☆ stoner!nishimura riki x rich!reader
☆ wc: 3.1k
☆ warnings: MDNI, implied usage of weed, vivid description of a green-out episode, fluff(?), making out, heavy smoking, dry humping, slight aftercare, borderline smut tbh.
(i do NOT smoke nor do i know how greening out works so this was purely based off of not very thorough research that i did)
PART 1 ☆ PART 2 ☆ PART 3
THIS new routine was the only thing grounding both of you to reality. You'd slip out of galas, hit a smoke with Riki in the backseat of his beat-up Toyota, maybe make out a little, and then spray yourself with one of the hundred expensive perfumes you owned before slipping back into the sparkling event.
Today was just another one of those events, but it felt excruciatingly long. You were quite literally counting down the minutes until you’d slip into Riki’s car; until you could see his infuriating smile, decked out in Chrome Hearts from top to bottom; until you could experience the cold feeling that ran shivers down your spine when his metal rings touched your warm skin.
To you, Riki was your oxygen—the only way you could forget the weight of being a socialite’s daughter. Even if it was for a few hours, he made you feel like the most important person in the world, not for your status, but for you. That comfort, combined with the weed, sent you into another universe.
Your palms are sweaty as you wipe them down on the expensive silk that you couldn’t give two less fucks about before slowly making your way to the back door of yet another expensive mansion. You’d done this countless times already, but the adrenaline rushed through you all the same. You pushed open the door with one hand while the other held your heels. You spotted Riki’s deadbeat Toyota—one headlight blinking while the other flickered—Kendrick Lamar’s new album playing faintly in the background.
You hammered on the glass, loud enough to make Riki jump out of his skin. He flinched so hard his phone slipped between the seats “shit.” he muttered. The sight alone made you laugh out loud. Riki rolled down his window with a scowl that didn’t quite hide the fact that he was breathing heavily. He ignored your laugh, and hit the lock toggle. “Hurry up, baby. Before everyone inside realizes their star attraction is missing.” You rolled your eyes at the comment and got into the backseat, Riki followed behind you. He rolled up all the windows and pulled out a plastic bag from the glove box. You felt dizzy already, and you hadn’t even held the blunt yet.
Riki lit one of the blunts before taking a long drag, releasing it directly onto your face, earning a gasp and a fit of coughs that Riki couldn’t help but laugh at. “Asshole” you coughed out. Riki didn’t apologize; instead, he brought his ring-clad fingers to your face, wiping away a stray tear that had slid down your cheek unnoticed. “You’re sooo dramatic,” he smirked and brought the blunt close to your mouth. “Want it?” he asked in that smooth, deep voice that always made you freeze. You couldn’t even think straight, not when his lips were inches away from yours. His warm fingers cupped your face as if they were holding onto something precious; you simply nodded to him.
He brought the blunt close to your mouth as you mindlessly wrapped your lips around it and took a long, desperate drag. The smoke burned down your throat in a familiar way, your mind numbed with pleasure, and you couldn’t help but relish in the way Riki’s hands still held your face gently.
But as the high started to hit, so did the memories of the night. Your mother’s voice—sharp and condescending as always—lecturing you about your ‘image’, subtly degrading you in front of every businessman and socialite. The paparazzi’s flashes hit like physical blows, you swore you were blind from all those lights. And, of course, the horribly suffocative weight of expensive silk that itched in every corner and crevice of your body. Of course you were used to these things, but they still felt heavy in your chest. So many expectations you couldn’t care enough to fulfill. Sometimes you wished you were more like Riki—carefree, making ends meet by selling weed and whatnot.
You didn’t just take one hit, but snatched the blunt out of Riki’s hand—taking hit after hit. “Woah there angel, save some for me too” he muttered, trying to make a weak joke though his eyes were on your trembling hands the whole time . His brows furrowed in worry, but he tried not to think much of it. You had smoked a whole blunt before, but not at this pace. You didn’t listen, though. As soon as the blunt neared its end, you stubbed it on the center console before frantically grabbing another one from his baggie, struggling to light it with your trembling fingers.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Riki’s voice dropped dangerously low. He wasn’t playing around anymore; he knew something was up. He reached out and held your hands down. “Alright y/n, look at me. You’re fucking vibrating. You need to stop now.” And somehow, the touch that made your heart flutter earlier was ticking you off. You ripped your hands away from his grasp, and for the very first time, you snapped at Riki. “Don’t touch me!” you yelled, the faint friction of his chunky chrome hearts rings still stinging your skin. Riki was shocked, to say the least.
He let you have a few more hits before slowly coercing you into letting go of the blunt. Thankfully, you hadn’t greened out—at least not tonight—but he was definitely sick with concern.
________ 𝜗ৎ
IT had been a week since your little outburst. You pretended like nothing had changed, as if you’d never yelled at Riki, but the actual question was: had Riki moved on? Absolutely not. In fact, his worry had only increased, especially since you’d been hitting him up for more baggies than usual.
Tonight, the two of you were holed up in Riki’s studio apartment. The air inside was thick enough to slice through. Faint music hummed through his speakers. You were tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne that you’d grown to like over time while you mindlessly smoked a blunt. The harsh, hot feeling blooming in the back of your throat gradually spread to your lungs, you felt short of breath, but something about that weed just made you want to go back for more.
Riki was distracted—his phone was buzzing every thirty seconds, dealers and customers constantly demanding his attention. Typical plug activities you guessed. He was murmuring into the receiver, his voice low and clipped, but his free hand was still draped over your knee–drawing patterns through the satin silk. The warmth of his hand seeped through the satin and into your bare skin, unconsciously making you clench your thighs even though your thoughts were far from the intimacy of the moment. His hand was like a subconscious anchor.
But you weren't anchored–if anything, you were drifting away, losing yourself in the haze of weed and the cloud of smoke. By the time you started your second blunt, the smoke wasn’t a cloud anymore—it filled the room like dense fog. The smell was overpowering and had that sticky sweetness that only happens when the two of you really start hitting those blunts. Riki glanced down at you instantly, the blue light of his screen highlighting the worry on his face. He was too concerned to let you continue but just as scared to try and stop you after the way you’d snapped at him. But as you reached for the lighter again with trembling fingers, he instinctively reached out.
"Okay, you’re done," he muttered, dropping his phone mid-sentence. He reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he tried to snatch the half-burnt blunt from your hand. "Y/n, you're literally gray. Hand it over." He wasn’t trying to be nice anymore. "I'm fine, Riki-" You jerked away, fueled by a sudden, irrational burst of adrenaline. You tried to stand up to prove you were in control, to show him you weren't the "princess" he needed to protect; that everyone felt the need to protect. But the second your feet hit the floor, the world spun.
Suddenly, the heavy bass from his speakers thumped uncomfortably in your chest. The music felt like screeches and static. The room didn’t just spin, it did a violent 360-degree turn. Your eyes burned with tears. It felt like a million white dots were exploding in your eyes. A wave of nausea overtook you and at that moment you could only think of one person–Riki. “Riki-” you gasped out as your throat felt constricted. Lo and behold, you experienced your first “green out,” which hit you like a goddamn freight train. Your body gave out completely, turning into jelly. You don’t remember anything else other than the frantic heat of Riki’s chest as he dove off the couch to catch you.
“I’ve got you, okay? Just breathe.” His voice was frantic and filled with fear. He hoisted you into his arms and carried you through the heavy veil of smoke into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut and immediately laid you down onto his bed. Before you could even process the tilt of the room, he was behind you, holding you up.
One of his hands reached out to your face, large fingers pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face, while the other splayed across your sternum, feeling the beat of your thundering heart. “You’re fucking trembling, y/n. Match my breathing, okay? Don’t close your eyes on me now,” he commanded softly. “Just focus on the rhythm of your heart, yeah?” He massaged your scalp soothingly, trying to get your heart to calm down.
Slowly, the static in your ears began to fade, replaced by the steady, heavy thump-thump of his heart against your back. The “hollow” feeling still remained, but Riki’s presence grounded you to some extent.
Your heartbeat had steadied, but the nausea kept coming back in waves–it felt like your stomach was a sinking ship. You let out a single shaky, broken exhale, your face scrunching up in pain before instinctively curling your body into a tight ball. Your shaky fingers clutched onto the thick, black fabric of Riki’s hoodie, bunching it in your hands as if it were your lifeline.
Riki immediately got the hint. After all, he was an experienced smoker. He shifted his weight slightly and wrapped his arms around you tighter, his fingers tangling in your hair. The green out was still dragging you under. Your throat felt like sand and your hands were clammy. You were on the verge of falling asleep, but the nausea kept you awake. Despite your pain, your heart ached more from when you had yelled at Riki. However, that ache was momentarily drowned out by your sheer willpower, trying not to throw up all over the very man who was caring for you.
“Head still spinning?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ears like feathers. You nodded slowly. Riki couldn’t help but smile just a little. To see you in his arms, cuddled up to him, made his chest warm in a way he couldn’t yet admit. “Hang on. I’ve got something for the shakes.”
He reached out to his bedside table, fumbling through random plastic bags, lighters, and condoms before grabbing a singular chocolate bar. With one hand still holding you close, he used his teeth to tear the wrapper open. The smell of caramel and sweet chocolate hit your nostrils, cutting through the stench of weed.
“Look at me, baby,” he instructed softly. You lifted your head just a little and opened your eyes; your pupils were wide as saucers. Riki sighed before nudging your chin up. He brought the bar close to your lips. “Eat. Slow. I’m right here.”
The sugary intrusion of the caramel helped calm your senses, masking the bitter aftertaste of weed. Your stomach felt much better and you were able to feel the hollow void in your chest solidify. The shivering in your limbs finally dulled into a limp ache.
Riki noticed the shift as you straightened up a bit. He grabbed a bottle of water from his nightstand and shifted you slightly so he could use both his hands to remove the lid. “Water.” You took a long, desperate swallow, the cold liquid soothing you further. “Okay,” he started, settling the bottle down. He tried to shift you down onto the pillows. "You're coming down, but you still need to sleep it off. I’ll stay right here, but you need to close your eyes." You gazed up at him with glossy eyes. Riki averted his gaze, knowing he should pull away quickly before you tried to plot something.
But as he tried to pull away, panic flared in your chest. Not the ‘green-out’ panic, but the sudden ache of loneliness. Your fingers–still shaking slightly–clutched onto his hoodie tighter. “Don’t go yet. Please. Just… touch me,” you breathed out, your voice raw with need.
Riki froze. “Y/n, you’re high as hell right now. You don’t know what you’re—”
“I know and I don’t care. I just need you. Don’t move an inch, Nishimura.” Your hands cupped Riki’s face, pulling him closer. Riki gave in; he just couldn’t say no to you.
He let out a defeated sigh. “One kiss. That’s it.” He narrowed his eyes on you. You smirked. “Sure.”
Riki expected it to be one innocent kiss, but no, you had other plans. The sugar running through your system had sparked a different kind of hunger. Before he could even think of pulling away, you tangled your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, your knuckles grazing the cold silver of his chain. You bit his lip—harsh and unforgiving.
And giving in is exactly what Riki did. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, his restraint snapping by the minute. Your nausea was replaced with raw need and adrenaline. You shifted, crawling upward until you were draped entirely over him. Riki let out a muffled groan, pulling away from your lips only to trail his own down the line of your jaw. “You’re not even okay,” he mumbled against your skin.
You huffed impatiently and tightened your grip in his hair, earning a hiss. “Just shut up and do your thing.” you tried to sound imposing even though your words were slurring slightly. Riki scoffed and instead of pulling away, his lips latched onto your warm skin, sucking lightly and tugging at the skin between his teeth. “Bossy,” he muttered against your skin, nipping at it sharply to tease you, earning a scowl and a subtle smack to the head.
“Hey–I’m being so nice to you right now, and instead of a 'thank you,' I get a smack in the head?” he whined, burying his face in your neck and pinching your waist slightly. You groaned. “You want me to thank you for talking so much?” you questioned, subtly shifting your weight on his lap, just enough that you were right over his growing bulge.
“You’re really in no position to be calling me out right now.”
“Mm..” you mumbled, not trying to deny it.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he smirked. For a solid minute, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes. This was probably wrong, but after today, you were a hundred percent sure you couldn’t see him as ‘just a plug’ anymore. Riki was the first one to break contact. His hand slid up your back, settling behind your neck and gripping it in a way that made you dizzy all over again.
When he finally leaned in, he didn’t hold back. His lips crashed against yours with raw hunger. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, sucking and tangling with yours. You pulled harshly at the black strands of his hair knowing that the freak would find pleasure in it and his aching cock that pulsed with every tug was proof.
His hands slid down to your bare thighs—your expensive silk dress had ridden up long ago. He shifted, heavy denim grinding against the thin, ruined satin. His hips bucked upwards in a slow, tantalizing press that made your head swim faster than those two blunts ever could.
The friction was delicious and you were wet enough to slide against his bulge without constraint. You pulled away first, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips. You arched into him, your hips moving in a rhythmic manner as you let out small sounds you’d never imagined you’d utter. Your nails dug into his scalp as the friction turned into unrestrained hunger.
Riki nuzzled his face into your neck, lips grazing your pulse point. “Shit,” he breathed out. He felt your movements falter and immediately gripped your hips firmly, snapping his hips upwards as he helped move you against his rock-hard length. The feeling sent pure jolts of electricity straight to your core.
Both of you could feel your highs approaching, like a rubber band being stretched tight. And with one powerful thrust of his hips, the tension snapped. Your release seeped through your underwear and stained Riki’s jeans, but he was pretty much in the same situation.Riki leaned in, placing sweet kisses on your lips, cheeks, and forehead. His fingers moved away the wet strands of hair from your sweaty and flushed face.
But no, you weren’t satisfied. It was probably the weed or the sugar but you were filled with energy for some reason. You tried to rut against him again, but Riki stopped you with a hiss. “Easy, angel.” he murmured, his voice raspy and dry.
“You just went through an intense green-out episode and probably an even more intense orgasm. I can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. Let’s get you some proper sleep, yeah?”
You tried to protest, but he just shook his head, pulling you down onto the bed. “Stay.” He ordered, and you reluctantly pulled your arms away, still pouting, as he walked into the bathroom to grab a damp towel.He walked back into the room, cleaned you up gently, and pulled the covers over both of you. He pulled you toward him so that your head rested securely in the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered as his fingers gently rubbed your scalp, lulling you into deep slumber. That night, you slept better than you ever had; because for once, instead of feeling the weight of being the perfect daughter within the four walls of your ridiculously large mansion, you felt the warmth and comfort of being just you—held in the arms of the man you couldn't yet bring yourself to admit you loved.
☆ stoner!nishimura riki x rich!reader
☆ wc: 3.1k
☆ warnings: MDNI, implied usage of weed, vivid description of a green-out episode, fluff(?), making out, heavy smoking, dry humping, slight aftercare, borderline smut tbh.
(i do NOT smoke nor do i know how greening out works so this was purely based off of not very thorough research that i did)
PART 1 ☆ PART 2 ☆ PART 3
THIS new routine was the only thing grounding both of you to reality. You'd slip out of galas, hit a smoke with Riki in the backseat of his beat-up Toyota, maybe make out a little, and then spray yourself with one of the hundred expensive perfumes you owned before slipping back into the sparkling event.
Today was just another one of those events, but it felt excruciatingly long. You were quite literally counting down the minutes until you’d slip into Riki’s car; until you could see his infuriating smile, decked out in Chrome Hearts from top to bottom; until you could experience the cold feeling that ran shivers down your spine when his metal rings touched your warm skin.
To you, Riki was your oxygen—the only way you could forget the weight of being a socialite’s daughter. Even if it was for a few hours, he made you feel like the most important person in the world, not for your status, but for you. That comfort, combined with the weed, sent you into another universe.
Your palms are sweaty as you wipe them down on the expensive silk that you couldn’t give two less fucks about before slowly making your way to the back door of yet another expensive mansion. You’d done this countless times already, but the adrenaline rushed through you all the same. You pushed open the door with one hand while the other held your heels. You spotted Riki’s deadbeat Toyota—one headlight blinking while the other flickered—Kendrick Lamar’s new album playing faintly in the background.
You hammered on the glass, loud enough to make Riki jump out of his skin. He flinched so hard his phone slipped between the seats “shit.” he muttered. The sight alone made you laugh out loud. Riki rolled down his window with a scowl that didn’t quite hide the fact that he was breathing heavily. He ignored your laugh, and hit the lock toggle. “Hurry up, baby. Before everyone inside realizes their star attraction is missing.” You rolled your eyes at the comment and got into the backseat, Riki followed behind you. He rolled up all the windows and pulled out a plastic bag from the glove box. You felt dizzy already, and you hadn’t even held the blunt yet.
Riki lit one of the blunts before taking a long drag, releasing it directly onto your face, earning a gasp and a fit of coughs that Riki couldn’t help but laugh at. “Asshole” you coughed out. Riki didn’t apologize; instead, he brought his ring-clad fingers to your face, wiping away a stray tear that had slid down your cheek unnoticed. “You’re sooo dramatic,” he smirked and brought the blunt close to your mouth. “Want it?” he asked in that smooth, deep voice that always made you freeze. You couldn’t even think straight, not when his lips were inches away from yours. His warm fingers cupped your face as if they were holding onto something precious; you simply nodded to him.
He brought the blunt close to your mouth as you mindlessly wrapped your lips around it and took a long, desperate drag. The smoke burned down your throat in a familiar way, your mind numbed with pleasure, and you couldn’t help but relish in the way Riki’s hands still held your face gently.
But as the high started to hit, so did the memories of the night. Your mother’s voice—sharp and condescending as always—lecturing you about your ‘image’, subtly degrading you in front of every businessman and socialite. The paparazzi’s flashes hit like physical blows, you swore you were blind from all those lights. And, of course, the horribly suffocative weight of expensive silk that itched in every corner and crevice of your body. Of course you were used to these things, but they still felt heavy in your chest. So many expectations you couldn’t care enough to fulfill. Sometimes you wished you were more like Riki—carefree, making ends meet by selling weed and whatnot.
You didn’t just take one hit, but snatched the blunt out of Riki’s hand—taking hit after hit. “Woah there angel, save some for me too” he muttered, trying to make a weak joke though his eyes were on your trembling hands the whole time . His brows furrowed in worry, but he tried not to think much of it. You had smoked a whole blunt before, but not at this pace. You didn’t listen, though. As soon as the blunt neared its end, you stubbed it on the center console before frantically grabbing another one from his baggie, struggling to light it with your trembling fingers.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Riki’s voice dropped dangerously low. He wasn’t playing around anymore; he knew something was up. He reached out and held your hands down. “Alright y/n, look at me. You’re fucking vibrating. You need to stop now.” And somehow, the touch that made your heart flutter earlier was ticking you off. You ripped your hands away from his grasp, and for the very first time, you snapped at Riki. “Don’t touch me!” you yelled, the faint friction of his chunky chrome hearts rings still stinging your skin. Riki was shocked, to say the least.
He let you have a few more hits before slowly coercing you into letting go of the blunt. Thankfully, you hadn’t greened out—at least not tonight—but he was definitely sick with concern.
________ 𝜗ৎ
IT had been a week since your little outburst. You pretended like nothing had changed, as if you’d never yelled at Riki, but the actual question was: had Riki moved on? Absolutely not. In fact, his worry had only increased, especially since you’d been hitting him up for more baggies than usual.
Tonight, the two of you were holed up in Riki’s studio apartment. The air inside was thick enough to slice through. Faint music hummed through his speakers. You were tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne that you’d grown to like over time while you mindlessly smoked a blunt. The harsh, hot feeling blooming in the back of your throat gradually spread to your lungs, you felt short of breath, but something about that weed just made you want to go back for more.
Riki was distracted—his phone was buzzing every thirty seconds, dealers and customers constantly demanding his attention. Typical plug activities you guessed. He was murmuring into the receiver, his voice low and clipped, but his free hand was still draped over your knee–drawing patterns through the satin silk. The warmth of his hand seeped through the satin and into your bare skin, unconsciously making you clench your thighs even though your thoughts were far from the intimacy of the moment. His hand was like a subconscious anchor.
But you weren't anchored–if anything, you were drifting away, losing yourself in the haze of weed and the cloud of smoke. By the time you started your second blunt, the smoke wasn’t a cloud anymore—it filled the room like dense fog. The smell was overpowering and had that sticky sweetness that only happens when the two of you really start hitting those blunts. Riki glanced down at you instantly, the blue light of his screen highlighting the worry on his face. He was too concerned to let you continue but just as scared to try and stop you after the way you’d snapped at him. But as you reached for the lighter again with trembling fingers, he instinctively reached out.
"Okay, you’re done," he muttered, dropping his phone mid-sentence. He reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he tried to snatch the half-burnt blunt from your hand. "Y/n, you're literally gray. Hand it over." He wasn’t trying to be nice anymore. "I'm fine, Riki-" You jerked away, fueled by a sudden, irrational burst of adrenaline. You tried to stand up to prove you were in control, to show him you weren't the "princess" he needed to protect; that everyone felt the need to protect. But the second your feet hit the floor, the world spun.
Suddenly, the heavy bass from his speakers thumped uncomfortably in your chest. The music felt like screeches and static. The room didn’t just spin, it did a violent 360-degree turn. Your eyes burned with tears. It felt like a million white dots were exploding in your eyes. A wave of nausea overtook you and at that moment you could only think of one person–Riki. “Riki-” you gasped out as your throat felt constricted. Lo and behold, you experienced your first “green out,” which hit you like a goddamn freight train. Your body gave out completely, turning into jelly. You don’t remember anything else other than the frantic heat of Riki’s chest as he dove off the couch to catch you.
“I’ve got you, okay? Just breathe.” His voice was frantic and filled with fear. He hoisted you into his arms and carried you through the heavy veil of smoke into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut and immediately laid you down onto his bed. Before you could even process the tilt of the room, he was behind you, holding you up.
One of his hands reached out to your face, large fingers pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face, while the other splayed across your sternum, feeling the beat of your thundering heart. “You’re fucking trembling, y/n. Match my breathing, okay? Don’t close your eyes on me now,” he commanded softly. “Just focus on the rhythm of your heart, yeah?” He massaged your scalp soothingly, trying to get your heart to calm down.
Slowly, the static in your ears began to fade, replaced by the steady, heavy thump-thump of his heart against your back. The “hollow” feeling still remained, but Riki’s presence grounded you to some extent.
Your heartbeat had steadied, but the nausea kept coming back in waves–it felt like your stomach was a sinking ship. You let out a single shaky, broken exhale, your face scrunching up in pain before instinctively curling your body into a tight ball. Your shaky fingers clutched onto the thick, black fabric of Riki’s hoodie, bunching it in your hands as if it were your lifeline.
Riki immediately got the hint. After all, he was an experienced smoker. He shifted his weight slightly and wrapped his arms around you tighter, his fingers tangling in your hair. The green out was still dragging you under. Your throat felt like sand and your hands were clammy. You were on the verge of falling asleep, but the nausea kept you awake. Despite your pain, your heart ached more from when you had yelled at Riki. However, that ache was momentarily drowned out by your sheer willpower, trying not to throw up all over the very man who was caring for you.
“Head still spinning?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ears like feathers. You nodded slowly. Riki couldn’t help but smile just a little. To see you in his arms, cuddled up to him, made his chest warm in a way he couldn’t yet admit. “Hang on. I’ve got something for the shakes.”
He reached out to his bedside table, fumbling through random plastic bags, lighters, and condoms before grabbing a singular chocolate bar. With one hand still holding you close, he used his teeth to tear the wrapper open. The smell of caramel and sweet chocolate hit your nostrils, cutting through the stench of weed.
“Look at me, baby,” he instructed softly. You lifted your head just a little and opened your eyes; your pupils were wide as saucers. Riki sighed before nudging your chin up. He brought the bar close to your lips. “Eat. Slow. I’m right here.”
The sugary intrusion of the caramel helped calm your senses, masking the bitter aftertaste of weed. Your stomach felt much better and you were able to feel the hollow void in your chest solidify. The shivering in your limbs finally dulled into a limp ache.
Riki noticed the shift as you straightened up a bit. He grabbed a bottle of water from his nightstand and shifted you slightly so he could use both his hands to remove the lid. “Water.” You took a long, desperate swallow, the cold liquid soothing you further. “Okay,” he started, settling the bottle down. He tried to shift you down onto the pillows. "You're coming down, but you still need to sleep it off. I’ll stay right here, but you need to close your eyes." You gazed up at him with glossy eyes. Riki averted his gaze, knowing he should pull away quickly before you tried to plot something.
But as he tried to pull away, panic flared in your chest. Not the ‘green-out’ panic, but the sudden ache of loneliness. Your fingers–still shaking slightly–clutched onto his hoodie tighter. “Don’t go yet. Please. Just… touch me,” you breathed out, your voice raw with need.
Riki froze. “Y/n, you’re high as hell right now. You don’t know what you’re—”
“I know and I don’t care. I just need you. Don’t move an inch, Nishimura.” Your hands cupped Riki’s face, pulling him closer. Riki gave in; he just couldn’t say no to you.
He let out a defeated sigh. “One kiss. That’s it.” He narrowed his eyes on you. You smirked. “Sure.”
Riki expected it to be one innocent kiss, but no, you had other plans. The sugar running through your system had sparked a different kind of hunger. Before he could even think of pulling away, you tangled your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, your knuckles grazing the cold silver of his chain. You bit his lip—harsh and unforgiving.
And giving in is exactly what Riki did. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, his restraint snapping by the minute. Your nausea was replaced with raw need and adrenaline. You shifted, crawling upward until you were draped entirely over him. Riki let out a muffled groan, pulling away from your lips only to trail his own down the line of your jaw. “You’re not even okay,” he mumbled against your skin.
You huffed impatiently and tightened your grip in his hair, earning a hiss. “Just shut up and do your thing.” you tried to sound imposing even though your words were slurring slightly. Riki scoffed and instead of pulling away, his lips latched onto your warm skin, sucking lightly and tugging at the skin between his teeth. “Bossy,” he muttered against your skin, nipping at it sharply to tease you, earning a scowl and a subtle smack to the head.
“Hey–I’m being so nice to you right now, and instead of a 'thank you,' I get a smack in the head?” he whined, burying his face in your neck and pinching your waist slightly. You groaned. “You want me to thank you for talking so much?” you questioned, subtly shifting your weight on his lap, just enough that you were right over his growing bulge.
“You’re really in no position to be calling me out right now.”
“Mm..” you mumbled, not trying to deny it.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he smirked. For a solid minute, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes. This was probably wrong, but after today, you were a hundred percent sure you couldn’t see him as ‘just a plug’ anymore. Riki was the first one to break contact. His hand slid up your back, settling behind your neck and gripping it in a way that made you dizzy all over again.
When he finally leaned in, he didn’t hold back. His lips crashed against yours with raw hunger. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, sucking and tangling with yours. You pulled harshly at the black strands of his hair knowing that the freak would find pleasure in it and his aching cock that pulsed with every tug was proof.
His hands slid down to your bare thighs—your expensive silk dress had ridden up long ago. He shifted, heavy denim grinding against the thin, ruined satin. His hips bucked upwards in a slow, tantalizing press that made your head swim faster than those two blunts ever could.
The friction was delicious and you were wet enough to slide against his bulge without constraint. You pulled away first, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips. You arched into him, your hips moving in a rhythmic manner as you let out small sounds you’d never imagined you’d utter. Your nails dug into his scalp as the friction turned into unrestrained hunger.
Riki nuzzled his face into your neck, lips grazing your pulse point. “Shit,” he breathed out. He felt your movements falter and immediately gripped your hips firmly, snapping his hips upwards as he helped move you against his rock-hard length. The feeling sent pure jolts of electricity straight to your core.
Both of you could feel your highs approaching, like a rubber band being stretched tight. And with one powerful thrust of his hips, the tension snapped. Your release seeped through your underwear and stained Riki’s jeans, but he was pretty much in the same situation.Riki leaned in, placing sweet kisses on your lips, cheeks, and forehead. His fingers moved away the wet strands of hair from your sweaty and flushed face.
But no, you weren’t satisfied. It was probably the weed or the sugar but you were filled with energy for some reason. You tried to rut against him again, but Riki stopped you with a hiss. “Easy, angel.” he murmured, his voice raspy and dry.
“You just went through an intense green-out episode and probably an even more intense orgasm. I can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. Let’s get you some proper sleep, yeah?”
You tried to protest, but he just shook his head, pulling you down onto the bed. “Stay.” He ordered, and you reluctantly pulled your arms away, still pouting, as he walked into the bathroom to grab a damp towel.He walked back into the room, cleaned you up gently, and pulled the covers over both of you. He pulled you toward him so that your head rested securely in the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered as his fingers gently rubbed your scalp, lulling you into deep slumber. That night, you slept better than you ever had; because for once, instead of feeling the weight of being the perfect daughter within the four walls of your ridiculously large mansion, you felt the warmth and comfort of being just you—held in the arms of the man you couldn't yet bring yourself to admit you loved.
☆ stoner!nishimura riki x rich!reader
☆ wc: 3.1k
☆ warnings: MDNI, implied usage of weed, vivid description of a green-out episode, fluff(?), making out, heavy smoking, dry humping, slight aftercare, borderline smut tbh.
(i do NOT smoke nor do i know how greening out works so this was purely based off of not very thorough research that i did)
PART 1 ☆ PART 2 ☆ PART 3
THIS new routine was the only thing grounding both of you to reality. You'd slip out of galas, hit a smoke with Riki in the backseat of his beat-up Toyota, maybe make out a little, and then spray yourself with one of the hundred expensive perfumes you owned before slipping back into the sparkling event.
Today was just another one of those events, but it felt excruciatingly long. You were quite literally counting down the minutes until you’d slip into Riki’s car; until you could see his infuriating smile, decked out in Chrome Hearts from top to bottom; until you could experience the cold feeling that ran shivers down your spine when his metal rings touched your warm skin.
To you, Riki was your oxygen—the only way you could forget the weight of being a socialite’s daughter. Even if it was for a few hours, he made you feel like the most important person in the world, not for your status, but for you. That comfort, combined with the weed, sent you into another universe.
Your palms are sweaty as you wipe them down on the expensive silk that you couldn’t give two less fucks about before slowly making your way to the back door of yet another expensive mansion. You’d done this countless times already, but the adrenaline rushed through you all the same. You pushed open the door with one hand while the other held your heels. You spotted Riki’s deadbeat Toyota—one headlight blinking while the other flickered—Kendrick Lamar’s new album playing faintly in the background.
You hammered on the glass, loud enough to make Riki jump out of his skin. He flinched so hard his phone slipped between the seats “shit.” he muttered. The sight alone made you laugh out loud. Riki rolled down his window with a scowl that didn’t quite hide the fact that he was breathing heavily. He ignored your laugh, and hit the lock toggle. “Hurry up, baby. Before everyone inside realizes their star attraction is missing.” You rolled your eyes at the comment and got into the backseat, Riki followed behind you. He rolled up all the windows and pulled out a plastic bag from the glove box. You felt dizzy already, and you hadn’t even held the blunt yet.
Riki lit one of the blunts before taking a long drag, releasing it directly onto your face, earning a gasp and a fit of coughs that Riki couldn’t help but laugh at. “Asshole” you coughed out. Riki didn’t apologize; instead, he brought his ring-clad fingers to your face, wiping away a stray tear that had slid down your cheek unnoticed. “You’re sooo dramatic,” he smirked and brought the blunt close to your mouth. “Want it?” he asked in that smooth, deep voice that always made you freeze. You couldn’t even think straight, not when his lips were inches away from yours. His warm fingers cupped your face as if they were holding onto something precious; you simply nodded to him.
He brought the blunt close to your mouth as you mindlessly wrapped your lips around it and took a long, desperate drag. The smoke burned down your throat in a familiar way, your mind numbed with pleasure, and you couldn’t help but relish in the way Riki’s hands still held your face gently.
But as the high started to hit, so did the memories of the night. Your mother’s voice—sharp and condescending as always—lecturing you about your ‘image’, subtly degrading you in front of every businessman and socialite. The paparazzi’s flashes hit like physical blows, you swore you were blind from all those lights. And, of course, the horribly suffocative weight of expensive silk that itched in every corner and crevice of your body. Of course you were used to these things, but they still felt heavy in your chest. So many expectations you couldn’t care enough to fulfill. Sometimes you wished you were more like Riki—carefree, making ends meet by selling weed and whatnot.
You didn’t just take one hit, but snatched the blunt out of Riki’s hand—taking hit after hit. “Woah there angel, save some for me too” he muttered, trying to make a weak joke though his eyes were on your trembling hands the whole time . His brows furrowed in worry, but he tried not to think much of it. You had smoked a whole blunt before, but not at this pace. You didn’t listen, though. As soon as the blunt neared its end, you stubbed it on the center console before frantically grabbing another one from his baggie, struggling to light it with your trembling fingers.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Riki’s voice dropped dangerously low. He wasn’t playing around anymore; he knew something was up. He reached out and held your hands down. “Alright y/n, look at me. You’re fucking vibrating. You need to stop now.” And somehow, the touch that made your heart flutter earlier was ticking you off. You ripped your hands away from his grasp, and for the very first time, you snapped at Riki. “Don’t touch me!” you yelled, the faint friction of his chunky chrome hearts rings still stinging your skin. Riki was shocked, to say the least.
He let you have a few more hits before slowly coercing you into letting go of the blunt. Thankfully, you hadn’t greened out—at least not tonight—but he was definitely sick with concern.
________ 𝜗ৎ
IT had been a week since your little outburst. You pretended like nothing had changed, as if you’d never yelled at Riki, but the actual question was: had Riki moved on? Absolutely not. In fact, his worry had only increased, especially since you’d been hitting him up for more baggies than usual.
Tonight, the two of you were holed up in Riki’s studio apartment. The air inside was thick enough to slice through. Faint music hummed through his speakers. You were tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne that you’d grown to like over time while you mindlessly smoked a blunt. The harsh, hot feeling blooming in the back of your throat gradually spread to your lungs, you felt short of breath, but something about that weed just made you want to go back for more.
Riki was distracted—his phone was buzzing every thirty seconds, dealers and customers constantly demanding his attention. Typical plug activities you guessed. He was murmuring into the receiver, his voice low and clipped, but his free hand was still draped over your knee–drawing patterns through the satin silk. The warmth of his hand seeped through the satin and into your bare skin, unconsciously making you clench your thighs even though your thoughts were far from the intimacy of the moment. His hand was like a subconscious anchor.
But you weren't anchored–if anything, you were drifting away, losing yourself in the haze of weed and the cloud of smoke. By the time you started your second blunt, the smoke wasn’t a cloud anymore—it filled the room like dense fog. The smell was overpowering and had that sticky sweetness that only happens when the two of you really start hitting those blunts. Riki glanced down at you instantly, the blue light of his screen highlighting the worry on his face. He was too concerned to let you continue but just as scared to try and stop you after the way you’d snapped at him. But as you reached for the lighter again with trembling fingers, he instinctively reached out.
"Okay, you’re done," he muttered, dropping his phone mid-sentence. He reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he tried to snatch the half-burnt blunt from your hand. "Y/n, you're literally gray. Hand it over." He wasn’t trying to be nice anymore. "I'm fine, Riki-" You jerked away, fueled by a sudden, irrational burst of adrenaline. You tried to stand up to prove you were in control, to show him you weren't the "princess" he needed to protect; that everyone felt the need to protect. But the second your feet hit the floor, the world spun.
Suddenly, the heavy bass from his speakers thumped uncomfortably in your chest. The music felt like screeches and static. The room didn’t just spin, it did a violent 360-degree turn. Your eyes burned with tears. It felt like a million white dots were exploding in your eyes. A wave of nausea overtook you and at that moment you could only think of one person–Riki. “Riki-” you gasped out as your throat felt constricted. Lo and behold, you experienced your first “green out,” which hit you like a goddamn freight train. Your body gave out completely, turning into jelly. You don’t remember anything else other than the frantic heat of Riki’s chest as he dove off the couch to catch you.
“I’ve got you, okay? Just breathe.” His voice was frantic and filled with fear. He hoisted you into his arms and carried you through the heavy veil of smoke into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut and immediately laid you down onto his bed. Before you could even process the tilt of the room, he was behind you, holding you up.
One of his hands reached out to your face, large fingers pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face, while the other splayed across your sternum, feeling the beat of your thundering heart. “You’re fucking trembling, y/n. Match my breathing, okay? Don’t close your eyes on me now,” he commanded softly. “Just focus on the rhythm of your heart, yeah?” He massaged your scalp soothingly, trying to get your heart to calm down.
Slowly, the static in your ears began to fade, replaced by the steady, heavy thump-thump of his heart against your back. The “hollow” feeling still remained, but Riki’s presence grounded you to some extent.
Your heartbeat had steadied, but the nausea kept coming back in waves–it felt like your stomach was a sinking ship. You let out a single shaky, broken exhale, your face scrunching up in pain before instinctively curling your body into a tight ball. Your shaky fingers clutched onto the thick, black fabric of Riki’s hoodie, bunching it in your hands as if it were your lifeline.
Riki immediately got the hint. After all, he was an experienced smoker. He shifted his weight slightly and wrapped his arms around you tighter, his fingers tangling in your hair. The green out was still dragging you under. Your throat felt like sand and your hands were clammy. You were on the verge of falling asleep, but the nausea kept you awake. Despite your pain, your heart ached more from when you had yelled at Riki. However, that ache was momentarily drowned out by your sheer willpower, trying not to throw up all over the very man who was caring for you.
“Head still spinning?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ears like feathers. You nodded slowly. Riki couldn’t help but smile just a little. To see you in his arms, cuddled up to him, made his chest warm in a way he couldn’t yet admit. “Hang on. I’ve got something for the shakes.”
He reached out to his bedside table, fumbling through random plastic bags, lighters, and condoms before grabbing a singular chocolate bar. With one hand still holding you close, he used his teeth to tear the wrapper open. The smell of caramel and sweet chocolate hit your nostrils, cutting through the stench of weed.
“Look at me, baby,” he instructed softly. You lifted your head just a little and opened your eyes; your pupils were wide as saucers. Riki sighed before nudging your chin up. He brought the bar close to your lips. “Eat. Slow. I’m right here.”
The sugary intrusion of the caramel helped calm your senses, masking the bitter aftertaste of weed. Your stomach felt much better and you were able to feel the hollow void in your chest solidify. The shivering in your limbs finally dulled into a limp ache.
Riki noticed the shift as you straightened up a bit. He grabbed a bottle of water from his nightstand and shifted you slightly so he could use both his hands to remove the lid. “Water.” You took a long, desperate swallow, the cold liquid soothing you further. “Okay,” he started, settling the bottle down. He tried to shift you down onto the pillows. "You're coming down, but you still need to sleep it off. I’ll stay right here, but you need to close your eyes." You gazed up at him with glossy eyes. Riki averted his gaze, knowing he should pull away quickly before you tried to plot something.
But as he tried to pull away, panic flared in your chest. Not the ‘green-out’ panic, but the sudden ache of loneliness. Your fingers–still shaking slightly–clutched onto his hoodie tighter. “Don’t go yet. Please. Just… touch me,” you breathed out, your voice raw with need.
Riki froze. “Y/n, you’re high as hell right now. You don’t know what you’re—”
“I know and I don’t care. I just need you. Don’t move an inch, Nishimura.” Your hands cupped Riki’s face, pulling him closer. Riki gave in; he just couldn’t say no to you.
He let out a defeated sigh. “One kiss. That’s it.” He narrowed his eyes on you. You smirked. “Sure.”
Riki expected it to be one innocent kiss, but no, you had other plans. The sugar running through your system had sparked a different kind of hunger. Before he could even think of pulling away, you tangled your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, your knuckles grazing the cold silver of his chain. You bit his lip—harsh and unforgiving.
And giving in is exactly what Riki did. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, his restraint snapping by the minute. Your nausea was replaced with raw need and adrenaline. You shifted, crawling upward until you were draped entirely over him. Riki let out a muffled groan, pulling away from your lips only to trail his own down the line of your jaw. “You’re not even okay,” he mumbled against your skin.
You huffed impatiently and tightened your grip in his hair, earning a hiss. “Just shut up and do your thing.” you tried to sound imposing even though your words were slurring slightly. Riki scoffed and instead of pulling away, his lips latched onto your warm skin, sucking lightly and tugging at the skin between his teeth. “Bossy,” he muttered against your skin, nipping at it sharply to tease you, earning a scowl and a subtle smack to the head.
“Hey–I’m being so nice to you right now, and instead of a 'thank you,' I get a smack in the head?” he whined, burying his face in your neck and pinching your waist slightly. You groaned. “You want me to thank you for talking so much?” you questioned, subtly shifting your weight on his lap, just enough that you were right over his growing bulge.
“You’re really in no position to be calling me out right now.”
“Mm..” you mumbled, not trying to deny it.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he smirked. For a solid minute, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes. This was probably wrong, but after today, you were a hundred percent sure you couldn’t see him as ‘just a plug’ anymore. Riki was the first one to break contact. His hand slid up your back, settling behind your neck and gripping it in a way that made you dizzy all over again.
When he finally leaned in, he didn’t hold back. His lips crashed against yours with raw hunger. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, sucking and tangling with yours. You pulled harshly at the black strands of his hair knowing that the freak would find pleasure in it and his aching cock that pulsed with every tug was proof.
His hands slid down to your bare thighs—your expensive silk dress had ridden up long ago. He shifted, heavy denim grinding against the thin, ruined satin. His hips bucked upwards in a slow, tantalizing press that made your head swim faster than those two blunts ever could.
The friction was delicious and you were wet enough to slide against his bulge without constraint. You pulled away first, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips. You arched into him, your hips moving in a rhythmic manner as you let out small sounds you’d never imagined you’d utter. Your nails dug into his scalp as the friction turned into unrestrained hunger.
Riki nuzzled his face into your neck, lips grazing your pulse point. “Shit,” he breathed out. He felt your movements falter and immediately gripped your hips firmly, snapping his hips upwards as he helped move you against his rock-hard length. The feeling sent pure jolts of electricity straight to your core.
Both of you could feel your highs approaching, like a rubber band being stretched tight. And with one powerful thrust of his hips, the tension snapped. Your release seeped through your underwear and stained Riki’s jeans, but he was pretty much in the same situation.Riki leaned in, placing sweet kisses on your lips, cheeks, and forehead. His fingers moved away the wet strands of hair from your sweaty and flushed face.
But no, you weren’t satisfied. It was probably the weed or the sugar but you were filled with energy for some reason. You tried to rut against him again, but Riki stopped you with a hiss. “Easy, angel.” he murmured, his voice raspy and dry.
“You just went through an intense green-out episode and probably an even more intense orgasm. I can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. Let’s get you some proper sleep, yeah?”
You tried to protest, but he just shook his head, pulling you down onto the bed. “Stay.” He ordered, and you reluctantly pulled your arms away, still pouting, as he walked into the bathroom to grab a damp towel.He walked back into the room, cleaned you up gently, and pulled the covers over both of you. He pulled you toward him so that your head rested securely in the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered as his fingers gently rubbed your scalp, lulling you into deep slumber. That night, you slept better than you ever had; because for once, instead of feeling the weight of being the perfect daughter within the four walls of your ridiculously large mansion, you felt the warmth and comfort of being just you—held in the arms of the man you couldn't yet bring yourself to admit you loved.
☆ stoner!nishimura riki x rich!reader
☆ wc: 3.1k
☆ warnings: MDNI, implied usage of weed, vivid description of a green-out episode, fluff(?), making out, heavy smoking, dry humping, slight aftercare, borderline smut tbh.
(i do NOT smoke nor do i know how greening out works so this was purely based off of not very thorough research that i did)
PART 1 ☆ PART 2 ☆ PART 3
THIS new routine was the only thing grounding both of you to reality. You'd slip out of galas, hit a smoke with Riki in the backseat of his beat-up Toyota, maybe make out a little, and then spray yourself with one of the hundred expensive perfumes you owned before slipping back into the sparkling event.
Today was just another one of those events, but it felt excruciatingly long. You were quite literally counting down the minutes until you’d slip into Riki’s car; until you could see his infuriating smile, decked out in Chrome Hearts from top to bottom; until you could experience the cold feeling that ran shivers down your spine when his metal rings touched your warm skin.
To you, Riki was your oxygen—the only way you could forget the weight of being a socialite’s daughter. Even if it was for a few hours, he made you feel like the most important person in the world, not for your status, but for you. That comfort, combined with the weed, sent you into another universe.
Your palms are sweaty as you wipe them down on the expensive silk that you couldn’t give two less fucks about before slowly making your way to the back door of yet another expensive mansion. You’d done this countless times already, but the adrenaline rushed through you all the same. You pushed open the door with one hand while the other held your heels. You spotted Riki’s deadbeat Toyota—one headlight blinking while the other flickered—Kendrick Lamar’s new album playing faintly in the background.
You hammered on the glass, loud enough to make Riki jump out of his skin. He flinched so hard his phone slipped between the seats “shit.” he muttered. The sight alone made you laugh out loud. Riki rolled down his window with a scowl that didn’t quite hide the fact that he was breathing heavily. He ignored your laugh, and hit the lock toggle. “Hurry up, baby. Before everyone inside realizes their star attraction is missing.” You rolled your eyes at the comment and got into the backseat, Riki followed behind you. He rolled up all the windows and pulled out a plastic bag from the glove box. You felt dizzy already, and you hadn’t even held the blunt yet.
Riki lit one of the blunts before taking a long drag, releasing it directly onto your face, earning a gasp and a fit of coughs that Riki couldn’t help but laugh at. “Asshole” you coughed out. Riki didn’t apologize; instead, he brought his ring-clad fingers to your face, wiping away a stray tear that had slid down your cheek unnoticed. “You’re sooo dramatic,” he smirked and brought the blunt close to your mouth. “Want it?” he asked in that smooth, deep voice that always made you freeze. You couldn’t even think straight, not when his lips were inches away from yours. His warm fingers cupped your face as if they were holding onto something precious; you simply nodded to him.
He brought the blunt close to your mouth as you mindlessly wrapped your lips around it and took a long, desperate drag. The smoke burned down your throat in a familiar way, your mind numbed with pleasure, and you couldn’t help but relish in the way Riki’s hands still held your face gently.
But as the high started to hit, so did the memories of the night. Your mother’s voice—sharp and condescending as always—lecturing you about your ‘image’, subtly degrading you in front of every businessman and socialite. The paparazzi’s flashes hit like physical blows, you swore you were blind from all those lights. And, of course, the horribly suffocative weight of expensive silk that itched in every corner and crevice of your body. Of course you were used to these things, but they still felt heavy in your chest. So many expectations you couldn’t care enough to fulfill. Sometimes you wished you were more like Riki—carefree, making ends meet by selling weed and whatnot.
You didn’t just take one hit, but snatched the blunt out of Riki’s hand—taking hit after hit. “Woah there angel, save some for me too” he muttered, trying to make a weak joke though his eyes were on your trembling hands the whole time . His brows furrowed in worry, but he tried not to think much of it. You had smoked a whole blunt before, but not at this pace. You didn’t listen, though. As soon as the blunt neared its end, you stubbed it on the center console before frantically grabbing another one from his baggie, struggling to light it with your trembling fingers.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Riki’s voice dropped dangerously low. He wasn’t playing around anymore; he knew something was up. He reached out and held your hands down. “Alright y/n, look at me. You’re fucking vibrating. You need to stop now.” And somehow, the touch that made your heart flutter earlier was ticking you off. You ripped your hands away from his grasp, and for the very first time, you snapped at Riki. “Don’t touch me!” you yelled, the faint friction of his chunky chrome hearts rings still stinging your skin. Riki was shocked, to say the least.
He let you have a few more hits before slowly coercing you into letting go of the blunt. Thankfully, you hadn’t greened out—at least not tonight—but he was definitely sick with concern.
________ 𝜗ৎ
IT had been a week since your little outburst. You pretended like nothing had changed, as if you’d never yelled at Riki, but the actual question was: had Riki moved on? Absolutely not. In fact, his worry had only increased, especially since you’d been hitting him up for more baggies than usual.
Tonight, the two of you were holed up in Riki’s studio apartment. The air inside was thick enough to slice through. Faint music hummed through his speakers. You were tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne that you’d grown to like over time while you mindlessly smoked a blunt. The harsh, hot feeling blooming in the back of your throat gradually spread to your lungs, you felt short of breath, but something about that weed just made you want to go back for more.
Riki was distracted—his phone was buzzing every thirty seconds, dealers and customers constantly demanding his attention. Typical plug activities you guessed. He was murmuring into the receiver, his voice low and clipped, but his free hand was still draped over your knee–drawing patterns through the satin silk. The warmth of his hand seeped through the satin and into your bare skin, unconsciously making you clench your thighs even though your thoughts were far from the intimacy of the moment. His hand was like a subconscious anchor.
But you weren't anchored–if anything, you were drifting away, losing yourself in the haze of weed and the cloud of smoke. By the time you started your second blunt, the smoke wasn’t a cloud anymore—it filled the room like dense fog. The smell was overpowering and had that sticky sweetness that only happens when the two of you really start hitting those blunts. Riki glanced down at you instantly, the blue light of his screen highlighting the worry on his face. He was too concerned to let you continue but just as scared to try and stop you after the way you’d snapped at him. But as you reached for the lighter again with trembling fingers, he instinctively reached out.
"Okay, you’re done," he muttered, dropping his phone mid-sentence. He reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he tried to snatch the half-burnt blunt from your hand. "Y/n, you're literally gray. Hand it over." He wasn’t trying to be nice anymore. "I'm fine, Riki-" You jerked away, fueled by a sudden, irrational burst of adrenaline. You tried to stand up to prove you were in control, to show him you weren't the "princess" he needed to protect; that everyone felt the need to protect. But the second your feet hit the floor, the world spun.
Suddenly, the heavy bass from his speakers thumped uncomfortably in your chest. The music felt like screeches and static. The room didn’t just spin, it did a violent 360-degree turn. Your eyes burned with tears. It felt like a million white dots were exploding in your eyes. A wave of nausea overtook you and at that moment you could only think of one person–Riki. “Riki-” you gasped out as your throat felt constricted. Lo and behold, you experienced your first “green out,” which hit you like a goddamn freight train. Your body gave out completely, turning into jelly. You don’t remember anything else other than the frantic heat of Riki’s chest as he dove off the couch to catch you.
“I’ve got you, okay? Just breathe.” His voice was frantic and filled with fear. He hoisted you into his arms and carried you through the heavy veil of smoke into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut and immediately laid you down onto his bed. Before you could even process the tilt of the room, he was behind you, holding you up.
One of his hands reached out to your face, large fingers pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face, while the other splayed across your sternum, feeling the beat of your thundering heart. “You’re fucking trembling, y/n. Match my breathing, okay? Don’t close your eyes on me now,” he commanded softly. “Just focus on the rhythm of your heart, yeah?” He massaged your scalp soothingly, trying to get your heart to calm down.
Slowly, the static in your ears began to fade, replaced by the steady, heavy thump-thump of his heart against your back. The “hollow” feeling still remained, but Riki’s presence grounded you to some extent.
Your heartbeat had steadied, but the nausea kept coming back in waves–it felt like your stomach was a sinking ship. You let out a single shaky, broken exhale, your face scrunching up in pain before instinctively curling your body into a tight ball. Your shaky fingers clutched onto the thick, black fabric of Riki’s hoodie, bunching it in your hands as if it were your lifeline.
Riki immediately got the hint. After all, he was an experienced smoker. He shifted his weight slightly and wrapped his arms around you tighter, his fingers tangling in your hair. The green out was still dragging you under. Your throat felt like sand and your hands were clammy. You were on the verge of falling asleep, but the nausea kept you awake. Despite your pain, your heart ached more from when you had yelled at Riki. However, that ache was momentarily drowned out by your sheer willpower, trying not to throw up all over the very man who was caring for you.
“Head still spinning?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ears like feathers. You nodded slowly. Riki couldn’t help but smile just a little. To see you in his arms, cuddled up to him, made his chest warm in a way he couldn’t yet admit. “Hang on. I’ve got something for the shakes.”
He reached out to his bedside table, fumbling through random plastic bags, lighters, and condoms before grabbing a singular chocolate bar. With one hand still holding you close, he used his teeth to tear the wrapper open. The smell of caramel and sweet chocolate hit your nostrils, cutting through the stench of weed.
“Look at me, baby,” he instructed softly. You lifted your head just a little and opened your eyes; your pupils were wide as saucers. Riki sighed before nudging your chin up. He brought the bar close to your lips. “Eat. Slow. I’m right here.”
The sugary intrusion of the caramel helped calm your senses, masking the bitter aftertaste of weed. Your stomach felt much better and you were able to feel the hollow void in your chest solidify. The shivering in your limbs finally dulled into a limp ache.
Riki noticed the shift as you straightened up a bit. He grabbed a bottle of water from his nightstand and shifted you slightly so he could use both his hands to remove the lid. “Water.” You took a long, desperate swallow, the cold liquid soothing you further. “Okay,” he started, settling the bottle down. He tried to shift you down onto the pillows. "You're coming down, but you still need to sleep it off. I’ll stay right here, but you need to close your eyes." You gazed up at him with glossy eyes. Riki averted his gaze, knowing he should pull away quickly before you tried to plot something.
But as he tried to pull away, panic flared in your chest. Not the ‘green-out’ panic, but the sudden ache of loneliness. Your fingers–still shaking slightly–clutched onto his hoodie tighter. “Don’t go yet. Please. Just… touch me,” you breathed out, your voice raw with need.
Riki froze. “Y/n, you’re high as hell right now. You don’t know what you’re—”
“I know and I don’t care. I just need you. Don’t move an inch, Nishimura.” Your hands cupped Riki’s face, pulling him closer. Riki gave in; he just couldn’t say no to you.
He let out a defeated sigh. “One kiss. That’s it.” He narrowed his eyes on you. You smirked. “Sure.”
Riki expected it to be one innocent kiss, but no, you had other plans. The sugar running through your system had sparked a different kind of hunger. Before he could even think of pulling away, you tangled your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, your knuckles grazing the cold silver of his chain. You bit his lip—harsh and unforgiving.
And giving in is exactly what Riki did. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, his restraint snapping by the minute. Your nausea was replaced with raw need and adrenaline. You shifted, crawling upward until you were draped entirely over him. Riki let out a muffled groan, pulling away from your lips only to trail his own down the line of your jaw. “You’re not even okay,” he mumbled against your skin.
You huffed impatiently and tightened your grip in his hair, earning a hiss. “Just shut up and do your thing.” you tried to sound imposing even though your words were slurring slightly. Riki scoffed and instead of pulling away, his lips latched onto your warm skin, sucking lightly and tugging at the skin between his teeth. “Bossy,” he muttered against your skin, nipping at it sharply to tease you, earning a scowl and a subtle smack to the head.
“Hey–I’m being so nice to you right now, and instead of a 'thank you,' I get a smack in the head?” he whined, burying his face in your neck and pinching your waist slightly. You groaned. “You want me to thank you for talking so much?” you questioned, subtly shifting your weight on his lap, just enough that you were right over his growing bulge.
“You’re really in no position to be calling me out right now.”
“Mm..” you mumbled, not trying to deny it.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he smirked. For a solid minute, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes. This was probably wrong, but after today, you were a hundred percent sure you couldn’t see him as ‘just a plug’ anymore. Riki was the first one to break contact. His hand slid up your back, settling behind your neck and gripping it in a way that made you dizzy all over again.
When he finally leaned in, he didn’t hold back. His lips crashed against yours with raw hunger. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, sucking and tangling with yours. You pulled harshly at the black strands of his hair knowing that the freak would find pleasure in it and his aching cock that pulsed with every tug was proof.
His hands slid down to your bare thighs—your expensive silk dress had ridden up long ago. He shifted, heavy denim grinding against the thin, ruined satin. His hips bucked upwards in a slow, tantalizing press that made your head swim faster than those two blunts ever could.
The friction was delicious and you were wet enough to slide against his bulge without constraint. You pulled away first, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips. You arched into him, your hips moving in a rhythmic manner as you let out small sounds you’d never imagined you’d utter. Your nails dug into his scalp as the friction turned into unrestrained hunger.
Riki nuzzled his face into your neck, lips grazing your pulse point. “Shit,” he breathed out. He felt your movements falter and immediately gripped your hips firmly, snapping his hips upwards as he helped move you against his rock-hard length. The feeling sent pure jolts of electricity straight to your core.
Both of you could feel your highs approaching, like a rubber band being stretched tight. And with one powerful thrust of his hips, the tension snapped. Your release seeped through your underwear and stained Riki’s jeans, but he was pretty much in the same situation.Riki leaned in, placing sweet kisses on your lips, cheeks, and forehead. His fingers moved away the wet strands of hair from your sweaty and flushed face.
But no, you weren’t satisfied. It was probably the weed or the sugar but you were filled with energy for some reason. You tried to rut against him again, but Riki stopped you with a hiss. “Easy, angel.” he murmured, his voice raspy and dry.
“You just went through an intense green-out episode and probably an even more intense orgasm. I can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. Let’s get you some proper sleep, yeah?”
You tried to protest, but he just shook his head, pulling you down onto the bed. “Stay.” He ordered, and you reluctantly pulled your arms away, still pouting, as he walked into the bathroom to grab a damp towel.He walked back into the room, cleaned you up gently, and pulled the covers over both of you. He pulled you toward him so that your head rested securely in the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered as his fingers gently rubbed your scalp, lulling you into deep slumber. That night, you slept better than you ever had; because for once, instead of feeling the weight of being the perfect daughter within the four walls of your ridiculously large mansion, you felt the warmth and comfort of being just you—held in the arms of the man you couldn't yet bring yourself to admit you loved.
☆ stoner!nishimura riki x rich!reader
☆ wc: 3.1k
☆ warnings: MDNI, implied usage of weed, vivid description of a green-out episode, fluff(?), making out, heavy smoking, dry humping, slight aftercare, borderline smut tbh.
(i do NOT smoke nor do i know how greening out works so this was purely based off of not very thorough research that i did)
PART 1 ☆ PART 2 ☆ PART 3
THIS new routine was the only thing grounding both of you to reality. You'd slip out of galas, hit a smoke with Riki in the backseat of his beat-up Toyota, maybe make out a little, and then spray yourself with one of the hundred expensive perfumes you owned before slipping back into the sparkling event.
Today was just another one of those events, but it felt excruciatingly long. You were quite literally counting down the minutes until you’d slip into Riki’s car; until you could see his infuriating smile, decked out in Chrome Hearts from top to bottom; until you could experience the cold feeling that ran shivers down your spine when his metal rings touched your warm skin.
To you, Riki was your oxygen—the only way you could forget the weight of being a socialite’s daughter. Even if it was for a few hours, he made you feel like the most important person in the world, not for your status, but for you. That comfort, combined with the weed, sent you into another universe.
Your palms are sweaty as you wipe them down on the expensive silk that you couldn’t give two less fucks about before slowly making your way to the back door of yet another expensive mansion. You’d done this countless times already, but the adrenaline rushed through you all the same. You pushed open the door with one hand while the other held your heels. You spotted Riki’s deadbeat Toyota—one headlight blinking while the other flickered—Kendrick Lamar’s new album playing faintly in the background.
You hammered on the glass, loud enough to make Riki jump out of his skin. He flinched so hard his phone slipped between the seats “shit.” he muttered. The sight alone made you laugh out loud. Riki rolled down his window with a scowl that didn’t quite hide the fact that he was breathing heavily. He ignored your laugh, and hit the lock toggle. “Hurry up, baby. Before everyone inside realizes their star attraction is missing.” You rolled your eyes at the comment and got into the backseat, Riki followed behind you. He rolled up all the windows and pulled out a plastic bag from the glove box. You felt dizzy already, and you hadn’t even held the blunt yet.
Riki lit one of the blunts before taking a long drag, releasing it directly onto your face, earning a gasp and a fit of coughs that Riki couldn’t help but laugh at. “Asshole” you coughed out. Riki didn’t apologize; instead, he brought his ring-clad fingers to your face, wiping away a stray tear that had slid down your cheek unnoticed. “You’re sooo dramatic,” he smirked and brought the blunt close to your mouth. “Want it?” he asked in that smooth, deep voice that always made you freeze. You couldn’t even think straight, not when his lips were inches away from yours. His warm fingers cupped your face as if they were holding onto something precious; you simply nodded to him.
He brought the blunt close to your mouth as you mindlessly wrapped your lips around it and took a long, desperate drag. The smoke burned down your throat in a familiar way, your mind numbed with pleasure, and you couldn’t help but relish in the way Riki’s hands still held your face gently.
But as the high started to hit, so did the memories of the night. Your mother’s voice—sharp and condescending as always—lecturing you about your ‘image’, subtly degrading you in front of every businessman and socialite. The paparazzi’s flashes hit like physical blows, you swore you were blind from all those lights. And, of course, the horribly suffocative weight of expensive silk that itched in every corner and crevice of your body. Of course you were used to these things, but they still felt heavy in your chest. So many expectations you couldn’t care enough to fulfill. Sometimes you wished you were more like Riki—carefree, making ends meet by selling weed and whatnot.
You didn’t just take one hit, but snatched the blunt out of Riki’s hand—taking hit after hit. “Woah there angel, save some for me too” he muttered, trying to make a weak joke though his eyes were on your trembling hands the whole time . His brows furrowed in worry, but he tried not to think much of it. You had smoked a whole blunt before, but not at this pace. You didn’t listen, though. As soon as the blunt neared its end, you stubbed it on the center console before frantically grabbing another one from his baggie, struggling to light it with your trembling fingers.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Riki’s voice dropped dangerously low. He wasn’t playing around anymore; he knew something was up. He reached out and held your hands down. “Alright y/n, look at me. You’re fucking vibrating. You need to stop now.” And somehow, the touch that made your heart flutter earlier was ticking you off. You ripped your hands away from his grasp, and for the very first time, you snapped at Riki. “Don’t touch me!” you yelled, the faint friction of his chunky chrome hearts rings still stinging your skin. Riki was shocked, to say the least.
He let you have a few more hits before slowly coercing you into letting go of the blunt. Thankfully, you hadn’t greened out—at least not tonight—but he was definitely sick with concern.
________ 𝜗ৎ
IT had been a week since your little outburst. You pretended like nothing had changed, as if you’d never yelled at Riki, but the actual question was: had Riki moved on? Absolutely not. In fact, his worry had only increased, especially since you’d been hitting him up for more baggies than usual.
Tonight, the two of you were holed up in Riki’s studio apartment. The air inside was thick enough to slice through. Faint music hummed through his speakers. You were tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne that you’d grown to like over time while you mindlessly smoked a blunt. The harsh, hot feeling blooming in the back of your throat gradually spread to your lungs, you felt short of breath, but something about that weed just made you want to go back for more.
Riki was distracted—his phone was buzzing every thirty seconds, dealers and customers constantly demanding his attention. Typical plug activities you guessed. He was murmuring into the receiver, his voice low and clipped, but his free hand was still draped over your knee–drawing patterns through the satin silk. The warmth of his hand seeped through the satin and into your bare skin, unconsciously making you clench your thighs even though your thoughts were far from the intimacy of the moment. His hand was like a subconscious anchor.
But you weren't anchored–if anything, you were drifting away, losing yourself in the haze of weed and the cloud of smoke. By the time you started your second blunt, the smoke wasn’t a cloud anymore—it filled the room like dense fog. The smell was overpowering and had that sticky sweetness that only happens when the two of you really start hitting those blunts. Riki glanced down at you instantly, the blue light of his screen highlighting the worry on his face. He was too concerned to let you continue but just as scared to try and stop you after the way you’d snapped at him. But as you reached for the lighter again with trembling fingers, he instinctively reached out.
"Okay, you’re done," he muttered, dropping his phone mid-sentence. He reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he tried to snatch the half-burnt blunt from your hand. "Y/n, you're literally gray. Hand it over." He wasn’t trying to be nice anymore. "I'm fine, Riki-" You jerked away, fueled by a sudden, irrational burst of adrenaline. You tried to stand up to prove you were in control, to show him you weren't the "princess" he needed to protect; that everyone felt the need to protect. But the second your feet hit the floor, the world spun.
Suddenly, the heavy bass from his speakers thumped uncomfortably in your chest. The music felt like screeches and static. The room didn’t just spin, it did a violent 360-degree turn. Your eyes burned with tears. It felt like a million white dots were exploding in your eyes. A wave of nausea overtook you and at that moment you could only think of one person–Riki. “Riki-” you gasped out as your throat felt constricted. Lo and behold, you experienced your first “green out,” which hit you like a goddamn freight train. Your body gave out completely, turning into jelly. You don’t remember anything else other than the frantic heat of Riki’s chest as he dove off the couch to catch you.
“I’ve got you, okay? Just breathe.” His voice was frantic and filled with fear. He hoisted you into his arms and carried you through the heavy veil of smoke into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut and immediately laid you down onto his bed. Before you could even process the tilt of the room, he was behind you, holding you up.
One of his hands reached out to your face, large fingers pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face, while the other splayed across your sternum, feeling the beat of your thundering heart. “You’re fucking trembling, y/n. Match my breathing, okay? Don’t close your eyes on me now,” he commanded softly. “Just focus on the rhythm of your heart, yeah?” He massaged your scalp soothingly, trying to get your heart to calm down.
Slowly, the static in your ears began to fade, replaced by the steady, heavy thump-thump of his heart against your back. The “hollow” feeling still remained, but Riki’s presence grounded you to some extent.
Your heartbeat had steadied, but the nausea kept coming back in waves–it felt like your stomach was a sinking ship. You let out a single shaky, broken exhale, your face scrunching up in pain before instinctively curling your body into a tight ball. Your shaky fingers clutched onto the thick, black fabric of Riki’s hoodie, bunching it in your hands as if it were your lifeline.
Riki immediately got the hint. After all, he was an experienced smoker. He shifted his weight slightly and wrapped his arms around you tighter, his fingers tangling in your hair. The green out was still dragging you under. Your throat felt like sand and your hands were clammy. You were on the verge of falling asleep, but the nausea kept you awake. Despite your pain, your heart ached more from when you had yelled at Riki. However, that ache was momentarily drowned out by your sheer willpower, trying not to throw up all over the very man who was caring for you.
“Head still spinning?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ears like feathers. You nodded slowly. Riki couldn’t help but smile just a little. To see you in his arms, cuddled up to him, made his chest warm in a way he couldn’t yet admit. “Hang on. I’ve got something for the shakes.”
He reached out to his bedside table, fumbling through random plastic bags, lighters, and condoms before grabbing a singular chocolate bar. With one hand still holding you close, he used his teeth to tear the wrapper open. The smell of caramel and sweet chocolate hit your nostrils, cutting through the stench of weed.
“Look at me, baby,” he instructed softly. You lifted your head just a little and opened your eyes; your pupils were wide as saucers. Riki sighed before nudging your chin up. He brought the bar close to your lips. “Eat. Slow. I’m right here.”
The sugary intrusion of the caramel helped calm your senses, masking the bitter aftertaste of weed. Your stomach felt much better and you were able to feel the hollow void in your chest solidify. The shivering in your limbs finally dulled into a limp ache.
Riki noticed the shift as you straightened up a bit. He grabbed a bottle of water from his nightstand and shifted you slightly so he could use both his hands to remove the lid. “Water.” You took a long, desperate swallow, the cold liquid soothing you further. “Okay,” he started, settling the bottle down. He tried to shift you down onto the pillows. "You're coming down, but you still need to sleep it off. I’ll stay right here, but you need to close your eyes." You gazed up at him with glossy eyes. Riki averted his gaze, knowing he should pull away quickly before you tried to plot something.
But as he tried to pull away, panic flared in your chest. Not the ‘green-out’ panic, but the sudden ache of loneliness. Your fingers–still shaking slightly–clutched onto his hoodie tighter. “Don’t go yet. Please. Just… touch me,” you breathed out, your voice raw with need.
Riki froze. “Y/n, you’re high as hell right now. You don’t know what you’re—”
“I know and I don’t care. I just need you. Don’t move an inch, Nishimura.” Your hands cupped Riki’s face, pulling him closer. Riki gave in; he just couldn’t say no to you.
He let out a defeated sigh. “One kiss. That’s it.” He narrowed his eyes on you. You smirked. “Sure.”
Riki expected it to be one innocent kiss, but no, you had other plans. The sugar running through your system had sparked a different kind of hunger. Before he could even think of pulling away, you tangled your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, your knuckles grazing the cold silver of his chain. You bit his lip—harsh and unforgiving.
And giving in is exactly what Riki did. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, his restraint snapping by the minute. Your nausea was replaced with raw need and adrenaline. You shifted, crawling upward until you were draped entirely over him. Riki let out a muffled groan, pulling away from your lips only to trail his own down the line of your jaw. “You’re not even okay,” he mumbled against your skin.
You huffed impatiently and tightened your grip in his hair, earning a hiss. “Just shut up and do your thing.” you tried to sound imposing even though your words were slurring slightly. Riki scoffed and instead of pulling away, his lips latched onto your warm skin, sucking lightly and tugging at the skin between his teeth. “Bossy,” he muttered against your skin, nipping at it sharply to tease you, earning a scowl and a subtle smack to the head.
“Hey–I’m being so nice to you right now, and instead of a 'thank you,' I get a smack in the head?” he whined, burying his face in your neck and pinching your waist slightly. You groaned. “You want me to thank you for talking so much?” you questioned, subtly shifting your weight on his lap, just enough that you were right over his growing bulge.
“You’re really in no position to be calling me out right now.”
“Mm..” you mumbled, not trying to deny it.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he smirked. For a solid minute, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes. This was probably wrong, but after today, you were a hundred percent sure you couldn’t see him as ‘just a plug’ anymore. Riki was the first one to break contact. His hand slid up your back, settling behind your neck and gripping it in a way that made you dizzy all over again.
When he finally leaned in, he didn’t hold back. His lips crashed against yours with raw hunger. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, sucking and tangling with yours. You pulled harshly at the black strands of his hair knowing that the freak would find pleasure in it and his aching cock that pulsed with every tug was proof.
His hands slid down to your bare thighs—your expensive silk dress had ridden up long ago. He shifted, heavy denim grinding against the thin, ruined satin. His hips bucked upwards in a slow, tantalizing press that made your head swim faster than those two blunts ever could.
The friction was delicious and you were wet enough to slide against his bulge without constraint. You pulled away first, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips. You arched into him, your hips moving in a rhythmic manner as you let out small sounds you’d never imagined you’d utter. Your nails dug into his scalp as the friction turned into unrestrained hunger.
Riki nuzzled his face into your neck, lips grazing your pulse point. “Shit,” he breathed out. He felt your movements falter and immediately gripped your hips firmly, snapping his hips upwards as he helped move you against his rock-hard length. The feeling sent pure jolts of electricity straight to your core.
Both of you could feel your highs approaching, like a rubber band being stretched tight. And with one powerful thrust of his hips, the tension snapped. Your release seeped through your underwear and stained Riki’s jeans, but he was pretty much in the same situation.Riki leaned in, placing sweet kisses on your lips, cheeks, and forehead. His fingers moved away the wet strands of hair from your sweaty and flushed face.
But no, you weren’t satisfied. It was probably the weed or the sugar but you were filled with energy for some reason. You tried to rut against him again, but Riki stopped you with a hiss. “Easy, angel.” he murmured, his voice raspy and dry.
“You just went through an intense green-out episode and probably an even more intense orgasm. I can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. Let’s get you some proper sleep, yeah?”
You tried to protest, but he just shook his head, pulling you down onto the bed. “Stay.” He ordered, and you reluctantly pulled your arms away, still pouting, as he walked into the bathroom to grab a damp towel.He walked back into the room, cleaned you up gently, and pulled the covers over both of you. He pulled you toward him so that your head rested securely in the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered as his fingers gently rubbed your scalp, lulling you into deep slumber. That night, you slept better than you ever had; because for once, instead of feeling the weight of being the perfect daughter within the four walls of your ridiculously large mansion, you felt the warmth and comfort of being just you—held in the arms of the man you couldn't yet bring yourself to admit you loved.
☆ stoner!nishimura riki x rich!reader
☆ wc: 3.1k
☆ warnings: MDNI, implied usage of weed, vivid description of a green-out episode, fluff(?), making out, heavy smoking, dry humping, slight aftercare, borderline smut tbh.
(i do NOT smoke nor do i know how greening out works so this was purely based off of not very thorough research that i did)
PART 1 ☆ PART 2 ☆ PART 3
THIS new routine was the only thing grounding both of you to reality. You'd slip out of galas, hit a smoke with Riki in the backseat of his beat-up Toyota, maybe make out a little, and then spray yourself with one of the hundred expensive perfumes you owned before slipping back into the sparkling event.
Today was just another one of those events, but it felt excruciatingly long. You were quite literally counting down the minutes until you’d slip into Riki’s car; until you could see his infuriating smile, decked out in Chrome Hearts from top to bottom; until you could experience the cold feeling that ran shivers down your spine when his metal rings touched your warm skin.
To you, Riki was your oxygen—the only way you could forget the weight of being a socialite’s daughter. Even if it was for a few hours, he made you feel like the most important person in the world, not for your status, but for you. That comfort, combined with the weed, sent you into another universe.
Your palms are sweaty as you wipe them down on the expensive silk that you couldn’t give two less fucks about before slowly making your way to the back door of yet another expensive mansion. You’d done this countless times already, but the adrenaline rushed through you all the same. You pushed open the door with one hand while the other held your heels. You spotted Riki’s deadbeat Toyota—one headlight blinking while the other flickered—Kendrick Lamar’s new album playing faintly in the background.
You hammered on the glass, loud enough to make Riki jump out of his skin. He flinched so hard his phone slipped between the seats “shit.” he muttered. The sight alone made you laugh out loud. Riki rolled down his window with a scowl that didn’t quite hide the fact that he was breathing heavily. He ignored your laugh, and hit the lock toggle. “Hurry up, baby. Before everyone inside realizes their star attraction is missing.” You rolled your eyes at the comment and got into the backseat, Riki followed behind you. He rolled up all the windows and pulled out a plastic bag from the glove box. You felt dizzy already, and you hadn’t even held the blunt yet.
Riki lit one of the blunts before taking a long drag, releasing it directly onto your face, earning a gasp and a fit of coughs that Riki couldn’t help but laugh at. “Asshole” you coughed out. Riki didn’t apologize; instead, he brought his ring-clad fingers to your face, wiping away a stray tear that had slid down your cheek unnoticed. “You’re sooo dramatic,” he smirked and brought the blunt close to your mouth. “Want it?” he asked in that smooth, deep voice that always made you freeze. You couldn’t even think straight, not when his lips were inches away from yours. His warm fingers cupped your face as if they were holding onto something precious; you simply nodded to him.
He brought the blunt close to your mouth as you mindlessly wrapped your lips around it and took a long, desperate drag. The smoke burned down your throat in a familiar way, your mind numbed with pleasure, and you couldn’t help but relish in the way Riki’s hands still held your face gently.
But as the high started to hit, so did the memories of the night. Your mother’s voice—sharp and condescending as always—lecturing you about your ‘image’, subtly degrading you in front of every businessman and socialite. The paparazzi’s flashes hit like physical blows, you swore you were blind from all those lights. And, of course, the horribly suffocative weight of expensive silk that itched in every corner and crevice of your body. Of course you were used to these things, but they still felt heavy in your chest. So many expectations you couldn’t care enough to fulfill. Sometimes you wished you were more like Riki—carefree, making ends meet by selling weed and whatnot.
You didn’t just take one hit, but snatched the blunt out of Riki’s hand—taking hit after hit. “Woah there angel, save some for me too” he muttered, trying to make a weak joke though his eyes were on your trembling hands the whole time . His brows furrowed in worry, but he tried not to think much of it. You had smoked a whole blunt before, but not at this pace. You didn’t listen, though. As soon as the blunt neared its end, you stubbed it on the center console before frantically grabbing another one from his baggie, struggling to light it with your trembling fingers.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Riki’s voice dropped dangerously low. He wasn’t playing around anymore; he knew something was up. He reached out and held your hands down. “Alright y/n, look at me. You’re fucking vibrating. You need to stop now.” And somehow, the touch that made your heart flutter earlier was ticking you off. You ripped your hands away from his grasp, and for the very first time, you snapped at Riki. “Don’t touch me!” you yelled, the faint friction of his chunky chrome hearts rings still stinging your skin. Riki was shocked, to say the least.
He let you have a few more hits before slowly coercing you into letting go of the blunt. Thankfully, you hadn’t greened out—at least not tonight—but he was definitely sick with concern.
________ 𝜗ৎ
IT had been a week since your little outburst. You pretended like nothing had changed, as if you’d never yelled at Riki, but the actual question was: had Riki moved on? Absolutely not. In fact, his worry had only increased, especially since you’d been hitting him up for more baggies than usual.
Tonight, the two of you were holed up in Riki’s studio apartment. The air inside was thick enough to slice through. Faint music hummed through his speakers. You were tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne that you’d grown to like over time while you mindlessly smoked a blunt. The harsh, hot feeling blooming in the back of your throat gradually spread to your lungs, you felt short of breath, but something about that weed just made you want to go back for more.
Riki was distracted—his phone was buzzing every thirty seconds, dealers and customers constantly demanding his attention. Typical plug activities you guessed. He was murmuring into the receiver, his voice low and clipped, but his free hand was still draped over your knee–drawing patterns through the satin silk. The warmth of his hand seeped through the satin and into your bare skin, unconsciously making you clench your thighs even though your thoughts were far from the intimacy of the moment. His hand was like a subconscious anchor.
But you weren't anchored–if anything, you were drifting away, losing yourself in the haze of weed and the cloud of smoke. By the time you started your second blunt, the smoke wasn’t a cloud anymore—it filled the room like dense fog. The smell was overpowering and had that sticky sweetness that only happens when the two of you really start hitting those blunts. Riki glanced down at you instantly, the blue light of his screen highlighting the worry on his face. He was too concerned to let you continue but just as scared to try and stop you after the way you’d snapped at him. But as you reached for the lighter again with trembling fingers, he instinctively reached out.
"Okay, you’re done," he muttered, dropping his phone mid-sentence. He reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he tried to snatch the half-burnt blunt from your hand. "Y/n, you're literally gray. Hand it over." He wasn’t trying to be nice anymore. "I'm fine, Riki-" You jerked away, fueled by a sudden, irrational burst of adrenaline. You tried to stand up to prove you were in control, to show him you weren't the "princess" he needed to protect; that everyone felt the need to protect. But the second your feet hit the floor, the world spun.
Suddenly, the heavy bass from his speakers thumped uncomfortably in your chest. The music felt like screeches and static. The room didn’t just spin, it did a violent 360-degree turn. Your eyes burned with tears. It felt like a million white dots were exploding in your eyes. A wave of nausea overtook you and at that moment you could only think of one person–Riki. “Riki-” you gasped out as your throat felt constricted. Lo and behold, you experienced your first “green out,” which hit you like a goddamn freight train. Your body gave out completely, turning into jelly. You don’t remember anything else other than the frantic heat of Riki’s chest as he dove off the couch to catch you.
“I’ve got you, okay? Just breathe.” His voice was frantic and filled with fear. He hoisted you into his arms and carried you through the heavy veil of smoke into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut and immediately laid you down onto his bed. Before you could even process the tilt of the room, he was behind you, holding you up.
One of his hands reached out to your face, large fingers pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face, while the other splayed across your sternum, feeling the beat of your thundering heart. “You’re fucking trembling, y/n. Match my breathing, okay? Don’t close your eyes on me now,” he commanded softly. “Just focus on the rhythm of your heart, yeah?” He massaged your scalp soothingly, trying to get your heart to calm down.
Slowly, the static in your ears began to fade, replaced by the steady, heavy thump-thump of his heart against your back. The “hollow” feeling still remained, but Riki’s presence grounded you to some extent.
Your heartbeat had steadied, but the nausea kept coming back in waves–it felt like your stomach was a sinking ship. You let out a single shaky, broken exhale, your face scrunching up in pain before instinctively curling your body into a tight ball. Your shaky fingers clutched onto the thick, black fabric of Riki’s hoodie, bunching it in your hands as if it were your lifeline.
Riki immediately got the hint. After all, he was an experienced smoker. He shifted his weight slightly and wrapped his arms around you tighter, his fingers tangling in your hair. The green out was still dragging you under. Your throat felt like sand and your hands were clammy. You were on the verge of falling asleep, but the nausea kept you awake. Despite your pain, your heart ached more from when you had yelled at Riki. However, that ache was momentarily drowned out by your sheer willpower, trying not to throw up all over the very man who was caring for you.
“Head still spinning?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ears like feathers. You nodded slowly. Riki couldn’t help but smile just a little. To see you in his arms, cuddled up to him, made his chest warm in a way he couldn’t yet admit. “Hang on. I’ve got something for the shakes.”
He reached out to his bedside table, fumbling through random plastic bags, lighters, and condoms before grabbing a singular chocolate bar. With one hand still holding you close, he used his teeth to tear the wrapper open. The smell of caramel and sweet chocolate hit your nostrils, cutting through the stench of weed.
“Look at me, baby,” he instructed softly. You lifted your head just a little and opened your eyes; your pupils were wide as saucers. Riki sighed before nudging your chin up. He brought the bar close to your lips. “Eat. Slow. I’m right here.”
The sugary intrusion of the caramel helped calm your senses, masking the bitter aftertaste of weed. Your stomach felt much better and you were able to feel the hollow void in your chest solidify. The shivering in your limbs finally dulled into a limp ache.
Riki noticed the shift as you straightened up a bit. He grabbed a bottle of water from his nightstand and shifted you slightly so he could use both his hands to remove the lid. “Water.” You took a long, desperate swallow, the cold liquid soothing you further. “Okay,” he started, settling the bottle down. He tried to shift you down onto the pillows. "You're coming down, but you still need to sleep it off. I’ll stay right here, but you need to close your eyes." You gazed up at him with glossy eyes. Riki averted his gaze, knowing he should pull away quickly before you tried to plot something.
But as he tried to pull away, panic flared in your chest. Not the ‘green-out’ panic, but the sudden ache of loneliness. Your fingers–still shaking slightly–clutched onto his hoodie tighter. “Don’t go yet. Please. Just… touch me,” you breathed out, your voice raw with need.
Riki froze. “Y/n, you’re high as hell right now. You don’t know what you’re—”
“I know and I don’t care. I just need you. Don’t move an inch, Nishimura.” Your hands cupped Riki’s face, pulling him closer. Riki gave in; he just couldn’t say no to you.
He let out a defeated sigh. “One kiss. That’s it.” He narrowed his eyes on you. You smirked. “Sure.”
Riki expected it to be one innocent kiss, but no, you had other plans. The sugar running through your system had sparked a different kind of hunger. Before he could even think of pulling away, you tangled your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, your knuckles grazing the cold silver of his chain. You bit his lip—harsh and unforgiving.
And giving in is exactly what Riki did. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, his restraint snapping by the minute. Your nausea was replaced with raw need and adrenaline. You shifted, crawling upward until you were draped entirely over him. Riki let out a muffled groan, pulling away from your lips only to trail his own down the line of your jaw. “You’re not even okay,” he mumbled against your skin.
You huffed impatiently and tightened your grip in his hair, earning a hiss. “Just shut up and do your thing.” you tried to sound imposing even though your words were slurring slightly. Riki scoffed and instead of pulling away, his lips latched onto your warm skin, sucking lightly and tugging at the skin between his teeth. “Bossy,” he muttered against your skin, nipping at it sharply to tease you, earning a scowl and a subtle smack to the head.
“Hey–I’m being so nice to you right now, and instead of a 'thank you,' I get a smack in the head?” he whined, burying his face in your neck and pinching your waist slightly. You groaned. “You want me to thank you for talking so much?” you questioned, subtly shifting your weight on his lap, just enough that you were right over his growing bulge.
“You’re really in no position to be calling me out right now.”
“Mm..” you mumbled, not trying to deny it.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he smirked. For a solid minute, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes. This was probably wrong, but after today, you were a hundred percent sure you couldn’t see him as ‘just a plug’ anymore. Riki was the first one to break contact. His hand slid up your back, settling behind your neck and gripping it in a way that made you dizzy all over again.
When he finally leaned in, he didn’t hold back. His lips crashed against yours with raw hunger. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, sucking and tangling with yours. You pulled harshly at the black strands of his hair knowing that the freak would find pleasure in it and his aching cock that pulsed with every tug was proof.
His hands slid down to your bare thighs—your expensive silk dress had ridden up long ago. He shifted, heavy denim grinding against the thin, ruined satin. His hips bucked upwards in a slow, tantalizing press that made your head swim faster than those two blunts ever could.
The friction was delicious and you were wet enough to slide against his bulge without constraint. You pulled away first, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips. You arched into him, your hips moving in a rhythmic manner as you let out small sounds you’d never imagined you’d utter. Your nails dug into his scalp as the friction turned into unrestrained hunger.
Riki nuzzled his face into your neck, lips grazing your pulse point. “Shit,” he breathed out. He felt your movements falter and immediately gripped your hips firmly, snapping his hips upwards as he helped move you against his rock-hard length. The feeling sent pure jolts of electricity straight to your core.
Both of you could feel your highs approaching, like a rubber band being stretched tight. And with one powerful thrust of his hips, the tension snapped. Your release seeped through your underwear and stained Riki’s jeans, but he was pretty much in the same situation.Riki leaned in, placing sweet kisses on your lips, cheeks, and forehead. His fingers moved away the wet strands of hair from your sweaty and flushed face.
But no, you weren’t satisfied. It was probably the weed or the sugar but you were filled with energy for some reason. You tried to rut against him again, but Riki stopped you with a hiss. “Easy, angel.” he murmured, his voice raspy and dry.
“You just went through an intense green-out episode and probably an even more intense orgasm. I can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. Let’s get you some proper sleep, yeah?”
You tried to protest, but he just shook his head, pulling you down onto the bed. “Stay.” He ordered, and you reluctantly pulled your arms away, still pouting, as he walked into the bathroom to grab a damp towel.He walked back into the room, cleaned you up gently, and pulled the covers over both of you. He pulled you toward him so that your head rested securely in the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered as his fingers gently rubbed your scalp, lulling you into deep slumber. That night, you slept better than you ever had; because for once, instead of feeling the weight of being the perfect daughter within the four walls of your ridiculously large mansion, you felt the warmth and comfort of being just you—held in the arms of the man you couldn't yet bring yourself to admit you loved.
☆ stoner!nishimura riki x rich!reader
☆ wc: 1.5k
☆ warnings: MDNI, implied usage of weed, slight angst, smut, oral (f. receiving). not proofread.
PART 1
EVER since that night, you found yourself at riki’s place almost every single night. most nights were the same, a blunt between your fingers as slow r&b music vibrated through the air. the buzz of the city seeping into the flat through the window riki always kept cracked open to let the smoke out.
it’s been two months since your first night together. two months since this forbidden but addicting rendezvous of yours started and no matter how many times you tell yourself that you wouldn’t go back, you always ended up at his doorstep thrice a week wearing an overbearing amount of perfume to get rid of the smell of smoke and sin.
and the tension between the two of you? it never dissolved, if anything it only grew over time—thick and palpable, but you seemed to be the only one affected by it. riki confused you to say the least. sometimes his gaze would linger on you a little too long, rolling blunts for you, his fingers brushing yours. but then other times, he’d like you were just someone to pass time with, as if he didn’t blow smoke into your mouth and mark bruises onto your skin like he wanted to claim you.
today was no different from the last few nights, but the tension was thicker than before. he exhaled smoke into your mouth like he had several times before, but didn’t kiss you after. you leaned back and curled up on the far end of the couch, the blunt in your hand burning but nowhere near your mouth.
“you good?”, riki drawled, his hooded eyes flicking towards you.
you stared at him, jaw tight “are we going to keep pretending like theres nothing going on between us?”, you snapped. riki blinked, caught off guard by your sudden question “what?”, you sat up straight, “you know exactly what i’m talking about”. riki stayed silent for a moment and then he scoffed,“you’re the one who shows up every night acting like we’re just… i don’t know, casual friends. i didn’t think you wanted us to be anything”, his tone was defensive
your jaw clenched, “and what? you think you’re so easy to read? first you flirt like you mean it and then you pull away” silence filled the room, whorls of smoke drifted carelessly in the air as the two of you stared at each other. riki cut through the tension first, “i’m not pulling away now” and the next second he was infront of you, his hand held the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a deep, messy kiss, all teeth and desperation, making the both of you tumble back towards the couch—riki falling on top of you but none of you pulled away.
“i hate you”, you mumbled against his mouth. riki’s lips curled into a slow smirk “yeah?” he mocked. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at his strands. his hoodie was discarded in seconds, and before either of you could think better of it, you were straddling him, breathless and dizzy from more than just the high.
he stared up at you, his eyes dark and blown wide from not just the weed, but lust.
“needed you like this” he rasped, voice thick with desire “every fucking night”. his grip tightened on your waist. his blunt burned on the ashtray, the smoke curling around your bodies. his palm slipped underneath your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your waist “you sure about this?”, his voice gravelly as he looked up at you almost pleading.
you rolled your eyes and ground your hips down on him, earning a loud groan “just shut up and show me” you whispered and that was all it took. riki’s mouth latched onto the curve between your neck, leaving slobbery, open mouthed kisses as he moved down towards your chest, pulling away momentarily to pull your top off and lay you down on the couch. your legs parted easily as he settled between them. he trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts before settling right above the waistband of your shorts. he looked up at you, about to ask for consent but you gripped his hair and pushed him down and that was all he needed before he pulled down your shorts and panties in one go, exposing your glistening wet cunt to him.
riki groaned at the slight, sliding his middle finger between your folds—feeling your wetness coat his fingers making you squirm from the stimulation “shhh…” he whispered, putting one of his palms on your stomach, firmly holding you down. “riki…please” you gasped out. riki slipped his finger in—earning a gasp from you. he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it—slow and sensual. the buzz of pleasure from his ministrations on your tongue and the deep feeling of his finger had you spiraling. your vision blurred as you tightened your grip on his hair.
riki pulled his finger out and immediately shoved his tongue back between your folds. his mouth moved with purpose. slow at first—dragging you through every second of it. every roll of your hips. every whimper. everytime you arched your back from the feeling spurred him on further. he groaned against your cunt—like he was getting off on your reactions alone.
“riki—” you gasped out, voice shaky as you tugged at his hair. his only response was a firmer grip, a deeper stroke of his tongue, like he wasn’t stopping until you fell apart for him completely.
you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in your belly, your fingers buried in his hair as your small whimpers and moans floated in the air. your thighs began shaking and riki knew you were close to the edge. his tongue swirled over your clit, sucking and licking it before going back nose-deep between your folds, his tongue working relentlessly. your hips jerked forward and a broken moan left your lips before you could even register it.
“let go for me pretty”, he mumbled against your puffy folds and that was enough to tip you over as you spasmed and came hard and fast, coating his lips and chin with your release. riki didn’t let up as he licked all your juices clean and sat up slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning down and kissing you softly, allowing you to taste yourself.
your breath was still trembling as riki pulled away. you ran your fingers through his silver hair, taking in his dazed appearance. the smell of smoke and arousal lingered. riki cradled your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses all over your face. “you okay?” he asked softly. you nodded in response. “you can crash here you know…” he started, “i always do” you joked. he hummed in response “yeah but, this time, it feels different” he smiled at you and he was right.
situationship with plug riki but one night reader greens out and he takes care of her!!!!! ... and then they get together officially!!!! something cute n mayb a little suggestive 🤔
okay i feel like i can incorporate this into loose >:)
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