shuri’s thighs. “You saying I don’t get a second date?” Shuri asked, head thrown back into the couch, and hooded eyes swimming with want.

“Nigga, stop looking at me like that,” Riri’s head swung to the right, trying to avoid Shuri’s gaze. It was doing something to her that Ri was scared to explore further. 

Shuri didn’t tear her eyes away from the pretty girl sitting on her, and the butterflies were back with a vengeance. She pushed past them, grabbing Riri’s hand and planting a kiss on the palm. “I don’t get a second date, Riri?”

Riri’s free hand rose to cover the blush that was spreading across her face, until Shuri took hold of that hand and kissed it as well. “Ri?” She asked gently.

“Yes, Shuri,” Riri mumbled so low, the panther couldn’t hear.

“Speak up, sana,” Shuri said, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth and using Riri’s captured hands to pull her closer. They were face to face with Riri’s breasts pressed into Shuri’s, only separated by their thin tops. Shuri guided Riri’s hands to lock behind her head, while her own tattooed hands rested on Riri’s lower back, tracing small circles into the exposed skin. 

They were glued together, entranced by one another. Riri leaned forward even further, her lips hovering over Shuri’s, tracing out the word “yes” once more. 

Shuri pulled back, not allowing Riri to take the kiss she so desperately wanted. “Yes, what, Ri?”

Riri’s bright brown eyes rolled, heavy annoyance rushing through her system. “Are you fucking forreal?”

Shuri shrugged, tightening her grip around Riri’s waist. “I wanna hear you say it.” She rested her forehead against Ri’s, waiting.

Riri’s nerves were buzzing, and she was sure this moment had sobered her up. “Yes, Shuri, you get a second date,” she finally admitted after a stare-off with the princess. She leaned in, attempting to claim the kiss she so badly needed, but Shuri pulled away again.

“Ugh, nigga, what now?” Riri shouted angrily, ready to jump out of Shuri’s lap and say fuck it.

“And?” Shuri asked, ignoring Riri’s outburst.

“And? Fuck more do you want?”

“I get a second date, and you gotta plan it,” Shuri reminded her.

If looks could kill, Shuri would have been six feet under, and then some. 

“Shuri fucking Udaku-”

“That is not how my mother intended my name be used when she gave it to me-”

“Shuri if you don’t fucking kiss me-”

“Y’know what, Ion really like hearing my name come outta your mouth at all,” Shuri said, sitting up fully, arms still around Riri to keep her from shifting,

“What the fuck else am I supposed to call you?” Riri asked, fully irritated at this point.

Shuri’s lips curved into a too-sexy smirk, her brows wiggling at Riri seductively. “Call me daddy,” she instructed with a squeeze to Riri’s ass seated so prettily in her lap.

Riri swung one leg to the floor, preparing to stand and walk away from the girl underneath her. “Yeah, nigga, you don lost your goddamn mind-”

“Wait,” Shuri’s laughter pissed Riri off further, and she hopped off the panther’s lap entirely, turning on her heel to spend her attention elsewhere. 

It didn’t take much effort for Shuri to reach out and grab Ri’s arm, pulling her back. Before Riri could protest, Shuri had her lifted from the ground and seated atop sheets of foreign formulas on her desk. 

Ri’s legs spread on their own, allowing Shuri to step between them with one hand placed on each side of her. “Ight, ma, I’m done,” Shuri spilled her apologies sloppily, pleading with Riri for forgiveness. “I still get that second date?”

Riri’s arms were crossed in front of her, a pretty pout poking out her bottom lip. “Yeah, Shuri, you still get that second date,” she stated easily. Her want for a kiss overtook her want to drag out her anger.

“And?” Shuri pressed her luck, digging her fingers into Riri’s waist, sliding her across the desk, their bodies so close, they were practically one. Papers floated to the ground like snow, going ignored.

“And I’ll plan it, nigga, damn,” Riri admitted with a grumble, followed by an eye roll so large it could be seen from Wakanda.

Shuri didn’t try to contain the smile that overtook her features or the way her heart swelled for the young genius in front of her. The butterflies surged, and she didn’t try to push them away. 

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x Black!GN!Reader

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: It’s summer vacation, and Riri finally convinces Shuri to come to Chicago for it! However, there’s not enough sunscreen in the world that will prepare Shuri for the onslaught of heat she’s about to endure…

Warnings: vague mention of nudity (you’re changing after your shower and shuri accidentally walks in on you), mentions of cursing, vague mention of a fight, summer fling-esque type vibe until it’s not

A/N: I read some college!au shuri hc’s a while ago and I can’t for the life of me remember who wrote them, but lawd the thoughts that have been swirling in my brain because of them….yall might as well just read it.

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @zayswriting @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @h34rtsformilli

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Pairing - shuri/black fem!reader

Word Count - 9k (listen…)

Contains - smut (18+), dom!shuri, sub!reader, fingering, thigh riding, cunnilingus, strap on, kimoyo bead sex toy, degradation, choking, throat fucking, angst (reader is really going through it), minimal fluff (if you squint real damn hard), cheating, mean!shuri, fuckgirl!shuri, crybaby!reader (she cries like 90% of the story, but cut her some slack lolll)

Key Words - nkosazana (princess), sthandwa (baby)

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - You weren’t even exactly sure how you got in this position; pinned to the wall, completely under Shuri’s dominion. Your intention was to visit Shuri and talk to her about the problems you were having with your girlfriend, Kiyahnna. But Shuri was starting to get aggravated, annoyed with the way you consistently ran back to Kiyahnna even though she treated you so poorly. She was sick of hearing you rant and complain about problems you were too afraid to run away from when all she wanted was to shut your pretty mouth up and put it to good use

Song Vibes - get even (dvsn)

Tags - @inmyheadimobsessed @abenomeiiii @amplifiedmoan @heejayy @shurismainbxtch @shuriszn @shurislover @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @pinkwright @gardenof-venus @vys-intentions @tiii-iiiiii @vampzxi @zayswriting @chunkybabygorl

Writers Note: I was definitely heavily inspired by @inmyheadimobsessed and “Lies About How I Hate You”, Lyric really ate that up and left all of us speechless!! Shout out to you boo. This is for the WHORES.

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ The room around you fades into a blur, your breathless pants becoming more and more agonizing as you find yourself pinned to the wall beneath Shuri’s menacing demeanor. Her palm firmly placed around your throat had you squirming, your face melting into your pleasure as Shuri played with your pussy over the fabric of your yoga pants. Her fingers glided through your juicy slit, causing the thick spandex to graze your clit. A pitiful moan to escaped your throat and Shuri grinned in pride, her perfect teeth subtly piercing through her salivating lips.

You weren’t even exactly sure how you got in this position; pinned to the wall, completely under Shuri’s dominion. Your intention was to visit Shuri and talk to her about the problems you were having with your girlfriend, Kiyahnna. But Shuri was starting to get aggravated, annoyed with the way you consistently ran back to Kiyahnna even though she treated you so poorly. She was sick of hearing you rant and complain about problems you were too afraid to run away from when all she wanted was to shut your pretty mouth up and put it to good use.

Your trailing thoughts were interrupted as Shuri playfully hoisted you up by your throat, leaving you on your tippy toes as the oxygen struggled to enter your confined lungs. Your moans became heavier as she pushed further into your clit, sending a wave of heat beating through the nerves that surround it.

“Shuri,” you moaned, unable to withhold the feeling coursing from the pit of your stomach down to your soaking cunt. Shuri said nothing with her mouth but her eyes told the story. They were hungry, provoking, her eyebrows furrowing together as she slipped her hand underneath your yoga pants and panties. She did not strip you down, you were still fully clothed, but something about the feeling of Shuri toying with you while you were completely covered made you throb. She slid her fingers down your slit once more, and she cursed at the feeling of your bare flesh.

“Fuck, y/n.”

“Sh-Shuri.”

“Yes princess, just like that. Say my name. I wanna hear it.” She took her middle and ring fingers and pushed them into your snug entrance. You were tight, and you clenched around her as she pushed further into you. You were still on your tippy toes, upheld by Shuri’s tattooed-choking hand. She pushed and pushed, your inner lining began to spasm as she rubbed against you. Your moans were so soft yet soiled with impurity as you looked directly into Shuri’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight, y/n, damn. Are you always this tight?”

“Shuri.”

You couldn’t answer, her aggressive thrusts forbade you. Shuri loosened her grip around your throat, allowing your feet to fully come back to the ground. It wasn’t too long before you realized she had completely stopped moving her fingers, and you were just riding her out as she watched and enjoyed the sight and sound of you. You slammed onto her a few more times, finally liberating your fluids all over Shuri’s hand and your brand new yoga pants.

“Shuri, oh my god, oh my god, Shuri. Mmmm. Yeah.”

She removed her hand from your wet pussy, licking her hand clean and your hole tightened at the sight.

“You taste good,” she beamed, leaning into you as she took your lips onto hers. “Bet it tastes better if you spill directly in my mouth.” You gave into her kiss completely, wrapping your arms around her neck as she gripped your waist. Her hold was addicting, a whiff of nicotine you found yourself breathing in. But the feeling didn’t last long. You remembered who you were, who she was, and you were forcefully brought back to your miserable reality. “Shit,” you curse, immediately freeing yourself of Shuri’s grasp.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice stained with an overwhelming flush of self-confidence.

“I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have done that.” You became suffocated as you choked down your pathetic cries. Your stomach knotted in guilt as you remembered you had a girlfriend to go home too. A terrible, emotionally neglectful girlfriend, but still your girlfriend nonetheless.

“Then where should you be? Back home with that bitch who’s cheating on you?”

“We don’t know that,” you snapped, gathering your things as you prepared to head back home.

“We do. You’re just annoyingly in denial.”

You paused, inhaling deeply as you continued to fight the tears that were itching to escape your tear ducts. Shuri was your friend, even though there was always an undeniable tension between the two of you that screamed at you everytime you saw her. You and Shuri’s friendship was always of the complicated sort. She would tease you, pick on you, and borderline bully you on a daily basis but there was an enchantment to her presence you couldn’t ignore. She was charming, seductive, yet you refused to give into whatever emotions played tug-of-war with you and ruin both your relationship and your friendship. It didn’t help that Shuri was who she was. She was notorious for being a ‘fuck-girl’, claiming whoever she felt like, whenever she felt like it. She enjoyed messing around, and it was the complete opposite of what you were looking for. You wanted love and affection. Shuri wanted a good time and you refused to become one of her play-things.

“Shuri…I’m gonna go home.” You approached the exit of her condo but got pulled back in as she quickly grabbed your wrist.

“Let me see you tomorrow?,” she hummed, her eyes high on sex.

You hesitated for a moment, getting lost in her depths as you’re sure a lot of girls did. And that thought alone is enough to pull you back out of her perpetual trance.

“Good night Shuri,” you reply, releasing yourself from her grasp as you make your way out.

Your drive back home was intentionally slow. The drive itself was all too familiar for you, driving from your house to Shuri’s and back again, you could probably do it with your eyes closed. But this time, you were coming back to your bed racked with guilt; guilt you know shouldn’t even be there considering the shit Kiyahnna puts you through on a daily basis but you couldn’t help but feel it.

“Fuck y/n,” you whispered to yourself, hating the way you kept replaying Shuri’s touch over and over again in your mind. She was incredibly skillful and the thought of her made your stomach flutter.

“Fuck.”

---

As you approach the driveway, you notice Kiyahnna’s car isn’t there, but this was no surprise to you. The argument you had before you ran to Shuri’s comfort was ugly, uglier than normal. You made your way inside, stepping foot into the empty house and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The fact that she wasn’t there almost absolved all feelings of guilt because you knew, deep down, Shuri was right. Your girlfriend was cheating on you. The tears you so strongly held back earlier came rushing down without fault. You cried silently as you got ready for bed, allowing yourself this moment of heartbreak in a space where neither Shuri or Kiyahnna could see you. Your bed was comfier than most nights and you weren’t sure if it was because you were sleeping alone tonight or if it was because of Shuri’s message she sent you.

*Hey baby, can you come over tomorrow? We need to talk*

You let the text sit for a bit, not wanting to give Shuri the pride of seeing you text back immediately.

*I have work tomorrow Shuri, I can’t do anything*

*After work?*

You can’t help but let out a cheeky smile.

*Fine. I’ll be there at 6*

*I’ll see you*

*Goodnight Shuri*

*Goodnight*

---

You woke up to an empty bed, the catalyst to a painfully slow day. The hours dragged and you weren’t certain if it made you miserable or thankful. Most likely a bit of both. Once you made it home, you were startled at the sight of Kiyahnna sitting on the couch, as if she was waiting for you to arrive. Your stomach dropped, a result of seeing how good she looked and remembering what she was doing behind your back. She walked over to you, bringing you in for a hug as if she forgot the messy argument you had not even 24 hours ago.

“How’s my girl?,” she asks, the scent of her cologne taking over each and every one of your senses. You hadn’t accused her of cheating directly to her face just yet, you wanted to be 100% sure before you ever did such a thing. You linger in her hold, granting yourself permission to feel her fabricated embrace.

“I’m okay,” you reply, your face seeping into her shoulder. “I’m leaving though. I’ll be back later.”

“What? Where the fuck are you going now?” Her voice was already starting to become aggressive, and you sighed in hurtful frustration.

“I’m just meeting with some friends for dinner, I’ll be back soon,” you lie.

“I haven't seen my girl for hours and she’s already leaving me?”

“Ki just…you haven’t seen me because you didn’t come home last night after we had that big fight that you’re for some reason pretending didn’t happen.” You spat your words out with attitude, leveling yourself to her playing field even though you both knew you would crack if she even slightly raised her voice at you.

“Tf are you accusing me of, y/n?” And just like that, whatever feelings of content you felt even for a brief moment completely washed away.

“I’m not doing this right now Ki, I’m leaving. I’ll be back later.”

She let go of you in irritation, slouching back into the couch. For a moment, you almost remembered what life was like when things between you two were ok, amazing actually. When you would help her maintain her locs you adore so much, when she would tickle you until you could no longer breathe, when you would sink into her grasp and the smell of her was enough to get you naked; but all of that was gone now. Nothing but a mere memory of something that will no longer be. You began to break as the memories pounded into you like a heavy weight, your tears no longer able to withhold themselves, and that was your signal to leave immediately.

“Love you babe,” she said before you stepped foot out the door. Her tone was simple, holding absolutely no meaning behind the words she tossed around like it was easy.

“Love you Ki.” Your tone was the same.

---

Before you step foot into Shuri’s condo, you fix your appearance in your rear view mirror, reapplying your gloss and making sure your false lashes haven’t grown damp after your crying. You pat down your face with powder, absorbing any evidence that you’re a crybaby so Shuri wouldn’t have anything to tease you about. Once you feel presentable enough, you make your way up, hesitating to knock on her door after last night's encounter but you proceed anyway. Shuri opens the door and you get lost in her for a split moment before her harsh tone pulls you back out.

“You gonna come in or what?”

“Sorry, I just…I don’t know.”

She raises an eyebrow in confusion and it frustrates you. Your evening with her has just begun and already she’s acting as if last night didn’t happen. You roll your eyes at her, taking a step inside and gasping at what you see. A candlelit dinner awaited you, and the sight was almost laughable. Shuri? Being romantic? You chuckled under your breath, hoping it wasn’t loud enough for her to hear but Shuri always had ears of a panther.

“What? Shit, is it not good enough?”

You paused, sulking in the effort she put into the presentation before you. A small dinner, enough for two, and Shuri was always a great cook. The candles were spread evenly around the small table, lighting up the corner of her condo. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate her endeavors, it was just the thought of Shuri, the biggest fuck-girl you know and your best friend, putting together a romantic dinner for two was a funny image placed in your head. A confusing one as well. You turned around to face her, mere concern painted on her beautiful face. You weren’t sure whether to comfort her in her worry or cuss her out for blatantly trying to move around the fact that her fingers were inches in your cunt not too long ago. You settled for something in between.

“Shuri…what are you doing?”

“I’m spending time with you…are we not allowed to do that?,” she replies in feign ignorance.

“Shuri…”

“Fine…I just…you were heartbroken yesterday and I felt bad for not comforting you like I should have, even though it’s you who keeps running back to her, so I really don’t even know why I’m apologizing.”

Even in her apology, there was no mention of what happened, but you quickly came to the conclusion that that was the closest thing you were getting to a real apology, so you left it at that for now. You gave her a smile, as you both took your seats at her table. You noticed a detail in her kitchen that you haven’t paid much attention to before, even though you have set foot into her space more times than you could ever recall.

“I’ve never seen someone have a mirror placed above their island countertop before. It looks nice.”

“You’ve been here how many times and you’re just noticing it now?,” she laughs.

“To be fair, I’ve never really used your island before.”

She chuckles, taking a bite into her food and you do the same. It was delicious, but you weren’t expecting anything less because, as you said, Shuri was an incredible cook. The next twenty minutes were filled with your normal conversations, but the elephant in the room was gnawing at your stomach to the point you could not take it anymore. It was mind baffling, seeing her laugh and eat as if last night was nothing but a mistake. Not that it wasn’t a mistake but it also wasn’t unintentional.

“Shuri, I can’t just act like last night didn’t happen,” you say, your gut immediately twisting at the way she paused her eating. She looked at you for a brief moment before proceeding to cut into her steak.

“I can.” She placed the steak in her mouth, chewing as she eyed you provocatively and you can’t tell if her reply pissed you off or made you want to cry; neither was acceptable because both meant you cared about what she thought. Your throat closed in as you swallowed down emotions you truly wish you did not have.

“Kiyahna ever tell you how pretty you look when you’re being fingered?”

Your heart skipped a beat and pushed it right back into your pussy.

“Or how pathetically pretty you sound when you moan?”

Another beat.

“Shuri, Shuri, Shuri,” she imitated you, laughing as she took another bite of her food. Your face was boiling both in anger and embarrassment. You felt used as you smothered the tears fighting to come out.

“Are you gonna cry?”

“No.”

“Goodness. You really are a fucking crybaby.”

“I knew last night was a mistake,” you spat between tears. You quickly remove yourself from the table, eager to make an exit from Shuri’s presence.

“Y/n, don’t be like that, baby. Get back here, I’m sorry…kinda.”

You scoff, shamefully shedding tears as you attempt to make your way out the door.

“Y/n.”

“Shutup!”

You open the door, and when you thought your evening couldn’t get any worse, circumstances chose to prove you ridiculously wrong. Kiyahnna was standing right at the threshold, her face soaked in disappointment.

“Ki? What…why--”

Kiyahnna aggressively made herself welcome into Shuri’s home, her eyes bulging at the sight of a candle lit dinner as Shuri sipped the wine straight from the bottle in a presumptuous manner. Shuri and Kiyahnna eyed each other, not a tint of testosterone in the room but you imagined this is what it would feel like.

“Ki…it’s not what it looks like. For real, we were just hanging out.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth either.

“Oh yeah, just hanging out with a bunch of pretty candles, dinner and wine…don’t play stupid y/n.”

You swear the lump in your throat grew big enough to block your windpipe. “No seriously, I didn’t know she was gonna do all this!”

“So what happened to ‘I’m gonna go hang with some friends’, you lying little shit.”

Shuri shifted in her seat at your girlfriend’s insult.

“I technically didn’t lie, Shuri is my friend,” you defend yourself as you begin to cry pathetically. You were never one to handle anyone raising their voice at you, even in the slightest.

“You know I don’t like this bitch, so why do you keep seeing her behind my back?”

Shuri, who has already had enough of the wretched sight, stood up from her seat. She nudged Kiyahnna in passive-aggressiveness, forcing Kiyahnna to shift her attention from you to her.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Or what?”

“Shuri…don’t,” you said, not wanting to make this scene any uglier than it has to be. “We’re…we’re gonna go home now. Right baby? Let’s go home.” You attempt to take Kiyahnna’s hand and make your way out, but Shuri decides to take matters into her own hands.

“Who are you fucking behind y/n’s back?”

Kiyahnna turned around to face Shuri, fearlessly walking towards her until their faces were inches away from each other. Shuri smirked in satisfaction, backing away in pride.

“What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Oh, I think you heard me loud and clear.”

“Shuri, please.”

“Shut the fuck up, y/n. You gotta stop taking shit from this useless piece of trash who clearly doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

“And what in the hell would you know about y/n and I’s relationship???,” Kiyahnna taunts, her voice seeped in nothing but animosity and you were scared for the both of them. You knew them both all too well.

“Oh well ask your little girlfriend who comes running to me after every argument you guys have about how much she can’t fucking stand you.”

Kiyahnna shifts her attention to you once more, observing you as you break down. “No, not like that! She didn’t mean it like that, I just come to her as someone to talk to, please ju--”

“Enough y/n, stop apologizing for her shitty behaviour!”

“You know what? Fuck you Shuri. Let’s go Ki, I don’t wanna be here anymore.” You forcefully grab Kiyahnna’s hand, making your way out of Shuri’s condo with no intention of stopping for any more of Shuri’s games, but Shuri was just as adamant as you were to get what she wants.

“Your girlfriend is really fucking tight, you know that right?”

You almost swore the oxygen in the room stopped flowing as your stomach literally dropped to the soles of your feet.

“She was so tight, I could hardly tell you ever fucked her…I mean, you have fucked her right? Didn’t seem like it with the way she so easily screamed my name last night. Right baby?”

She made eye contact with you, as she eyed your body up and down, sulking in your beauty even as you were weeping uncontrollably in rage and embarrassment.

“And I didn’t even strap her down yet. Wonder how tight she’ll be then,” she states, milking out that last statement with an evil smirk. Kiyahnna wastes no time approaching Shuri and meeting her fist to her jaw with a smack so loud, your eardrums pop. You gasp, running to Kiyahnna before she causes any more damage. You grab your girlfriend, watching Shuri as she gets up with blood smeared on the left side of her sharp jaw. She smirks at you, pleased with the way she got under your girlfriend's skin.

“Fuck! You!,” you spat, your tone harsher than the words themselves. And with that, you and Kiyahnna finally made yourselves out, leaving Shuri’s presence as you bottled up the rest of your tears. Truthfully, you did not want to see Kiyahnna or Shuri ever again, but you had nowhere else to go and right now, for the first time ever, Kiyahnna was the better option.

The rest of the night was filled with the most deafening silence you had ever experienced. From the car ride, to your bed, not a word was spoken. You didn’t even attempt to explain yourself because there was no use in the matter. You were caught, and for a moment you were almost thankful for Shuri’s untimely bluntness because you couldn’t take another moment of the guilt you had for allowing Shuri to touch you the way that she did.

You had the bed to yourself tonight, and this time, it wasn’t because Kiyahnna didn’t come home. She was home, just not with you. She decided to sleep on the couch tonight, and you were thankful. It allowed you time to cry without prying eyes judging you as your body exploded with emotions. Your phone buzzed.

*Come over tomorrow?*

Is she being for real?? You ignored her, refusing to give her the satisfaction she was so clearly desperate for.

*Please?* she added.

You held your ground as you finally fell asleep. You basked in your unconscious state because it was the only escape from the heaviness that poured all around you.

The next day flew by swiftly. You woke up to an empty house, as you gathered yourself for another day. Work was what it always was, but different. You were actually happy to be at work, away from both of them. As you clocked out, you drove back home agonizingly slow, not wanting to come home to Kiyahnna but also scared to open the door to an empty house. When you got home, Ki’s car was nowhere to be found, and you decided you were grateful. You would rather an actual empty house than a house that wasn’t empty but felt like it. Your gratefulness was cut short as you propped the door open, clear that Kiyahnna was home, her shoes tattered across the carpet. But she wasn’t on the couch, in her usual position.

“Ki?,” you called out. “Ki, you home?”

And that’s when you heard it.

“Oh my god, yeah. Just like that Ki, just like that, FUCK. UNH.”

You did not hesitate to run to the bedroom, prying the door open to the most jaw-dropping, heart-breaking obscenity that made you freeze in place. Your girlfriend was there, fucking someone that wasn’t you; and even though you knew for a while now, you were never prepared for the confirmation of it all and how much it would hurt.

“Ki?”

“Y/n? Shit,” she cusses, removing her strap from the other girl. It’s the same strap she fucks you with, well used to fuck you with. She hasn’t touched you in what seemed like a month now.

“Baby, I thought…weren’t you working?”

“I was…now I’m off.” You were numb, as tears fell from your dead eyes.

“Shit…hey look…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?? There’s a naked girl on my bed right now.”

“Yeah baby…uhhh. Shit.”

You look at the girl, holding her gaze as you try to keep your cool.

“How long has this been going on for?,” you ask her.

“Shit, I don’t know…how long’s it been Ki? Three months?”

“Three…three months??”

You look over at Kiyahnna, her face covered in shame but she tries to keep her ‘calm, cool, and collected’ composure.

“Fuck you.”

“Y/n, come on. Don’t be like that. Let’s work this out.” She reaches out for you, attempting to bring you in for a hug but you slap her across the face and it takes all three of you by shock.

“DAMN,” the girl says.

You felt a sense of pride, finally able to stand up for yourself in the midst of mistreatment.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you fucking skank!”

You looked over at the girl on your bed, still naked.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

“Uh, Mikayla?”

“Fuck you too Mikayla.”

You put your shoes back on and headed out the door. You didn’t even try to hold your tears in, you found it useless at this point. You knew you didn’t have the strength or the willpower to battle emotions that were stronger than you. You hopped in your car and drove, and you knew exactly where you were headed. As much as your mind was screaming at you not to go back there, your heart always found a way to convince you otherwise. And right now, you did not care. You wanted her. All of her.

---

“Open the fucking door Shuri,” you whispered to yourself after Shuri neglected to open the door after your 5th knock. You remember the spare key Shuri gave you in case of emergencies, and you didn’t hesitate to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, an emergency. You rummaged through your bag, finally inviting yourself into her place. You opened the door to what seemed like an empty space.

“Shuri?,” you lightly called out, but she was nowhere to be found. You crept in further and further, still unable to find her, but that’s when you heard it. At first it sounded like someone had been wounded and you reacted instantly, running towards the broken cries. As you crept closer, you realize what you barged into.

“UNH, Shuri…Shuri, ohmygod. Unh, unh, UNH. FUCK.”

The woman cried out in pleasure, singing Shuri’s name behind the closed bedroom door. You didn’t know what to do but what you did know was that you refused to go back home so you decided to wait patiently in Shuri’s kitchen until she came out.

“Mmm, yeah…YEAH. FUCK, ohmygod, you’re so big, I can’t.”

You begin to listen attentively, becoming intrigued by the way the other girl moans Shuri’s name as if she’s experiencing the most out-of-body experience. You step into the living room, placing yourself on the couch as you listen to the way Shuri makes her scream.

“FUCK. GOD.”

You reluctantly crossed your legs, aware of the slow throb that began to creep in your core. You were slightly turned on and you couldn’t help but notice that you were even a little jealous. You weren’t sure if the jealousy came from the fact that your garbage-of-a-girlfriend didn’t touch you in weeks or if it was because it wasn’t you underneath Shuri at this very moment.

The sound of moans blended in with Shuri’s palm slapping down on flesh, the girl screaming in response.

“Shut up and take this dick, baby. You’re such a slut, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah I am. Only for you Shuri, keeping fucking me just like that. FUCK. I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my dick, give all that good shit to me.”

“Shuri. Shuri.”

Your mind begins to travel to sinful places, your stomach knotting in jealousy you choose to accept. It was useless to keep pretending you didn’t care anymore. You wanted Shuri. You wanted her to make you feel the way she made all her girls feel, truly understand why girls run back to her in desperation even though they mean nothing more to her than a good time.

“Who are you?” You were abruptly interrupted by the girl who was Shuri’s one night stand. She was wrapped in a purple bathrobe, headed to the bathroom. She was beautiful, even with the mascara running down her eyes and the limp she had in her step as a result of Shuri’s work. Yeah, you were definitely jealous.

“I’m y/n. I’m…I’m here to see Shuri…”

“Oh shit…are you her girlfriend? Shit I didn’t know, I swear.”

“Uhhh…”

“Y/n?” There she was. Clearly fucked out as she adjusted the waistband of her basketball shorts. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“You could’ve told me you had a girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

Your heart sank a little at her words, and you're annoyed at how you let her get under your skin just like that. You began to choke up, tears welling up and she immediately understood the brokenness in your eyes.

“Get out,” she says to the girl, hostility locked in her tone.

“Shit, my bad. I’m leaving now.” The girl scurried around to grab her things, running out in her bathrobe as she almost trips out the door. “I’m sorry,” she repeats to you, before shutting the door behind her. The room went silent as Shuri stood there in anticipation. The gap between you and her was far too big for your comfort, when all you wanted to do was jump in her arms and speak from the heart. But you knew Shuri. She would probably laugh at you, and brush it off like nothing.

“What happened now, y/n?,” she asked in slight annoyance. “What’d your bitch you love so much do now?”

You almost didn’t want to admit it because the last thing you needed from Shuri was her scolding ‘I told you so’s.’

“Ki is cheating on me.”

“Oh for real??,” she replies in an insulting form of sarcasm.

“Shuri, stop.”

“Can’t say I didn’t tell your stupid ass.”

“No but I actually caught her, she was fucking some bitch named Mackenzie or whatever on my bed. MY BED. And that dumb bitch tried to apologize to me like IT’S NOTHING! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT??”

“Actually…yes. Yes I can believe it.”

“I didn’t want to believe it though.”

“Do you do anything besides cry all day?”

“Shit Shuri, I’m heartbroken. At least pretend to care about me!”

“I do care about you.”

“Then fucking act like it!”

“What do you want me to do?? Give you a hug??”

“Honestly yeah, that’d be really nice right now.”

Shuri laughs under her breath, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her basketball shorts. “You tripping.”

“Can I atleast kiss you??,” you ask and it came out more like begging than you assumed it would. Shuri froze, her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

“You want me to…kiss you?”

You nod.

“And then what? You want me to hold your hand and tell you everything is gonna be ok? And then ‘make love’ to you, or whatever the fuck. All that lovey dovey shit. Sorry y/n, that’s you, that shit ain’t for me.”

“Then what the fuck was that candle lit dinner you made me yesterday?? You’re gonna tell me you did that all for nothing??”

She went silent.

“Talk to me Shuri, stop acting like you didn’t fuck me the other night and then made me a cute little dinner the next day!”

“I didn’t fuck you,” she chuckles. She licks her lips, her eyes wandering everywhere around the room except for you.

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“You call that fucking?,” her tone shifted, low and husky as she continued to caress your tear-stained cheeks.

Shuri breathes in frustration, making her way towards you as her mood shifts. Her toned body hovers over you as she stroked your cheek with her index finger. You admire the tattoo that trails down her right arm and trickles to her fingers. Her perfectly coiled hair accentuated her chiselled face, paving way to the bruise that sat on her left jaw from yesterdays fiasco. Her cologne, smothered your senses and lingered in her touch. That was so minimal yet started a bonfire in the cavity of your chest. She was attractive, this wasn’t news. You always found Shuri attractive. Hell, if your memory could recall correctly, you approached her first, because you found her attractive yet your paths decided you would work best as friends; granted, it was definitely not your average friendship, but there is a love you had for each other that couldn’t be ignored. 

You closed your eyes, savoring her gentle touch as long as she would allow it. It felt so real, so loving, even though you know it meant something completely different for Shuri.

“Shuri…?”

“Mhmm?” She was admiring you, her eyes sulking in your beautiful facial features Shuri loved but never cared to admit.

“Can you--”

“Can I do what, baby?”

You close your eyes once more, questioning yourself on whether you should proceed or not; because once you dive in, there is no turning back. Shuri would have you completely, in all ways and every way she desired and you would do nothing but allow it as you fall in love with her completely, unsure if she feels the same.

“Fuck me,” you beg, your voice shaking through your plea. “Fuck me like I’m one of your play-things, I swear I’ll be good. Just fuck me please.”

A crooked smile pierced through Shuri’s mouth, rubbing your bottom lip with the pad of her thumb and it made you ache. You crave her.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

“I need you to understand something y/n.”

You say nothing, using your eyes as a method to pull her into you.

“I don’t just fuck, nkosazana…” The use of her native tongue caught you completely off guard. “I degrade and disrespect.”

You gulp as your body temperature rises.

“I’ll fuck you senseless for my pleasure, and then I might just act like it never happened.”

You hesitate, but eventually nod in agreement.

“And I’m only telling you this because I know you and I care about you. I know what you crave. You want someone to love you and give you the world, make you feel cared for. And I just can’t give that to you…not yet anyway.”

“Shuri please--”

“But I don’t know, I never fucked someone I loved before.”

Your eyes grow wide at her confession. You knew she loved you in a friendly manner but never did it cross your mind that her love went beyond the friendly type.

“Shuri please, just take me already. Use me, I don’t give a fuck. I just want you. All of you.”

She smiles. “Your words, sthandwa, not mine.”

And with that, she picks you up, gripping your ass as you wrap your legs around her waist. She takes your mouth into hers, building a road to the night she had in store for you; the night she’s waited forever for.

---

Your bare pussy pressed into the smooth flesh of Shuri’s left thigh, your skirt bunched around your waist as you begin to grind your tender clit on her bare leg, leaving a trail of your wet desire on her.

“Unh,” you moaned softly, as Shuri grabbed your waist, guiding you through it.

“Shut up baby, I don’t wanna hear you. Just wanna hear how wet your pussy is. You think you can do that for me?”

You nod, your face diminishing into agony as you choke down your moans.

“Good, cause you didn’t have a choice.”

She presses your hips harder into her thigh, sending a wave of shock to your clit at the impact, and you shut your eyes as you fight the sounds you need to release.

“What’s wrong, nkosazana? Don’t tell me you’re already gonna cum.”

“Shuri.”

“I said shut up.” She reaches into your back pocket, pulling out your phone. “What’s your password, baby?”

“What?”

She waves the screen in front of your face as if she’s unaware of the pressure she’s putting on your sensitive clit as you suffer, trying to hold in your desperate groans of pleasure.

“It’s…1234.”

“Geez, couldn’t get any more predictable?”

“Shuri?”

“Did I say you can talk??”

You shake your head.

“Then shut the fuck up.”

She scrolls through your phone, clicking on keys as before she places the phone on the armrest of her sofa. The phone is on speaker phone, ringing as she waits for them to pick up.

“Y/n? I didn’t think you would call.”

Your eyes bulge as you realize who it is, and Shuri holds you firm, rocking your hips violently as you become overwhelmed with the feel of her.

“Ki? Hi baby.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m ok. Mmm, yeah.”

Shuri is keeping direct eye contact with you as do the same, eye fucking you as she puts more pressure on your oversensitive clit, digging her flesh in between your wet folds.

“Y/n, where are you? What’s going on?”

“Oh my god.”

Your eyes begin to roll as the warmth in your stomach creeps lower down your body, finding its way to your bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath Shuri’s tight grip. Her fingers dig into your flesh right before she takes two of her fingers and slips them beneath her own shorts and boxers, swishing through her wet pussy. The sight of her playing with herself is driving you to your edge.

“Where are you y/n? I’ll come pick you up.”

You look at Shuri, waiting for permission to release yourself but she shakes her head left and right. No. She removes her fingers from her wet cunt, and shoves them down your throat, gagging you as she does it again, and again.

“You hear that Kiyahnna? That’s your bitch, being a little slut for me.” She shoves her fingers down your throat once more, tears staining your cheeks as you gasp for air.

“Shuri?,” you moan, unable to hold in your pleasure any longer.

“Go ahead baby, show her how good of a girl you are. Let her hear it.”

“Oh my…fuck. Oh my god Shuri, oh my god.”

“The fuck is wrong with you guys??”

“Baby? You still there? Unh.”

“Fuck this shit, ya’ll are sick.”

Shuri gags you once more, making sure she Kiyahnna hears it loud and clear before she hangs up.

“Shuri, holy fuck Shuri. UNH. SHIT. FUCK. YEAH.”

She holds you down, making sure you’re unable to remove yourself from her grasp. “You like that?”

“Yeah, yeah you feel so good. I want more. Give me more. Gag me again, I wanna taste you.”

Shuri yanks your hair, tilting your head back as your neck is exposed to her. You feel so dirty, as she twirls her fingers through her own pussy once more, gathering her juices before she plunges into your throat. She pushes farther, your throat closing in around her and your tongue sticks out as you choke on her slender fingers. The tears cease to stream down your face, your saliva pooling out of your mouth as your pounding pussy slows its throb. She pulls out, and you already look fucked out. Tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes are met with Shuri’s dark, lustful ones, bringing you in for a kiss as she grasps your ass.

“Ki?”

“She’s gone, sthandwa. You scared her away.”

You giggle, trailing your fingers to your clit as you starve for more but Shuri grabs your hand before you get anywhere near your pussy.

“What? I can’t touch myself?,” you ask, challenging how far Shuri is willing to go with you. She notices this, the way you attempt to test her dominance.

“You wanna know what I think, y/n?,” she asks, kissing your neck as you surrender to her sweetness. She’s never even touched you like this before and yet it seems as if she knows you all too well, like she’s fucked you a million times. Your body responds to her in ways your body has never behaved for anyone prior, not even Kiyahnna.

“What do you think, baby?”

“I think you like the bad girls.” She continues to suck on your neck, leaving fuck marks in a territorial manner. “You like when girls treat you like shit because you know they’ll fuck you like they don’t care. You like being treated like a slut, because it makes your cunt ache.” She slips two fingers between your folds, caressing your clit in slow, torturous loops. “Because underneath this pretty princess facade you got going on, you're really just a useless whore, right baby?”

You’re unresponsive, holding in any sound trying to escape your throat as Shuri plays with your pussy.

“You really are stupid, huh?”

You continue to fight and Shuri smirks with pride, arrogantly pleased with the way she has you writhing in distress as you await her orders.

“It’s ok. I’ll fuck the stupid right out of you.”

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Shuri, I can’t.”

She grabs your throat, squeezing tightly as her palm presses against your windpipe. A restrained choke comes from the back of your throat as you open your mouth wider to allow for more oxygen flow.

“Speak one more time, and I swear to Bast himself…” She lets you go, and you cough a little as your lungs are fully exposed to the air it needs. “How’s this pussy of yours? Is she ready to grind some more?”

You nod, your stomach knotting once more at what’s to come.

“Good girl.”

She removes you from her lap, laying on her back as she motions you to get on top of her and you obey without question. You remove your shirt and bra, leaving yourself in your skirt as it stays hunched around your waistline. You relax in Shuri’s grasp, sulking in her beauty and what she looks like underneath you. She was always attractive, but this side of her was a vision you swear would have girls falling in love at first sight; it was the first time you truly understood why women ran back to her, begging for more and why she would never give it.

“Sit on my face,” she mandates, interfering with your dangerous thoughts. “Put my tongue to use y/n, sit on my damn face.” You oblige, hovering your pussy right over her mouth. She pushes your hips down, forcing you to put your full body weight on her and you moan almost instantly at the contact of her lips on yours. Your back slowly begins to arch, as Shuri wastes no time using her skillful tongue for sinful pleasures. The feeling was euphoric, her warm tongue flicking and sucking your clit had you singing Shuri’s name like an ensemble of one.

“Yeah, baby just like that. Just like that. Keep going. Keep fucking me like that, holy fuck. Holy shit, Shuri.”

She clasped your hips, rocking you back and forth as she tongue-fucked your pussy entrance and your throbbing bud. Her tongue made the most irresponsible movements against you, and your pussy nerves were reacting in ways you had no control over. She continued, using her nose and chin as tools for your pleasure as well. She was deep into you, your thighs tightening as you put her beautiful face to work.

“Fuck Shuri, I’m so close, it’s right there. Right there. Don’t stop.” You grasp onto the couch, your fingers digging into the material as you brace yourself. “Keep fucking this pussy, she wants you. She needs you so bad. Unh. UNH.” You release yourself into her mouth, fucking you through your orgasm and you fight it, trying to break free from Shuri’s grasp but she won’t let you. She takes your pounding clit into her salivating mouth once more, sucking as you struggle to overcome your orgasm but Shuri’s tongue only prolonged the pulse vibrating through your overwhelming pussy nerves.

“Shuri. Shuri. Shuri!,” you scream one last time before she finally lets you go. You collapse, both of you catching your breath as your minds and bodies return to your surroundings. You straddle her once more, kissing her as you taste your juices that stain her face.

“Damn, I taste good,” you moan into her mouth.

“Yes you fucking do, baby. Like I said, tastes better coming straight out of you.”

“I want more. Give me more.”

“What do you want, nkosazana?”

“Strap me down. I heard that girl earlier…she said you were big. I wanna feel it. Show me how tight I am, Shuri.” You didn’t hold a single care in the world for how needy you were coming across, because you wanted her. Every ounce of her. “Please Shuri, please. Please?”

“Please Shuri, please,” she mocks, chuckling at the sight of you.

“Stop, I’m not playing right now, baby. Or I swear I’ll touch myself, I’ll give myself my own orgasm and make you watch.”

“Oh y/n, you’re playing with fire.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

She cocks her head to the side, like she’s planning a million ways to discipline you and remind you who’s in charge. She lifts you off of her, placing you on the couch in a regular sitting position, the fabric of her sofa coming in contact with your exposed ass. She hovers over you, grabbing your jaw in her hand as she tightens her grasp. It was almost painful, but you knew you deserved it. Your face gave out, settling back into submission without her having to say a word.

“There’s my girl,” she says, heading into her bedroom. “Stay here. Don’t fucking move.” She comes out, wearing a bracelet you’ve never seen her wear before.

“This is a kimoyo bracelet. These are kimoyo beads.”

You shrug your shoulders, uninterested but that disinterest slipped away as soon as she tapped on one of the beads, revealing the strap that hugged her crotch. It was detailed, every crevice and vein placed perfectly.

“This isn’t the same strap I use on other girls, I wanted to save this for someone special. It’s made from vibranium, remember I told you about vibranium?”

You nod. You remember little of what she said about it, she barely gave you any details about the metal, but you do recall her mentioning it once or twice. Shuri bends down, meeting your eye level.

“Listen to me carefully, y/n. This strap is going to go inside you and literally collect data from you. It’s going to remember every crevice, every contour, and most importantly your g-spot, and it’s going to mold to fit into you, and only you…let me know if you’re ok with this. If not, it’s ok…I’ll go grab one of my other straps and fuck you all the same, my pretty girl.”

You ponder for a moment. “Will it hurt, when it…you know, molds into me?”

“No sthandwa, it won’t. It’ll feel amazing actually, I made sure of it. I promise you.”

You begin to smile uncontrollably, your face flushing with warmth. As smutty as it was, it almost seemed romantic, in a weird, twisted sense; because even though Shuri has fucked too many women to even recall, she wanted you fully. She wanted to make you hers, fuck you like whore as she quite literally molds you.

“I want you, Shuri. I want all of you.”

“Ok baby, ok.”

---

In one sweep, you find yourself on your back, plastered to the cool marble of Shuri’s island countertop. She aggressively removes your skirt from your body, leaving you completely bare. She spread your legs open in eagerness, impatient to get inside you and fuck you until you gasp for air.

“You're so sexy, y/n. This pussy is so sexy.” She slaps your pussy, your back softly arching on the marble beneath you. She plays with your folds, purposely avoiding your clit as you groan in frustration. “Be patient. No one likes an impatient slut. You can be patient for me, right my love?”

You don’t respond, resulting in Shuri slapping your pussy once more, sending a coursing sting to your clit.

“Yes Shuri,” you pant. “I’ll be patient with you.”

“That’s right.”

She removes one of the beads from her bracelet, sticking the circular metal to your clit and you wince at the contact. Immediately, Shuri fidgets with her kimoyo bracelet, activating the bead as it trembles in low vibrations. Your eyes shut, as you clench onto the sides of the island.

“Spread your legs as much as you can, let me watch your pussy twitch baby.”

You obey, spreading your legs to your highest extent, making more room for the buzzing kimoyo bead to roll through your lips. You looked up, understanding the purpose of why Shuri put a mirror on top of her island. The image was incredible, your face was fucked out as you watched the way the kimoyo bead maneuvered its way through your throbbing cunt. The sound of you was music to Shuri’s ears. You were drenched.

“You see what you look like? Look at how fucking sexy you look like this, y/n. Bast.”

“Shuri, holy fuck. I’m going to cum, holy shit.”

She fidgets with her bracelet once more, the pressure of the bead on the brink of being painful, as it vibrates heavily into your bundle of nerves. You keep your eyes open, looking at the reflection of your puffy pussy as you cum once again.

“GOD, HOLY SHIT. SHURI, SHURI.”

Shuri makes no effort to ease your suffering. Instead she steps closer to you, lifting your legs over her shoulders as she begins to tease your entrance. She coats her tip with your pearly cum, easing her way into you as your pussy welcomes her in.

“Oh my god.”

She thrusts.

“Shuri, good god, Shuri.”

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch, and let this pretty pussy do the talking, that’s all I need to hear. How wet you are for me. How slutty you are..”

Her thrusts seep deeper and deeper, your pussy clasping onto her length.

“You’re so fucking tight, y/n. Bast.”

You bite down on your hand, suffocating yourself as you refuse to disobey Shuri’s orders for you to keep quiet. You were trying your absolute hardest, but the feeling of Shuri’s dick hammering into you and the reflection of your pleasure coating her is making her commands damn near impossible. Your breathing becomes scattered, your eyes subtly going cross eyed as you feel your pussy sculpting the vibranium inside you. The kimoyo bead never fails to violate your clit, and you let out a strangled noise as you choose to ignore Shuri’s orders to keep quiet.

“I can’t Shuri, I can’t. I’m sorry but…SHIT. You feel so good. This feels so good.”

She lets you scream, immensely turned on by the control she has on your body.

“That’s it y/n. Such a fucking whore. My whore.”

“You’re whore,” you echo. “Only yours.”

She loses tempo for a second, lost in your dirty mouth. You look at your reflection once more, hypnotized by Shuri’s curls and the way she grips your thighs as she mercilessly buries herself into you. Your breasts are bouncing to her inhumane rhythm, sweat glistening against your brown skin. She’s tapping your g-spot, making sure the vibranium makes note of every outline and curve inside you, claiming you as her own.

“You like when I play with you, huh?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Then cum for me, y/n. Spill that shit all over me.”

Your eyes roll back until they’re completely shut, grasping onto the edges on the countertop as a sense of relief. Your clit is aching, your pussy clenching harder and harder around her girth. The ache ripples into your knotted stomach as the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet tingle. You grow light-headed, your body overcome by the works of Shuri.

“Holy shit, baby. I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop. Keep going. Just like that, you’re doing so well. Fuck.”

With the buzz of her bead, and the stroke of her dick, you combust. You’re overtaken by everything that surrounds you, dissolving into the pleasure as Shuri fucks you through it.

“I can feel you baby, I can feel you pulsating around me.” Shuri spills into you, her own orgasm overcoming her state of dominance as your pussy twitches through her pleasure. “Fuck, y/n. Shit, baby. Look what you do to me.”

“SHURI.”

“FUCK.”

The room becomes filled with your moans, curses, and each other’s names as you mutually struggle to come down from your high. Shuri pulls out, a line of your slick staying connected to her strap until she tugged far enough to fully sever the tie from you. She bends down, putting her mouth at your cunt and you almost don’t realize what’s happening but then you understand, as you hear her native tongue fall from her mouth. She’s speaking xhosa into your cunt, and although you have no idea what she’s saying, you are completely turned on by the action as the vibrations of her voice pulsate through you. Shuri plucks the kimoyo bead from your clit, connecting it back to the bracelet allowing you to fully exhale in relief.

Shuri pulls your body from the island, and you go limp, nearly collapsing as your feet hit the floor. Shuri picked you up, bringing you to her bedroom as she put one of her oversized t-shirts on you, and the scent almost fully brought your mind back to the real world.

“You’re a mess,” she comments, pushing your messy curls off your face.

“Fuck,” you groan, still trying to collect yourself.

“How are you doing? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok.”

Shuri smiles. “Good.”

You’re beginning to trail off into a deep sleep, fed up and fucked out as you cuddle into Shuri’s bedsheets. Shuri rests her body beside you, your heart jumped at the gesture as you were on the brink of passing out.

“What if I tried?”

“Hmm?” You hear her, but your body is too tired to collect her words.

“I could be good. Let me be good for you, nkosazana.”

And those were the last words you heard before you drifted off into a comfortable sleep, the best sleep you’ve had in months.

“I’ll try. I promise I’ll try y/n.”

a/n: a lil sumn silly while I finish these two ffs in my drafts

key:

riri dialogue

shuri dialogue

reader dialogue

♪ listens to songs she can get high to (or feel high to, she mostly gets high socially rather than alone)

♫ on some cloud nine type things, Don Toliver, Travis Scott, A$AP Rocky, Childish Gambino, Kid Cudi

♫ but not limited to psychedelic indie or rock like Mac Demarco, Jimi Hendrix, TV Girl, Yves Tumor, Tame Impala, Men I Trust, that one Lil Yatchy album counts too ig lmao

♪ stem!riri? yeah she’s def on that Canadian Nigga Trio HEAVY (Drake, PND, The Weeknd)

♫ toxic stem!riri? Brent & Bryson in rotation

♪ gang gang w/ some Pierre Bourne, Lucki, Ken Carson, Young Nudy

♪ she likes a lot of pluggnb/trap, especially the girls

♪ Bktherula her baby frrr

♪ she DID have an XXXTENTACION phase for about 2 years in middle school

♪ a huge rnb girlie ofc, with your SZA, Summer Walker, Jhené Aiko, Victoria Monet, Teyana Taylor, Ari Lennox things naturally

♪ HEAVY ON KEHLANI

♫ probably her top artist

♫ like she’ll kick your ass if you dare skip a song by her TOP ARTIST

♪ she hates Justin Timberlake because of Janet Jackson but she can’t deny his first two albums being in rotation

♫ she still rides for Janet Jackson OF COURSE though, that’s her queen

♪ definitely some 90s and 00s rnb, rap, and neo soul

♫ definitely some 90s and 00s rnb, rap, and neo soul when she’s up in it-

♪ speaking of neo, she’s on Neyo HEAVY

♪ goes hard for the rap girlies, Flo Milli, Ice Spice, Bree Runway, Rico Nasty, Monaleo

♬ “DOECHIIIIIIIIII!”

♫ if there’s one thing about riri, it’s Doechii

♫ Spooky Coochie>>>

♪ COLE WORLD, a middle school favorite

♬ “Now put a finger in the sky if you want it nigga!”

♪ definitely on her Kendrick things too

♪ spotify user to the fullest

♪ fuck Sony headphones, she made her own lil’ bluetooth noise canceling headset with good bass to not only make sure she can listen to music but FEEL that shii 

♪ also she didn’t feel like paying $300+ for that so…

♪ she can’t ever listen to an album on shuffle, she feels it ruins the “cinematic experience”

♬ “I know you did NOT just skip that shit.”

♬ “Riri, it was literally an interlude.”

♬ “I said turn that shit back!”

♪ she’ll backhand slap you if you dare try it with a Weeknd album, that’s just an unspoken rule for her never to skip a Weeknd song in an album (a/n I may be projecting w/ this one lmao)

♪ is an avid playlist maker and has playlists for every single mood and activity

♬ “Tryna smoke? Lemme pull up this playlist i got-”

♬ “You goin’ to the store? Wait, lemme hook up my driving playlist-”

♬ “You having trouble studying? Hol’ on- I got this good playlist I use for when I’m doing my math homework!”

♬ “Okayyyy some chill rnb so far, Sade, Erykah Badu, D’Angelo, Alicia Keys… Rico Nasty, Bktherula, Destroy Lonely, Carti???

♬ “What? I tend to get pissed off about an hour in! Especially if it’s word problems!”

♪ she listens to both, but she keeps the “Cochise >>> Carti” opinion to herself

♪ Frank Ocean makes her tear up for no reason so she barely listens to him unless she’s in the mood to cry

♪ she was a Nicki fan… she still IS one, who you frontin’ on?

♬ “R-R-R-Roman!”

♪ honestly, she was on everybody part of Young Money, Bedrock was a moment in time

♪ she was definitely an Ariana Grande fan in middle school tho, don’t play with her

♫ she still gon’ blast her My Everything and Yours Truly albums in her garage, don’t get it twisted

♪ she was a 1D fan in elementary school but she’ll forever deny it happened

♫ she’ll blast Big Time Rush like a bitch tho (Boyfriend is a hood classic)

♪ MINDLESS BEHAVIOR RIDER

♪ she still has their CDs stowed away in her garage somewhere

♪ (cannon) anime watcher on her jpop/jrock shii

♫ and we can’t forget the OSTs in her playlist

♫ Ouran High School host club outro>>>

♪ Lamp listener, definitely a comfort artist for her

♪ she fucks w/ Shuri’s kpop (cannon) stuff too tho she’s not a fan

♫ she’ll shake ass to Kick It by NCT on the low, though

♪ she’s on plugging/trap so you know she definitely on her hyper pop shit too