Cloaked Riri x Reader
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.
