bleazed @bleazed - Tumblr Blog

Aug 12

fuck him, go into his closet, steal some of his supreme chrome hearts !

✧ ni-ki was supposed to be a hook-up you occasionally stole from and nothing more. but one mistake leads to another, and you might have snuck off with more than you bargained for. ✧ nishimura riki (enhypen) x fem! reader ✧ word count: 8k ✧ content warning(s): MDNI, nsfw, DUBCON, yandere ni-ki, jay is lowk the bus driver ✧ divider by angeliicide ✧ requests are OPEN!

“Nnh…! Riki!”

His pillow muffles your moans somewhat. Your voice comes out soft and garbled. The pillowcase smells distractingly of his shampoo and faded cologne, and with each harsh inhale, it’s as if your senses are being overwhelmed by him. He’s everywhere around you: in your mouth, in your nose, in your head. It’s a sweet dream-like blissful reverie, a short-lived reprise.

A big hand grips at your hair, and you give a yelp as you’re yanked backwards by the head. Another large hand finds its home at the curve of your hip, rough fingertips digging into the flesh as if you’ll run away from him if he gives any leeway.

“No hiding,” a gruff low voice growls from above you. Heat and sweat prick at your bare skin, and Riki props your hips up, bending you over mercilessly across his creaking mattress while forcing your face out of his pillows. “I want everyone to hear what I’m doing to you.”

“Y-You’re crazy-! Ah-! Wait, wait, not so rough…!” You barely get your words out through your panicked breathing before Riki’s shoving his hips up against you. He bullies his cock into you from behind at such an unforgiving angle. Deep, full thrusts that leave your poor cunt with no choice but to take it, walls stretched open from how thick and long he is, hole fluttering and drooling around him as your consciousness swims and blurs all around the edges.

“So fucking tight… Your body looooooooves this dick, doesn’t it?” There’s such a mocking whiff of glee in every syllable of his words. “She loooooooves it, looooooves gobbling up my cock. So greedy.”

You whimper helplessly. You want to shove your head back down and let his downy pillows swallow up all of your sloppy noises, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. His grip on your hair is so relentless.

Thrust. “Fuck- Ah- Riki!”

Thrust. “You’re- you’re going to break me…!”

Thrust. “We’re not even close like that- There’s no need to be like this-!”

You’re scrambling to keep your sanity. Each snap of his hips has you seeing stars. Fuck, fuck- Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re going to cum at this rate. You don’t know where your inner thoughts end and your audibly mindless babbling begins. You’re flipping all over. Bargaining for mercy, appealing to logic, just crying out like a wounded animal as his cock rubs itself all over your insides. Lewd squelching noises echo around the room. Smack, smack, smack, as if the sounds of your rabid fucking exists just to break you down that much further.

Shame burns at your face and exposed skin, but the unrelenting knot that’s been mounting inside your stomach burns harder. You hate just how right Riki is, how every demeaning thing he coos at you only proves him correct.

You love how it feels, even with your brain screaming otherwise. You love the sting and burn of his fat cock shoving your cunt open. You love how he buries himself so deep into you, enough to make it feel like his tip is pressing up against your windpipe.

“Riki!” You choke out. You’re more or less screaming at this point. Mortification and arousal are one and the same as you sob out his name. Over and over again, the only thing to ground you as Riki grips onto you possessively, making sure the foundation of the dorm and its thin walls quiver from just how good he’s making you feel.

His command is singular. “Louder.”

He yanks at your hair again, and your face careens upwards towards the ceiling. You’re leaking all over his cock at this point. Your juices are only making it that much easier for him to fuck into you. Animalistic thrusts, his base instincts wholly taking over with the singular goal of making you gush on his dick. It’s fast and sloppy and rough, and fucking hell—you just know you’re never going to get dick as good as Nishimura Riki’s for the rest of your life.

You’re close to tears. “Riki!”

You don’t think Riki was even your bias. “Riki!”

You don’t think Riki crossed your mind that much before. “Riki!”

You don’t think Riki was someone you cared about when you first got into the group. “Riki!”

“Now all my hyungs know what I’m doing to you. That the pretty girl they’ve all been eyeing up is getting her pussy fucked out and bred by their youngest.” His words go straight to your cunt. You’re clenching around him for dear life. Your cunt cries out in refusal every time he moves his hips back, as if the two millisecond before he’s drilling back into you is a waste.

He huffs in triumphant laughter under his breath, “Did that turn you on? You’re close, aren’t you? You’ve been leaking and squeezing me for so long… You keep saying shit like ‘ah, ah, ah, not so rough!’ but you actually like it when I pound into you like this.”

You’re going to lose your mind. You can’t take this anymore, but if you don’t get more of him, you might actually stop breathing. You barely eke out, “I’m gonna- Please- ‘m so close-! Need it so bad, Riki… Feels s’good…!”

“Yeah? So close to what?” He’s not one to give you what you want so easily. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you think you might have thrown something at him for his sheer audacity. But god, right now, with crazy good dick fucking you out like tomorrow doesn’t exist, you’re not above caving.

“I wanna cum! I wanna cum- wanna cum-,” you slur out, voice ringing out like clear morning bells through the debauched night. “Wanna cum on your cock! Your cock feels so good- Love having sex with you-! Love having sex with your cock- I can’t- I can’t hold on anymore!”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s cracked that devilish grin. The one that’s gotten you acting so stupid to begin with, the one that got you trapped in his bed, the one that has you like putty in his hands.

He practically purrs, “There you go. Now you’re being just as honest as your pussy.”

The next thrust does you in. You nearly fall forward in a silent shriek as your orgasm rips through you. Pure heat claws at your core, and you stiffen, unconsciously clenching up all around him and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. Ears blown out and eyes rolling back, you cum shamelessly all over his dick as he empties himself into you. Warmth explodes all inside of you as he fucks you through it until you’re a boneless mess.

When you droop like a wilted flower back onto his sheets, only then does he finally let you bury your head into his pillow. Well, it’s not like you’re actively burying your head in there; you simply don’t have the strength to move elsewhere. Not when you’re still buzzing with the high of your climax, not when he’s sapped your strength so thoroughly, not when your brain has given up on your body completely and all you can do is just lay there and struggle to process everything while Riki leers down at you victoriously, his sticky cum pouring out from between your thighs.

You really, really can’t stand him.

You made a mistake.

Last night wasn’t supposed to escalate like that.

You have enough self-awareness to come clean and admit that much to yourself. This isn’t just unique to Riki (which… you have quite a bit to debrief about, even if it’s only to yourself again). You’d like to think that you’re more mature than to have your shit rocked this thoroughly and then end up passing out in the bed of said-man-who-rocked-your-shit.

But you did, and no amount of morning-after regret is going to change the fact that you woke up in Riki’s bed with a disturbingly sore body and a horrifying revelation that you won’t be able to look yourself or him in the face for a while. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, the room still dark and ambiently moody, and the mound breathing rhythmically next to you signals that Riki is still blissfully asleep.

You take that as your cue to get out of there as fast as you can. Your body whines in protest, but you fight your way through the stiffness in your limbs and the undeniable ache settling in on your lower back and gingerly swing your feet to get up. You move as efficiently as you can, dressing with whatever you can find without trashing the room too much, while doing your absolute best not to disturb Riki.

You’re not willing to gamble more of your pride to sleep in and stay longer. You’re not one to judge anyone after the position you’ve found yourself in today, but you highly doubt that Riki’s the type of person to wake you up with a kiss, a gentlemanly “good morning,” and send you on your way with an Uber and breakfast in your stomach. You’re not delusional enough to think that you’re anything special, not when he probably has a line of admirers spanning the world’s equator who’d kill to be in your place.

So objectively speaking, you know you shouldn’t linger. But for some reason, you hesitate right in front of his closet. Hand over your heart, you didn’t seduce Riki with the intention of stealing from him. If it was monetary wealth you were after, you’d fuck your way into Jeff Bezos’s will and hire a hitman to take him out. But your hands itch, and if Riki won’t treat you to at least a taxi and breakfast, then you might as well pamper yourself with something to make the aches and time lost worth your while.

His chains? No, that would be too expensive.

His shoes? No, that would be too weird for you to find any use out of.

His designer clothes? No, that would be too obvious.

You scan the room, ears perked and heart pounding for anything that might tip you off to the fact that you might be caught red-handed. But Riki continues snoring, and before your nerves can give out on you, you decide on your target. Like Atalanta scooping up her golden apples, you lurch forward and extend a hand.

Your fingers curl around his Chrome Hearts beanie, and you slip out of his bedroom while rubbing your knuckles over the soft material. The hallway outside is dark, the rest of the members most likely asleep or cocooned up in their own respective rooms. Your footsteps are muffled as you carefully pad out over the main areas. You quiet your breathing, keep your mind honed, clutch the beanie close to your body like the purloined booty it is as you race towards the front door. Your thoughts are singular.

Get out.

“...Holy fuck-!”

You almost scream and eat shit when you nearly collide straight with someone. Red-hot panic flashes through you as you lurch forward, tripping over your own feet before barely managing to straighten yourself. Your eyes strain through the murky darkness of the dorm, only to come face-to-face with who you recognize to be a very frazzled Jay. His hair is a mess, and there’s a half-drunk glass of water in his hands, explaining why he’s sneaking around at this hour like you are.

He blinks in your direction, and you angle your body to hide the beanie you stole. Your heart hammers inside of your chest—th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump—until Jay just settles on giving you a good-natured nod in acknowledgement and shuffling off. You stand there for a few breaths longer, fright still gripping your brain in full force. Only when you’re absolutely certain that you won’t be intercepted again do you bolt and finally succeed in escaping.

You don’t want to think too much about what might have gone wrong. You don’t want to think about how often Riki must hook up with other people for Jay to appear so unphased by your escape walk of shame. You don’t want to think about what might happen if Riki notices that his Chrome Hearts beanie is gone.

You’re not special enough for him to notice. That is your one saving grace, your light at the end of the tunnel, your lifeline in your sea of floundering mistakes.

If Riki has noticed anything, he doesn’t show it. Days pass, and somehow, your paths end up intertwining. Don’t misunderstand—it’s not like he shows up Disney style with a diamond ring in his hand atop a white horse, but you run into him every now and then over the course of a few months. Some meetings are nothing more than amicable, with him peering over his costly sunglasses and giving you a jerky nod in greeting.

Others are more intimate, and they end with your thighs smeared with loads of his sticky cum and a sore back for the following few days. You’re growing used to waking up with a dull pain flaring up there from how rough he always gets, but shamefully, you’re growing more used to the terribly addictive pleasure he sicks onto you with wicked delight. It’s escalating to the point that you’re slowly looking forward to each hook-up, desire and heat and want pooling deep in your belly whenever you think about how good the stretch of his thick, veiny cock feels.

For better or for worse, your kleptomaniac tendencies continue. You don’t steal from him after every hook-up. That would be a rookie move, and the last thing you need to throw a wrench into the situationship you have with Riki would be for him to find out that you’ve been pawing through his closet. You always keep it small but profitable; though, the last part is only in theory since every time you do leave his dorm with his Chrome Hearts in tow, you never end up selling it.

The logical part of you knows that the risk is too high. Knowing your luck, he might end up stumbling across the listing and finding you out, or his company might find out and sue you with their brigade of impenetrable lawyers for artist endangerment or some shit. The emotional part of you is fond of your trophies, and because you feel bad that they’ve started collecting dust in your house, you’ve started to integrate some of the more mundane pieces into your wardrobe.

An earring to spice up your outfit on a night out in town with friends. The beanie that started it all when you’re making a quick trip to the grocery store and don’t feel like making your hair look presentable. Sunglasses for when you’re driving—just because you get a kick out of the thought of expensive designer shades being used for something so mundanely utilitarian.

You never steal anything ostentatious, and you never wear anything ostentatious. Always something small and plain, with just enough plausible deniability that it could be something you acquired yourself organically. You always do your due diligence to make sure you don’t wear them on days you know for sure that you’ll run into Riki, but every now and then, you run into someone else you don’t expect. Like Jay, who you quickly discover gets up a lot earlier than you expected after continually bumping into him on your walks-of-shame out.

But then you move onto bigger prizes, although that’s mostly with Riki’s permission. You wake up again with a thick layer of crusties in your eyes, and you spend about thirty seconds rubbing them all out. Your eyes are puffy and your throat is sore, undoubtedly from crying and sobbing and moaning after how much Riki overstimulated you last night, and you hobble out of his bed as if you’re a disintegrating scarecrow. You methodically get dressed, haphazardly yanking on your pants (your underwear has disappeared to god-knows-where with how vigorously he was ripping your clothes off last night) and socks before pausing.

Shit. Your top is nowhere to be found. You scour all around the bed and even take a peek around some of the more isolated nooks and crannies of Riki’s dorm room, but as if they’ve been carried away by a ghost, it’s nowhere to be seen.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You need to put something on and skedaddle. No matter how many times Riki’s fucked you and made you come undone in the worst ways possible, you don’t have it in you to face him the morning afterwards. Even more so knowing that this is when you steal from him. You shuffle around, debating if it’s worth stealing one of his shirts or if you should take a big towel from their bathroom to fashion into a makeshift toga, when Riki groans and shifts.

You stop dead in your tracks. Fucking hell—today genuinely was going to be a day where you weren’t actively going to steal from him. You think you might shit your guts out from the guilt alone, and you freeze right where you are. Breath held, stomach clenched, eyes trembling, you pray that he doesn’t wake up.

But life would never be that kind to you.

“...Mmh?” He mumbles sleepily, pushing himself upwards into a seated position. He blinks a few times groggily, and right when you’re debating on running for it while he’s still not fully conscious, does he recognize you.

“Good morning,” he murmurs before flopping back down on his bed, “Why’re you in such a hurry to get out?”

You pause, and you gnaw on the inside of your cheek. What the fuck are you even supposed to say to that? Why does he have to be so casual about the fact that you two are so intimate? You hate that your heart flutters, hate that you were caught in such a preventable situation, hate that you even let this whole thing turn into a big ordeal. You should have kept it at one good hook-up and exit with no string attached, and now you don’t even know what the correct thing to do would be.

“I… have things to do,” you offer up. It’s only a partial lie. The thing in question that you need to do is leave, so you can lick your wounds and pretend that you’re not growing a little too comfortable with this arrangement. You muster up your courage, bolstered mostly by the pounding adrenaline in your head. “I can’t find my shirt. Can I take one of yours?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Riki gestures vaguely in the direction of his closet. “’s gonna be pretty cold today, I think. Sunoo-hyung kept ranting yesterday about his skin drying because the weather’s changing up. Take a hoodie or something.”

You tiptoe over and open up the closet. The holy grail of Depop resellers stares back at you as you squint through the darkness to mull over your pickings. “A hoodie seems excessive… I just need a t-shirt.”

“Take the fucking hoodie. I don’t need you bitching and moaning about how it’s my fault you caught a cold after going home in nothing but a t-shirt.” A muffled voice retorts from the sheets. “I can always buy another one. Do you fuck broke men on the regular? Why are you acting all prim and proper now?”

You want to roll your eyes. Only he could be this sassy after rearranging your guts. Would it kill him to let go of his whole nonchalant thing and just say that he cares about you enough to want you to stay warm? “I can go fuck said broke men instead,” you huff.

Riki responds with an audible snort. “You wouldn’t. You like my dick too much.”

A flare of embarrassment goes off inside your tight chest, and you physically bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from lashing out anymore. The atmosphere prickles with heated tension, and as much as you love getting your brains fucked out, you don’t think you have it in you to do it back-to-back. Or in what might as well be broad daylight. That feels too wanting, too forward, too everything.

You need to get out. You run your hands over the hangers and pick one at random. The material is heavy and thick, and when you slip it on, it rests over you like a comforting backhug.

It smells tantalizingly of him.

You don’t linger too long afterwards, but there’s an odd tug in your chest as you make your usual exit out of the Enhypen dorm. Something about this whole thing is too close to comfort, like a boyfriend sharing his clothes with you instead of you gaslight-gatekeep-girlbossing your way through making his incessant pussy battering worthwhile. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that he’s softening your edges just as much as you’re softening his.

When you walk out, you even give Jay a little greeting as you head out. He gives you a polite greeting back, though today, he stares the slightest bit longer than usual at the sight of you so openly in Riki’s clothes.

You made a mistake.

You knew better than to expect that you could keep your whole thing with Riki entirely under the table. You did everything you could to keep everything under wraps, but if you’re crazy enough to do what you do with him, the people who want to be the one doing what you do with him are even crazier.

It was only a matter of time before people would start finding out. The members were a given, and to an extent, some of the group’s sasaeng fans. You were under the impression that once enough people did find out, the company would serve you some papers and brush you under the rug and that would be it.

NI-KI OF ENHYPEN FINDS A GIRLFRIEND? UNKNOWN FIGURE SPOTTED WEARING MATCHING CLOTHES AND SNEAKING OUT OF KPOP IDOL’S DORM.

What you did not expect was for a whole news article, complete with pictures, to be the reason why you’re pacing around the Enhypen dorm like a caged animal. Pulse drumming in your ears, limbs twitchy, dread thudding through your veins in a second heartbeat, saying that you’re full blown freaking out would be an understatement. Is there anything you can even do about something like this? About the fact that some anonymous tipper has more or less doxxed you? You had the foresight to immediately get rid of your phone and bolt from your current address the moment you found out, footsteps unconsciously bringing you to where Riki was in vain hopes that he might be able to help navigate this.

So here you are. Stuck in the dorm like a hostage, waiting for Riki to come back home, too scared to peek out the window in case a mob of rabid fans are outside waiting to pelt you with tomatoes. Or the company’s legal team. Both.

Jay, ever the gentleman, keeps you company the best he can. He’s already brewed you a cup of hot tea (which has gone untouched, mostly because if you drink anything, you think you’ll hurl it back up), phoned Riki an ungodly number of times for you (“He’s on his way,” Jay tells you over and over again, “He’s only a few minutes out.”), and tries to feed you something so that you’re not running on sheer adrenaline (which you once more refuse).

“I know this is a shitty situation, especially for you.” Jay moves to pick up your untouched mug of now-stone cold tea, and he shuffles over to the kitchen to stick in the microwave. You gnaw on your already battered lower lips as he gives you what he probably intends to be a comforting smile. You don’t say anything until the microwave beeps after a while, and Jay returns with your tea.

“I’m scared,” you choke out through strained breathing. “How am I going to live after this? I won’t be able to show my face in public.”

“You’ll have Riki.” Jay takes your trembling hands and maneuvers the warm mug into your grip. The heat spreads against the inside of your palms, and though it’s only for a millisecond, it does make you feel better. Jay beams at you again. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

You tense up at the mention of his name. Your tongue is thick and heavy in your mouth, and you swallow the growing lump that’s made home in your throat. “I… Me and Riki… We’re not like that.”

Jay cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “Hm? Not like what?”

Good god. Having to spell it out with your own mouth is making you burn so much more with shame. You might as well be rubbing salt on your open wounds. Your nails drag against the hard surface of the mug, and you tear your gaze away from Jay’s earnest eyes.

“We’re not together. Not in a boyfriend-girlfriend way,” you manage out. You can’t help but start to chew on your mouth and lips again, nerves eating away at your burning insides. “We just hook-up like… a lot. That’s all. Really.”

If Jay was supposed to show any real emotion to that, he doesn’t get a chance to. The front door of the dorm flies open with enough force that it might as well have been kicked in, and you’re so strung up that you end up sloshing some tea over your hands. The tea isn’t hot enough to burn you, thankfully, but it’s enough to make Jay’s parental instincts kick in and swipe the mug from you like you’re a toddler that can’t take care of yourself.

Riki comes in, breathless, impeccably pretty face screwed over in worry. His eyes widen when he sees you, and you instinctively lurch forward in his direction, all of your prepped speeches and crash outs and everything going blank once he’s actually here in front of you.

He takes the words right out of your mouth. “We need to talk.”

A hand clamps down on your wrist, and before you can object, he’s yanking you in the direction of his room. You stumble with him, barely keeping up with his urgent footsteps, and a new wave of dread engulfs you as you cross the threshold from dorm to bedroom. It’s something you’ve done countless times, and yet, today feels as if you’re crossing the point of no return.

“Hey, be gentle!” Jay calls out from the common area. Riki pays Jay’s comment no mind and shuts the door behind him. It locks into place with a metallic ‘click,’ and only then are you finally alone with him. Face-to-face, just the two of you, a sobering realization that something that wasn’t supposed to get this far, has in fact, gotten this far.

You should talk. You need to talk. You have to find the clarity amidst all the topsy-turvy chaos and straighten out your story with Riki before Belift pummels you into anonymity and silence. You should know better than to expect any real gentleness from someone like him. Happy endings don’t come out of mindless sex, and happy endings definitely don’t come to someone who might have gotten this whole thing busted from stealing out of his closet.

“Riki, I-,” you try to start. You don’t get far. You’re half-expecting him to be angry with you, to start screaming and yelling and acting unreasonable, but instead, what you find sends a completely different chill down your spine.

It has to be your eyes playing tricks on you.

There’s just no way, no fucking way, that he looks absolutely victorious right now.

Everything ends the exact same way it began.

“Riki, you’re being unreasonable-,” you stutter out as his hands start impatiently yanking at your clothes. You have a half a mind to try and calm him down, work some logic back into him so you can put out the bomb that’s landed squarely in your lap, but it’s so difficult to stay grounded when he’s actively cornering you against his bed and staring down at you as if he’s going to eat you whole. Your mouth goes dry as he shoves you against his bed, and soon enough, you’re performing the same song and dance of shedding your clothes while you half-heartedly argue with him.

His palm cups your clothed cunt. His voice is deep against the shell of your ear. “I saw that you were talking to Jay-hyung. Did you talk to him for a while?”

It’s a trap. You know it’s a trap. You stumble over your own words. “H-He was the only one home when I came by. He was just being polite and making sure I’m okay. Riki- Riki, fucking listen to me! There are news articles about us right now- This isn’t the time to have sex!”

He looks at you straight in the eye, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. “Everyone else knows we’re fucking now. What are you getting all shy about?”

Your words die out in the back of your throat at that. Riki gives a small huff, and the rest of your clothes are coming off of you like you’re shedding a second skin. You’re all too used to the rhythm of this. The sensation of his cool sheets under your body, the heat of his breath fanning against your neck as his lips bite and kiss and suck, the tight grip of his hands as he gropes at your chest and stomach and hips.

“Riki-,” you whimper out. Need builds up inside of your chest and core. You wish you had the fortitude to keep your thoughts straight and to get your ducks in a row, but with Riki on top of you and making it impossible for you to process anything other than him, you’re a lamb led to the slaughter. “Riki- We- I-”

“What are you so worried about? Your safety?” He licks at your cheek, and you shiver. He captures your lips in an open-mouthed, selfish kiss, and he moans obscenely into your mouth at how sweet you taste. “You have nothing to worry about. You have me.”

“I-,” you force out in between sticky making out, “-I won’t be able to show my face in public! Or get a job! How am I going to support myself?”

Riki stops dead in his tracks. You barely hold back a sigh, wondering if that was the reality check he needed to realize the gravity of the situation. But then he shifts downward, and when he opens his mouth to press a kiss to your chest, he instead bites.

And he bites hard.

You shriek. It can’t be more than a mere second, and yet the sensation of his teeth sinking into the curve of your soft chest emblazons itself into a dark part of your mind. It hurts, hurts so bad—even when being rough, Riki has always made sure to balance the pain with the pleasure. This was something he did to hurt you, to make sure you felt his capability to inflict it onto you, and for some fucking reason, you liked it. Deep down, you fucking liked it.

“You’re not listening to me,” he hisses, “Everyone already knows what we’re doing. Hell—I bet your polite Jay-hyung is piecing it together right now too. I said I’ll take care of you. Everyone thinks we’re together. So why don’t we?”

Getting shot in the head point blank might be less shocking. Your blood runs cold, and any cloudiness in your mind disappears with a snap. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I know you heard me.” He pushes up off of you, and your breath catches dangerously when his hands slide down to your hips. He drags your now-soaked panties down, tossing them behind his shoulder. He sits there, taking a second just to admire the sight of your naked body underneath him, quivering with the knowledge that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

There’s the sound of his belt coming undone and the shuffling of fabric as he drops his pants. You hold your breath as he pulls his cock out, the tip swollen and drooling. You want it inside you. You want him to come to his senses. You want him to fuck you like tomorrow doesn’t exist because tomorrow genuinely doesn’t exist for you. You want him to take this more seriously and figure out a more solid plan of action.

He catches you licking your lips. “You want it? Lay back down. I’ll give you the cock you love so much. The cock you’ve more or less ruined yourself over.”

Your face burns, and your stomach twists in on itself. “You don’t need to phrase it like that… I’m trying to be serious.” And yet, you find yourself complying. You sink back down into his bed, mattress against your back. You spread your legs, and it feels like a permanent shiver has made its home in your spine when the cool air hits your dripping slit.

“And you don’t think I’m being serious?” Riki asks. He slots himself in between your legs, the kiss tattoo on his pelvis flashing before your eyes before your thigh obscures it. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

He grips the base of his cock, and he slaps the heavy tip against your swollen clit. The wet sound from the simple action is so obscene, it makes your face burn all over again. Sparks shoot up your core, and you need more. He rubs his cock up and down your slit, moaning as your pussy lips envelop his thick length.

Your pride is the lump in your throat. Your pride is the humiliated tears threatening to well up in the corners of your eyes. Your pride is your hungry cunt betraying you, your juices coating Riki’s cock in an undeniable sheen.

“I know you want it.” He breaks the terse silence first. His cockhead rests right against your entrance, just catching against the tight ring of muscle. He watches you like a wolf stalking its next meal, the ghost of a smile hinging on the corner of his lips as your cunt pulses and shivers, clenching visibly around nothing. “You trust me, don’t you?”

How the fuck are you supposed to answer that? You hesitate, and Riki’s eyes narrow in displeasure.

“Trust me,” he urges, firmer. “Tell me you trust me, and I’ll give it to you. Three words. ‘I trust you,’ and I’ll take care of the whole fucking thing.”

You can’t trust him. You know for a fact you can’t trust him. But what other option do you have? You have no other real support system you can turn to. Belift is out of the question. Your own social circle is probably coming undone from the barrage of doxxing and incessant inquiries from fans and news reporters alike. Jay is patient and kind, but that’s it. He’s an acquaintance that’s being a good Samaritan and nothing else.

You really only have Riki.

Your lips tremble unconsciously. Even though this is a single, isolated moment in time, for some reason, this whole thing suddenly feels like it’s been long overdue, the climax to an exposition that’s been building for a long, long time.

“...I trust you.”

The delight is palpable on his face. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Now all you need to do is turn your brain off, and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you nice and hard until you can’t even think about anyone other than me. Just trust me.”

He thrusts into you, one sharp motion that has his whole length embedded inside your weeping hole. You arch your back, and aching pain and electric pleasure shoot through your veins like a hit of a drug. It hurts, and it feels good, and true to his word, once he sticks his cock in you, it’s like the world melts away. He barely gives you any time to adjust, immediately pinning you down underneath him so you can’t move and snapping his hips into you. Deep and hard and fast, making sure you feel every inch and ridge so that the mind-numbing pace is all you can register.

“Fuck- so fucking tight-,” he grunts. He’s not even trying to hide that monstrous possessiveness of his anymore. He looks so goddamn pleased with himself, making you cry out and sob and go incoherent just from having him put it in. “See? We’re meant to be. There’s no need for us to go around tiptoeing anymore. All you need to do is just take my dick like you’re meant to. This cunt was made to be ruined by me. You were made to be fucked by me. I’ll make it so that you can’t live without my cock.”

“S-So rough…!” You whimper. Your mind is teetering on nothingness already. The tension building up inside of you is already too much, your body already having been worn out from being stuck in fight-or-flight. Now you’re stuck in fuck-or-fuck, and you somehow keep digging yourself into deeper and deeper graves.

“Say it,” he demands in between each thrust, “Say that you can’t live without me. Say that you’ll have me forever.”

It’s torture. He’s hitting you in all of the best spots, making you gush around his thick base every time he bottoms out. He’s always manhandled you whenever you came over for his stupid booty calls, but this feels different. There’s genuinely something at stake here, and with Riki determined to escalate your relationship from misconstrued one to a real one, he’s railing into you with a single-minded purpose.

You’ve already promised yourself to him, haven’t you? Long before panic running to his dorm, long before the news article that led to the panic running to his dorm, long before stealing the clothes that led to the news article that led to the panic running to his dorm, he had worked you into his trap. You walked into his arms and gave him your body, and since when has Riki ever willingly let go of something he’s gotten a taste of?

Your sense of responsibility is long gone now. All you care about is the burning in your cunt, the heat that his cock stirs up inside your guts, the insistent and all-consuming need to turn into a mindless slut and live only for him. “I-I can’t live without you! I can’t live without your cock! Please- Riki- Please- I need to be with you!”

“Need to be with me for…?” He trails off mockingly. He gives a particularly sharp thrust, and his cockhead brushes into your G-spot at such a devastating angle that your body nearly convulses. The hot tears have started slipping past your waterline. Scalding rivulets mark your pathetic state.

You moan what he wants to hear most out. Each word is underlined by his thrusts, his pointed thrusts that make you feel like you’re both animals in heat, the world dissolving away into nothing but an amalgamation of limbs and sweat and sex. “I want to be with you- I need to be with you forever! Riki, ‘m so close- I think I’m gonna cum! So close- Please, need to cum on your cock…”

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over me? Gonna prove to me that my cock’s the only thing your cunt needs?” The undeniable sloppy sounds of bodies hitting each other punctuate his harsh words. “I know you’re almost there. Just a little more, and I’ll let you cum. See? I told you you could trust me. I told you I’d take care of you.”

You’re going to go mad with desperation. Your body’s at its limit. It’s been at its limit for a while. You only need a little bit more to get where you need to be. He’s stretching you out in all the right places, fucking you just right, making you cry out his name and have your brain melting out your ears with each passing second.

“Anything- Anything, Riki!” You babble out.

He repeats, faux incredulity spiking his voice. “Anything?”

“Anything!” You reaffirm. You don’t even sound like yourself anymore. You don’t recognize the carnal desperation in your voice, the shameless wanton need that makes you sound all high-pitched and fucked out.

Riki leans in, and you moan again as he kisses you. His tongue slides over yours, all spit and wet and mouths sucking on each other. “Say that you love me. Say that much, and I’ll let you cum as much as you want.”

You’re going to die. You’re going to die in his bed. You’re going to die in his bed from getting railed by him.

Nothing is sacred anymore. Nothing is off the table. Nothing is too much for you to store away as a last reserve. Nothing is to be hidden and stashed away from him, not when he’s demanding your everything to be laid out and claimed as his.

“I love you! I love you!” You cry out, full blown sobbing. “Let me cum- Please! Riki, I love you- Love you so much! I love you, I love you!”

You don’t remember how many times you’ve screamed it out. You just kept saying it over and over, until it satisfied him, until you could feel the knot inside your stomach snap violently and you’re cumming all over his dick. Squirting and making a mess, there’s no way to deny the fact that you’ve just orgasmed on his cock.

That you’ve just came from telling him that you love him.

But you can’t think. Not with the haze covering your mind, not with your body feeling like jelly now that all the adrenaline and tension has left. Especially not when Riki presses another sickeningly sweet kiss to the crown of your head, and a flicker of heat flares back up inside your belly when you feel him draw his hips back. His cock is still hard, and he isn’t done indulging in you the way he’s wanted for all this time.

“That wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” He whispers. Another kiss to your forehead, and then he’s tucking away the sweaty strands of hair splayed across your face. A strangled cry worms its way out your throat when he gives an experimental thrust.

“I haven’t cum yet,” he murmurs, “But we can fix that. And it’ll be okay since we both know that we love each other now. No matter what happens after, I’ll take care of it all. Yeah?”

Can you even say anything to that? It’s been mistake after mistake for you, each one building up until they all bite their tails and turn into an inextricable Ouroboros to keep you trapped.

No, let’s not lie. This isn’t the result of your mistakes. This whole thing begins and ends with Riki.

He kisses your mouth, solemnly and adoringly and happily.

“I love you too,” he whispers against your shaking lips, “And we’ll be so, so happy together.”

NI-KI POV

You think you’re so slick.

Riki has known the whole time that you’ve been stealing from him.

Scratch that. Minor correction.

Riki has been letting you steal from him.

It’s difficult for Riki to pinpoint what exactly about you has made him act in a way that is objectively foolish. It’s undeniable that he likes all of you. Everything you’ve shown to him, he’s devoured with relish. It goes beyond a mere infatuation with your body and the insane sex you have with him. It’s in your snark, your blasé attitude, the fact that you treat him like someone his age rather than a perfect idol atop a pedestal. It’s refreshing, and it makes him feel like he wants to be around you all the time.

Would it be such a bad thing to go that extra step, to make sure you can be with him forever? Maybe he’s taken the extreme option instead of the high road, but this is Riki we’re talking about at the end of the day. He’s never, ever been satisfied with doing things halfway. And between losing you entirely or doing whatever he can to tie you down for eternity, he’s picking the latter in a heartbeat.

When he knows you’re coming over, he’s deliberately strewn about his things. Curiosity pricks at his brain when he imagines what you might take. A beanie he’s expertly placed “casually” in your path. Earrings “haphazardly” scattered about his desk. Sunglasses he tosses right by the door. Easy pickings, like Hippomenes rolling golden apples in front of a fleeing Atalanta.

It’s a slow process, but it’s a definite one for sure. He wants to make it so that everyone misconstrues your relationship with him. So that wherever you go, he’ll follow—his clothes, thoughts of him, his name dangling off of the end of yours.

He knows he’s succeeded on a seemingly random day. Dance practice is about winding down, and the rest of the members are all doing their separate routines, getting ready to go home. Jungwon is running through what he wants to talk about during his evening live, Jake is pawing through his bag for a change of clothes, Sunghoon and Sunoo are bickering like a married couple over probably nothing again…”

“Hey…,” Jay’s concerned voice breaks through Riki’s meandering thoughts. Riki turns to face him, eyebrow raised in a wordless response. Jay looks a little nervous, and he casts a wide glance around to make sure no one else is observing them.

“Can I talk to you for a second? Nothing super serious.” Jay scratches behind his neck. He gestures towards a back corner, and Riki obediently follows. The two slip away wordlessly, and only once Jay confirms that no one has noticed them going missing does he finally start speaking again.

“I… don’t want to pry. And you have every right to let me know if I’m overstepping,” he starts, sighing deeply through his nose. Riki thinks to himself that Jay looks like an anxious father about to give the birds-and-the-bees talk. Jay swallows and pauses, as if he’s mulling over his next words carefully, “But are you seeing someone? I kept running into a girl from your room, and she’s always wearing your things, and I just… I guess I wanted to say that there’s a bunch of administrative and bureaucratic stuff that comes with dating and being idols and yadda yadda, but I wanted to check in with you as a person. Like… I want you to be happy, Riki. So if you are starting to date, I’m telling you to treat your girlfriend well.”

Seeing someone.

Starting to date.

Girlfriend.

It takes everything in Riki not to crack the biggest grin of his life. Satisfaction blooms in his chest like a gulp of fresh air to a drowning man. How long has he spent, weeks and weeks purposefully arranging his room and luring you into his arms so that he can set things in motion? The countless nights he’s laid awake, wondering if this whole thing was for naught and your addictive presence was meant to be nothing more than a flash in the pan. But this is proof. Tangible, audible, physical proof.

His plan is working. You’ve been seen sneaking out of his room. You’re out and about while wearing his clothes. Jay wholeheartedly believes you to be his girlfriend and is giving him the big brother pep talk.

Riki raises a hand and pats Jay coolly on the back. “You worry too much, hyung. But don’t worry—

—I’ll treat her very, very well.”

author's note: hello!!! ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ thank you for making it to the end of this fic! i told ri that this would be a quick little thing to jump her ass, and then i hit 4.5k and realized it wasn't a quick little thing anymore... fic title/inspo is a lyric from the slayyyter song "beat up chanel$"... thank you miss slayyyter for your contributions to my sicko enha brainworms (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

bleazed

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THIS SHIT IF UR HUNG GRUYYYYYY 🫪🫪🫪🫪🫪

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