#ni ki

[ikeuzito]

PRACTICING FOR HIM.

── synopsis: everyone on campus knows Heeseung’s rules — no commitments, no second chances, and no girl stays long enough to matter. As basketball captain he collects hearts like trophies and leaves them broken behind him without a second thought. You watch him from far away, knowing you should stay away, but you don't just want to be another name on his list. You want him to choose you and see only you. The problem is you're completely inexperienced, a virgin in every sense, while the girls around him know exactly how to move, how to flirt, and how to keep him hooked. So you make a plan: practice with other guys, learn the skills you're missing, and completely reinvent yourself to finally make Heeseung notice you — and choose you over everyone else.

warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni), popping cherry, fingering, oral (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, panty gag, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, riding, missionary, doggy style, against the wall, overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, spitting on pussy, praise kink, light degradation, dirty talk, begging, edging, possessiveness, manhandling, public/risky sex (library + locker room), risk of getting caught, use of pet name (babe, doll, angel, baby, slut, good girl), mostly dom!members with a bit of dom!reader.

wc: 18k ┆ a/n: I know some of you are waiting for part 2 of teacher's pet, but I was just so excited to write this one that I decided to work on it first (the idea actually came to me while listening to drake's 'practice') this ended up being way longer than I expected, but anyway... I hope you guys like it. happy reading! (btw if you guys want to request any fics, my asks are open!)

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Heeseung is the sun around which the entire campus orbits.

He’s the captain of the basketball team, the big star whose name echoes through the packed arena during every game. With his lean yet athletic build, dark hair that falls over his sweaty forehead after a match, and that lazy half-smile that screams trouble while charming every girl in sight, he moves like he’s always being watched — and he is. Every head turns when he walks by, the crowd in the hallways parting like the sea for him and his teammates. He loves the attention.

Everyone knows the stories about Heeseung. He doesn’t do relationships — he rotates. A new girl every week, sometimes every day if he’s in the mood. They’re often seen leaving his apartment late at night, or early in the morning if he feels like letting them stay over, hair messy and wearing his team jacket like a trophy.

He usually doesn't appear with them in public, but it doesn't take long for the chosen girl to start gossiping in the hallways about how she's being fucked by him. That doesn’t last long though, because once the thrill fades he ignores them completely, never answering their messages once the weekend is over. "Let’s just have fun," he says, and the girls always agree, secretly believing they’ll be the one to change him.

You’ve been watching him from afar for months, studying the way he laughs too loudly at parties with his arm around whatever girl he’s with at the moment, the way his hand rests on her lower back as he guides her through the crowd, and how his eyes scan the room like he’s already searching for the next target while the current one is still pressed against him. It should disgust you — the casual way he uses people, the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind without remorse. But it doesn’t disgust you. It feeds you.

Deep down, in that secret place where you allow yourself to be completely honest, you want to be one of them. Not just another weekly girl — you want to be the one who breaks the pattern, the one so unforgettable, so incredible in bed and out of it, that Heeseung, the campus player, finally chooses you for good.

The problem is you have no idea how to make that happen.

You’re a virgin, completely untouched. The closest you’ve ever gotten to intimacy was an awkward, too-long hug with your best friend Jake after a tough week of exams. Approaching Heeseung as you are now — inexperienced, nervous, and clumsy — would never work.

"He likes confident girls, experienced ones who know how to dominate and be dominated in equal measure, because he doesn’t waste time teaching the basics. He expects you to already know how to please him." That’s what you heard from one of his teammates.

So after watching him leave the court with yet another girl on his arm, you make a decision.

You’re going to practice.

You’re going to transform yourself into the perfect girl for him — experienced enough to impress him, confident enough to stand out, and irresistible enough that when he finally notices you, he won’t be able to let you go.

────────

You stand outside Jake’s dorm room long enough for your legs to start aching. Your best friend’s room has always been your safe haven — the perfect spot for late-night study sessions, movie marathons, and listening to him ramble excitedly about sci-fi. Jake is kind, a bit nerdy in the best way possible, like a golden retriever with brown hair, a sweet smile, and glasses.

With a deep breath, you knock on the door.

Jake opens it almost immediately and breaks into a wide smile the moment he sees you. "Hey, what took you so long? Come in— wait, are you okay? You look tense."

You step inside and sit on the edge of his bed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Jake drops into his desk chair and pulls it closer so he’s facing you directly, his knees almost brushing against yours. "Jake… I need to talk to you about something kind of crazy, embarrassing, and probably really stupid."

He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling behind his glasses. "You know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?"

You tell him everything — how you’ve been watching Heeseung for months, how every time you see him with someone new, something deep in your chest twists, not exactly with jealousy, but with desire. You share the rumors you’ve heard about how he likes girls who know what they’re doing, girls who can match his intensity. Finally, you admit that you want to be the one he chooses — not just for a week, not for a fling, but for good.

"But I’m a virgin, Jake," you whisper, your cheeks burning. "I’ve never even… I don’t know what I’m doing. So if I tried to approach him like this, he’d probably laugh."

Jake’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.

"So I’ve decided… I’m going to practice. I’m going to get experience so that when I finally have my chance with Heeseung, I’ll be good enough that he won’t want anyone else."

Silence stretches between you as Jake stares at you for a long moment. He pushes his glasses up, his expression soft — not mocking, not disgusted. Just… Jake. "Wow. That’s… a lot. Heeseung, huh? I mean, I get it, but you’re really willing to do all that for him?"

Biting your lip, you nod. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And… I was hoping you’d help me with the first part."

Your voice drops until it’s almost inaudible. "I want you to be my first. I want to lose my virginity with you. You’re my best friend and I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle, you won’t laugh at me or tell anyone. Please, Jake?"

His cheeks flush pink and for a second it looks like he might say no. "You… you want me to what? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say."

He lets out a nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and something he’s always kept hidden. "I’ve never thought about you like that before or… okay, maybe I have, a little. But you’re serious? This is all for Heeseung?"

"Yes, but right now it’s about learning with someone safe, someone who cares. And that someone is you."

Jake stays quiet for a moment while he thinks, then reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Okay… if we’re really going to do this, I want it to be right for you. Not just jumping in headfirst." His thumb keeps tracing slow, soft circles on the back of your hand. "You’ve never done any of this before, right? Not even… by yourself?"

You swallow hard, staring at your intertwined fingers, and admit softly, "No… I mean, I tried rubbing against my pillow once and it felt good, I think? But I got scared and stopped. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jake. That’s why I need you to help me learn."

Jake nods, adjusting his glasses — a nervous habit — with flushed cheeks, but his voice stays as gentle and patient as always. "That makes sense. But before anyone else touches you, you should get to know your own body first. What feels good, what you like. It’ll make everything easier later… for him and for you."

He hesitates for a second, then adds with a small reassuring smile, "Do you trust me enough to try this now? With me here?"

Your heart races with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Yes, I trust you. Just… tell me what to do, please."

Jake stands up slowly and sits beside you on the bed. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek. "Start by getting comfortable. Lie back, and maybe take off your sweater if you want to and feel okay with it."

You do as he says, pulling off your sweater and setting it aside so you’re left in just your tank top and jeans. "Good," he murmurs. "Now touch yourself under your clothes first, over your stomach, along your thighs… feel how your body reacts."

You slide your hand beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. Your fingers graze the soft skin of your belly, then move higher, gently caressing one of your breasts. It feels strange doing this while he watches, but his gaze isn’t hungry or demanding — it’s warm and encouraging, like he’s looking at something precious. When your fingertips brush your nipple, a small sigh escapes you.

"Right there. That’s good. Circle slowly and squeeze just a little."

As he speaks, his own hand drifts down to the front of his sweatpants and then he starts touching himself gently over the fabric, not even trying to hide it. Knowing he’s getting hard just from watching you makes your breath hitch.

Following his instruction, you circle and lightly pinch your nipple, feeling a warm sensation build low in your belly. "Jake, it feels so good…"

"Tell me," he encourages, his hand moving in slow strokes that match the rhythm of your breathing. "Does it make you wet between your legs?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Keep going, slide your other hand into your jeans and touch yourself over your panties if you’re not ready for more yet."

With your free hand you obey, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping inside. The fabric of your panties is already damp when you press your fingers against yourself and rub lightly, drawing a soft whimper from your throat.

Both of your breathing grows heavier with every second. Jake pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself, stroking slowly while he watches every movement of your fingers.

"Fuck, that’s beautiful," he breathes, the words slipping out like he can’t hold them back. "Rub your clit. Find the spot that feels best."

You circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, rolling your hips when you finally discover the perfect way to touch yourself. Jake’s eyes stay locked on your hand while his own speeds up, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every stroke.

"Inside your panties now," his voice still gentle but strained. "Feel how wet you are. Explore your body, learn what it likes so you can show someone exactly what you need."

You push your panties aside and slide a finger along your slick folds. "Slide a finger inside, babe," he says and when you do, a moan escapes your lips — it’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Jake groans with the sight, his hand moving faster on himself.

"Add another finger and curl them a little. Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, babe." His praise makes you bolder, so you start pumping your fingers slowly, rubbing your clit with your thumb at the same time, while your free hand keeps playing with your breast, pinching harder as the pleasure rises.

"You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re breathing. Let it happen. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you." His words push you over the edge.

Moaning Jake’s name, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, your body tenses and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you. Waves of heat pulse around your fingers, deeper and stronger than you ever imagined.

"Fuck, don’t do this to me." His hand strokes faster until he groans and comes too, spilling over his fingers with a shaky breath.

For a moment, the room falls quiet except for your shared breathing. Jake leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his glasses tilting slightly. "Hey… you still with me? How are you feeling after that? Overwhelmed?"

You shake your head and let out a small giggle. "I’m good. Really good, actually." Reaching up, you gently fix his glasses and whisper, "Thank you for being so patient with me, Jake. I know this is probably weird for you too."

He smiles, and it makes you smile back naturally. "It’s not weird. At least not with you. Honestly, seeing you like that… it was beautiful. You’re beautiful." He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, giving you time to calm down while his hand rests on your hip and his thumb draws slow circles on your skin. "If you want to keep going, I’m right here."

You bite your lip, the mix of nerves and curiosity warms your body all over again. This is supposed to be practice — each new sensation is another skill you’re learning — but right now, with him, it feels like something more.

"I want more," you admit, cheeks burning. "Can you… use your mouth on me? I’ve heard it feels really good, but I don’t know what to expect."

Jake’s eyes widen for half a second. "Yeah, I’d love to do that for you." He moves carefully on the bed, helping you adjust the pillows behind your head so you’re comfortable. "Just relax and tell me what feels good, okay? If anything is too much or not enough, say so. Promise?"

"Promise." You extend your pinky toward him and he does the same, linking them together to seal the promise.

He starts with soft kisses on the inside of your knee, then higher up your thigh. Every touch of his lips sends shivers across your skin. "Your legs are already shaking," he murmurs with a low chuckle against your thigh. "That’s so cute."

When his mouth finally reaches your center, it’s feather-light at first — just his lips brushing against your folds — but it’s enough to make you draw in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tightly.

Then his warm tongue drags upward in one long, torturous lick from your entrance all the way to your clit. The feeling is wet, hot, and incredibly intimate, the texture of his tongue adds a new layer of friction that makes your hips jerk involuntarily.

"My God, Jake…" The words slip out before you can stop them.

"Good?" he asks, pulling back just enough for you to see his glistening lips as he looks up at you.

"Yes… really good. Do that again, please."

With more confidence this time, he explores every inch of you — licking along your folds, circling your clit, then moving down to taste your entrance. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you only heighten the arousal building in your belly.

Jake hums in satisfaction as he finds the rhythm you like best, reading it from your moans. "You taste incredible… so hot and wet."

You reach down and thread your fingers through his soft hair. "Right there, when you suck on my clit, it feels so good."

He listens immediately, sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and applying gentle suction while his tongue flicks against it, making the pleasure intensify, stronger than before.

The smooth glide of his tongue, the occasional careful graze of his teeth, and the way he alternates between lavishing attention on your clit and licking down to dip inside you make heat spread through your core — it radiates outward until even your fingertips feel warm. You grow even wetter, and Jake groans in appreciation, licking up every drop like he can’t get enough.

"Jake, I think I’m getting close again," you gasp, your voice breaking into a loud moan as he sucks harder on your clit. Your hips move against his face instinctively, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he doubles down with his tongue. This orgasm builds differently — deeper, more overwhelming — and when it crashes over you, it hits with a full-body shudder.

You cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure pulse through your center. Jake keeps licking you through it all, drawing out every tremor until you’re panting and oversensitive.

He finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes shine behind his glasses, and a proud little smile plays on his lips. "You okay? That looked like it felt really good."

You laugh breathlessly. "It was incredible… I didn’t know I could feel so sensitive down there."

Jake chuckles softly. "Good. That’s kind of the point of all this practice, right? Learning what you like." His hand slides over your body again, stopping just above your mound as his fingers trace lazy patterns across your skin. "Are you sure you want me to take your virginity? Your body’s already experienced so much tonight. Maybe you need a break."

You shake your head, caressing his face. "I don’t need a break. I just want to feel your cock inside me, please."

One of his hands drifts lower until his fingers reach your wet entrance, circling it slowly. "I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax and breathe out for me."

You do as he says, and he slowly presses two fingers inside you.

His longer fingers create a different sensation. The stretch borders on discomfort at first, making your walls clench tightly around the intrusion. "Ah— it’s tight," you whisper, gripping his shoulder. "It burns a little."

Jake freezes immediately. "Want me to stop? We can wait."

"No! Keep going. I want to get used to it."

He nods and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well… so warm and snug around my fingers. What if I curl them just a little?" He demonstrates, stroking your inner walls gently until he brushes against a spongy spot that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

"Oh!" Your eyes widen. "Right there… my God, that feels so good."

"I found your g-spot," he says, clearly proud of himself. He keeps the movements shallow and slow, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb draws gentle circles over your clit. The initial burning fades, turning into something hotter, slicker, and far more pleasurable.

"Add another one, Jake," you say after a few minutes, voice breathless. "I think I can take it."

Jake carefully slides a third finger in, the pressure increases and your walls flutter as they adjust to the stretch. Every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, while his thumb on your clit keeps the arousal building higher.

"Talk to me, babe," he says, eyes fixed on your face. "How does it feel now? Too much?"

"It’s full… stretching me," you moan, your hips starting to move in time with his hand. "But it’s turning into something really good. Faster on my clit— yes, like that. God, Jake, your fingers are so deep."

He picks up the pace a little, thrusting more firmly and creating an overwhelming sensation in the best way possible. The pleasure keeps intensifying until your breathing comes in short gasps and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. "I’m getting close again. Please don’t stop."

Jake leans down to kiss your stomach, murmuring encouragement. "Come on, come on my fingers. Let go for me, babe."

You moan loudly, back arching as the orgasm hits you harder than the ones before. A deep wave crashes through you, making your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. Jake keeps pumping slowly and carefully until the spasms ease, then gently pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. "Your taste is addictive."

Smiling you reach up to brush a messy strand of hair from his forehead. "Jake… I want to go all the way. I want to feel you inside me, please."

Jake’s breath catches, then he sits up properly and reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.

"You actually have these," you say with a light teasing note in your voice.

He looks at you with a shy smile as he opens the packet and rolls the condom down his length. "Hey, Heeseung isn’t the only one on campus who has sex, you know? A guy can be prepared even if he’s not out at every party." Jake hovers over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, leaning closer and gazing at your lips.

"Can I?" When you nod, he captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss filled with desire. His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, and then trail softly down the side of your neck, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. He takes his time, giving attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and fingers. Only when both of you are breathing heavier does he settle between your legs and position himself.

"Breathe with me, okay? Slow and easy." You nod, inhaling as he begins to push inside.

The initial pressure is intense — a wide, stretching fullness that makes your breath hitch. Your walls stretch around his thickness in an overwhelming way and your body tenses as he sinks into you inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. "Oh my God…"

Jake stops immediately. "Hey, hey… look at me," he says, his voice full of concern. He kisses you softly on the lips, then your nose and forehead. "Is it too much? We can wait. I hate the idea of hurting you, even for a second."

You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ease the discomfort. "It’s a lot… really full and there’s some burning, but I want this."

To distract you from the stretch and help your body relax around him, he kisses you again. It works — the pain slowly turns into pressure, and then into something hotter and more intimate. "Okay, you can move a little more now."

Jake slides forward inch by inch until he’s fully inside you — every part of him is wrapped tightly in your heat, making you feel so connected, so completely filled, with a pleasant throbbing where your bodies meet.

"God… you feel incredible," he breathes, staying still for a moment while buried deep inside you. He covers you with more kisses. "So warm and tight around me. Tell me how you feel, babe."

"Full," you sigh. "So deep… it’s starting to feel really good."

Smiling against your skin, he begins rocking his hips in small, gentle movements. Each shallow thrust glides along your inner walls, brushing that sensitive spot and sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body. Jake keeps his eyes on yours, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. "More kisses," you whisper softly, and he gives them freely — deep, passionate kisses that match the slow rhythm of his hips. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers beside your head as he sinks a little deeper and a little firmer. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm wave spreading from your center outward.

"You’re doing so well," he praises between kisses, his voice full of affection. "Look at you… my best friend, letting me do this. You feel perfect, so hot and slick around my cock." His free hand caresses your breast through your tank top, his thumb brushing your nipple in time with his movements, pulling more moans from you.

"Faster… just a little," you ask, voice breaking. "I want to feel more."

Jake obeys, finding a slow but steady rhythm that lets every thrust fill you completely, the head of his cock brushing that sweet spot over and over again. "Does this feel good for you too?" you ask between moans, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it.

"God, yes," he groans. "You’re squeezing me so tight, but right now it’s all about you. I want you to come like this if you can."

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts, learning the rhythm and experimenting with how it feels to clench around him. Jake’s glasses are completely fogged up and slipping down his nose, he pauses just long enough to take them off and set them aside, then kisses you deeply as he resumes his movements.

"I’m getting there," you moan against his mouth. "Please don’t stop, Jake."

"I’ve got you." He shifts slightly, sliding one hand between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your clit. The extra stimulation pushes you right over the edge. Your walls flutter and clench hard around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan loudly, nails digging into his back while your body pulses around him.

Jake keeps thrusting softly through your climax, murmuring praises. "That’s it… so good. You’re incredible." Only when you start to come down does he let himself go. His hips snap a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes with a low, shaky groan, filling the condom.

For a long moment afterward, he stays inside you while both of you catch your breath. Then he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and cleans you both with a warm cloth from the bathroom. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and full of concern. "No pain? I tried to be as gentle as possible."

You snuggle into the sheets, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and a deep sense of satisfaction. "I’m perfect. A little sore, but in a good way. You made my first time really special, Jake. You’re the best friend I could ask for."

The next morning, you wake up in his bed. The ache between your legs reminds you of everything — the careful way he touched you, the gentle thrusts, the tender kisses. It had all been perfect for your first time.

But as you slip out of bed carefully so you don’t wake him, a realization settles in your mind. It wasn’t enough. Not for what you really want.

Heeseung isn’t gentle. From the rumors, girls get pinned against walls, left breathless and marked. He likes control, intensity, rough hands. Jake would never give you that, even if you begged. He’s your best friend who worries about every little sound you make. He would never push your limits the way you suspect Heeseung would.

You also need to practice that side — the rougher kind of sex that leaves you deliciously sore, the kind that teaches you how to take and give back. You can’t show up to Heeseung soft and inexperienced if you want to stand out, if you want him to crave you for more than one night.

So you leave Jake a note on his desk. "Thank you for last night. Let’s talk soon," and head back to your dorm with a new determination.

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That weekend, the hockey team is throwing a big party at their off-campus house — an event that always draws a different crowd from the basketball scene. There’s no explosive feud between the teams, just a quiet rivalry and enough tension that basketball players rarely show up at hockey parties and vice versa. It’s perfect. No chance of running into Heeseung or his circle, and you need that space to level up without any complications.

You take extra time getting ready because you want to be noticed. You choose a short black dress that hugs your curves, the hem riding high on your thighs. It’s simple but dangerous — low neckline, thin straps, the kind of outfit that makes you feel powerful when you look in the mirror. You add a bit more makeup than usual, nothing too dramatic, and slip into heels that make your legs look longer.

The hockey house is already packed when you arrive. Hockey players in their varsity jackets, girls in tight dresses, and red solo cups everywhere. You grab a drink and wander through the crowd, heart racing with anticipation.

That’s when you see him.

Sunghoon, the captain of the hockey team, is standing near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter like he owns the place — and he does. He has a cold, almost untouchable aura that makes people shiver when he walks by. His teammates laugh around him, but he only offers a slight, distant smile, like he’s above it all.

Your eyes meet across the room and he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels down your body, taking in the dress you chose so carefully, before returning to your face. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — not warm like Jake’s, but something sharper, more predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t look away either. After all, that’s exactly why you came.

He pushes off the counter and makes his way through the crowd toward you. The suffocating tension hits you the second he stops right in front of you, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. "You don’t usually come to our parties," he says, his voice low as he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s already halfway to solving. "Or are you from the basketball crowd, doll?"

You take a sip of your drink to steady yourself. "Maybe I was waiting for the right night… Plus, hockey parties have a certain reputation."

A faint smile tugs at his lips as he steps a little closer, invading your space enough to make your pulse race. "Reputation for what, exactly?" He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne — something fresh and expensive that makes your head spin.

You shrug, trying to look calm. "Good music, strong drinks… You’re Sunghoon, right? The captain of the team. I’ve heard a lot about you." The words come out bolder than you expected, but they hit something in him and his gaze darkens.

He raises a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, making his impressively attractive biceps stand out. "I hope they’re good things."

You smile slightly. "Depends on who you ask. Some say you’re intense. Others say you’re… hard to keep up with."

Sunghoon studies you like he’s deciding something. The air between you grows heavier, and you can feel the pull — the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, before sliding back up. "And what do you think? Do you think you could keep up?"

The question makes your breath hitch. "I think it depends," you reply, taking a small step closer, letting the tension build until it feels almost unbearable. "Are you offering to find out?"

He leans in even closer, his lips hovering near your ear so only you can hear him, his warm breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. "Careful. Talking like that might get you more than you bargained for."

You turn your head just enough that your cheeks nearly touch. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for."

His hand settles on your lower back, firm and guiding, pulling you subtly closer. "Come upstairs with me," he says, his voice steady as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. "There’s a room up there. Quieter. We can… talk more."

This is it — the next step.

You nod, letting him guide you through the crowd toward the stairs with his hand still resting on your back as you climb the steps.

The door clicks softly shut behind you, and the room instantly feels much quieter than the chaos downstairs, lit only by the soft glow coming through the open window. Sunghoon leans back against the door without saying a word, simply watching you with a playful smile on his lips.

"So," he begins softly, pushing away from the door and walking toward you, "you showed up at a hockey party dressed like that, with your eyes on the captain. You’re either really brave or really curious. Which one is it?"

"Maybe both."

Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’ve been moving backward. "Bold. I like that, I don’t waste time with girls who don’t know what they want." He towers over you, his presence intense and dominant.

You swallow hard. "I know exactly what I want tonight. Someone who won’t hold back."

He leans in closer, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing firmly enough for you to feel his strength. "Careful what you wish for… You look like the type who melts easily, and I think I’d really enjoy finding out."

His gaze drops to your mouth, then returns to your eyes, dark and hungry. Without another word, his lips crash against yours in a deep, overwhelming kiss right from the first second. Sunghoon doesn’t take it slow like Jake — he claims your mouth completely, his tongue sliding against yours with raw intensity while his free hand moves up to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly the way he wants.

You try to match the intensity of his kiss, but it’s overwhelming — he devours every sigh and gasp that escapes you. When he finally pulls back enough for you to breathe, his eyes are darker, his lips slightly swollen. "Not bad," he murmurs, voice rough. "But you can do better, doll."

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, slower this time, pressing his body against yours so you can feel the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. Your stomach tightens with a mix of nerves and excitement.

"Come here." He takes your hand and guides you away from the wall toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls you close until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as you settle against him.

He pulls you into another deep kiss while one hand slides up your body and the other grips your thigh. You rock lightly in his lap, feeling him grow even harder beneath you, and he lets out a low groan into your mouth. "You’re so fucking hot. I want to see what else that pretty mouth can do." His fingers trace your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Get on your knees for me. Show me what that mouth is capable of."

Your heart stutters because his words hit you hard — part excitement, part panic. On your knees. Sucking him. You’ve never given a blowjob before.

You slide slowly off Sunghoon’s lap and drop to your knees, your hands shaking as you reach for the button of his jeans and try to pull down the zipper. Reality crashes over you: you’re on your knees for the hockey team captain, about to give him head with zero experience.

His eyes narrow the moment he notices the tremor in your hands and the hesitation in your movements. A low, cruel, mocking laugh escapes him. "Wait." He reaches down, gripping your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You’ve never done this before, have you?"

Biting your lip, you shake your head. "No… I’ve never done it."

Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t soften with pity. Instead, it sharpens with something darker — satisfaction mixed with pure control. He releases your chin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you like you’re a player who needs to learn the drill.

"Good, I like honesty. So you’re going to listen carefully. I’m not in the mood for guessing games tonight. You want to learn? I’ll teach you, and you follow my instructions. Got it, dol?"

You swallow hard and nod again.

"Words," he commands, cold and firm. "Use your words when I ask you something."

"Yes," you repeat, your voice steadier this time. "I understand."

He gives a small nod of approval. "Good girl. Now unzip me."

You obey, slowly pulling the zipper down. Sunghoon lifts his hips slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers low enough to free his cock. It springs out, hard and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum.

His hand rests on the back of your neck, not pushing, but guiding. "Look up at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t just stare at it like you’re lost. Wrap your hand around the base and feel the weight."

Your fingers are still trembling as you obey, curling them around his thick length. He feels incredibly warm and heavy in your palm, the skin smooth over steel. You give an experimental squeeze, watching his reaction.

"Yes, just like that," he praises coolly, like he’s directing a teammate on the ice. "Now stroke up and down. Keep a firm grip. That’s it— good. Don’t be shy."

You pump your hand firmly, finding a rhythm that makes Sunghoon’s breathing grow a little deeper, but he keeps complete control, his eyes locked on you the entire time. "Spit on it, get it nice and wet. Good girls make it sloppy."

You gather saliva and let it drip onto the head, using your hand to spread it all over his length. The wet sounds that follow make your face burn even hotter, but the way his cock twitches in your grip sends a shiver through you.

His fingers twist into your hair with enough force for you to feel it, then he pulls you closer to his throbbing length. "Now use your mouth. Start with the head, wrap your lips around it, no teeth. Suck gently while you swirl your tongue."

Your heart races as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting a man’s cock for the first time — slightly salty, but surprisingly good. Your tongue moves in slow, hesitant circles, trying to find the rhythm you think will feel best for him.

"Eyes up," he orders sharply. "Look at me while you do it. That’s good, but take me deeper now. Relax your throat, don’t force it. Move your head slowly and keep stroking the part you can’t reach."

You open wider and take him deeper. It feels strange at first — the stretch of your jaw, the way he fills your mouth, the occasional gag when you go too far, causing tears to gather at the corners of your eyes.

"Relax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Faster with your tongue on the underside. Use your hand in sync with your mouth."

You follow every instruction carefully, the clear commands making it easier despite your inexperience. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds as your mouth works on him — licking, sucking, and your hand sliding smoothly along his cock. Sunghoon’s thighs tense under your free hand, and his voice grows a little rougher, though still tightly controlled. "Hollow your cheeks more when you pull back. Take me deeper whenever you can, I want to feel the back of your throat."

Pushing yourself, you take him deeper until your nose brushes his stomach, triggering a light gag. You try to hold it, but end up sliding back up, gasping for air. A thick string of saliva connects his cock to your mouth, and his grip tightens in your hair, the slight sting only heightening the moment.

"Not bad for your first time. Now focus on the head again. Suck harder while you move faster. Yeah— just like that. You’re gonna make me come if you keep going."

You throw yourself into it completely, determined to get better so you can do this perfectly for Heeseung one day. Your hand and mouth work together, faster and sloppier now, until Sunghoon’s breathing turns heavier and his abs tighten visibly.

"Fuck— keep your eyes on me," he growls, his voice dropping lower. "I’m close. When I come, you swallow. Every drop. Understand, doll?"

You murmur something unintelligible around him, the vibration drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. His hand guides you with a little more firmness now as his hips begin to rock, meeting your mouth with each movement. His dominance is intoxicating — no endless questions, no overthinking, just clear and commanding direction that pushes you exactly where he wants you.

With one last deep thrust into your mouth and a low groan, he comes. Hot spurts hit the back of your throat as you swallow desperately, trying not to gag while you take everything he gives you, your hand still gently stroking him through it.

Sunghoon holds you there for a few more seconds before finally releasing your hair and letting you pull back. You release his cock with a wet pop, your lips swollen and glistening. He looks down at you with that same cool satisfaction, his thumb brushing a stray string of saliva from your chin. "Clean every inch with your tongue."

You nod and obey, licking him carefully with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue until he’s completely clean.

"Good," he says, his voice satisfied. "Now come here."

He pulls you up from your knees and back onto his lap, guiding you into a deep kiss that’s slower and less aggressive than the one against the wall, yet still possessive. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting himself on you, letting out a soft groan against your lips.

"You did well for your first time," he praises quietly as he pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. "A little messy, but eager. I like that. You look even better with that flushed face after sucking me off, doll."

The praise sends a warm flutter through your stomach, and before you can respond, Sunghoon moves, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "You’ve never sucked a cock before… so I’m going to ask. Are you a virgin?"

You shake your head quickly. "No, I’m not."

A flash of relief crosses his face, quickly replaced by a darker, almost predatory smile. "Good. That’s actually perfect. It means I don’t have to be gentle with you." His hand glides along your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart. "I hate holding back."

Two of his long fingers press against your entrance, finding you already soaked from everything that’s happened. He pushes your panties aside and slides them inside you in one smooth motion. His fingers are noticeably longer than Jake’s, reaching places that instantly make your breath hitch.

"Fuck, you’re so tight. You sure you’re not a virgin, doll? Because you’re squeezing me like one." He starts moving right away, no slow buildup, no endless questions about how you feel, just his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm — faster and deeper — while his thumb rubs firm circles over your clit.

You gasp, arching your back off the bed as his long fingers reach so deep that they stroke that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. "Sunghoon—" you moan, clutching his shoulders.

"Eyes on me." His free hand pins your wrists above your head while the other moves faster, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. He watches every reaction on your face, adjusting the intensity until you’re writhing beneath him. "You’re already soaking my hand, doll. Come on, let me feel you come around my fingers."

He adds a third finger, pushing deeper and curling harder against that spot while his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. The combination is overwhelming — fast, deep strokes that tighten the pleasure in your core until your thighs start trembling around his hand.

"I… oh God…" Your words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with every wave, but Sunghoon doesn’t slow down, he keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, hypersensitive and completely spent.

Only then does he pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips for a quick taste while he looks down at you with dark satisfaction. "You taste so good, doll."

Without wasting another second, he shoves the rest of his pants and boxers down and climbs fully on top of you. "Arms up." You lift them without hesitation and he pulls your dress off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. Your bra follows immediately, exposing your breasts to the cool air. In the same motion, he squeezes one firmly, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, then leans down to suck it, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

"These are perfect," he murmurs against your skin before moving to the other. His free hand yanks your panties down your legs in one swift pull, leaving you completely naked beneath him. Sunghoon sits back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming over your bare body with cool appreciation. "Perfect. You’re perfect, doll."

He positions himself between your spread thighs, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance. Only then do you realize there’s no condom. This is going to be the first time you feel someone raw. "Wait, Sunghoon…"

"I’m clean," he says dryly, reading your hesitation perfectly. "We’re good." He doesn’t say anything else, simply pushing forward and sinking the thick head of his cock into you with one precise thrust.

With no latex barrier, you feel every inch of him — hot, hard, and completely bare. The stretch is more intense than it was with Jake, deeper and fuller in a way that makes your walls flutter and clench tightly around him. A low moan escapes you as he sinks even deeper, filling you completely until his hips press flush against yours.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Sunghoon groans, closing his eyes for a brief second before locking his gaze on your face again. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, starting to move with long, deep strokes that brush every sensitive spot inside you while he watches your every reaction, every gasp, fucking you with firm control.

You grab onto his arms, your nails digging crescent moons into his skin. "Sunghoon… it’s so deep like this." Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs.

He kisses you hard again, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward faster, growing more intense. The pleasure feels stronger than your first time because there’s nothing between you, but after a few minutes, Sunghoon suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and whimpering.

"On your knees. Face down, ass up," he orders. "I need to go deeper. I want to watch this ass bounce while I fuck you stupid."

You get on all fours, feeling incredibly exposed with your ass up and back arched. The vulnerability of this new position you’ve never tried before sends a fresh wave of nerves through you. Sunghoon kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks slightly as he lines himself up again.

He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The new angle lets him go incredibly deeper, the head of his cock pressing against spots you didn’t even know existed. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. "Oh my God, it’s so much deeper like this."

Sunghoon groans in satisfaction. "That’s exactly what I wanted." His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts fucking you with more intensity. His thrusts are relentless, hips snapping forward with a force that makes your entire body shake.

One hand slides up your back and fists in your hair, pulling your head back sharply and arching you even more. "Fuck, look at you taking it so well like this."

His other hand comes down hard on your ass, a firm slap that makes the flesh jiggle and sting deliciously, drawing a loud moan from you. He spanks the other cheek, then again, alternating while he keeps pounding into you.

Without a condom, you feel every vein, every ridge, the way his cock stretches and fills you completely with every powerful thrust. "This ass looks even better when it’s moving for me," he says, landing another harder slap. Your arms tremble, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter in your core. "You’re clenching so fucking hard. You like it rough like this, don’t you?"

"Yes," you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, please."

He obeys without hesitation, fucking you with punishing force that makes the bed creak beneath you and his balls slap against you with every deep stroke. "Touch yourself, rub your clit while I fuck you."

You slide a hand between your legs, circling your swollen clit. Another sharp slap lands on your ass, the sting spreading hot across your skin and making you clench hard around him. "Fuck, do that again, doll." He delivers one more firm spank, then squeezes the reddened flesh possessively. "You’re dripping all over my cock, soaking the sheets like a good girl."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm, the sharp tugs on your hair, the stinging slaps, and the overwhelming depth of this position, push you straight over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard, your walls pulsing and contracting tightly around his bare cock as waves of pleasure crash through you. You moan loudly into the mattress, your whole body shaking.

Sunghoon doesn’t slow down at all — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. "I’m gonna come," he growls. After a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and groans as he fills you with hot pulses of cum, spilling deep inside you for the first time. The sensation is new and overwhelming — warm, wet, and so intimately raw that it makes your mind spin.

Sunghoon collapses beside you on the bed and pulls you against his chest, lazily stroking your back. "You should come to our parties more often. Those basketball idiots don’t deserve someone like you at their parties."

────────

Not everything is about the plan. After all, you are still in college — assignments pile up and deadlines approach without caring about your personal obsessions. When the professor pairs you with Jay for the next project, you don’t think much of it, you just need to finish the work as quickly as possible so you can get back to your plan.

The second-floor library was strangely quiet that night. Most students have already left, and the few who remain are buried in their books. You and Jay sit at a secluded table in a corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves that give you a sense of privacy.

Jay sits across from you, looking effortlessly attractive in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms. You’ve been discussing the project for nearly an hour, but the conversation slowly drifts away from the assignment and becomes more personal.

"You always seem so put-together," you say with a small smile. "Even during finals week. How do you do it?"

Jay chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. "Coffee. A lot of coffee… You’ve been glowing lately. There’s a new confidence in class. It looks good on you."

Your cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you. I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone lately."

"I noticed and it’s honestly really attractive." The compliment is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Jay’s voice drops lower as he continues. "You know, it’s easy to talk to you… and easy to look at, too."

You laugh, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. "You’re not bad yourself. Always so polite and charming... It’s kind of dangerous."

His smile widens, and then he reaches across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against yours. The touch is gentle but sends a spark through you, making the library feel even quieter now, like the rest of the world has disappeared and only the two of you remain behind the shelves.

Before you can overthink it, Jay leans forward over the table. "Come here."

You meet him halfway, and the kiss starts soft and sweet at first — a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens as he tilts his head. Jay kisses with care and skill, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other rests on the table for balance. It feels good, warm, and surprisingly right.

When he finally pulls back, breathing a little faster, he whispers. "No one’s around… Come sit with me."

He gently pulls you around the table and onto his lap. Your legs part over his thighs, the skirt riding up as he settles you against him and wraps one arm securely around your waist.

"Jay," a nervous laugh escapes you as you glance at the shelves surrounding you. "We’re in the library… Someone could walk by any second."

"It’s okay," his hand traces slow circles on your lower back while the other rests on your thigh. "Look around, it’s almost empty, and the shelves block most of the view." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. "We’ll be quiet. I just want to be close to you for a little while… if you’re okay with it."

Sitting on his lap like this in a public place feels incredibly bold, but Jay’s gentle confidence makes your hesitation melt away. "It’s okay," he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. "Just relax. It’s just us right now."

You kiss him back, and it doesn’t take long for your hips to start moving almost on their own, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction feels good even through your clothes — a slow, delicious rhythm that builds heat between your legs. Jay lets out a low hum of approval against your mouth, his hand squeezing your thigh encouragingly.

"That’s good… really good." His hips continue moving in deliberate circles, letting you feel him hardening beneath you — the thick outline pressing right against your core.

The kiss deepens as he traces your lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, and you open for him. "Yeah… keep doing that." One of his hands slides up to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb, while the other guides your hips, helping you find a rhythm that feels even better. "You’re driving me crazy doing this… it feels so good."

Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his gaze is dark with desire but still incredibly gentle. "Do you want to do this here?" he asks, thumb caressing your hip. "We don’t have to… but if you’re comfortable, I need you right now."

You quickly glance around — there’s still no one nearby. "Yes." The certainty in your voice surprises even you. "I want to."

He pulls you into another kiss, deep and reassuring, before reaching between your bodies to push his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out — long and incredibly thick, the head flushed red and already glistening. It’s bigger than you expected, heavy, with prominent veins.

Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness. "Jay… you’re really big. I don’t know if I can take all of that."

He cups your face with both hands, noticing your nerves. "Hey… look at me. We don’t have to rush anything, and if it’s too much, we stop, I promise." A soft, caring expression takes over as thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. "We’ll go really slow… I’ll make sure it feels good for you."

You nod, biting your lower lip. "Okay. I trust you."

One hand stays on your waist while the other guides his thick cock, rubbing the head against your soaked panties, teasing your entrance through the fabric. "Move your panties to the side for me."

With trembling hands, you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull it aside. The cool air hits your wet folds, making you shiver. Jay helps by tugging your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. Only then does he position himself at your entrance — the blunt head of his cock brushing against your slick pussy. "When you’re ready."

You take a deep breath and start sinking down, the stretch is immediate and intense — almost too much. His thickness slowly pushes your walls apart as you lower yourself, inch by inch. A soft moan escapes your lips from the burning sensation and the way he fills you so completely. It’s deeper than anything you’ve felt before, his huge size presses against every sensitive spot inside you.

Jay groans, tilting his head back for a moment. "Fuck… you’re so tight. Take it slow, angel. You’re doing so well."

You pause halfway, breathing deeply to ease the burning feeling. It’s almost uncomfortable, but the raw heat of him, bare and deep, sends sparks of pleasure through the stretch. Determined, you continue lowering yourself until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your walls fluttering as they try to adjust to his enormous length.

For a few seconds, you stay still, adjusting to the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside you. Jay’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as his lips brush your temple. "You’re perfect, angel. Taking me so well... Tell me when you want to move."

You start experimenting, at first moving simply — rising and sinking as you’ve seen in porn videos. The motion drags him along your walls, creating delicious friction, but it feels a little awkward. It feels good for him, his groans make that clear, but it isn’t quite hitting the right spots for you.

"This is incredible," he says honestly. "But I want you to feel good too. You don’t have to just go up and down. Grind on me… roll your hips in circles, and when you bounce, use your whole body. Let me guide you, angel."

He gently guides you with his hands on your hips, and you follow, shifting from simple up and down movements to a smooth, rolling grind. The change is instant — his thick cock now rubs perfectly against your front wall, pressing hard into that sensitive spot with every circle of your hips, making a sharp moan escape you. "Yes, just like that. Feel how deep I am when you roll your hips? Now try bouncing while you do that."

You combine the movements — lifting and dropping while rolling your hips on the way down. Each bounce takes him incredibly deep, his cockhead dragging against places that make your toes curl. The stretch remains intense because he’s almost too big, creating a delicious burn.

Jay groans louder, and one hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck as he kisses you again. "Yes… fuck, you’re riding me so well. Look at you, angel." His other hand stays on your hip, guiding you to bounce harder.

The praise makes you bolder. You brace your hands on his shoulders for balance and start bouncing faster, moving up and down while grinding. Jay is so big that you can feel his cock reaching deep into your stomach, creating a profound pressure that makes your head spin.

Your newfound confidence makes him throb inside you as Jay starts thrusting up to meet you, the added force sending waves of pleasure through your core. "Deeper… like this," you moan.

Jay’s hands roam all over your body — squeezing your ass, caressing your breasts over your shirt, pulling you down for more kisses. He doesn’t take full control, letting you lead while offering guidance and praise. "That’s it… move just like that. You’re getting so wet for me. You look so beautiful riding my cock."

The pleasure builds quickly, a deep, spreading heat that consumes your entire body. You lean forward, changing the angle, and cry out when you hit an even more sensitive spot. Jay groans, holding you tighter. "Right there? Good girl. Keep going, take what you need."

You moan loudly, burying your face in his neck as the orgasm crashes through you violently. Your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock, pulsing and milking him while you keep bouncing, pushing him over the edge right after. He groans, thrusting his hips up against you as he cums deep inside, filling you with hot, thick pulses of cum.

Once you both come down, Jay lifts your chin and kisses you again, his tongue moves lazily against yours, savoring the moment. You kiss him back, feeling his cock still twitching softly inside you.

"You were incredible, angel," he whispers between kisses, smiling against your lips. "So beautiful riding me like that."

Jay’s hands run gently down your back, his gaze dropping to your chest. "Can I see more of you?"

You nod, and he doesn’t waste a single second, pulls your blouse up just enough to free your breasts. The cool air of the library makes your nipples harden instantly. "Perfect,” you sigh softly as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

He sucks harder, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud with a careful bite that makes you moan and clench around his cock, which is still buried deep inside you. Switching to the other breast, he gives it the same attention — kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. You roll your hips slowly in his lap, savoring the way his cock twitches inside you every time he sucks harder.

"You’re so sensitive here," he murmurs against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses between your breasts. "I could spend hours doing this."

You let out a soft, needy sound, holding his head closer to your chest as he continues marking you with his mouth — sucking hard enough to leave hickeys that will remind you of this moment later. He’s getting hard again inside you, growing thicker and longer, pressing against your sensitive walls.

"Fuck, you’re making me hard again. The way you squeeze around me while I suck on these… you’re driving me crazy." Suddenly, Jay’s arms tighten around you and, in one swift movement, he stands up.

"Jay—!" you gasp, clutching his shoulders.

"I’ve got you," he says carefully, sitting you on the edge of the table with his cock still buried deep inside you. "I need to move for a bit. Okay, angel? Tell me if it’s too much."

Before you can respond, he starts fucking you at his own pace — deep, powerful thrusts that make your body shake on the table. The angle is perfect, making his thick cock drags along every inch of your walls with each stroke.

You try to stay quiet, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and moans far too loud for the silent library keep escaping. "Ah— Jay!"

He quickly covers your mouth with his hand while continuing to thrust firmly. "Shh, angel." His hips snap forward a little harder, testing your silence. "You have to stay quiet… someone might hear."

Even with his palm muffling your sounds, the deep thrusts still pull muffled but audible moans from you. Jay glances around nervously, unsure what to do because stopping isn’t an option, so he makes a quick decision. He pulls his cock out, reaches for your panties, which was pulled to the side this whole time, tugs the wet fabric free and then he pushes it between your lips.

"I’m sorry," he whispers immediately as he slides back inside you with a deep thrust. "I hate doing this… but I don’t want us to get caught, okay?"

You nod slightly, eyes watering from the intensity, but the gag works — your next moan comes out completely muffled. "You’re being so good for me, so wet and tight." Jay returns to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while he continues fucking you senseless.

His pace quickens, hips snapping harder against yours as he tries to keep control. The risk of getting caught and the feeling of you around him push him closer to the edge. "Cum for me. I’m close too… let go, angel."

You scream into the gag, your body shaking in his arms as you cum hard, and the sensation of your walls pulsing around him sends Jay over the edge right after. He buries himself as deep as possible and cums inside you with hot, intense pulses.

Still buried inside you, he strokes your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible… so responsive and beautiful."

A shy smile tugs at your lips. "You were incredible too."

He runs his thumb across your flushed cheek. "I’d love to do this again someday… if you want. Maybe somewhere more private next time, so I can take my time with you."

Biting your lower lip, you nod. "I’d like that. A lot, actually."

That night, back in your dorm, you realize something: during those hours with Jay, you didn’t think about Heeseung even once because you were completely lost in the moment — in his gentle touches, his warm voice, and the way he made you feel so good.

────────

The basketball team has just won a home game. The crowd is still roaring and the players are celebrating in the middle of the court. Sitting in the stands, you spot Ni-ki — Heeseung’s close friend and teammate. He’s younger than the others but carries himself with an easy, playful confidence.

When the court finally quiets down and the players start heading toward the locker rooms, you walk calmly through the internal hallways of the building, following the path that leads to the locker room area. To avoid being seen by Heeseung, you hide behind a pillar. From there, you have a perfect view of anyone leaving the locker room, while people passing through the hallway are unlikely to notice you.

A few minutes pass before the door opens. A group of players steps out, talking loudly, and Heeseung is right in the middle of them. You press yourself tighter against the pillar, holding your breath as he walks by, laughing at some joke.

More athletes leave after that until the hallway falls completely silent. Knowing most people have already gone and the risk of seeing Heeseung has passed, you finally step out of your hiding spot and walk to a brighter, more visible part of the corridor, right near the door.

When Ni-ki comes out, his eyes land on you almost immediately. He slows his steps, tilting his head with clear interest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No way. You actually waited? Most girls chase after the captain." He stops right in front of you, looking you up and down without even trying to hide it. "Damn, you look dangerous."

You feel a flutter in your stomach but smile back at him. "I thought the guy who kept stealing the ball and grinning like he owned the court deserved some attention tonight."

Ni-ki laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. "You’re bold, huh? I like that." He steps a little closer, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "So what’s your deal? Are you a basketball fan or did you just come here to make my day way more interesting?"

There’s a seductive tease in his voice — arrogant but fun. He clearly likes what he sees and isn’t shy about showing it. "Because if you’re here for me, you should probably tell me your name before I start calling you ‘mine’ in front of the whole team."

If you play this right, he might casually mention you to the team later, and Heeseung would hear your name and maybe get curious. But if you mess up and come across as too eager or awkward, Ni-ki could joke about it in the locker room and ruin everything before you even get close. Still, you trust yourself. "It’s y/n."

"y/n," he repeats, like he’s savoring the sound. "Nice. It suits you. So, y/n… do you always wait outside the locker rooms after games looking this good, or did I just get lucky today?"

"Only when the player on the court is showing off like he’s trying to impress someone."

Ni-ki moves even closer. "Ah, so you were really watching me? Careful, I might get too cocky." He tilts his head, his eyes tracing your face before dropping to your lips. "Or maybe that’s exactly what you want. To make me arrogant enough to do something about the pretty girl who showed up just for me."

His gaze continues sliding down from your lips, appreciating the way your top hugs your body. Suddenly, Ni-ki glances around, checking if anyone is nearby. The hallway is empty. Without warning, he grabs your hand with a grin. "Come with me for a second."

He pulls you into the locker room, but not near the entrance. He keeps guiding you deeper inside, past a small entryway and around the corner of the main area, where he presses your body against the wall. The tension that has been building finally snaps. Cupping your face with one hand, he kisses you with raw hunger — his lips moving against yours with confidence as his tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, a cocky little smirk on his face. "Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined."

He presses you harder against the wall and slides one thigh between your legs, creating just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. "You’re so fucking addictive." His hands slip under your top, warm palms gliding over your skin and sending shivers through you.

Suddenly, Ni-ki drops to his knees in front of you, looking up with an even more mischievous smile. "I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you waiting outside." His hands move quickly, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down along with your panties. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.

Ni-ki presses his mouth against your pussy like he’s starving for it — voracious and rough. His tongue licks long, wet stripes from your entrance up to your clit before swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God — Ni-ki…" you moan, one hand flying to his messy hair.

He moans against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "You taste so good." His tongue dives inside you, licking and savoring every inch like he can’t get enough. Messy and eager, his lips suck on your folds before focusing back on your clit with small, hungry sucks and licks.

He eats you out like he wants to memorize every taste, every reaction — switching between long, slow licks that make your toes curl and faster movements that force you to bite your lip to stay quiet.

"Ni-ki… that feels so good." He looks up at you while his mouth works, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart for him.

Ni-ki murmurs in response and doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue moves fast. "Ni-ki… fuck, right there," you gasp, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair as your hips start grinding against his face.

He slides two fingers inside you while his tongue keeps working your clit, curling them instantly against that perfect spot.

Your breathing turns ragged, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. "I… I’m gonna—" you try to warn him, voice breaking, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sucks harder on your clit and pumps his fingers faster.

Your whole body locks up for a second before a violent tremor runs through you. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as your clit pulses wildly against his tongue.

Ni-ki groans proudly against you, licking you through every wave, addicted to the way you fall apart. He keeps going until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he finally pull back, lips glossy and swollen. "Shit, you come so beautifully."

He rises to his feet with a satisfied smirk and pulls you into another kiss so you can taste yourself on his tongue, his hands grip your waist, pressing your body against his. "You’re so sweet. I could eat you every day, all day long."

You open your mouth to respond, but the metallic click of the main door handle cuts through the air.

You both freeze and footsteps echo on the tiled floor, accompanied by a familiar voice humming something.

It’s Jungwon — another teammate, the point guard.

"Shit." Ni-ki quickly grabs your hand and pulls you toward the shower area with its open stalls and curtains. Yanking one curtain aside, he guides you inside, and presses your back against the cold tiled wall.

The footsteps grow louder, closer. "Hey, is anyone still in here?" Jungwon’s voice sounds casual, like he heard something and decided to check.

Ni-ki presses a finger to your lips, leaning in so close that his warm breath brushes your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispers, almost inaudible.

Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but Ni-ki doesn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, the risk seems to excite him even more. Jungwon’s footsteps get closer, and right at that exact moment, Ni-ki pushes two fingers inside you without any warning. Your eyes widen and a sharp gasp almost escapes before you bite down hard on your lip.

He curls his fingers instantly, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with ease, a small mischievous smirk on his face as he watches your reaction. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, while his thumb presses firmly against your swollen clit.

Trembling violently, you bury your face in his neck, desperately trying to muffle the moans threatening to spill out. "Shhh," Ni-ki whispers right against your ear, but his fingers don’t stop — deep, curling thrusts that make your knees buckle. "You’re squeezing me so tight. Does almost getting caught turn you on?"

You nod frantically and bite down on his shoulder through his shirt to stay quiet as Jungwon moves just a few meters away. Ni-ki’s thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster, making your thighs shake and your walls flutter uncontrollably around him as you fight to stay silent. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.

Jungwon’s voice echoes again, closer this time. "I heard noises coming from here. Who the hell is in here?"

Noticing Jungwon getting closer, Ni-ki curls his fingers harder, rubbing your sweet spot relentlessly while his thumb works your clit in fast, precise circles. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a silent scream against his neck as pleasure peaks. Your pussy clenches violently around his fingers, dripping as waves of spasms run through you.

Finally, Jungwon’s footsteps retreat. The door opens and closes again. The second it does, Ni-ki pulls his fingers out and kisses you hard, swallowing the broken moan that finally escapes you.

Without breaking the kiss, he tugs down his basketball shorts and boxers in one quick motion, freeing his hard, thick, flushed cock. It’s already leaking at the tip from how turned on he is after eating you out and fingering you.

You reach for him without thinking — and without really knowing what you’re doing — wrapping your hand around his length and stroking slowly at first. You feel the heat and the way he pulses hot against your palm as your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the precum. "You’re so hard… I can feel how much you want this."

"Yeah? Then let me have you." He quickly helps you pull your jeans and panties all the way down your legs, kicking them aside before pressing you against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. One hand grips your thigh as he lines himself up and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, burying his cock deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch makes you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming fullness after everything that’s already happened.

He fucks you against the wall with firm, deep thrusts, his hips snapping forward while he holds you in place. "Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you harder, each movement pressing you against the tiles. "So wet and tight."

"Ni-ki… you’re so deep," your voice trembles with pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Don’t stop… it feels so good."

He keeps going like that for a while, fucking you firmly against the wall with his hands gripping your ass. But soon the position isn’t enough for him, with a low grunt, he suddenly lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you let out a muffled cry as he starts bouncing you on his cock, thrusting up with hungry movements that make your breasts bounce inside your top.

"Yes, like that… it feels so good," you moan while he fucks you in the air, your back pressed against the wall for leverage as he holds you like you’re weightless. The sensation is intense, every thrust hits so deep it makes your head spin and your toes curl.

"Open your mouth." He brings two fingers to your lips. "Suck them for me. I want to feel that pretty mouth while I fuck you."

You part your lips obediently and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them eagerly while he keeps thrusting into you. His cock twitches at the feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers, the taste of you still lingers on them from earlier, making you moan around them.

"That’s it," he says, eyes locked on your face as he watches you suck his fingers while bouncing you on his cock. "You look so fucking hot like this. Keep sucking just like that."

You do exactly that, swirling your tongue and sucking harder as he drives deep inside you, clearly losing himself in how good it feels.

You pull off his fingers with a wet pop and gasp, "Ni-ki… I’m so close again. I’m gonna come."

With a mischievous smirk, he pushes his fingers back into your mouth, moving them in time with his cock as he fucks you harder against the wall. "Then come for me again. I want to feel you squeezing my cock while you suck my fingers."

The dirty words combined with his relentless pace finally push you over the edge. You moan loudly around his fingers as your legs tighten around his waist. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you, making your entire body shake in his arms.

Ni-ki groans at the feeling of you coming and his thrusts turn erratic. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard inside you, pulsing with hot spurts while holding you firmly against the wall.

After a moment, he finally lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor again, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, he stays nestled inside your heat, kissing you slowly and almost lazily, like he isn’t ready to end the moment yet. "Fuck… that was incredible. And honestly? That was the best post-game sex I’ve ever had. No joke. I’m gonna be thinking about this pussy for days."

You let out a soft giggle, cheeks burning. "Really? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly after this."

Surprisingly gentle, he laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek before finally pulling out slowly. Both of you hiss at the loss. "That’s actually great. Means you’ll be thinking about me too. When can we do this again? After the next game, or maybe after every practice?"

────────

​The basketball team had crushed their biggest rival that night, and the victory party at the massive off-campus house is going to be loud, chaotic, and packed with people. This is the moment you’ve been carefully preparing for with every practice session and every new experience. Tonight is the night.

You choose a bold black dress that clings to your body like a second skin, short enough to show off your legs and thighs, with a neckline that reveals just enough to be daring. Your hair is styled exactly the way you like it, and your makeup is flawless, enhancing your features in a way that makes you feel powerful. When you look in the mirror, you look like someone who belongs in Heeseung’s world.

When you arrive at the party, the music is already pulsing through the walls, bodies are moving everywhere, and the air smells like alcohol and sweat. Your eyes scan the room until they find him.

Heeseung is sitting on the large couch in the main room like he owns the place — which he basically does. Two girls are practically draped over him. One is half in his lap, her hand resting possessively on his chest, while he has one arm casually around the other girl, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder as he talks to his teammates.

Spotting Ni-ki nearby, chatting with some of the other players, you walk toward him with confident steps because you aren’t going straight to Heeseung. No — you’re going to make him come to you. Ni-ki’s eyes light up with immediate recognition and interest.

"I can’t believe you’re here," he says with a grin as he pulls you into a side hug that lasts a second longer than necessary. "You look dangerous tonight. Come here, I want you to meet some of the guys."

You laugh softly and stay close to him, letting him introduce you to some of his teammates, including Jungwon. Your cheeks heat up as you remember that moment in the locker room, and when you glance to the side, Heeseung is watching — the girls are still around him, but his eyes are locked on you, following every move you make.

Ni-ki leans in and whispers in your ear, "You know, I still can’t stop thinking about that day in the locker room. Jungwon almost catching us… My fingers buried so deep inside you while you tried so hard not to moan. I’ve been replaying that shit all week."

Your face flushes instantly and the memory makes your thighs press together in a rush of heat. "Ni-ki…" you whisper back, half embarrassed and half turned on, "you can’t just say that here."

You’re too focused on Ni-ki to notice Heeseung pushing the girl off his lap, standing up, and walking over with his usual confidence. He stops right in front of you, his gaze shifting between you and Ni-ki, who is still grinning widely.

"What’s so funny over here?" Heeseung asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You two look like you’re sharing secrets."

You freeze for a second before answering quickly, a little too fast. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Come on. Nothing stays hidden from the captain, especially when my teammate is standing here grinning like an idiot and you’re looking all flustered." He steps closer, his full attention now on you. "Gonna tell me what got you so worked up, pretty?"

Ni-ki’s playful smile fades, replaced by something closer to jealousy as he watches the captain focus entirely on you. "We're just messing around. It's fun talking to y/n, that's all."

Heeseung looks you up and down slowly, taking in the way the dress hugs every curve of your body. "Want a drink? I can’t have you standing here empty-handed."

"Yeah… I’d like that."

Ni-ki’s jaw tightens as he glances between the two of you, clearly not happy about being sidelined, but he knows better than to push it with Heeseung. "Catch you later, y/n," he says, giving you one last look filled with a mix of jealousy and desire before disappearing into the crowd.

Now it’s just you and Heeseung.

He guides you toward the kitchen, his hand lightly brushing your lower back. “So… y/n,” he says, savoring your name like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. "You show up at my party looking like sin, talking to my boy while wearing this little dress that makes everyone wonder what you’re hiding underneath." A mischievous smile curves his lips as his eyes flick to your mouth for a moment. "You gonna let me find out, or are you just here to tease?"

You feel yourself getting wet just from the way he’s looking at you — that hungry stare and confident tone making your panties stick to you. "Talking about what I’m hiding under this dress already? We just got to the kitchen… but yeah, I might let you discover it." Your voice comes out bold because you refuse to sound nervous now, after waiting so long for this moment.

Deep down, all you can think about is how badly you want him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless.

Heeseung’s smile deepens, a flash of satisfaction crossing his face. He glances around to make sure no one is paying too much attention, then leans in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "There’s an empty room upstairs. Third door on the left, go up in a few minutes. I’ll follow right after so no one notices."

He pulls back, sliding his hand slowly along your waist before disappearing into the crowd. You wait a few minutes, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves, but it barely helps — the ache between your legs only grows with every passing second. After exactly five minutes, you head up the stairs and find the third door already slightly ajar. You step inside with shaky, anticipatory breaths.

Moments later, Heeseung appears. He closes the door firmly behind him and locks it.

The second the lock clicks, he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, intense kiss. He bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, then does it again harder just to hear you whimper.

His hands slide down to grip your ass firmly under the dress, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants.

"Fuck, this ass feels even better than it looks in that dress," he growls against your mouth, squeezing harder and spreading your cheeks. The kiss deepens, his tongue dominating yours while he continues kneading and groping your ass like he can’t get enough.

Heeseung’s mischievous smirk returns when he hears you moan into the kiss. He doesn’t break it as he walks you backward toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pushes you down and climbs on top of you.

A string of saliva connects his lips to yours when he pulls back to strip your dress off in one quick motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of your body.

"Look at you… such a pretty little slut, all dressed up for who? For me?" His hands make quick work of unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before he drags your panties down your legs and throws them away too, leaving you completely naked and exposed for him.

With a firm hand, Heeseung spreads your legs wide, getting a perfect view of your glistening, dripping pussy. "Already so wet for me, but it’s not enough." Suddenly he leans down and spits directly on your pussy, the warm string of saliva hitting your clit and dripping down your folds. The sight makes his rock-hard cock twitch inside his pants so he does it again, spitting a second time, then spreads it with two fingers, rubbing the wetness all over. "Gonna get this pussy nice and sloppy for me."

You moan loudly at the filthy feeling of his saliva sliding through your folds — hips jerk while your pussy clenches around nothing.

Heeseung drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke that makes you gasp. When you do, he laughs against you — the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.

"You taste so fucking good," he says before diving back in. He eats you out messily, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping down to push inside you, savoring every drop of your arousal mixed with his spit.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly as the overwhelming sensation hits you. "Heeseung, that feels incredible…"

He keeps going, licking deeper inside you while his nose brushes against your clit, but suddenly he pulls back, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. Without warning, he brings his hand down in a sharp, wet slap against your soaked pussy, the sting mixed with pleasure makes you cry out loudly. "Holy fuck, Heeseung."

"You like that too?" He slaps your pussy again, harder this time, hitting your folds and swollen clit. "Such a dirty girl, getting even wetter when I slap this pretty pussy."

"Yes— God, yes," you moan, thighs trembling. "It burns, but it feels so good at the same time."

That encourages him to give you another slap and right after, he buries his face between your legs again, sucking hard on your clit while two thick fingers push inside you. He fingers you mercilessly, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over as his tongue works your clit. "Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking my fingers like a good little slut for me."

He spits on your clit again, spreading the saliva with his tongue before adding a third finger, stretching you deliciously while pumping them faster and harder. All you can do is moan, your thighs shaking violently around his head. "Heeseung, I’m getting close… please don’t stop."

He obeys, alternating between long licks, hard sucks on your clit, deep thrusts of his fingers, and firm slaps that make your pussy burn and throb. "I’m gonna come," you moan, arching your back off the bed.

"Then come for me." Your entire body tenses, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as spasms rip through you. You come hard with a loud cry, thighs trembling violently around his head. But Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing out your pleasure until you’re oversensitive and whimpering.

When he finally pulls back with glossy lips and chin, he kisses you again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. "Get on your knees for me," he commands against your lips. "I want that pretty mouth around my cock."

It’s time to put into practice what Sunghoon taught you about sucking dick.

With a confident little smile, you gently push him so he lies on his back. Once he does, you position yourself between his legs and reach for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. He lifts his hips to help as you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up thick, hard, and leaking precum, making your mouth water at the sight.

You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, lean in, and press a soft kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, drawing a shaky breath from Heeseung. "That’s it… suck me like a good girl."

Feeling confident, you take him into your mouth and slowly suck on the head, swirling your tongue around it while savoring the precum there. Then you take him deeper, bobbing your head as your hand strokes what doesn’t fit, your movements growing smoother as you find the right rhythm. "Fuck… your mouth feels so good."

His praise encourages you to take him even deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. A wet choking sound escapes as your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you stay there for a moment, breathing through your nose the way Sunghoon taught you, before sliding back up and sinking down again.

Heeseung grabs your hair and tightens his grip as a needy groan escapes his throat. "Shit, that’s… ahh—"

You keep going, moving your head faster and sucking harder while your hand twists around the base, making his thighs tense and another desperate moan slip out.

It’s hard to believe that Heeseung, the guy everyone on campus talks about, the one with a reputation for being experienced and dominant, is moaning and whimpering under your mouth. It’s unexpected, but not in a bad way, especially because your pussy clenches around nothing every time he makes those sounds.

You pull back a little, sucking on the head while stroking him faster with your hand, which draws another broken moan from him. "Yes— fuck, yes, baby."

Wanting to pull even more reactions from him, you take him deep into your mouth again, gagging softly around his length as your head moves faster. Saliva drips down his entire shaft and onto your hand, making everything slick and messy.

Heeseung’s moans grow louder, breathier, and more frequent. "Fuck, I… I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop… I’m so close, baby."

You moan around him and suck harder until his thighs start to tremble. "Fuck… fuck—!" His voice cracks as the orgasm finally hits him.

His cock pulses hot and hard on your tongue, releasing thick jets of cum into your mouth. You try to swallow as much as you can, continuing to suck him through every last spasm and moan.

When you finally pull off his cock with a wet pop, Heeseung moves fast. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you — the whimpering guy from moments ago is gone. Now his eyes are filled with raw hunger.

"I’m not done with you yet." With a firm hand, he spreads your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. "Now I’m going to fuck you properly."

You blink at him, confused and surprised by the sudden shift because seconds ago he was moaning and almost begging under your mouth, and now he’s trying to act like the dominant guy everyone talks about.

He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds, coating himself with your arousal. Without warning, he thrusts into you hard in one brutal stroke, stretching you around his thick length.

The sudden fullness makes you cry out loudly, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my God — Heeseung!" The stretch feels so good, especially while you’re still sensitive from coming earlier.

He fucks you hard and deep from the very first thrust, his hips slamming against yours with relentless strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, this pussy is so wet and greedy," he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss while one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. He holds it for a few seconds before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air. "Look at you, sucking my cock like a good little slut. You love being used like this, don’t you?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, your voice breaking under the pressure of his hand. "You’re so deep inside me. It feels so good, Heeseung."

He chokes you again, a little harder this time, and the mix of pleasure and lack of air makes your head spin deliciously.

Heeseung pushes your legs back toward your chest, folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper. The new angle makes his cock hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, causing your eyes to roll back.

When he finally releases your throat, you gasp desperately for air, moaning loudly as he keeps hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Please… harder. I can take it."

Heeseung lets out a needy groan at your words, his hips stuttering for half a second before he gives you exactly what you asked for. He fucks you harder, rougher, driving his cock into you with punishing depth. The sound of skin slapping against skin grows louder and wetter as he pounds into you, pressing your body into the mattress.

Just as your next orgasm starts to build, he suddenly slows down, keeping his cock buried deep inside you but barely moving. "Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so, slut."

You whine desperately, trying to lift your hips for more friction. "Please, Heeseung… I need to come. I’m so close already. Don’t stop— I’ve been so good."

He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he starts thrusting with slow, teasing rolls of his hips. "Beg better than that, baby. I want to hear how badly you need it."

You’re a complete mess underneath him, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in your eyes. "Please… I’ll be so good for you. Just let me come on your cock, please. I need it so bad— I can’t take this teasing anymore."

Heeseung groans, but the sound turns into a needy moan as your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder again, his hand returning to your throat. But he isn’t done teasing you yet, so he edges you two more times — bringing you right to the brink with deep, brutal thrusts only to slow down and leave you whimpering and empty.

On the third time, you’re crying and babbling nonstop. "Heeseung… please, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts so good… I need to come. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come on your cock."

"Fuck… you look so pretty when you beg," he groans, his voice rough with his own need to come. He thrusts into you with brutal force, tightening his hand around your throat again while his hips move relentlessly. "Come then. Come all over my cock like the desperate slut you are. Let me feel you."

Your entire body seizes underneath him. Your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you, screaming his name.

Heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as your pussy milks him. "Fuck, that’s it. Good girl… you’re squeezing me so tight." A few more brutal, deep thrusts and he buries himself as deep as possible, coming hard inside you with thick, hot pulses.

Lying under him with your heart racing and breath coming in short, heavy bursts, his cock still buried deep inside you, your mind keeps returning to the sounds he made minutes ago — those desperate, broken moans and whimpers when you had him in your mouth.

Something about hearing him lose control like that makes heat pool low in your belly. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gather your courage, place a hand on his chest, and push him gently but firmly. "My turn to break you now. I want to hear you moaning under me." You say as you swing your leg over his waist, straddling him.

Heeseung’s breath hitches as his cock, already hardening again beneath you, shows just how much he likes the shift in power. "Baby… fuck," he gasps, his hands reaching for your hips.

"Don’t touch unless I say so." You slap his hands away, then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, stroking him slowly and teasingly while rubbing the head up and down your cum-soaked pussy. "Look at you. The captain of the basketball team. Everyone on campus thinks you’re this untouchable stud who ruins girls and never gets ruined."

You sink down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your ass meets his thighs — the stretch making both of you moan. You stay completely still, clenching around him just to watch him squirm, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. Then you start moving your hips slowly, rubbing your clit against his pelvis. "Ahh— fuck… please don’t tease me."

You begin riding his cock properly, using everything you learned — deep movements, tight squeezes, and powerful bounces that make your ass slap against his thighs and your clit grind deliciously against his pelvis.

"Fuck, baby," he hisses, his hands flying to your hips, but you grab his wrists and push them away. You lean down so your breasts brush against his chest and his cock hits even deeper. "Don’t touch. Just take this pussy like a good boy. Got it, captain?"

Heeseung’s cock twitches hard inside you at your words, and a low, surprised moan escapes his throat. "Shit… yes," he groans, clearly turned on by the way you dominate him. "Use me, baby. Fuck me."

So this was the real Heeseung? A whimpering mess when someone takes control. All that arrogance on the court, all those girls throwing themselves at him, and here he is — moaning and shaking underneath you like he can’t handle how good your pussy feels around him.

You watch every reaction closely, mesmerized by the way his lips part, his breath coming in short, needy gasps every time you bounce and grind on him, and the broken moans slipping from his throat when you clench hard around his cock.

'God, he really is a whimperer,' you think, amazed by the sight as you bite your lip and ride him harder. "All that reputation and you’re crying because a girl is riding you. That’s kind of pathetic… but so fucking hot."

Heeseung lets out another broken moan, his hands desperately gripping the sheets since you won’t let him touch you. "Fuck— you’re killing me. Your pussy feels too good, I can’t… ah— slow down a little, please."

You laugh softly and keep riding him mercilessly, clenching around his cock rhythmically, rolling your hips in tight, dirty circles while bouncing faster and faster, making sure he feels every movement. "You’re going to take this like a good boy, captain."

Heeseung moans louder, letting his head fall back against the pillow as his body trembles beneath you. "Shit, you’re so mean. Please don’t stop. Your pussy is squeezing me so tight— fuck, I’m losing my mind."

You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs so he has the perfect view of his cock disappearing into your dripping pussy. "Look how deep you are," you moan, rolling your ass on him in small, obscene movements. "You like watching me use your cock like this, don’t you? Such a big, strong captain… and now you’re moaning under me."

The pleasure and the delicious sight of the untouchable Heeseung moaning and whimpering push you toward your own orgasm. "I’m gonna come," you gasp, leaning down to kiss him messily while still bouncing on his cock. "And you’re going to come with me, crybaby."

Heeseung moans loudly, the nickname making his cock twitch hard inside you. "Fuck… I’m coming!" His hips buck up to meet your bounces as thick jets of cum spill deep inside you once again.

You follow right behind him, your orgasm crashing over you as you keep riding him through both of your peaks, milking every last drop from his cock.

"Don’t tell anyone about this," he begs breathlessly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That I’m… like this. Please. This is our secret, okay? Just between us."

────────

Jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, you clench around his cock and roll your hips in those filthy, perfected movements. His broken moans fill the room as you bounce faster, grinding harder against him. Suddenly, your phone starts ringing on the nightstand, Ni-ki’s name lighting up the screen.

You slow your movements, reaching over to answer the call while still sitting on Jake’s cock. "Hey," you sigh, slightly breathless.

Jake groans, his hips twitching desperately. "Babe… please don’t stop," his voice is full of need. "I was so close… keep going, please."

You cover his mouth with your hand to silence him to continue the call. Ni-ki sounds frustrated on the other end. "You free right now? We lost tonight and I’m pissed. Come to my dorm… I need that pretty pussy to help me forget this shit game."

"I can come over soon," you say, trying to keep your voice steady while rolling your hips on Jake. "Give me a bit."

"Good. Don’t take too long. I really need to fuck you," Ni-ki says before hanging up.

You drop the phone and start riding Jake again. "Sorry about that. Now be a good boy and come for me.

Later that night, you’re on all fours in Ni-ki’s dorm as he fucks you hard from behind. His hips slam against your ass with deep, aggressive thrusts.

In the middle of a particularly rough stroke, he suddenly asks, "I saw you leaving the hockey rink the other day. What the hell were you doing there?"

You moan and push back to meet his thrusts. "None of your business."

Ni-ki’s hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud smack. The sharp sting makes you clench around his cock and moan louder. He slaps you again, even harder. "Wrong answer."

"Again," you moan, arching your back. "I like it."

Ni-ki laughs darkly and keeps spanking you repeatedly while fucking you harder, his palm leaving red marks on your ass as he pounds into you until both of you come hard.

The next afternoon, you’re on your knees in Jay’s dorm with his huge cock stretching your mouth as you suck him. Jay has one hand gently stroking your hair, looking down at you with proud eyes.

"You’re doing so well. Taking me so deep like this… you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, angel."

You relax your throat, taking him as deep as you can, sucking harder, using every technique you’ve learned. Jay groans, his fingers sliding gently through your hair.

"Fuck… you’re incredible. Such a good girl for me. Keep going, you’re making me feel so good."

He keeps praising you the whole time, soft and sincere, until he finally comes down your throat with a soft, shaky groan, lovingly stroking your cheek as you swallow everything.

When you leave Jay’s room, still a little flushed and disheveled, you run straight into Sunghoon in the hallway. He looks at you, then at Jay’s door behind you, and his expression darkens instantly.

"What the fuck were you doing in there?"

You don’t answer, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let you. Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his own dorm, slamming the door behind you. He fucks you hard and jealous, bending you over the desk, taking you from behind with brutal, possessive thrusts.

"You’ve been fucking everyone lately, haven’t you?" he growls, driving deep and angry. "Greedy little slut."

You moan loudly, loving the jealous tone in his voice.

During the rough thrusts, your phone starts vibrating on the desk — it’s Heeseung sending message after message.

Heeseung:

I can’t stop thinking about that night with you.

Come over.

Baby, answer me.

I know you’re getting these.

Don’t play games with me.

Stop fucking ignoring me.

Sunghoon notices the constant buzzing, picks up the phone, uses your face to unlock it, and opens the chat. With a dark, possessive smile, he takes a photo of your flushed, teary-eyed, moaning face while he fucks you hard from behind and sends it to Heeseung with the caption: "She’s busy."

He tosses the phone aside and fucks you even harder after that.

────────

You finally understand why Heeseung never wants to be tied to just one person. Having options is liberating. Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung — each one offers something different: different rhythms, different kinds of pleasure, different versions of yourself. You don’t have to choose just one because you can have them all. Now you understand Heeseung’s lifestyle — it’s freeing.

And you realize you want that freedom too.

Thank you for reading! and a special thanks to everyone who asked to be tagged <3

@nithxhoon @megamatt43 @ameliaxantanova @mychemicalrawrmance @pradacava @2dolcee @wonwisps @aeri-xo @leavinglifecrazy @honeymoonave777 @cherrywOn @ruby-0021 @sosocide

[luvisour]

this is the most insane video of enhypen ever

[bellaflippy]

angels dance

pairing ✧˖°. brothersbsf!riki x jays sister!reader (f) part 2 -> halos and hands

synopsis ✧˖°.  you sneak downstairs to your brothers halloween party dressed as an angel and run into his best friend riki. after jay finds you, riki carries you upstairs and convinces you to stay with him instead of going back to the party. drinks, a blunt, and tension lead to your first real time with the hung, cocky boy who purrs like a puma and chokes you while he claims you as his.

contains ✧˖°. explicit sexual content ; age gap ; inexperienced reader ; hung riki ; cocky riki ; purring/growling kink ; choking ; breath play ; halloween party setting ; smoking weed ; drinking ; brother's best friend ; pet names (angel, doll, ect) ; praise kink ; dirty talk ; rough sex ; protected sex (never socket an unwrapped rocket!!) ; possessive behavior ; aftercare ; emotional begging ; jay finding them ; sexual tension ; grinding/dancing ; oral sex ; fingering ; multiple orgasms ; wc: 6.6k ; i probably missed some.. just read it pls

notes ✧˖°. i actualy fw this SO HARDDD OMGGGG!! this was based off this ask, thank you SO much @orangebloodrikibiggesthyper you truly cooked so hard with this. warning: i DID listen to pnd while writing this... im horny as hell LMFAO. PLS ENJOY :)

you stand in front of your mirror for the third time, turning sideways to check how the skirt falls.

the angel costume had been an impulse buy, something you grabbed at the costume shop two days ago when you realized jay was actually going through with this party.

white lace everywhere, a bodice that hugs your chest more than youre used to, and a skirt that flares out in layers of tulle. it hits mid thigh, shorter than anything your parents let you wear to school, but youre eighteen now. youre an adult. you can wear what you want.

the halo sits on your head, held up by a thin wire headband, and the wings strap around your shoulders, white feathers that brush against your lower back when you move.

you look... you look pretty, actually. pretty and innocent and sweet.

which is exactly why jay is going to lose his mind.

but thats part of the appeal, isnt it? the thought of your older brothers face when he sees you downstairs, in his space, at his party. the way his jaw will tighten and his eyes will narrow. the way hell try to order you back upstairs like youre still twelve.

youre not twelve anymore. youre eighteen, youre legal, and you want to see what a real party looks like.

the music starts around nine, thumping bass that vibrates through your floorboards and into your bones. youve been in your room for two hours, listening to the sounds of people arriving, laughter echoing up the stairs, bottles clinking. you checked your phone forty minutes ago and saw a text from jay

jay

stay upstairs. seriously. dont come down

you didnt reply.

now its ten thirty, and the party is in full swing. you can hear shouting, someone singing badly to a song you recognize, the general chaos of too many people in one space. you take a deep breath, adjust your halo one last time, and open your bedroom door.

the hallway is dark, lit only by the orange string lights jay hung earlier. you pad down the carpet in your white ankle boots, heart hammering so hard you can feel it in your throat. halfway down the stairs, you pause and peek over the railing.

the living room is transformed. the furniture has been pushed against the walls, the coffee table is covered in red cups and bottles, and the floor is packed with bodies. someone brought a fog machine, and it pumps thick white mist that swirls around peoples legs.

the lights are dim, purple and orange and red, casting everything in strange shadows. strobe lights flicker in the corner, making the dancers look like theyre moving in stop motion.

you spot jay near the kitchen entrance, dressed as a vampire with a cape and fake blood dripping from his mouth. hes laughing at something, a cup in his hand, surrounded by his friends. he looks happy, relaxed, completely unaware that youre about to crash his night.

you take the last few stairs quickly, before you can change your mind, and slip into the crowd.

the music is loud, some remix with a heavy bass line that makes your chest vibrate. the air smells like sweat and cheap beer and someones vanilla perfume. you weave through dancing bodies, murmuring "sorry" when you bump into a guy dressed as a zombie, keeping your head down and your wings tucked close.

the kitchen is slightly less crowded, and you make your way toward the counter where someone set up a makeshift bar.

youre not planning to drink much, just enough to look like you belong. you reach for a cup, and thats when you hear it.

"well, well, well."

the voice is low and smooth and comes from directly behind you. you freeze, cup halfway to your lips, and turn slowly.

riki is leaning against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest, looking completely at ease in a pair of black jeans and a black button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

hes drawn stitches across his cheeks and forehead in silver marker, giving him a frankenstein vibe, but the effect is less monster and more... something else. something that makes your stomach flip.

hes twenty now, only two years older than you, but sometimes he seems so much more grown up.

hes been jays best friend since middle school, has practically grown up in your house. youve known him for years, watched him go from a skinny kid to the tall, lean man standing in front of you now.

"riki," you breathe. "hey."

"hey?" he repeats, one eyebrow arching up. he pushes off the fridge and steps closer, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. theyre dark in the dim light, fixed on your face with an intensity that makes you want to squirm. "thats all youve got? hey?"

"what do you want me to say?" you ask, trying to sound confident even as your voice wavers.

"how about explaining why youre down here when jay specifically told you to stay upstairs?" he stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell his cologne, something woodsy and warm.

"how about telling me why youre dressed like that, looking like a little lamb wandering into a wolves den?"

"i look fine," you say, lifting your chin.

"you look..." his gaze drags down your body, slow and deliberate, from your halo to your heeled boots. he takes his time, his eyes lingering on your chest, your waist, your legs. "you look like trouble, angel. like you walked straight out of a dream and into a nightmare."

"i can handle myself," you say, but the words dont sound as certain as you want them to.

"can you?" he reaches out, his fingers brushing your cheek, and you freeze. his touch is warm, calloused, and he traces the edge of your jaw with his thumb. "look at you. all dressed in white. pure and sweet and innocent. do you have any idea what half the guys down here are thinking right now? do you know what they want to do to a pretty little thing like you?"

"riki," you whisper, your face heating.

"you shouldnt be here," he says softly, his thumb moving to trace your lower lip. he makes a low sound in his throat, almost like a purr, pleased and rumbly. "jay would lose his mind. hes already looking for you, you know. asked me ten minutes ago if id seen his sister. said he saw someone in white near the stairs and got worried."

panic spikes through you. "he saw me?"

"he saw someone," riki corrects, his hand sliding down to cup your jaw. "but he doesnt know it was you. not yet. hes making the rounds, checking the bathrooms. youve got maybe five minutes before he figures it out."

"what do i do?" you ask, your voice small.

riki studies you for a long moment, his thumb stroking your cheek. then he sighs, a soft sound that seems to come from deep in his chest. "come with me," he says, taking your hand. his fingers thread through yours, easy and confident. "ill keep you safe. but you have to do what i say. can you do that, doll? can you be good for me?"

the petname sends a shiver down your spine. "yes," you whisper. "ill be good."

"thats my girl," he murmurs, and that low purr rumbles in his throat again. he leads you through the crowd.

he keeps you close, his body shielding you from view, his hand tight on yours. he navigates the party like he knows every corner, every hiding spot, pulling you into the small space between the fridge and the wall where the shadows are thickest. from here, you can see the kitchen entrance, can watch jay as he moves through the room, his vampire cape swirling around him.

"hes going to find me," you whisper, pressing yourself against the wall.

"not if i can help it," riki says. hes standing in front of you, his arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. "but if he does, you let me do the talking. you dont say a word. you just look pretty and keep your mouth shut. can you do that, sweetheart?"

"yes," you breathe, looking up at him.

"good girl," he says, and that purring sound vibrates again, deeper this time. his eyes drop to your mouth.

he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "you know," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, "you shouldve dressed up as a doll instead of an angel. wouldve suited you better."

you pull back slightly, confused. "what?"

"a doll," he repeats, his gaze roaming over your face. "all pretty and fragile, waiting for someone to pick you up and play with you. thats what you look like, isnt it? a little doll that wandered into the wrong toy box. my pretty little doll."

the words send another shiver through you, and youre not sure if its from the air conditioning or the way hes looking at you. "thats creepy, riki."

"is it?" he laughs, a low sound that you feel more than hear, almost like a growl. "maybe. but im not wrong. you look like you need someone to take care of you. someone to keep you safe and put you back on the shelf when the games over."

"and thats you?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the music. "youre going to take care of me?"

"if you let me," he says, his eyes serious now. "if you trust me."

before you can answer, jays voice cuts through the noise, calling for heeseung, and riki blinks, pulling back slightly. "hes getting closer," he murmurs. "stay here. dont move."

he pushes away from the wall and steps into the kitchen, intercepting jay before he can get too close to your hiding spot. you cant hear what theyre saying over the music, but you see jay gesture sharply, his expression frustrated, and riki nod, clapping him on the shoulder. after a minute, jay turns and walks back toward the living room, and riki returns to you, his expression unreadable.

"what did you tell him?" you ask.

"told him i saw you upstairs, in your room, asleep," riki says, taking your hand again. "bought you some time. but hes suspicious. hes going to check eventually."

"what do we do?"

riki looks down at you, his gaze softening slightly. "we get you out of here. come on."

he leads you through the kitchen, but instead of going toward the back door, he turns toward the living room. "riki," you hiss, pulling back. "jay is in there."

"exactly," he says. "hes looking in the bathrooms, the porch, the garage. he wont expect you to be in the middle of the crowd. sometimes the best hiding spot is right in plain sight."

he pulls you into the mass of dancing bodies, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, shielding you from view. you can feel his chest against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he sways with you to the music.

"just relax," he murmurs in your ear. "look like youre having fun. like you belong here."

you try to do as he says, letting your body move with his, your hips swaying to the beat. his hands stay on your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against the fabric of your skirt. you feel dizzy, overwhelmed by the music and the heat and the feel of him pressed against you. you can feel something hard against your lower back, thick and heavy even through his jeans, and your face heats as you realize what it is.

"thats it, angel," he whispers, grinding slightly against you, letting you feel how big he is. "just like that. youre doing so good."

you lose track of time, dancing with him, his body guiding yours. he gets you a drink, something pink and sweet in a plastic cup, and you sip it while he keeps his arms around you, his presence a wall between you and the rest of the world. he calls you doll when he thinks youre being cute, angel when he thinks youre being naive, sweetheart when hes being tender. the names blend together, wrapping around you like a blanket.

at one point, he spins you around to face him, his hands on your hips, and you look up at him, breathless. "youre beautiful," he says, his voice barely audible over the bass. "you know that? been staring at you all night. couldnt help myself."

"riki," you breathe, your heart hammering.

"my pretty little doll," he murmurs, his forehead dropping to yours. "my sweet angel. what are you doing to me?"

you dont get a chance to answer, because thats when you hear it.

"riki."

the voice cracks through the noise like a whip, and you both freeze. jay stands at the edge of the dance floor, his vampire cape slightly askew, his eyes wide and then narrowing dangerously as he takes in the scene. you pressed against riki, his hands on your hips, your empty cup on the floor beside you.

"oh, shit," you breathe.

"jay," riki says, his voice calm, almost lazy. he doesnt move his hands from your waist. "whats up?"

"whats up?" jay strides across the floor, ignoring the people who scatter out of his way. he stops in front of you, his jaw tight. "ive been looking everywhere for you. heeseung said he saw someone in white near the stairs an hour ago. i knew it was you. i told you to stay upstairs."

"i'm sorry," you start, but jay isn't listening.

"and you," he whips around to face riki, his voice rising. "i told you. i specifically told you. if you see her, if you see my sister at this party, you bring her upstairs. immediately. thats what you said youd do."

the area around you has gone quiet, people watching the scene unfold with the morbid fascination of drunk partygoers sensing drama.

riki straightens up, finally dropping his hands from your waist. he looks at jay, then at you, then back at jay. "what do you think im doing?" he asks, his voice still infuriatingly calm.

"youre standing here dancing with her!" jay explodes. "shes drunk, riki. look at her. and youre just... youre just..."

"i'm watching her," riki says. "keeping her safe. which is more than i can say for you, since you let her wander down here in the first place."

jay opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. "just... just take her upstairs. please. throw her in her room or something. i can't deal with this right now."

"gladly," riki says.

before you can process what's happening, he moves. one second hes standing beside you, the next hes bending down and his shoulder is hitting your stomach. you let out a shriek as he lifts you, his arm wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady as he straightens up, dangling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"riki!" you gasp, your face burning as you realize your skirt has ridden up, your ass practically hanging out in your white lace panties. "put me down!"

"nope," he says, his hand settling possessively on the back of your thigh, his fingers dangerously close to where your skirt ends. "orders are orders."

"riki, please," you whimper, squirming, but he just tightens his grip.

"stop moving, doll," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. "unless you want everyone to see whats under that skirt."

you go still, mortified, as riki turns and carries you through the crowd. you can hear jay calling after him, something about locking you in, but the words blur together with the music and the blood rushing in your ears. riki's shoulder digs into your stomach with every step, his hand warm and firm on your thigh, and youre dizzy from the alcohol and the upside down position and the feel of his fingers so close to...

"here we are," he says, and then youre being lowered, your feet touching the floor of your bedroom. you stumble, grabbing his arm for balance, and he steadies you with a hand on your waist.

the door clicks shut behind him.

you stand there, breathing hard, your halo askew and your wings bent. your skirt is still hiked up, and you hastily tug it down, your face flaming. anger bubbles up in your chest, hot and sudden.

"why would you do that?" you demand, your voice shaking. "you said he wouldnt come over. you said wed be safe down there. i was having fun, riki. i was actually having fun for once."

riki blinks, surprised by your outburst. "y/n..."

"no," you say, backing away from him. "you promised. you said youd keep me safe and let me stay at the party. but the second jay told you to do something, you just... you just obeyed. you didnt even fight for me. you just picked me up like a child and carried me away."

"thats not fair," he says quietly.

"isnt it?" you cross your arms over your chest, your eyes pricking with tears. "i thought you were different. i thought you actually understood. but youre just like him. you just want to control me too."

riki is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "relax," he says softly. "wouldnt you rather have fun with me alone up here, instead of downstairs and being cautious of what youre doing?"

the question catches you off guard. "what?"

"wouldnt you rather be up here," he repeats, stepping closer, "away from all those people, away from your brother watching your every move, away from having to hide and sneak around... just you and me? wouldnt you rather that, doll? no rules. no jay. just us."

you stare at him, your anger faltering. "youre staying?"

"if you want me to," he says, stopping in front of you. "i can go back down. can tell jay im checking on you, make sure youre asleep. or..." he reaches out, his fingers tracing your jaw. "or i can stay. keep you company. make sure you dont get lonely. show you how much fun we can have, just the two of us."

your breath catches. "youd do that?"

"for you?" he pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. "id do anything for you, angel. havent you figured that out yet?"

you stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. the anger is gone now, replaced by something warmer, heavier. "okay," you breathe. "okay. stay."

his smile is slow, spreading across his face like honey. he makes that purring sound again, low and pleased. "thats my girl," he murmurs. "thats my good girl."

he pulls something from his back pocket with one hand and pulls out two small bottles of pink lemonade, the kind that comes in the glass bottles. then he reaches into his other pocket and produces a small baggie, the contents dark and pungent.

you eyes widen. "riki. is that...?"

"just a little something to help you relax," he says, his voice casual. "you ever smoked before, princess?"

"no," you admit. "ive been around it. but i never... i was always too scared."

"scared of what?"

"of losing control," you say quietly. "of doing something stupid."

riki is quiet for a moment. then he squeezes you gently. "you wont do anything stupid," he says. "not with me here. ill take care of you. i wont let anything bad happen. you trust me?"

you think about it. you think about all the years hes been in your life, all the times hes been kind to you, protective of you. you think about the way he looks at you, like youre precious, like youre his.

"yes," you whisper. "i trust you."

"good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "thats my sweet girl. well start slow, okay? just a little. enough to take the edge off."

he finds your lighter in your desk drawer, the one you use for candles, and rolls the blunt with practiced fingers. he lights it, the tip glowing orange, and holds it to your lips.

"just inhale a little," he instructs. "hold it. let it out slow."

you do as he says, the smoke burning your throat, making you cough. he laughs softly, a warm sound that vibrates against your back, and rubs circles on your arm.

"easy," he murmurs. "try again. smaller this time."

the second hit is easier, and by the third, youre holding the smoke in your lungs like he showed you, letting it out in a slow stream toward the ceiling. he takes a hit himself, his chest expanding against your back, and then offers it to you again.

"time for a drink," he says, opening one of the bottles and handing it to you. "thisll help with the burn."

you sip, the sweet liquid coating your throat, and he opens his own bottle. the two of you pass the blunt back and forth, sipping your drinks, and slowly the tension drains from your body. you feel floaty, warm, safe in the circle of his arms.

"how you feeling, angel?" he asks, his lips brushing your ear.

"good," you sigh, your head lolling back against his shoulder. "really good."

"yeah?" his hand slides down your arm, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "you look good. look relaxed. look pretty."

"you think im pretty?" you ask, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

"i think youre beautiful," he says, his voice serious. "think youre the prettiest girl ive ever seen. been thinking about you for years, you know. watching you grow up. waiting."

"waiting for what?"

"for you to be ready," he says. his hand moves to your thigh, his fingers tracing the hem of your skirt. "for you to want me like i want you."

your breath catches. "you want me?"

"so bad," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he makes a low growling sound, like a puma staking claim. "so fucking bad, doll. you have no idea. seeing you tonight, in this little outfit... do you know how hard it was not to drag you out of that party the second i saw you? how hard it was to keep my hands off you?"

"why did you?" you ask, turning your head to look at him. "why didnt you just...?"

"because youre jays sister," he says, his eyes meeting yours. "because youre younger. because you deserve better than some guy pawing at you in a dark corner. but mostly..." he swallows hard. "mostly because i wanted you to choose me. not because you were drunk or scared or caught up in the moment. but because you really wanted me."

"i do want you," you whisper, the words coming out braver than you feel. "i choose you, riki. i want you."

his eyes darken, his hand tightening on your thigh. "you dont know what youre saying, baby. youre high. youre drunk."

"i know exactly what im saying," you insist, turning more fully in his lap so youre facing him, your knees on either side of his hips. "i want you, riki. ive wanted you for so long. please."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling rapidly. then he groans, a sound torn from deep in his chest, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you down into a kiss.

its not gentle. its not sweet. its hungry, desperate, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you, his fingers tangling in your hair, knocking your halo to the floor. you whimper into his mouth, your hands clutching his shoulders, and he growls, standing up with you in his arms.

he carries you the three steps to your bed and drops you onto it, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress. he kisses you until you cant breathe, his hands roaming over your body, pushing your wings aside, tugging at the zipper of your costume.

"wait," you gasp as he drags his mouth down your neck. "riki, wait. ive never... i mean, i have, but only once. and it was... it wasnt good. i dont really know what im doing. im sorry."

he pauses immediately, lifting his head to look at you. his pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen, but his expression is soft. tender. "hey," he says, his voice gentle. he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "hey, its okay. its okay, princess. well go slow. ill take care of you. i promise."

"okay," you breathe, your heart slowing slightly. "okay. just... tell me what to do."

"ill tell you everything," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips. "ill show you. just relax for me. can you do that? can you relax and let me make you feel good?"

"yes," you whisper. "yes, please."

"good girl," he says, his smile sweet. "such a good girl for me."

he sits back on his heels and slowly, carefully, peels your costume off you. the zipper slides down, the fabric parting, and he lifts it over your head, leaving you in just your white lace bra and panties. his breath hitches, his gaze raking over you with something like reverence.

"look at you," he breathes. "fuck, baby. look at you."

you try to cover yourself, embarrassed, but he catches your wrists, pinning them gently to your sides. "dont hide from me," he says softly. "youre perfect. so perfect. let me look at you, angel. please."

you let your arms fall, letting him see you, and his eyes darken even more. he leans down, pressing kisses to your collarbone, the swell of your breast, the valley between them. he unhooks your bra with one hand, tossing it aside, and then his mouth is on your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh until youre arching off the bed, moaning his name.

"riki, please," you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking friction.

"what do you want, sweetheart?" he asks, his hand sliding down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. "tell me. use your words."

"i want you inside me," you gasp, the words shocking you even as you say them. "please, riki. i need you. i need you so bad."

he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he makes that purring sound again, deep and rumbling, vibrating against your skin. "fuck. okay. okay, baby. ive got you."

he strips quickly, his shirt and jeans and boxers hitting the floor in a pile, and you stare, your mouth going dry. hes beautiful, all lean muscle and smooth skin, and between his legs... your eyes go wide. hes huge, thick and long and heavy against his stomach, standing hard and proud. youve never seen anything like it. the guy youd been with before was nothing compared to this.

riki catches you staring and smirks, that cocky grin youve seen him give jay when he wins at video games. "like what you see, doll?" he asks, his voice dripping with confidence. he wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly, showing off. "yeah, im big. bigger than you expected, isnt that right?"

you nod, unable to tear your eyes away. "riki, i dont know if... if youll fit..."

"ill fit," he says, his voice low and sure. "trust me, angel. ill make you take every inch. gonna stretch you out so good. gonna make you feel me for days." he crawls back over you, his cock dragging against your thigh, hot and heavy. "you want that? want me to fill you up? make you feel how big i am inside you?"

"yes," you whimper, your face flaming at his words. "please."

he reaches out tentatively, your fingers wrapping around him, and he hisses, his hips jerking forward. hes thick in your hand, impossibly so, and you stroke him slowly, marveling at the size of him.

"careful, doll," he grits out, but hes smirking, clearly loving the attention. "been dreaming about this for too long. wont last if you keep that up. especially not with your pretty little hands on me like that."

"sorry," you whisper, pulling your hand back.

"no," he says, catching your wrist. "dont be sorry. touch me. i want you to touch me. just... go slow. gotta get you ready first. dont want to hurt you."

you wrap your hand around him again, stroking slowly, watching his face. he groans, his eyes falling closed, that purr rumbling in his chest.

"thats it," he breathes. "just like that, baby. youre doing so good."

he lets you explore for a few minutes, his hips rocking into your touch, his breath coming faster. then he gently removes your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm.

"lay back," he says softly. "spread your legs for me, angel. let me see you."

you do as he says, lying back against your pillows, your thighs falling open. he kneels between them, his hands sliding up your legs, his thumbs hooking in your panties. he drags them down slowly, his eyes locked on yours, and tosses them aside.

"beautiful," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to your most intimate place. "so beautiful. so perfect. youre wet for me, arent you, doll? wet and ready?"

"yes," you whimper, your face flaming. "please, riki. please touch me."

"im going to do more than touch you," he says, his voice rough. he lowers his head, his tongue dragging up your center, and you cry out, your back bowing off the bed. he eats you like hes starving, his tongue circling your clit, his fingers pressing inside you, curling to find that spot that makes you see stars. he adds another finger, stretching you, preparing you for his size.

"riki, riki, please," you chant, your hands fisting in his hair, your hips rolling against his mouth.

"you taste so sweet," he murmurs against you, the vibration making you gasp. "just like i knew you would. my little angel. my pretty doll. my perfect baby."

he keeps going, his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue relentless, until youre teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling. "gonna come," you warn, your voice high and breathy.

"come for me," he commands, his fingers curling harder, his tongue flicking faster. "come on my tongue, doll. let me taste you. give it to me, sweetheart."

you shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. he doesnt stop, working you through it, his mouth gentling as you come down, his hands stroking your thighs, your hips, anywhere he can reach.

when you finally go limp, he crawls up your body, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "good girl," he whispers. "so good for me. you did so good, baby. now youre ready for me. ready to take all of me."

"please," you whimper, your hands tugging at his shoulders. "please, riki. i need you inside me. please."

he reaches over the side of the bed, grabbing his jeans and pulling out his wallet. he extracts a foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth, and you watch, fascinated, as he rolls the condom down his length. even sheathed, he looks massive, and a flutter of nervousness goes through you.

"you sure?" he asks, positioning himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. "tell me if it hurts. well stop. we can stop anytime, okay?"

"i dont want to stop," you say, wrapping your legs around his waist. "i want you. please."

he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch. hes big, so big, filling you up until you feel like you might split apart. you gasp, your nails digging into his back, and he pauses, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his forehead.

"okay?" he asks, his voice strained. "fuck, youre tight. so fucking tight around me, doll."

"yes," you breathe. "dont stop. please dont stop. youre so big, riki..."

"i know," he says, that cocky smirk back on his face. "feels good though, doesnt it? feels good to be stretched out on my cock? tell me how it feels, baby. tell me how big i am inside you."

"so big," you whimper, your head falling back. "youre so big. i can feel you everywhere."

"thats right," he groans, starting to move. "gonna make you take it all. gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name."

he starts moving, slow thrusts that gradually speed up as you relax around him. he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, and you moan, your head falling back against the pillow.

"there?" he asks, his voice rough.

"there," you confirm, your hands gripping his arms. "right there, riki. harder. please, harder."

he obliges, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with force that makes the bed creak. the room fills with the sounds of skin on skin, your moans, his grunts, the wet slide of him moving inside you. he makes that low purring growl with every thrust, the sound rumbling in his chest like a puma claiming its mate.

"you feel so good," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours. "so tight. so perfect. fuck, y/n. been dreaming about this. about you. my pretty little doll. my sweet angel. you taking my cock so good, baby. look at you. look how well you take me."

his hand finds your throat, his fingers wrapping around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just holding, and you gasp, your inner muscles fluttering around him.

"like that?" he asks, his thumb stroking your pulse point. "you like my hand here, baby?"

"yes," you whimper, the feeling of being held, being controlled, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "please. a little tighter, please."

his fingers tighten, just enough to restrict your airflow, and the world narrows to the point where hes touching you, where hes inside you, where hes holding you. you feel safe, cherished, owned. he growls, low and possessive, the sound vibrating through both of you.

"youre mine," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm. "this tight little pussy is mine now. say it. say youre mine, doll. say you belong to me."

"i'm yours," you gasp, your second orgasm building fast, coiling tight in your belly. "riki, i'm yours. please. please, i need to come. please let me come."

"come with me," he demands, his hand tightening just a fraction more. he makes that purring sound again, deep and constant now, like a cat thats found its favorite spot. "come on my cock, baby. now. squeeze me tight. let me feel you."

you explode, your vision whiting out, your whole body convulsing around him. he keeps fucking you through it, his hand finally leaving your throat to grip your hip, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. he thrusts twice more, three times, and then hes coming too, his head thrown back, a growl tearing from his throat as he spills into the condom.

he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot and fast against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant thump of the party downstairs.

"are you okay?" he finally asks, his voice muffled against your skin. he lifts his head, his eyes searching yours. "did i hurt you? was i too rough?"

"no," you say, your voice hoarse. you touch your throat, feeling the phantom pressure of his fingers. "that was... that was perfect. you were perfect."

he smiles, soft and sweet, and presses a kiss to your forehead. he purrs, low and content, nuzzling against your neck. "good," he murmurs. "thats good, angel. you did so good for me. took me so well. my good girl."

he pulls out carefully, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash can by your desk. he finds his boxers and pulls them on, then grabs your discarded costume, using the soft fabric to gently clean between your thighs. you blush, trying to close your legs, but he tsks, his hands gentle but firm.

"let me take care of you," he says softly. "you did so good for me. let me make you feel good after. thats my job, isnt it? taking care of my girl?"

when hes finished, he tucks you into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. he finds your discarded halo on the floor and places it on your nightstand, then sits on the edge of your bed, his hand stroking your hair.

"you should sleep," he says quietly. "youve had a long night."

"are you leaving?" you ask, your heart sinking.

"i should," he says, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. "jay will notice im gone. hell ask questions. i should go back down, make an appearance, then slip out."

your heart sinks. "no," you say, reaching out to grab his hand. "please. dont go. stay with me. i dont want to be alone."

"y/n," he sighs, his expression conflicted. "baby, i cant. your brother will..."

"please," you whisper, and your voice cracks, tears suddenly pricking at your eyes. the alcohol and the weed and the aftershocks of your orgasm have left you raw, vulnerable. "please, riki. i dont want to be alone. please stay. just until i fall asleep. please."

he stares at you, his jaw working, his hand tightening on yours. he makes a low sound, almost a whine, conflicted and wanting. "fuck," he mutters under his breath, his eyes closing. "fuck. youre killing me, you know that?"

"please," you whisper again, a tear slipping down your cheek.

he opens his eyes, and the look in them is so tender, so full of longing, that it takes your breath away. "ill just tell your brother you were tipsy and couldnt sleep alone," he mumbles, more to himself than to you. "hell understand. he has to understand."

he stands, pulling back the covers and climbing in beside you. you immediately curl into him, your head on his chest, your arm draped over his waist. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head. he purrs, low and steady, the vibration rumbling through his chest against your ear.

"thank you," you whisper, your eyes already drifting shut.

"anything for you, angel," he murmurs, his hand stroking slow circles on your back. the purring continues, a constant rumble of contentment. "anything for my girl. go to sleep now. ive got you. im right here."

"promise?" you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

"promise," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair. he growls softly, possessive and satisfied. "im not going anywhere. ill be here when you wake up. i promise."

you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat and his purring, safe in his arms, dreaming of halos and hands around your throat and a boy who finally made you his. the party rages on downstairs, but up here, in your little room, with riki holding you close, youve never felt more at home.

⋆˚✿˖°

an ✧˖°. soo.... howd we like it :) I LOVEDDD WRITING THISSS, i love me a good party setting lol. reblogs are always welcome!!! feedback is also greatly appreciated. if you enjoyed this story and would like to see something specific, dont be afraid to send an ask! :)

[starriwon]

✴︎ ──── The secret i couldnt tell you

[ in which ]

╰┈➤ you and sunghoon are going through a divorce but then finds out your pregnant.

✴ husband!sunghoon x preg!reader ✴ Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, divorce, marriage in crisis, arguments, secret pregnancy, morning sickness, crying, guilt, miscommunication.

The divorce papers had been sitting untouched on the dining table for six days. Every morning, you walked past the cream-colored envelope with your eyes fixed anywhere but there, convincing yourself that if you ignored it long enough, maybe the end of your marriage would disappear with it. It never did. The signatures waited patiently beneath the flap, yours written with trembling hands, his clean and effortless, just like everything Park Sunghoon ever did. Five years of marriage had somehow been reduced to ink on paper, and neither of you had found the courage to send them to the lawyers. Perhaps it was fear. Perhaps it was denial. Or perhaps, deep down, neither of you was ready to admit that the love you had fought so hard for was slipping through your fingers.

Sunghoon hadn't always been this distant. Before becoming the CEO of PARK Group, he had been the kind of husband who insisted on driving you everywhere because he claimed the roads were "full of idiots."

He'd leave little sticky notes inside your handbag just to make you smile during work, surprise you with late-night convenience store dates after exhausting weeks, and hold your hand whenever the two of you crossed the street, even though you constantly teased him for it. Somewhere between endless board meetings, overseas investors, and the pressure of keeping a billion-dollar company alive, those little gestures disappeared.

At first, you told yourself it was temporary. Then weeks became months, and months became years, until the silence between the two of you became louder than any argument you'd ever had.

The front door unlocked just after eleven that night. You heard the familiar click of expensive leather shoes against the marble floor before his coat landed over the back of a chair.

"You're still awake?" he asked quietly, surprised to find the television still glowing in the dark living room.

You looked up from the untouched mug of tea in your hands and forced a tired smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I couldn't sleep."

He nodded as if he understood, although the truth was neither of you understood each other anymore. He loosened his tie, rolling his shoulders with a wince. "The meeting ran longer than expected. I tried calling."

A bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. "You always have a meeting, Sunghoon." His expression hardened ever so slightly. "I'm doing this for us."

"No," you whispered, standing from the couch. "You keep saying that, but somewhere along the way, there stopped being an 'us.' It's just you... and your company."

The argument didn't explode all at once. It built slowly, quietly, through years of missed dinners, forgotten anniversaries, and conversations cut short by another ringing phone. You couldn't even remember what had started this one. Maybe it was the fact that he'd canceled yet another weekend away because an investor had flown in unexpectedly. Maybe it was because he'd answered three work calls while you were trying to tell him about your day. Or maybe it was because you were simply exhausted from feeling like you came second to a company that would still exist long after the two of you had fallen apart.

"I don't even recognize you anymore," you said, your voice trembling despite your attempts to stay composed. "Do you know what the worst part is? I don't think you recognize yourself either."

Sunghoon stood across the kitchen island, still dressed in his tailored charcoal suit. He looked just as tired as you felt, his tie hanging loose around his neck and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his forearms. He opened his mouth to respond before closing it again, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

"You think this is easy for me?" he asked quietly. "Do you think I enjoy leaving before you're awake and coming home after you've gone to bed? I'm trying to keep everything together."

"And what about us?" you whispered. "Who's keeping us together?"

He looked away.

That was answer enough.

The next morning, the divorce papers were drafted.

Neither of you cried when the lawyers handed them over.

Neither of you protested.

It almost scared you how calm everything had become.

The screaming had stopped.

The tears had stopped.

It felt like your marriage had simply... run out of emotion.

For the next week, the penthouse became nothing more than a place the two of you happened to share. Sunghoon slept in the guest room. You stayed in the master bedroom. Meals were eaten separately. Conversations were reduced to polite questions that sounded more appropriate between strangers than husband and wife.

"Have you seen my watch?"

"It's on your desk."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

That was it.

No warmth.

No affection.

Just silence.

Then the nausea started.

The first morning, you barely thought anything of it. Stress could make people sick. Anyone going through a divorce would feel exhausted. But when you found yourself gagging at the smell of breakfast three days in a row, a tiny voice in the back of your mind began whispering something you refused to believe.

Standing in the pharmacy after work, you stared at the pregnancy tests for what felt like forever. Your fingers hovered over the shelf before finally grabbing one and shoving it into your basket as quickly as possible. You prayed nobody you knew would see you.

The drive home felt endless.

Your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

You locked yourself inside the bathroom before finally opening the small box, reading the instructions three separate times because the words refused to register. The timer on your phone counted down three agonizing minutes while you paced back and forth across the marble floor.

One line.

Relief flooded your body.

Then...

A second line appeared so faintly you almost convinced yourself you were imagining it.

You blinked.

It grew darker.

Your heart stopped.

"...No."

You picked up the test with trembling fingers, staring at it as if it might somehow change if you looked hard enough.

Positive.

The room spun.

You slowly slid down against the bathroom wall until you were sitting on the cold floor, your knees pulled tightly against your chest.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

A sob escaped before you could stop it.

It wasn't because you didn't want the baby.

It was because the timing felt impossibly cruel.

Only a week ago, you and Sunghoon had agreed your marriage couldn't be saved.

Now there was another heartbeat growing inside you.

One that belonged to both of you.

Tears blurred your vision as you instinctively rested a hand against your stomach. It was too early to feel anything. Too early to even look pregnant. Yet knowing that your child was there made everything feel different.

A sharp knock at the bathroom door made you jump.

"Y/N?"

Sunghoon's voice was muffled through the wood.

"You've been in there for a while."

Your heart leaped into your throat.

Quickly wrapping the test in tissues, you hid it beneath spare towels inside the cabinet before splashing cold water across your face.

"I'm okay," you called back, though your voice cracked.

The door opened as soon as you unlocked it.

Sunghoon frowned the second he saw you.

Your eyes were red.

Your cheeks were damp.

"You've been crying."

You immediately shook your head. "It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

He took a hesitant step toward you, his usual guarded expression replaced by genuine concern. Carefully, almost instinctively, he reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle touch caught you off guard. He hadn't touched you like that in months.

"You don't look well," he murmured. "You've barely eaten this week, and every morning I hear you getting sick."

"It's just stress."

"You've been saying that every day."

"I know."

His brows knitted together. "Maybe we should go to the hospital."

"No."

The answer came far too quickly.

His eyes searched yours, confusion flickering across his face.

"...Why not?"

You forced a smile that felt painfully fake.

"I just need some rest."

For several long seconds, he simply looked at you.

Then he sighed softly.

"If you start feeling worse..." His voice was quieter now. "...please tell me."

You nodded even though you had no intention of doing that.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway without looking back.

"I know things between us are... complicated right now."

Your chest tightened.

"But that doesn't mean I stop caring about you."

The bedroom fell silent after he walked away.

The tears you'd been desperately holding back finally spilled over again.

Because hearing those words only made your secret feel heavier.

And for the first time since seeing those two pink lines...

You wondered how long you could keep it from him.

The following morning, you woke before the sun had fully risen. A dull ache settled behind your eyes while another wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, forcing you to sit up abruptly. You barely made it to the bathroom before gripping the edge of the sink, your breathing uneven as you waited for the feeling to pass.

When it finally did, you leaned against the cool marble countertop, staring at your reflection. You looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath your eyes had become impossible to hide, and your cheeks had noticeably lost their color. You quietly opened the cabinet beneath the sink, pulling out the pregnancy test one last time before slipping it into your pocket. A few hours later, you found yourself sitting alone in your obstetrician's office, nervously twisting the sleeve of your sweater while waiting for your name to be called.

"Mrs. Park?" the nurse smiled warmly.

You stood, following her into the examination room. Everything happened so quickly after that—blood tests, questions about your health, and finally the ultrasound. You hadn't expected to cry, yet the moment the tiny image appeared on the monitor, your vision blurred.

"There," the doctor said gently, pointing toward the screen. "It's still very early, but everything looks healthy."

Healthy.

The word echoed in your ears.

Your hand instinctively rested against your stomach as tears silently rolled down your cheeks. You couldn't stop staring at the tiny flicker on the monitor. It didn't look like much to anyone else, but to you, it was everything.

The doctor handed you a small black-and-white ultrasound photo before smiling kindly. "Congratulations. Judging by the measurements, you're just over eight weeks pregnant. Morning sickness and fatigue are completely normal. Try not to skip meals, even if eating feels difficult. If your symptoms become worse, give us a call."

You nodded absentmindedly, clutching the ultrasound picture so carefully it felt as though it might disappear if you held it too tightly.

On the drive home, your eyes drifted toward the passenger seat where the envelope rested. You couldn't stop imagining what would happen if Sunghoon saw it.

Would he smile?

Would he cry?

Or would he stay...

Only because he felt obligated?

That question had haunted you since the moment you found out.

You knew your husband better than anyone.

Park Sunghoon never walked away from responsibility.

If he learned about the baby now, he'd tear up the divorce papers without a second thought.

Not because the two of you had fixed your marriage.

Not because the hurt had magically disappeared.

Because he would convince himself that staying was the right thing to do.

You refused to let your child become the reason someone stayed in a loveless marriage.

You wanted your baby to grow up in a home filled with love, not guilt.

By the time you reached the penthouse, you'd made up your mind.

The pregnancy would remain your secret.

At least for now.

When you stepped inside, the house was unusually quiet.

Sunghoon's shoes were by the front door, meaning he'd gotten home before you for once. You slipped the ultrasound into your handbag before walking farther inside.

The smell of food drifted from the kitchen.

You froze.

Sunghoon stood at the stove wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His suit jacket was tossed over one of the dining chairs, and an apron—one you'd bought him years ago as a joke because he insisted he was a "great cook"—was tied around his waist.

He looked over his shoulder when he heard you.

"You're home."

You blinked in surprise.

"...What are you doing?"

He glanced back at the pan.

"Cooking."

"You hate cooking."

"I know."

A small, awkward smile appeared on his face.

"But you haven't been eating."

Your heart squeezed painfully.

"I thought... maybe soup would be easier."

You didn't know what to say.

For months, you'd begged him to come home before dinner.

Now, when your marriage was already hanging by a thread, he was standing in the kitchen making soup because he was worried about you.

The irony hurt more than it comforted.

"I didn't ask you to do this," you said quietly.

"I know."

He turned the stove off before facing you completely.

"I wanted to."

Silence settled between the two of you.

His eyes slowly wandered across your face, lingering on the exhaustion you could no longer hide.

"You look pale."

"I'm alright."

"You've been saying that every day."

"I'm just tired."

He walked closer until only a few feet separated you.

"You've barely eaten."

"I'll eat later."

"You've been getting sick every morning."

"It's stress."

His brows furrowed.

"Did you at least go to the doctor?"

Your heart skipped.

"...Yeah."

"What did they say?"

You looked down at the floor.

"They said I need more rest."

Technically...

It wasn't a lie.

Sunghoon let out a quiet sigh before reaching for your handbag.

"I'll carry—"

"No!"

The word escaped much louder than you intended.

Both of you froze.

His hand stopped midair.

Confusion immediately crossed his face.

"...I was just going to put it on the table."

"I..."

You tightened your grip around the strap.

"I'm sorry."

"I just... have something important inside."

He slowly lowered his hand.

"I'm not trying to invade your privacy."

"I know."

Another silence followed.

This one heavier than the last.

Finally, he gave you a small nod.

"The soup's ready whenever you're hungry."

He turned away, pretending not to notice the tears gathering in your eyes.

The moment he disappeared into his office, you rushed upstairs.

Locking yourself inside the bedroom, you pulled the ultrasound from your bag before carefully sliding it into the back of your bedside drawer beneath a stack of old photographs from your honeymoon.

Your fingers lingered on the picture.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, though you weren't sure whether you were apologizing to your baby...

Or to the man sleeping only a few rooms away.

The days that followed settled into a strange routine. The arguments had disappeared, but they hadn't been replaced with happiness. Instead, there was a quiet understanding between the two of you, as though you were both too exhausted to keep hurting each other. Sunghoon still left for work early, though not as early as before. Some mornings, you'd find a glass of water and your vitamins sitting on the kitchen counter without a word. Other days, he'd send a simple text asking if you'd eaten lunch. They were such small gestures—ones that would've seemed insignificant months ago—but now they only made your chest ache. He was trying. It was simply too late.

Morning sickness, however, wasn't nearly as forgiving.

You had barely managed two spoonfuls of breakfast before the familiar wave of nausea forced you to excuse yourself. The bathroom door had barely clicked shut before you were kneeling on the cold tile floor, one hand gripping the edge of the bathtub while the other instinctively rested against your stomach. By the time the nausea finally settled, your eyes were watery and your breathing uneven.

A gentle knock echoed through the room.

"Y/N?"

It was Sunghoon.

His voice was careful, almost hesitant.

"You've been in there for almost twenty minutes."

You quickly splashed cold water over your face before unlocking the door.

He frowned immediately.

"You look awful."

A small laugh escaped you despite yourself.

"Thanks."

"You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I know."

His eyes searched your face, lingering on the redness around your eyes.

"You've been getting sick every morning for weeks."

"I'm just... run down."

"You've lost weight."

"I'm trying to eat."

"I can see that."

He sighed quietly before reaching out. His hand hovered near your cheek for a second, silently asking permission before gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was so familiar that it almost broke you.

"I hate seeing you like this," he admitted softly. "I know we're... where we are right now, but that doesn't mean I stop worrying."

Your throat tightened.

"I'll be okay."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I don't know what else to say."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, to your surprise, he opened his arms ever so slightly.

"Can I...?"

You stared at him.

He hadn't hugged you in months.

When you didn't pull away, he slowly wrapped his arms around you, careful and gentle, as if he were afraid you'd disappear if he held you too tightly.

It was warm.

Comforting.

Painful.

You closed your eyes for just a second, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

"I've missed this," he whispered.

Your heart shattered.

Because so had you.

But missing someone wasn't always enough to save a marriage.

That evening, the two of you sat together in the living room for the first time in weeks. The television played quietly in the background, though neither of you was paying attention. Sunghoon had rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his laptop balanced on his knees while he answered a few emails.

You were reading a book you hadn't turned a page of in almost fifteen minutes.

The silence wasn't awkward anymore.

It was... peaceful.

"I spoke to the lawyer today," Sunghoon suddenly said, closing his laptop.

Your fingers tightened around your book.

"Oh."

"He asked if we'd decided on a date."

You nodded slowly.

"I told him..."

He paused.

"...that I wanted to wait."

You looked up.

His gaze stayed fixed on the coffee table.

"I don't know if waiting changes anything."

"It might not."

"But rushing into it doesn't feel right either."

Your eyes softened.

"Why?"

He let out a tired laugh.

"Because despite everything..."

He looked at you.

"...I still come home looking for you."

The confession stole the air from your lungs.

"I still wonder whether you've eaten."

"I still catch myself reaching for my phone whenever something funny happens because you're the first person I want to tell."

His smile was bittersweet.

"I don't think people stop loving each other overnight."

A lump formed in your throat.

"They just get lost."

Tears threatened to spill, but you forced them back.

"I don't know if I know how to find us again."

He nodded.

"I don't know either."

For the first time in months, there were no raised voices.

No accusations.

Just two people admitting that neither of them knew how to repair what they'd broken.

At that exact moment, your stomach lurched.

You shot to your feet so quickly that your book fell to the floor.

"Y/N?"

"I'll... I'll be right back."

You hurried upstairs, pressing a hand over your mouth before disappearing into the bathroom.

Sunghoon watched you go, worry etched across his face.

A few seconds later, the sound of retching echoed faintly through the hallway.

He immediately stood.

His first instinct was to go after you.

Instead, he stopped outside the bathroom door, resting a hand against the wood.

"...I'm here if you need me."

You squeezed your eyes shut on the other side, fresh tears sliding down your cheeks.

"I know," you whispered so quietly he couldn't hear.

Outside, your phone began ringing from where you'd accidentally left it on the coffee table downstairs.

Neither of you noticed.

The screen lit up with a familiar name.

Dr. Han.

His stomach tightened.

You'd told him you'd seen a doctor because of stress. Seeing your doctor call twice in less than a minute made him wonder if something was wrong.

He answered.

"Hello?"

There was a brief pause before a warm voice spoke on the other end.

"Good evening, Mrs. Park. This is Dr. Han calling from Evergreen Women's Clinic. I wanted to follow up regarding the symptoms you mentioned during your appointment. Have the morning sickness and dizziness improved at all?"

Sunghoon frowned.

"...I'm sorry?"

Another pause.

"Oh... am I speaking to Mr. Park?"

"...Yes."

"I'm terribly sorry. I assumed Mrs. Park had already told you."

His grip around the phone tightened.

"Told me... what?"

The doctor fell silent for a second, clearly realizing she'd made a mistake.

"It's regarding her pregnancy," she answered carefully. "Considering she's approaching her ninth week, nausea, fatigue, and food aversions are perfectly normal. We were also hoping to schedule her next prenatal appointment before the end of next week."

Everything around him seem to disappear, except you.

Sunghoon couldn't take his eyes off you.

The words from the phone call echoed endlessly inside his head.

Morning sickness... nine weeks... prenatal appointment... both mother and baby are healthy.

His hand was still wrapped around your phone, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was gripping it. You stood frozen at the foot of the staircase, every bit of color draining from your face the moment you realized he knew.

Neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched until it became unbearable.

"You were pregnant..." he whispered, his voice so quiet it barely reached you. "This whole time."

You swallowed hard, unable to look him in the eye. "...Yes."

A hollow laugh escaped him, though there wasn't an ounce of humor behind it. He looked away for a moment, blinking rapidly as he tried to compose himself, but the hurt was written all over his face.

"So every morning..." he began, "when I heard you getting sick... when I kept asking if you were okay... when I asked if you wanted me to take you to the hospital..." He looked back at you, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. "You already knew."

You nodded weakly.

"I found out after we agreed to the divorce."

"And you decided not to tell me."

"It wasn't that simple."

"It feels pretty simple to me."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to make your chest tighten.

"You looked me in the eye every single day and lied."

"I wasn't lying."

"No?" His eyebrows pulled together. "You told me it was stress. You told me you were fine. You let me think something was wrong, and every time I asked, you pushed me away."

"I didn't know what else to do!"

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Sunghoon fell silent.

Your breathing grew uneven as tears blurred your vision. "What was I supposed to say? 'By the way, I'm carrying your baby while we're signing divorce papers?'"

"I deserved to know."

"I know you did!"

Your voice cracked.

"I know that!"

The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over.

"I thought about telling you every single day."

You covered your mouth, trying to steady your breathing.

"I even picked up my phone so many times..." you admitted through sobs. "I wrote messages... I deleted them... I practiced what I'd say if you came home early... but every time I looked at the divorce papers, I couldn't do it."

Sunghoon's expression softened for only a second before the hurt returned.

"So you chose for both of us."

"No."

"Yes, you did."

He shook his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"You decided I didn't deserve to know I was going to be a father."

"I decided I didn't want you to stay because you pitied me!"

The room fell silent.

Your words hung heavily between you.

"I know you, Sunghoon," you whispered, wiping your cheeks. "You would've canceled everything. You would've torn up those divorce papers before I even finished speaking."

"Of course I would've."

"Exactly!"

His answer caught you off guard.

"You just proved my point."

"No." He stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. "I would've torn them up because my wife had been carrying something this huge all by herself."

"You would've stayed because of the baby."

"I would've stayed because I still love you!"

His voice cracked for the first time.

The confession echoed through the house.

Neither of you moved.

Sunghoon looked away, taking a shaky breath before speaking again, this time much quieter.

"Do you really think I've spent these past few weeks sleeping in the guest room because I stopped loving you?" He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "I slept there because every time I looked at you, I was reminded that I'd failed you. I convinced myself that maybe you'd be happier without me."

Your heart clenched.

"I never stopped loving you either," you admitted. "But loving someone isn't always enough when all you do is hurt each other."

He nodded slowly.

"I know."

Another long silence settled between you.

It wasn't angry anymore.

It was heartbreaking.

Sunghoon glanced at the phone still sitting on the coffee table before quietly placing it down. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red.

"I missed everything."

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"The first doctor's appointment."

"You hearing our baby's heartbeat."

"You finding out."

He swallowed hard.

"And I wasn't there."

A fresh wave of guilt crashed over you.

"I didn't want to do it alone."

"Then why did you?"

"Because I was scared."

Your shoulders shook as another sob escaped.

"I was scared that if I told you, I'd never know whether you stayed because you loved me... or because you felt responsible."

Sunghoon closed the distance between you, but he didn't touch you.

Not yet.

"I can't change the mistakes I've already made," he said quietly. "I can't take back the nights I chose work over you or the arguments that pushed us here."

His voice trembled.

"But don't ever believe that our child would be a burden to me."

He paused, fighting back tears of his own.

"Or that loving you was ever an obligation."

Your eyes met his.

For the first time in months, neither of you was pretending to be okay.

There were no walls left.

Just two broken people standing in the middle of the home they'd built together, finally admitting how deeply they'd hurt each other.

The divorce papers were still waiting on the dining table.

Neither of you looked at them.

Not because everything had suddenly been fixed.

But because, for the first time in a very long while, they no longer felt like the only possible ending.

taglist : @zoe1love @lilibling @sunnysidesins @oiosoobin @firstclassjaylee

[nrkchrt]

─── 西村力 : AUDIO

✙ ‧₊˚ ❪‎‎ ‎ ‎𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐒 ❫‎ ⸝⸝ nsfw +18

now that sunghoon and jake finally went out and the two of you have the dorm all to yourselves, he can finally show how much he’s been missing you

💬.ᐣ.ᐟ  i remember how fake subbed audios used to be a thing on enhablr. i missed it so i decided to make my own

© don’t copy or reupload my work

ㅤ

[prettybs]

CLUELESS .⋆♱ —NRK

life in the 2000s means flip phones, low rise jeans, a chaotic friendgroup, and a cocky skater boyfriend who climbs your window when he needs to apologize.

pairing: bf!riki x fem!reader ⭑ ft. friendgroup Enhypen

contains: fluff skinship kissing Riki smoking cigarettes silly arguments with Riki lol 📞

🗯️ vaeh’s notes: the fic is finally here! you already KNOW i had to be cliche and make him climb through your window muhahah. I also wasn’t sure whether this was the right time to post this with everything going on atm, still posted it, hoping it helps cheer you guys up a little! Take care xx #enhypenis7

⊹

There were seven of them.

Seven loud, annoying ass, inseparable boys who took up too much space at every party, every hallway, and every parking lot. They were always together, skateboards under their arms, half-finished coca-cola cans in their hands, laughter echoing too loudly through college apartments that definitely couldn’t fit all of them.

You really weren’t supposed to be part of them. Even thought they we’re weird at first.

The first time they saw you, you were standing alone at some shady off-campus house party.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter in low rise jeans and a baby tee, flipping your pink bedazzled Motorola shut and open again because you didn’t know what else to do with your hands.

It was Sunghoon who noticed first. “Why is she by herself? She looks nice.” And then all seven of them ended up standing in front of you like a mildly intimidating boyband.

You don’t remember how, but that night you were adopted into their friendgroup.

You’d been with them ever since.

Especially Riki.

—

You and Riki were never stable.

You were either disgustingly in love or dramatically broken up. There was no in-between.

You’d ‘break up’ over anything:

Because he didn’t call you back fast enough. You helped another guy with his homework. He didn’t let you borrow his clothes. You told him smoking was unattractive.

And once because spilled an entire cup of Sprite on your Juicy Couture bag, which you spent your entire salary on.

You cried like a baby. He’d rolled his eyes and said, “It’s just a bag. Get a new one.”

You didn’t speak to him for a week.

The friend group suffered… Riki got quieter. You got meaner. The air felt heavy every time you were in the same room.

Until Jungwon snapped.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said, rubbing his temples. “You two are exhausting. Apologize. Now.”

You tried to act careless but you both folded in under five minutes and ended up in your bedroom.

—

You hated being called popular, but you weren’t invisible.

People knew you.

You had that early-2000s glow. Glossy lips, hoop earrings, low-rise everything. Professors remembered your name. Girls whispered about you. Boys stared a little too long.

Riki? He had baggy jeans sagged so low you could always see which brand of underwear he was wearing, Calvin Klein most days, sometimes something knockoff that you’d tease him about constantly.

“Pull them up,” you’d hiss in the middle of the mall, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and yanking it higher. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He’d just grin, completely unbothered.

“Why? You don’t like my boxers?”

“I don’t like that everyone else can see them.”

He’d lean closer, smoke still lingering faintly on his breath. “I don’t care.”

And then he’d glance down at your hips.

Low rise jeans. A tiny strip of pink lace peeking out when you moved. Belly piercing glinting under the mall lights.

“Oh,” he’d mock, tugging lightly at the strip of your thong on your hip, making it snap back. “And that’s modest?”

You’d swat his hand away. “That’s fashion.”

“Mine is too.”

“You look homeless.”

“You look like a hooker.”

“I do not. You asshole.”

You’d both be smiling by the end of it.

—

It’s one of those perfect late mid-August afternoons.

The sun is low and orange. Everything smells like hot pavement, sunscreen, and cigarettes. The entire city feels outside, kids with scraped knees, girls in denim skirts, boys shirtless with skateboards tucked under their arms.

The skatepark is loud.

Wheels scraping. Laughter echoing. Music playing from someone’s brand new portable speaker.

The whole friend group is there and Riki insisted you’d come too.

His white tank top clinging slightly to his back from sweat. Wired headphones dangling out of the pocket from his jeans. A cigarette tucked behind his ear, which you hate.

Heeseung is beside him, attempting something reckless off a skating ramp.

They take turns.

They hype each other up.

They shove each other when one of them almost eats concrete.

You’re sitting on top of the half-pipe, legs dangling over the edge, flip-flops hanging loosely off your toes. The smallest top imaginable clings to your torso more lace than fabric, blue jeans sit dangerously on your hips, held in place by a big bedazzled belt.

Riki had absolutely hated the top.

“That’s not a shirt,” he said earlier.

“It is.”

“It looks like a bra.”

“It’s hot outside.”

“It’s hot for me too.”

“Then take your shirt off.”

He gave you a glare, you walked ahead anyway.

Now you’re bored.

Bored and slightly irritate because you’ve already watched him light up two cigarettes.

Two.

And you hate when he smokes. Hate the smell. Hate the way it makes his voice raspier. Hate how casual he is about it.

And he knows that, but he does it anyway. Which makes it worse.

He skates toward you suddenly, rolling to a stop between your knees. One hand presses to the ramp beside your thigh, the other still holding his board.

“You look grumpy,” he says, squinting up at you against the sun.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He leans forward and kisses your forehead anyway.

Then he pushes off again before you can respond.

You sigh.

You’re melting. You’re bored. And you’re watching your boyfriend risk concussions for fun.

Amazing.

Then Heeseung has an even more amazing idea.

“Teach her something,” he says, nodding toward you.

Riki looks up immediately.

You narrow your eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He’s already skating toward you again.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand. “It’s easy.”

“It’s not easy.”

“It is.”

“I’m wearing slippers.”

“Then take them off.”

You gasp like he’s insane.

He grins.

“Baby, I’ll hold you.”

Everyone’s watching now.

Jay whistles from somewhere near the fence. Sunghoon pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. Sunoo is already smiling like something crazy embarrassing is about to happen.

“If I fall and ruin my outfit,” you warn, pointing a manicured finger at him, “I’ll kill you.”

He laughs. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You step onto the skateboard and it wobbles instantly.

You grab his hands.

“Why is it moving?”

“Because it has wheels.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He positions himself in front of you, holding both your hands firmly.

“Okay,” he says, focused now. “Just bend your knees a little. Then pop the tail and slide your foot up.”

“Pop what?”

“The back.”

“I don’t know what that means Riki.”

He laughs softly.

“It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

You glare. “You better.”

He counts you down.

“One. Two—”

You jump.

The board flips sideways instead of up.

Your foot lands wrong.

His grip slips and suddenly you’re falling. You hit the concrete with a very embarrassing thud.

There’s a split second of silence, then there’s Laughter.

Sunoo’s laugh is the worst. High and dramatic and absolutely unnecessary.

You sit up slowly, hair in your face, pride completely shattered.

Riki is crouching immediately. “Are you okay?”

You stare at him.

“Did you catch me?”

“I tried—”

“You did not.”

He bites back a smile.

You gasp.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

He fails. Just a little chuckle, but that’s it for you.

You stand up, brushing off your jeans dramatically.

“I’m done.”

“Baby—”

“No.”

You grab your slippers and stomp back toward the half-pipe.

Sunoo is still giggling when you sit down beside him.

“I’d like to see you try next time,” you snap.

Sunoo chuckles. “I would never fall like that.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I have natural balance.”

“You have natural dramatics.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”

You both dissolve into a stupid little argument about who would survive longer on a skateboard.

It almost distracts you from Riki.

Almost.

Until you glance over and see some random guy offering Riki a joint.

And Riki… takes it?

Your stomach drops.

He laughs at something the stranger says. Throws his head back slightly. That boxy grin that made you like him in the first place.

Your jaw tightens.

Sunoo is still talking beside you.

“…and then I’d definitely land it because— helloo? Are you even listening?”

You aren’t. Your eyes are locked on Riki.

Then a girl loses control of her board and swerves straight into him.

She stumbles forward and Riki catches her.

One hand at her waist on instinct.

You feel it before you even think, that little sting in your chest.

He lets her go immediately.

“You good?” he asks casually.

She laughs. “Yeah, thanks.”

She lingers half a second too long.

That’s it. That’s your last straw. You’re already on your feet. Sunoo reaches for your wrist. “Wait—”

Too late. You walk fast, hips swaying, chin lifted, eyes low and dangerous.

Riki doesn’t even notice until you’re right in front of him.

You grab his arm and tug him away from the small group of strangers.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He blinks. “What?”

“I said what do you think you’re doing.” you repeat, quieter but sharper.

He genuinely looks confused. “Nothing?”

You look at the joint still between his fingers.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach up, snatch it from him, drop it to the ground and grind it into the concrete with your heel.

“Are you serious right now?” he mutters.

“Oh, I’m serious.” you snap.

He runs a hand through his hair. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” Your voice rises. “You’ve smoked, like, five cigarettes today. And now this? Oh and you’re just touching girls?”

His head jerks back. “Touching girls?”

“You literally had your hands all over her waist.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you had to grab her like that?”

“She was falling.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Keep it down,” he says under his breath. “Not everyone needs to know you’re mad at me again.”

That does it.

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you?!” you fire back. “You weren’t embarrassed five seconds ago.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re making a scene.”

“You’re smoking in front of me after I told you I hate it.”

He exhales hard. “It’s my choice.”

“Oh my God.”

“It’s called free will,” he adds, clearly irritated now.

You stare at him.

“Right,” you say flatly. “So you just do whatever you want.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You were all up on her.”

“She bumped into me.”

“You didn’t have to hold her like that.”

He scoffs. “Like what?”

“Like—” You stop yourself before you say something dramatic.

He shakes his head. “You’re overreacting.”

You feel your chest tighten.

“Am I?” you ask quietly.

“Yes.”

Silence hangs between you. Then he makes the mistake.

He gestures vaguely at you.

“And don’t act like you’re not out here in that top all day.”

Your eyes widen.

“What about my top?”

“It’s too revealing.”

You laugh once. Sharp. Disbelieving.

“So now this is my fault?”

“I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying what?” you cut him off. “That I deserve it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But you thought it.”

He looks frustrated now. “You can’t tell me what I thought.”

“You can’t tell me I’m overreacting.”

“You are tho.”

Your face goes cold.

“Okay.”

You step back.

“Okay,” you repeat.

He frowns slightly. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He grabs your wrist once.

“Don’t leave.”

“Whatever.” You say and you turn and walk away.

You expect footsteps. You expect him to call your name. You expect him to follow you like he always does.

You walk past the fence, the group of boys, past Sunoo’s wide eyes. And still nothing.

You finally glance back and your stomach drops.

He’s back on his board like nothing happened.

Like he isn’t supposed to chase you.

And that hurts more than the cigarette, more than the girl, more than the argument. Because in your head, he’s supposed to follow you and beg you to stay. But instead he just skates.’

—

By nine o’clock it’s almost completely dark, the last bit of orange fading out of the sky. Your room is lit by the glow of your TV, candles and the small lamp on your nightstand. You’re curled up in bed in soft pajamas, a plate of brownies balanced on your stomach while Clueless plays for what might be the hundredth time.

Your flip phone has been buzzing the last half hour.

Four missed calls.

Ten texts.

You’ve read none of them, you refuse to.

Then you hear A small tick against your window.

You pause mid-chew.

Another one.

And then a third.

You sit up slowly, pushing the plate aside and sliding out of bed. The floor is cool under your feet as you walk toward the window and pull the blinds apart.

Riki is standing in the street below, hands filled with tiny rocks to throw, looking up at your room like he’s been waiting for you to appear. When he sees your face, he waves casually, like this is completely normal behavior.

You stare at him for two seconds.

Then you shut the blinds and walk straight back to your bed.

Your phone buzzes again immediately.

You don’t check it.

A few seconds pass.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

You exhale sharply and shuffle back to the window, throwing the blinds open this time and sliding the window up.

“What?” you hiss down at him.

“You need to let me in,” he says like it’s obvious.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“But I want to talk to you.”

“Too bad.”

He steps closer to the house, lowering his voice even though no one is outside. “Please, baby. I wanna make it up to you.”

You cross your arms against the windowsill. “Make what up? You didn’t do anything, remember?”

“Come on,” he tries again. “Are you really gonna let me stand out here looking like a fool?”

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He stares up at you, half offended, half impressed.

You hold his gaze for another second, then slide the window shut and drop the blinds again before he can argue. You get back into bed, pull the covers up, grab your brownie plate, and press play like nothing happened.

For a few minutes, it’s quiet.

Then you hear something strange. Not rocks this time, but a scraping sound. A shuffle. Something brushing against the side of the house.

You freeze.

The sound gets closer.

Your heart jumps as you sit up again just in time to see two hands grab onto your windowsill from the outside.

And then Riki’s stupid face appears.

You let out a sharp gasp and scramble out of bed as he hoists himself up, creased sneakers braced against the brick. He looks mildly proud of himself, slightly out of breath, hair falling into his eyes.

You slide the window open with a dramatic sigh.

“Seriously, Riki?”

He doesn’t answer. He just swings one leg over the sill and climbs into your room like he’s done it a hundred times before, landing lightly on your floor.

“You’re insane,” you whisper-yell, shoving the window shut behind him. “My dad is literally going to kill the both of us if he finds out you climbed through my window.”

“He won’t,” Riki says easily.

“And you smell like smoke,” you add, wrinkling your nose. “If he comes in here—”

“He won’t,” he repeats, completely unbothered.

You stand there with your arms crossed, trying to stay angry while he casually looks around your room like he’s on a tour.

He glances at you slowly, eyes dragging from your messy hair to your pajama shorts. A lazy grin spreads across his face.

“Those make your ass look good.”

Your mouth drops open. “That’s what you have to say right now?”

“I’m just being honest.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

He walks past you toward your bed, picking up one of your pillows and tossing it aside before noticing the plate of brownies. Without asking, he takes one and bites into it.

“You made these yourself?” he asks through a mouthful.

“Yes.”

“They’re good.”

“They’re mine.”

He shrugs and flops down onto your bed like he belongs there, one arm behind his head, chewing lazily while Clueless continues playing in the background.

Your eye twitches.

“I’m still mad at you, Riki” you remind him.

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m here.”

You stay standing by the window like you’re guarding it, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Riki, meanwhile, looks entirely too comfortable sprawled across your bed, one hand behind his head, the other reaching lazily for another brownie.

He watches you for a moment, amused.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He snorts softly. “Come sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

“You weren’t nervous climbing up my house like a creep.”

He pats the mattress beside him anyway. “Baby.”

You hesitate, but you do it. Of course you do. You walk over and sit cross-legged on your bed, leaving a noticeable gap between you. You grab a pink heart-shaped pillow and hold it against your chest like armor, arms wrapped around it as a clear barrier.

Riki doesn’t look intimidated.

He slowly looks you up and down instead, gaze dragging over your shorts, your bare legs, your messy hair. He takes another bite of brownie, chews thoughtfully, then winks at you.

“Can I get a kiss?”

Your jaw drops.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You lean forward and snatch the plate of brownies out of his hands before he can grab another one. “Start talking,” you demand. “Or I swear I’m throwing you back out that window.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not strong enough for that.”

“I’ll get my dad to do it.”

He actually laughs at that, like the idea is ridiculous.

You glare harder.

He sighs dramatically and sits up, closing the space between you. The mattress dips as he moves closer.

He reaches out, resting his hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The touch is warm and familiar, annoyingly gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You narrow your eyes. “For what?”

He pauses half a second too long.

“For… making you mad.”

That’s it.

That’s the apology.

He doesn’t even fully know what he’s apologizing for, the smoking, the girl, the comment about your top, he just knows you’re upset and that saying sorry usually fixes it.

You try to hold your glare, but your grip on the pillow loosens.

This is how it always goes. One of you gets mad. The other gives a weak apology. And somehow it’s enough.

He watches your expression soften, just slightly, and that tiny shift is all he needs.

“Come here,” he says quietly, patting his lap.

You roll your eyes like you’re still annoyed, but you put the pillow aside and shift forward, settling onto his lap anyway. His hands come to your waist automatically.

He leans in and kisses you.

It starts slow, almost careful, like he’s testing if you’ll pull away. You kiss him back, fingers curling lightly into his black hair. For a few seconds, everything feels lke the argument never happened.

Then you wrinkle your nose and pull back slightly.

“Take your jacket off.”

He blinks. “What?”

“It smells like smoke.”

He smirks immediately. “If you wanted to undress me you could just say that.”

You don’t even entertain it. You grab his shirt and kiss him again just to shut him up.

He laughs against your mouth, hands tightening at your waist, and for now, at least, the fight is over.

Until he chuckles, he pulls back just slightly, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he talks.

“You know,” he mumbles, half smiling, “Sunoo told me to apologize.”

You don’t really listen, just give him another peck on his lips. “Hm?”

He shrugs, leaning back in to kiss you again like it doesn’t matter. “He said I should just say sorry and you’d stop being mad.”

Your lips press together instead of moving with his.

“And?” you ask slowly.

“And it worked,” he says lightly. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

You freeze.

He tries to kiss you again, but you pull your head back this time.

“Are you kidding me right now?,” you say.

He frowns, confused at the sudden shift. “What?”

“You don’t know what you did wrong?”

He laughs a little, like this is harmless. “You were just in a mood.”

You slap his arm.

Not hard. But sharp enough.

“Ow— what was that for?”

You’re already climbing off his lap. “I actually can’t stand you.”

“What?” he repeats, genuinely lost.

“You didn’t apologize because you meant it,” you snap. “You just didn’t want me to be mad.”

“That’s the same thing y/n.”

“It’s not the same thing!”

He sits there, staring at you like you’ve switched languages mid-conversation.

You grab his arm and yank him off the bed. “Come here.”

“Why are you dragging me?”

“Because you’re leaving.”

He stumbles after you as you pull him toward the window again. “I just said sorry!”

“No, you didn’t!” you fire back, pushing the window open. “You said sorry because Sunoo told you to and because you wanted me to shut up.”

“That’s not—”

“That is exactly what it was.”

He steps closer, trying to catch your wrist, trying to pull you back in like he did before. “You’re overthinking it.”

You shove his chest lightly. “Go.”

“Can you calm down for two seconds?”

“No.”

He leans in again like kissing you will solve it, like it always does. You put your hand flat against his chest and push him back.

“Get out.”

“Baby—”

“Go!”

He exhales sharply, clearly frustrated now. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“And you’re not making it a deal at all!” you shoot back. “Come back when you can take accountability!”

You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care if a porch light flicks on somewhere down the street. You’re too irritated to think about neighbors.

He glares at you for a second longer before finally swinging one leg over the sill again.

“This is so stupid,” he mutters as he climbs out.

“You’re stupid!” you yell back.

“You love me though.”

“Bye Riki!”

He drops down to the ground below with a dull thud and looks back up at you. “Throw my jacket!”

You grab it off your floor and hesitate for a second.

“It smells like smoke! Wash it out!” you shout.

“Just throw it y/n, Jeez!”

You toss it out the window a little harder than necessary. It hits him in the face before falling to his arms.

“And pull your up your goddamn pants, you loser!” you yell one last time before slamming the window shut.

He stands there for a second in the dim streetlight, running a hand through his hair and muttering a curse under his breath. “Fucking hell.”

He pulls up his pants anyway, then he turns and starts walking.

Riki walks home with his jacket slung over his shoulder. His jaw is tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he kicks at small rocks along the sidewalk. He replays the entire thing in his head.

He apologized.

Didn’t he?

He showed up. Climbed yout house. Said sorry. What else was he supposed to do?

He mutters under his breath, calling the whole situation dumb, ridiculous. Calling you dramatic.

You just crawl back into bed and press play on your movie again, rather relieved than angry.

Cher’s voice fills the room.

You reach for a brownie.

Your fingers hit an empty plate.

You stare at it.

“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes.

—

The next day feels like nothing happened, it’s a Saturday and you’re at the mall with your friends, like usual

The mall in the center of the city is loud. Every store window is screaming SALE in red letters. Somewhere above them, a movie trailer echoes from the cinema entrance. The air smells like hotdogs, sugar, perfume samples, and fryer oil all blending into one.

Every time you guys go there to “just walk around”, someone somehow leaves with an empty wallet.

The vibe between you and Riki, though? Ice cold.

You walk slightly ahead when he’s near. Conversations split awkwardly around you two. You guys barely acknowledge each others presence. Everyone notices. No one says it yet.

You split up near the giant directory map in the middle of the mall.

Heeseung, Sunoo and you walk towards the arcade, immediately distracted by blinking machines and the sound of digital coins clinking. Jungwon and Jay walk off with one mission only, to eat every free sample the mall has to offer.

Jake, Riki and Sunghoon head towards the skate shop onsecond floor.

“Bro, I’m telling you, softer wheels are better for street,” Jake insists.

“Yeah, if you like going slow,” Sunghoon shoots back.

Riki barely speaks. He flips a board over, studies it, doesn’t see it.

He sees you in his head instead, standing at your window, yelling at him to come back when he can take accountability.

They check every board. Compare prices. Debate colors. In the end, none of them buy anything.

When they walk out into the mall hallway again, the crown hits them full force. Sunghoon stretches his arms above his head.

“So,” Jay says casually. “You and her gonna keep pretending you don’t know each other?”

Riki clicks his tongue immediately. “She’s mad at me.”

“For?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know, man.” Riki snaps, defensive already. “I apologized.”

Sunghoon snorts. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Riki insists. “I climbed her window. I could’ve fallen and died bro. I said sorry.”

Jake squints at him. “For what?”

Riki opens his mouth.

Closes it.

“…For making her mad?”

Sunghoon actually laughs. “That’s not an apology, idiot.”

Riki runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “She was yelling about the joint, and the cigs, and that girl at the skate park. But I didn’t even do anything with that girl. I just caught her because she bumped into me.”

Jake raises a brow. “By her waist?”

Riki hesitates. “…On instinct.”

“Mm,” Sunghoon hums. “And then?”

“And then she dragged me to the window and kicked me out ‘cause I said Sunoo told me to apologize,” Riki mutters.

Both boys stare at him.

“You told her…” Jake says slowly, “that someone else told you to apologize.”

“I was joking. “And at least I apologized? I don’t see the problem.”

Jake lets out a sigh. “I don’t know how you ever got her to like you, man.”

Riki scowls. “I literally climbed into her room. What more does she want?”

Jake grins. “Maybe don’t touch random girls in front of her.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you caught her,” Sunghoon says dryly. “You couldn’t even catch your own girl when she fell.”

Riki groans. “It’s not like that.”

Jake smirks. “Then go tell her that.”

“She’ll just get mad again.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Get better at apologizing.”

Meanwhile the boys are discussing how to apologize to girlfriends, you’re at the arcade, trying to win a stuffed animal.

The arcade is chaos, neon lights flickering, pixelated sound effects, the constant clink-clink of coins dropping somewhere. A racing game to your left, a dance machine behind you, and right in front of you—

The claw machine.

Inside it sits the biggest stuffed cat you’ve ever seen. Grey and white, oversized head, cute smile. It’s ridiculous. You want it immediately.

You shove another coin in.

Heeseung leans casually against the machine beside you. “You’ve been trying for like ten minutes.”

“I almost had it,” you mumble, eyes locked on the claw.

Sunoo crouches dramatically beside the glass. “Manifest it. Tell it you love it.”

“I do love it,” you whisper.

The claw drops.

Grabs the cat.

Lifts it.

For one beautiful second it hangs there.

“YES!”

Then slips.

The cat falls back into the pile.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you curse under your breath, stepping back in disbelief.

Heeseung laughs softly. “Y/n, did something happen between you and Riki?”

You don’t even look at him. “He was being a dick.”

Sunoo nods immediately. “Newsflash.”

Heeseung hums in agreement. “Fair.”

No further questions.

You shove another coin in aggressively. The claw misses completely this time and you kick the machine.

Heeseung gently nudges you aside. “Let me.”

You cross your arms, pretending you don’t care. “You’re gonna lose.”

The claw lowers.

It grips the stuffed cat around its head.

Lifts it.

Carries it over to the hole.

Drops.

The cat tumbles into the prize slot.

You and Sunoo scream like he just won an Olympic medal.

“NO WAY—” you laugh. It’s bigger than you expected, soft and and perfect.

Heeseung smiles, brushing his hands off. “All skill.”

He takes the cat from the slot and hands it to you with a small grin. “For your suffering.”

You hug it immediately. “You’re my favorite person.”

He just laughs.

ou three walk out of the arcade a few minutes later, the mall lights feeling calmer after all the flashing machines. You hold the stuffed cat in your arms like it’s something precious, its giant head resting against your shoulder.

Riki notices you.

From halfway down the hall, he spots you walking toward them, oversized plush cat in your arms, laughing at something Sunoo just said.

And unfortunately for his pride, you look cute. And pretty. And happy.

It does something uncomfortable to his chest.

The groups meet in the middle of the walkway.

Sunghoon claps his hands once. “We’re gonna go find Jungwon and Jay before they eat themselves sick.”

“Too late,” Heeseung says dryly.

They all start walking, Sunghoon and Jake up front debating something again, Sunoo walking slightly behind them.

Heeseung slows just enough to walk beside Riki for half a second.

He gives him a small nod toward you.

Go.

Riki exhales through his nose.

Fine.

He steps up, walking beside you.

You don’t look at him.

He notices that immediately.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to sound casual. “Where’d you get that?”

Your eyes stay forward. “Arcade.”

“Obviously.”

“Heeseung won it for me.”

There’s something about the way you say it, so simple, that hits him wrong.

He glances at the stuffed cat.

Heeseung won it… not him.

“Oh,” Riki mutters. “Cool.”

You finally lift it slightly, showing him the cat’s stupid stitched smile. “It’s my new boyfriend.” You say it teasingly.

But Riki doesn’t smile.

Something annoyed flickers across his face before he masks it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice calm but a little tight. “He looks like he’d treat you better.”

You glance at him briefly, catching that tone.

“It doesn’t climb through windows uninvited,” you reply.

He huffs softly. “Yeah. It also doesn’t have legs.”

You shrug. “Less likely to run around with random girls then.”

He goes quiet for half a second.

Then he nudges the cat’s head lightly with his fingers. “He looks dumb.”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You really replacing me with a stuffed animal?”

You keep walking straight ahead.

“Depends. Can he apologize properly?” You say, then you step up your pace to nonchalantly walk away from Riki.

You eventually find Jungwon and Jay exactly where everyone expected them to be, around a food stand with tiny paper cups in their hands.

Jay is mid-sentence when the group walks up. “I’m telling you, if you circle back in ten minutes they forget your face.”

Jake nods seriously, holding up another sample. “This one’s teriyaki chicken. Third time.”

Heeseung sighs like a tired parent.

“Are we leaving?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon says.

Everyone slowly makes their way toward the mall exit.

Riki walks quietly behind everyone.

You do too.

By the time the glass doors slide open, the air outside is thick and warm, with the hum of traffic and laughs from somewhere down the street.

Sunghoon and Jake walk ahead, arguing about the best type of flipphone. Jay tries to convince Jungwon to stop at a convenience store on the way. Sunoo keeps poking Heeseung about the stuffed cat like it’s some kind of trophy.

You and Riki walk a few steps behind them again.

For a minute, neither of you says anything.

Your arms are wrapped around the giant plush cat, its soft head resting against your shoulder. Riki glances at it once, then looks ahead at the group, then down at the pavement like he’s building up the courage to say something.

Finally, he exhales and speaks.

“Y/n...”

You glance at him.

“I was being an asshole yesterday.”

You blink slightly.

He keeps walking beside you, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on the ground instead of on you.

“And… I’m sorry,” he adds. “For the cigarettes. And the joint. And that girl at the skatepark.”

You don’t interrupt.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“And I’m sorry for not knowing how to say sorry,” he admits. “I know I kinda… suck at that.”

For a moment you just look at him.

Then a small giggle slips out before you can stop it.

He looks over immediately. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, smiling a little. “I just like hearing you apologise”.

He shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

“I maybe shouldn’t have kicked you out the window.” You say hesitantly.

He snorts. “Maybe?”

“Okay, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He slides his hand out of his pocket and slowly, almost carefully, he lets it brush against yours. When you don’t pull away, his fingers curl around your hand.

The group ahead of you turns a corner toward the quieter streets leading back to your neighborhood.

You glance at Riki. “Do you wanna come to my house?”

His eyebrows lift. “You gonna let me in trough the door this time?”

You roll your eyes. “If you behave.”

“I always behave, baby.”

You scoff softly. “Mhm… just pull your pants up before my parents see you.”

⊹

extra note: I rlly hate the ending, I had writers block…

taglist: @laikaonline @izzikiii @hearteubeateuxz @angelhyuka @berrybonnieee @choeryyxyz @ily4hoonity @embrjdos @astronomicalastro-blog1 @silvhoon @coupsarchive @bffr-riv @ily4hoonity @kittyvalr @eater4riki @twoloathe @mhhhhnj @rmmsthings @ilovetylerthecreater @eilishlamour @sociallyawkward18 @lovenha7 @enhajungwonheart @krikalovesstay @rikislove @wonsvisuals @nishirikiluvr @illtie @keipabsstuff @saeivra @emmaitoshi @ardlolic @aamirazx @wonuziex @bemyaehiweloveskz @sa1co @nikisfave @sociallyawkward18 @seerpentsk1rt @lovleycherryy @ivelvette @rikimuraaaa @evanleeisahoe @17ha @miffikeuu @luvv1anime @swiftinsightinsight @mininigning @bellachaewon @teddybeartaetae @wonnieswife @xupidraws @nikkicupcakes @xonishimura @l4nnisworld

[matzism]

MAKE U CUM .ᐟ

product details: since your roommate saw you that night, nothing has been the same for him.

warnings labels. . . explicit content (mdni), friends to lovers, masturbation, mentions of pillow humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex, praise.

featured employees: roommate!niki x fem!reader

staff notes: consider this part two of peeping riki? also, to the person who sent the req , it’s nearly done — just wanted to get this out real quick ♡⸝⸝

niki felt like he was going insane.

ever since he saw you that night, the only thing that filled his mind was the sounds of your moans and the way his name sounded slipping from your mouth.

he’d zone out whenever you said his name, tense up if you sat too close to him on the couch, and practically lose it whenever you touched him—accident or not.

it had gotten so bad to the point he couldn’t even shower without fisting himself there. one hand resting on the cold tiles while the other wrapped around his dick as he pictured that night all over again.

and even now, when he should’ve been asleep or doing literally anything else, he was in bed, pillow folded around his dick, slamming his hips into it. wishing and needing it to be you instead.

“fuck…” he shuddered, lazily lifting his hips into the pillow, building that pressure again.

he was almost there, on the brink of cumming again when a knock sounded at his door.

“niki? you in there?”

fuck.

“yeah, shit, just give me a second!” he called out, tripping over his blanket while trying to pull his shorts up. “i’ll be right there.”

you weren’t supposed to be home. he was sure that he had the house to himself, that you were supposed to be out on some date.

niki grabbed one of the small air freshener cans he kept in his nightstand and sprayed the room—and himself for safe measures.

he opened the door, his chest heaving as sweat beaded on his forehead, hands slightly shaking. he had his body angled to cover the scene behind him.

“hey…” he ran his fingers through his hair. "everything alright?"

“yeah, wanna watch a movie?” you asked, eyes tracing him up and down as if you had a good idea of what he was just doing.

"yeah, sure," he smiled, slipping through the crack of the door and closing it behind him. "but weren't you going somewhere tonight?"

"oh. i got stood up," you said, like it meant nothing.

inside the living room, the tv was already paused on a random movie, while the dim red hue from the led lights—that desperately needed replacing—in the kitchen, filled the space.

niki sat down next to you, his arm slung over the back of the couch, fingertips brushing your arm. you leaned into his touch, settling in his arms.

the movie started and everything seemed to be going fine, at least on your end it was. for niki, it was slowly becoming hell, because the tent growing in his pants was noticeable.

he tried to shift away from you, sit up a little bit, just enough to cover up but you wouldn’t move. instead, you moved closer to him, sinking your body into the cushions. your thigh was pressed against his.

he was doing it to himself at this point. the fabric of his shorts were thin enough that he could feel the heat from your skin and it was driving him mad.

niki froze, his breath catching in his throat.

you suddenly froze, and he started wishing he could just hide. you felt him tense, your eyes darting from his lap up to his face.

"...niki, are you okay?" you whispered, your voice trailing off once you realized what was going on.

before you knew it, his lips were on yours, hands cupping your face as he pressed his body against yours. he waited damn near two weeks to do this. to kiss you, to have his hands all over you.

niki’s hands traveled down your body, one hand slipping under your shirt, the palm of his hand hot against your skin. “please,” he muttered against your lips.

you nodded, helping him lift your shirt. he pressed a kiss against the corner of your lips, down to your chest, lingering there before lowering himself between your legs. niki hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans. he didn’t waste a second, dragging them down your legs and carelessly tossing them onto the ground.

his hands were wrapped around your thighs, pushing them back to give himself a good view of your already flushed and soaked pussy.

“all this for me, baby?” he asked, dragging a finger down your folds before he leaned forward. his tongue traced slow along your folds, before inserting two fingers. his mouth worked skillfully, focusing on your clit, fingers curling just right.

“niki- wait.. fuck,” you breathed, moving your hand to cover your mouth as your head fell back against the armrest.

embarrassingly enough, you were about to cum already. your fingering treaded through his hair, grabbing a handful of his hair as your hips rolled against his tongue. before you could have that release, he pulled back his tongue and stilled his fingers.

you let out a whined, needy gasp, eyes snapping open to look down at him. "...why did you stop?"

he looked up at you, his gaze hungry and full of desire. "i need to feel you around me," he whispered, rising to his knees, the cushion dipping beneath him. he pushed down his shorts, his dick already hard and leaking.

his hands slid under your knees, pushing them back until they reached your chest. he pushed inside you slowly and started moving. it was slow at first like he was allowing you to adapt to him but that didn't last too long.

"fuck- you feel so good," he groaned, his hips snapping into yours. he leaned down, catching your lips in a kiss before pulling back again. "c'mon.. let me hear you, baby."

all you could do is moan, your walls clenching around him as your nails clutch at his shirt. niki placed his thumb in your mouth, pulling out until only the tip was inside before slamming his hips again. "let hear me that pretty voice like last time."

"niki... shit, i'm gonna-" you gasped, the pleasure pooling in your stomach, not even registering what he said. "don't," you choked out, voice trembling. "don't stop. please."

niki picked up his pace, using his thumb to circle your clit. "you sound so good like this... so fucking pretty," he took one deep thrust, burying himself as deep as he can inside you.

"cum for me, baby. i got you... let go," he breathed, pulling back before doing another deep thrust, then another and another one. until you let out a silent cry, trying to catch your breath.

it didn't take long for your orgasm to hit. it shot through you, leaving your legs shaking, clenching around niki. he started to slow down once his own orgasm hit, his chest heaving.

he leaned down one final time, burying himself in your shoulder and let out a shaky breath. still inside you on that cramped couch.

staff notes: “what’s your favorite curse word?” “probably fuck,” that video was all i could think abt while editing bro 💀🫩

# | store disclaimer: all work is fictional and is not a real depiction of our staff outside the store !

[hoonguin]

꒰﹕﹒ i lawb you ❀ nishimura riki

⌗ in which . . . you’re assigned to capture a notorious mafia leader, only to discover that he’s your former lover — nishimura riki

流星 ໑ . .  mafialeader!riki x femdetective!reader

⌗ includes . . . smut (18+), strong language, power imbalance, moral conflict, possessive behavior, professional conduct, unresolved feelings, ex-lovers to whatever that was, riki talks you through it 🤤 overstimulation, cockwarming, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (m. receiving), rough sex, multiple orgasms, power play, car sex, praise kink, light degradation, size kink, use of restraints ➜ mdni ! or do.. it's up to you ♡ purely a work of fiction, none of this is real | wc: 10.2k

♪ el’s bubble: president el just wanted to share with the class that this piece was made with a loooot of love (she had way too much time and too many ideas) 🙏 spent at least three days working through this but we made it out of the woods ! i genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about him in melbourne and this one specific clip of him i saw on tiktok so yeah . . this was a request by anon, so thanks a bunch anon 😛 please enjoy — likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are deeply appreciated on here ♡ requests are always open if you want to see me write something specific ۫ ׅ

໑ part 1 | part 2.1 | part 2.2

tags: @wonscapes @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @kristynaaah @psychicdazestrawberry | just ask if you want to be a part of my tag list ˙𐃷˙

now playing . . . often by the weeknd

"What the hell? This is the guy we have to somehow magically put in handcuffs?"

You groan out, frustration evident in your voice as your thumb and index finger press firmly against the bridge of your nose, massaging the tension that has been building there since the start of this meeting. 

Your chair creaks beneath you as you sink back into it, the leather cool against your back, though it does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach.

The room goes dead silent for a long, agonizing moment. 

The only sound that fills the space is the faint, rhythmic hum of the air conditioner, its steady drone doing little to calm the storm of thoughts racing through your mind. 

The cool toned lights above seem to buzz just a little louder in the quiet, and you can feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the room on you, waiting for you to say something else, to react, to do anything other than sit there in stunned disbelief.

"Well, he's sort of the ringleader of the mafia that's been terrorizing people on the other side of the city, so yes — that's the guy we have to catch," your coworker says, their tone far too casual for the gravity of what they've just dropped on your desk. 

They take another bite into their ube flavored macaron, the crumbs dusting the corner of their mouth as they chew, oblivious to the way your entire world has just tilted on its axis.

In front of you, sitting right there on your desk, is a photograph of a man — the same man you're supposed to somehow catch, apprehend, and put behind bars. 

The same man who, according to the file beneath the photo, has been orchestrating a web of crime so intricate that the department has been chasing ghosts for nearly three years.

You stare at the picture for a long, long time. Your eyes trace every detail, every line and shadow captured in the image, as if staring at it long enough might reveal some hidden truth, some sign that this is all just an elaborate mistake.

The man in the photograph seems to be around six feet tall, though it's hard to tell exact height from a picture alone. 

His hair is a striking mix of brown and blonde, though it leans closer to blond, the kind of hair that probably catches the sunlight in a way that makes people turn their heads without meaning to. 

He has a tall, elegant nose bridge, lips that are a pretty shade of pink, slightly curved in a way that suggests he might have been caught mid-thought, or perhaps mid-sentence. 

His eyes, oh, his eyes — his eyes are the same shape, the same dark brown, the same intensity that once made your heart race for entirely different reasons.

Nishimura Riki.

The name sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and sweet all at once. 

You remember how it used to feel to say it, whispered in quiet moments, laughed over shared jokes, cried into pillows when everything fell apart.

Fuck. 

Who would've ever thought your ex from back in the day, the same boy who used to trip over his own feet, who had the dorkiest laugh you'd ever heard, who held your hand like it was something precious, would become the most feared mafia leader in the city? 

That the same hands that once traced hearts on your skin would now be stained with the kind of darkness you've spent your entire career fighting against?

The thought of it alone felt incredibly absurd. 

After what felt like an entire millennium, each second stretching into an eternity as the photograph burned itself into your memory, you finally let out a long, breathy sigh. 

It escapes your lips slowly and deliberately. Your shoulders drop just slightly, the tension in your body shifting rather than just disappearing entirely.

"Okay, then," you say, your voice steadier than you feel. "So when do we plan to start our operations in catching this guy?"

Your fingers tap rapidly against your desk, a nervous habit you've never quite managed to shake. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of your nails against the wood fills the silence between your words.

"If I were to suggest," your coworker begins, setting down what remains of their macaron and wiping the corner of their mouth with a napkin, "we could start this evening, maybe at around six? From the insights I've gathered from Mrs. Yoon's department, there's a high possibility they're just hanging around at the abandoned bread factory just a few turns away from the main highway. It's been one of their known spots for… well, gatherings."

You nod slowly, processing the information, already mentally mapping out the route in your head. You know that factory, or at least, you know of it. 

Everyone does. It's been decommissioned for years, a crumbling skeleton of what was once a thriving business, now reduced to nothing more than a ghost of the past.

"Then so be it, we'll start tonight. I'll come along—"

Your words hang in the air for barely a second before another voice cuts through, sharp and insistent.

"Wait, no, it's fine if you don't head out with us." One of the senior officers shifts in their seat, their expression a careful mask of concern disguised as professionalism. "We heard Mr. Nishimura is a very dangerous figure to be around. His reputation precedes him, and frankly, we don't know what we're walking into. It would be safer if—"

A beat.

The room falls silent again, the weight of unsaid words pressing down on everyone present. You can see the way your coworkers exchange glances, the subtle raise of eyebrows, the barely perceptible shake of heads. 

They know, or at least, they suspect, that there's more to your investment in this case than professional duty.

"I can manage," you say, cutting through their hesitation like a blade. Your voice is calm, measured, but there's an edge beneath the surface that wasn't there before. "I believe I've encountered people worse than him."

The lie slides off your tongue easily, smoothly. 

Have you encountered worse? 

Perhaps. 

But none of them wore the face of someone you once loved. None of them had hands that once wiped your tears, or a voice that once whispered promises of forever.

"But—"

"Nothing can change my mind. I will come along." You say it firmly this time, leaving no room for argument, your hand already reaching out for the mug of hot coffee sitting by your desk. 

The ceramic is warm against your palm and you take a slow sip, letting the bitterness coat your tongue as your coworkers exchange one final look.

After a moment, they nod, a reluctant acceptance of a battle they know they won't win. 

They've worked with you long enough to recognize the set of your jaw, the steel in your eyes. 

You're definitely not backing down.

After a quick exchange of additional reminders, meeting points, squad arrangements, who will take point, which vehicles to use, the chain of command, you wave off your coworkers, watching them gather their things and file toward the door of your office. 

Their footsteps echo against the linoleum, a steady march of duty and obligation, until the last of them disappears beyond the frame.

Then, complete silence.

After everyone has left, you still can't shrug it off. 

The feeling sits heavy in your chest, a heavy rock dragging you down into depths you thought you'd escaped years ago. 

Your college sweetheart, the boy who used to sneak you notes folded into tiny paper stars, who would wait by your dorm every morning with a smile that could melt glaciers, who held you when your world felt like it was crumbling, is now one of the most wanted criminals out there.

The irony isn't lost on you. The universe, it seems, just has a cruel sense of humor.

You take another sip of your coffee, staring down at the photograph still sitting on your desk. Riki's eyes seem to stare back at you, and for a moment, you swear you can see the ghost of the boy he used to be hiding somewhere in those depths.

God damn it, Nishimura Riki.

The cold wind of the evening hits you without warning, an invisible force that seems to have been lying in wait just for this moment. 

It whips across your face with a vengeance, sending strands of your hair flying directly into your eyes and mouth, effectively undoing the careful lip stain you had applied just moments ago in the car mirror. 

And frankly, it felt like the universe was already setting the tone for how the rest of this night was going to go.

You sputter, spitting out a strand of hair that had the audacity to stick to your freshly painted lips, and swipe at your face in frustration.

It was annoying, to say the least. 

The car driven by your colleague has run out of gas — a fact that became painfully obvious when the engine sputtered, coughed, and died an unceremonious death on the side of a road that felt far too deserted for comfort. 

In this economy, with inflation rates climbing higher than your patience has been dipping, you'd probably spend more trying to get a tow truck out here rather than just buying a few liters of gas and calling it a learning experience. 

In short, you and two more colleagues are stranded by the side of the road, surrounded by nothing but empty fields and the distant glow of city lights that feel impossibly far away.

Of course, your other workmates are aware of the situation, the department's group chat has been blowing up with a chaotic mixture of concern, directions, and at least three different people offering to bring gas. 

They're sending as much help as they can to get that car fueled up again, but with it being rush hour on a Friday evening, it'd take them a really, agonizingly long time. 

The traffic in this city is notorious, a living creature that swallows cars whole and spits them out whenever it damn well pleases.

"Why the fuck would you not fuel this bad boy up before heading out?" one of your colleagues asks, their tone caught somewhere between genuine frustration and barely suppressed amusement. 

They're trying so hard not to giggle at the absurdity of it all, a squad of trained professionals stranded on the side of the road like a bunch of teenagers on a road trip gone wrong.

"I didn't expect it to be that far," the driver shoots back, defensive, their hands gesturing wildly at the empty road ahead as if distance itself had personally betrayed them.

"You've been here multiple times," the first one counters, raising an eyebrow.

"My point still stands," the driver mutters, already pulling out their phone, navigating through the screen with practiced fingers until they find the flashlight switch. The bright beam cuts through the growing darkness, casting long shadows against the tall grass that lines either side of the road.

So what did you guys decide to do? 

After a brief, somewhat heated discussion that involved a lot of pointing at maps and debating the merits of waiting versus walking, the three of you decided to just walk to the factory. 

The idea being that it'd probably be better that way, because god knows what worse situations the car could get into aside from losing gasoline. A flat tire? Engine failure? Getting towed by some overzealous parking enforcement despite being very much parked legally on a public road? With your luck tonight, anything was possible.

A blessing in disguise, definitely. Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

The factory is only an eight-minute walk away according to Google Maps, which your colleague optimistically announces while conveniently ignoring the "approximately" that usually means "longer than you think." 

To add more fuel to the fire, you guys are apparently going to be the first people to arrive there too. 

All of the other cars got separated back in the city due to the hectic traffic and busted stoplights that would flash red a few seconds too early, trapping cars in intersections and creating a domino effect of chaos that spread through every major street. 

By some cosmic joke, you three had to just be there first.

Perfect. So, so perfect. 

You could practically hear the universe laughing at you. 

The walk to the factory itself was pretty quick, maybe because you got stranded with your colleagues who were both awarded "Clown of the Year" during last year's Christmas party — a title they wore with immense pride. 

Their constant bickering, terrible jokes, and off-key humming made the eerily silent and dark walk to the factory an incredibly funny one, despite the circumstances. 

One of them kept making shadow puppets with their flashlight while the other narrated a dramatic nature documentary about "the wild detective in its natural habitat." 

It was stupid, childish even, but it kept the creeping anxiety at bay.

Finally, after about a while and two LANY songs later, one playing from someone's phone speaker, muffled by the wind but recognizable nonetheless, you arrive at the outside of the factory.

The structure looms ahead, a massive silhouette against the darkening sky. 

What was once a thriving bread factory now stands as a skeleton of industrial ambition, its windows either broken or boarded up, its walls covered in graffiti that you can barely make out in the fading light. 

But there's something else — something that makes you pause and crouch low, pulling your colleagues down with you.

You could confirm that there are people here. Even hidden behind really tall grass that reaches well above your waist, you could see the view really well. 

Years of training have taught you how to observe without being observed, how to take in details while remaining invisible.

There are two bodyguards seated by the entrance, their postures relaxed but alert, cigarettes glowing orange in the darkness as they take drags in between conversation. 

They're dressed in dark clothing, nearly blending into the shadows if not for the faint light spilling from inside the factory.

"Jeez, who hired those two to be by the entrance," a colleague of yours whispers, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. 

You can see them gesturing toward the guards, clearly amused by something, their posture, their expressions, maybe just the concept of them hanging by an abandoned bread factory. 

They nudge your shoulder, and you immediately nudge them back, harder, your eyes narrowing in warning, indicating for them to keep their voices down.

The place was well-lit with what seemed to be newly bought light bulbs, their brightness almost harsh against the abandoned backdrop, and a couple of vintage-style lamps that cast warm pools of yellow across the cracked concrete. 

There were maybe around three black vans parked to the side, their windows tinted so dark they looked like voids. 

And two vehicles near the entrance, one white car and another black car, sleek and expensive-looking even from this distance.

You could see, faintly, that there was a person leaning against the white car. The figure was tall, arms crossed, illuminated just enough by the nearby lamps to reveal the outline of a silhouette.

You couldn't really make out the face, or anything distinguishing. 

Just a shape. 

A presence.

Just as you guys were about to head in, with all equipment ready, earpieces adjusted, weapons checked, positions assigned, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. 

The buzz is insistent, urgent, and it causes all of you to halt and press yourselves further into the tall grass.

You take it out and see that one of your senior officers is ringing you up. The name flashes on your screen, and you exchange a glance with your colleagues before swiping to answer.

To cut the story short, because the conversation involved a lot of unnecessary explaining and at least four instances of your senior officer crashing out over things that could have been an email, gasoline has arrived, along with a few minor problems you couldn't be bothered to deal with right now. 

Something about one of the other cars getting a flat, another team getting stuck behind a traffic accident, and someone needing backup for a completely unrelated situation.

You ask your coworkers to head back to the car to assist with the gasoline, and check the so-called "minor problems" your senior officer was spiraling over. They hesitate, looking at each other, then back at you.

"Are you sure—" one asks, their voice barely above a whisper.

"Wait, okay, but do you not want to come? It's dark already—" another voice follows, concern lacing their words.

You assure them you'll be fine. You've done solo reconnaissance before. You know how to stay hidden, how to observe without engaging. 

After a few more pointed assurances, a few hesitant nods, and one absolutely wonky handshake that one of them insists on doing "for good luck," they were off, their figures disappearing into the darkness of the tall grass, flashlights bobbing like fireflies in the distance.

Now, it was just you.

The silence feels heavier without their voices to fill it. 

The wind picks up again, rustling the grass around you, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear the faint sound of music coming from inside the factory.

The silence presses against you like a physical weight, and for a moment, all you can hear is the thud of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. 

You crouch there in the tall grass, hidden from view, trying to gather the scattered pieces of your composure into something that resembles professionalism.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself, the words a familiar mantra that has gotten you through countless operations before this one. You're a trained professional. You've been preparing for this moment for months. Years, even. You know the protocols. You know the risks. You know what's at stake.

But another voice, smaller, quieter, buried somewhere deep in the recesses of your mind where you keep all the things you don't want to acknowledge, whispers back: You will never be prepared for him.

You shake your head, dispelling the thought like a fly you're trying to swat away. Now is not the time to get sentimental. 

Now is not the time to think about paper rings folded from notebook pages, or locker notes written in his messy scrawl, or lazy afternoons spent tangled together on the couch with your fingers tracing patterns on his biceps. 

Now is the time to do your job.

With a steadying breath that does nothing to calm the storm inside your chest, you decide to make your move.

Creeping forward through the grass, you keep your body low, your movements calculated and precise.

Years of training have taught you how to move like a ghost, how to become invisible even in broad daylight. 

The tall blades whisper against your clothing, a soft rustling that sounds impossibly loud in the quiet of the night. 

Every few steps, you pause, listening, watching, making sure you haven't been detected.

Miraculously, and you're not sure whether to be relieved or suspicious, the bodyguards aren't at their posts anymore. The entrance stands unguarded, a gaping mouth of light spilling out onto the cracked concrete. 

Either they've moved inside, or something has drawn their attention elsewhere. 

Either way, it's an opportunity. A gift, perhaps, from whatever higher power has been toying with your fate tonight.

You consider making your way inside. The logical part of your brain, the part trained for tactical assessment, urges you forward. But something holds you back. The interior looks vast, open, with too many corners and shadows where someone could be hiding, too many blind spots where you could be cornered. 

For someone with your smaller frame, it's a risk, you've learned the hard way that being underestimated works both ways. 

It can be an advantage, yes, but it can also make you vulnerable.

Not yet, you decide, your mind already mapping out contingencies. 

Gather intel first. Know the terrain. Count your exits.

Instead, you redirect your attention to the vehicles parked outside.

Moving with purpose, you make your way toward the three black vans first. 

They're utilitarian, unremarkable, the kind of vehicles that could belong to any delivery company or construction crew. 

You note their positions, their license plates, the fact that one of them has a small dent on the rear bumper. Details that might mean nothing, or everything.

Then you move toward the two cars, the black one and the white one parked closer to the entrance. 

The black car is sleek, expensive, the kind of vehicle that screams money and power. The white one is equally impressive, though slightly more understated in its elegance, its paint catching the moonlight in a way that almost makes it glow.

You're cataloging these details in your mind, positions, makes, models, potential for pursuit or escape, when a voice cuts through the night like a blade through silk.

"Hey, sexy."

You freeze.

It's not the word that stops you cold, though you'd be lying if you said it didn't catch you off guard. 

No, it's the voice itself, the timber, the slight lilt at the end that turns what should be a cringeworthy pickup line into something almost fond. Something that sounds dangerously like the past echoing into the present, like a melody you thought you'd forgotten how to play.

Your heart slams against your ribs, once, twice, three times, as you slowly, carefully, turn around.

And there he is.

Riki stands before you, illuminated by the dim glow of the nearby lamps, looking nothing like the monster the department has painted him to be and everything like the boy who once held your heart in his hands. 

He's wearing beige cargo pants that are definitely a few sizes larger than his usual fit, hanging low on his hips in a way that speaks of comfort rather than style. A black belt cinches them at the waist, a grey shirt stretches across his chest, and a black jacket hangs open over it all.

You wouldn't expect to see that from someone who's been labeled as one of the most dangerous mafia leaders in the city. 

He looks so dang normal. 

Casual. 

He could be any other guy you passed on the street, someone you wouldn't look twice at.

Except you would. You'd look at him a thousand times over. You'd memorize every angle of his face, every shadow and highlight, every detail you thought you'd forgotten but had only buried away in the deepest corners of your memory.

He's looking at you the same way.

"What the fuck are you doing out here, Riki?"

The words spill out before you can stop them, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. 

You've said his name a thousand times before, but saying it now, in this context, feels like crossing a line you can't uncross.

But you can't take it back. 

You don't want to.

Riki's lips curl into a smile, and it's the same smile that used to make your heart do somersaults back in college. 

The same smile that greeted you every morning by your locker with a cup of your favorite hot cocoa with extra marshmallows. The same smile that broke your heart when everything fell apart. 

There's something else there now, something softer, more vulnerable, that he's trying and failing to hide behind his casual demeanor.

"One of my goons informed us that law enforcement would possibly come out and get our asses tonight," he says, his voice carrying that familiar playful edge even as his eyes remain fixed on your face, drinking you in like you're the first drop of water he's seen in a desert. "Presented a whole list of the officers that may be involved too. Saw your name at the top of the list, and thought..."

He pauses, and for a moment, the mask slips. 

You see it, the way his breath hitches almost imperceptibly, the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach for you.

"I wanted to see you for myself," he finishes, quieter now. "Needed to. Even if it was just from a distance. Even if you'd never know I was there."

Your breath catches in your throat, a small hitch that sounds deafening in the quiet night. 

You don't really know what to say to that, to the implication that he's been keeping track of you, that your name on a list was enough to make him drop everything. 

That he needed to see you the same way you've been needing to see him, even if you couldn't admit it until this very moment.

And god, he's so handsome. 

Even more handsome than your Riki back in college, if that's even possible. 

The years have sharpened his features, turned the softness of youth into something more defined, more striking. His jaw is sharper, his shoulders broader, his presence more commanding. 

But beneath all that, beneath the new edges and unfamiliar angles, he's still him. Still the boy who used to buy a ton of pencils and lose them all within a day. Still the boy who used to press kisses to your cheek whenever you were feeling down.

Riki reaches up and pulls off his black shades, revealing the same pair of deep brown eyes you fell in love with all those years ago. 

They're the same, and yet different — there's something harder in them now, something that speaks of experiences you can only imagine, of choices and consequences that have shaped him into someone new.

Underneath all the hardness, beneath the walls he's clearly built around himself, you can still see it: the warmth. The tenderness. The way he's looking at you like you're the only real thing in a world full of shadows.

The realization hits you like a physical force: He's still in love with you.

"Are you not here with anyone?" he asks, and there's genuine concern in his voice, a protectiveness that makes your chest ache with the weight of everything unsaid between you. 

His brow furrows slightly, creating a small crease between his eyebrows that you remember used to appear whenever he was worried about something. "Why are you alone? That's dangerous. You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

A few problems, you want to say. Just sent them back a bit to check on things.

The words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your mouth, because he's stepping closer now, closing the distance you didn't realize you'd been maintaining. 

His scent washes over you, something warm and woody with notes of vanilla underneath, different from what he used to wear but somehow still very him, and you feel your resolve crumbling like sand in a rising tide.

"A few problems," you finally manage, your voice coming out steadier than you feel. "Just sent them back a bit to check on things."

Without even realizing it, you feel yourself lowering your guard. It's instinctive, unconscious, something about being in his presence makes you forget, just for a moment, that you're supposed to be enemies. 

That he's supposed to be your target. 

That the department is probably already on their way, and when they arrive, they'll expect you to have him in handcuffs.

But right now, handcuffs are the last thing on your mind.

He looks at you, really looks at you, and there's something in his gaze that makes your skin prickle with awareness. 

His eyes travel over your face like he's trying to memorize you all over again, cataloging every change, every detail he might have missed.

"You cut your hair," he murmurs, almost to himself. "It looks good. Really good."

The observation catches you off guard, that he cared enough to store that detail away. 

Your hand unconsciously moves to touch the ends of your hair, a nervous habit you've never been able to break.

"You remember how it used to be," you say, and it comes out almost accusatory, like you're angry at him for holding onto memories you've been trying to forget.

"I remember everything," he says quietly. "Every single thing."

The weight of those words settles between you like a physical presence, heavy with all the things neither of you is saying.

Then his expression shifts, and there's a glint in his eye that you recognize all too well, the same stupid mischievous sparkle that used to precede every terrible joke, every playful tease, every moment that made you fall harder than you ever thought possible.

"Aw," he says, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing lilt. "So you stayed back to see me personally?"

"Definitely not," you shoot back, the denial automatic, instantaneous, a reflex developed over years of pretending you didn't care.

But the words taste like a lie on your tongue, and judging by the knowing look in his eyes, he can taste it too.

"You're a terrible liar," he says softly. "You always have been. Your nose does this little scrunch thing when you're not being honest."

Your hand flies to your nose instinctively, and he laughs, actually laughs, the sound warm and genuine and so achingly familiar that it makes your heart physically hurt.

"There it is," he says, his smile softening into something almost tender. "God, I missed that."

The admission hangs in the air between you, raw and honest in a way that neither of you expected.

Riki runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar that it makes your chest constrict. 

The movement causes his grey shirt to ride up just slightly, revealing a strip of skin and the waistband of red boxers underneath his low-hanging cargo pants.

You couldn't help but look.

It's involuntary, a flicker of your eyes that lasts barely a second, but it's enough. Heat creeps up your neck, spreading across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, pretending you were focused on something, anything, else. 

The ground. The sky. The distant lights of the factory. Literally anything.

But when you look back at him, there's a knowing look in his eyes, a darkness that has nothing to do with the night around you. 

He caught exactly what you were doing, and more importantly — he liked it.

"See something you like?" he asks, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges.

"I—what, no, that's not —" you stammer, and you hate how flustered you sound, how easily he can unravel you with just a few words.

He doesn't push it further. 

Instead, he steps closer, and this time, there's no mistaking the intention in his movement. 

Every step is deliberate, measured, closing the distance between you like he's approaching something precious and terrifying all at once.

Your body tenses, every instinct screaming at you to step back, to maintain the distance that keeps you safe.

You stay rooted in place, caught in the gravity of his presence like a planet unable to escape its sun. 

You don't want to move. 

You don't want to run.

You want him closer.

Riki stops when he's close enough that you can count the individual lashes framing those deep brown eyes. 

Close enough that you can see the slight part of his lips, the way his breathing has gone shallow, the way his composure is cracking just as much as yours.

"You know, you have absolutely no idea," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "how many times I've thought about this moment. How many nights I've lain awake wondering what I'd say if I ever saw you again."

"And what did you come up with?" you ask, your voice equally quiet, equally raw.

He shakes his head slowly, a rueful smile playing at his lips. "Nothing. Actually, every word I practiced just immediately disappears when you're actually in front of me."

The confession sends a shiver down your spine, and you realize with sudden clarity that you're not the only one who's been holding onto this. 

You're not the only one who's been haunted by what-ifs and might-have-beens.

He's been just as affected. Just as unable to let go.

Without a word, he reaches out and wraps his hand around your wrist.

His touch is warm, firm, but not tight enough to hurt. It's a gesture of connection rather than restraint, and the feeling of his skin against yours, even just this small point of contact, sends electricity racing through your veins. 

Your pulse jumps beneath his fingers, and you know he can feel it. You know he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Riki, what the hell are you doing—" Your voice comes out breathier than intended, more plea than protest. "Let go."

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know you don't mean them. 

You don't want him to let go. 

You want him to hold on tighter.

Judging by the way his grip shifts, adjusting, his thumb brushing across the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, he knows it too.

"No," he says simply, and there's no command in it, no force. Just honesty, just want, laid bare between you. "I've spent years letting you go. I'm done with that."

Your heart stutters in your chest. "Riki..."

"Come on," he interrupts softly, tilting his head toward the white car behind him. "Let's get in my car. Let's have a quick little catch up about life after college."

The suggestion hangs in the air, weighted with implications that none of you want to say.

Catch up could mean a lot of things. 

Conversation. Confession. Something more.

Your mind screams that this is wrong, that you're crossing every line you've ever drawn for yourself, that you're betraying your career, your morals, everything you've worked for. 

He's a criminal. 

A target. 

Someone you're supposed to bring to justice, not follow into the backseat of an expensive car.

But he's also Riki. 

Your Riki. 

The boy who loved you first, and loved you hardest, and maybe, just maybe, never stopped loving you at all.

Your silence stretches too long, and something flickers in his eyes. Uncertainty. Vulnerability. The fear that maybe he's reading this wrong, that maybe you've moved on in ways he hasn't.

"We don't have to," he says quickly, his voice rough. "If you don't want to. I'm not—I would never force you into anything. You know that, right? I just..."

He trails off, and for the first time since he appeared, he looks young. 

Uncertain. 

Like the boy you remember, hiding behind bravado because he never learned how to ask for what he wanted without making it a joke.

He's scared, you realize. He's scared you’ll say no. He's scared this is just a fantasy he's built up in his head, and you’re about to shatter it.

The realization breaks something inside you, whatever walls you'd been holding onto, whatever professional distance you'd been trying to maintain. If he's still scared of losing you after all these years, after everything that's happened...

Then maybe you're not the only one who never moved on.

"Riki," you say, and his name comes out softer than you intend. Your free hand reaches up, almost of its own accord, and brushes a strand of hair from his forehead. 

His eyes flutter closed at the contact, just for a second, like he's been starved for your touch.

When he opens them again, there's something raw and desperate in his gaze.

"I'm not saying no," you whisper.

The words are barely out of your mouth before he's moving, pulling you gently but urgently toward the white car. 

His hand slides from your wrist to intertwine with your fingers, and the intimacy of it, the casual rightness of your hands fitting together like they were made for each other, makes your throat tight.

He opens the back door with his free hand, the other still holding yours like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. 

The interior is dark, plush, expensive leather gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

"After you," he murmurs, and there's a hint of his old playfulness in his voice, tempered by something darker, something hungry.

You hesitate for just a moment, one last moment of rationality, one last chance to turn back.

Then you slide into the backseat, pulling him in after you, and the door closes behind you with a soft, definitive click.

The leather is cool beneath you, soft in a way that only expensive things can be. 

For a moment, neither of you moves. The air between you is thick, charged with years of silence finally breaking.

"So," Riki breathes, and you watch his throat work as he swallows. "How have you been?"

The question is so absurdly normal, that a surprised laugh escapes your lips. "Are you serious right now? You're asking me how I've been?"

"What? I want to know." His lips curve into that familiar crooked smile, the one that used to make you agree to every stupid idea he ever had. "It's been what, six years? Seven? I think I'm allowed to ask."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "I've been… pretty good. Very busy. Became a detective, obviously. Got my own office. A plant I keep forgetting to water."

"A plant," he repeats, and there's something warm in his voice. "You? Forgetting to take care of something?"

"Shut it."

"Never." He shifts closer to the driver's seat, his shoulder brushing yours. 

The contact sends warmth spreading through your body. "What about you? Any relationships? Marriage? Kids?"

Your heart stumbles over itself. 

It’s like he's asking if you're available. 

He's asking if you've ever moved on.

"No," you say quietly. "None of that. You?"

The relief that flashes across his face is instantaneous and impossible to miss. "No. Never found anyone who..." He trails off, shaking his head. "No. Just work. Building an empire, I guess." His voice dips lower. "Waiting, mostly."

Waiting for you. 

The unspoken words hang between you.

Before you can respond, the engine purrs to life. Riki leans forward, pressing a button on the dashboard.

"Boss?" a voice crackles through the intercom — one of his men.

"Just heading out for a quick night ride," Riki says smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I need to clear my head. Inform me ASAP when the law enforcement people arrive. I'll be back before then."

"Understood, sir."

The car eases forward, gliding away from the factory and onto the dark road.

You should probably care that your colleagues will arrive to find you missing. 

You should probably worry about the operation, your career, everything you're risking.

But Riki's hand finds yours in the darkness, his thumb tracing patterns on your skin, and suddenly none of that matters.

The road stretches ahead, empty and endless, and you let yourself sink into the warmth beside you.

"So," he murmurs, his voice dropping. "Tell me more about this plant."

The drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Streetlights occasionally light up the car, casting golden stripes across Riki's features before plunging you both back into shadow.

"What about your family?" you ask, breaking the silence. "Your sister, the youngest one — what was her name?"

"Sora," he answers, and there's a gentleness in his voice that only ever appears when he speaks about her. "She's good. Graduated top of her class. It makes me look like the family disappointment, honestly."

"I sincerely doubt that."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and shifts to face you more fully. The movement brings him closer, his arm stretching along the back of the seat behind you. "You'd be surprised. She's the good one. I'm just, well..."

"The feared mafia leader?" you supply, raising an eyebrow.

"I was going to say 'the hot one,' but sure." His grin is infectious, and you hate how easily he can still make you smile. "Does it bother you? What did I do?"

The question catches you off guard. 

Does it bother you? It definitely should. 

Everything about this should bother you. 

But looking at him now, you don't see a criminal. 

You see Riki. 

Just Riki.

"I don't know," you admit honestly. "Ask me again later."

"I'll hold you to that."

The road curves, and the car takes it smoothly. In the movement, your body sways with the momentum, and suddenly your chest brushes against his extended arm.

The contact is brief, barely a second, but the sharp intake of breath from him is unmistakable. 

Your nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of your shirt and bra, and you know, with mortifying certainty, that he felt it. 

Surely.

The car suddenly feels too small.

A bit too small for your liking. 

"I’m so, so sorry," you murmur, your voice coming out breathless.

"Don't be." His voice has dropped an interval, rougher now. "I told you, didn't I? I'm done pretending I don't want you."

Your pulse thuds in your veins as his arm shifts behind you, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. The touch is feather-light, deliberate, testing.

"Riki..."

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his face inches from yours. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll back off. I'll take you back to your colleagues, and we'll pretend this never happened. But you have to say it."

Your lips part, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue, the responsible words, the professional words.

But they won't come.

Instead, your hand reaches up, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket.

"Don't stop," you whisper.

Before you can finish your sentence, Riki's lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate, starving, years of longing poured into a single moment. 

His tongue sweeps into your mouth without hesitation, claiming you, tasting you, devouring you like you're oxygen and he's been drowning. 

You melt into him with a whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling hard enough to make him groan into your mouth.

"Fuck," he growls against your lips, "I've been dreaming about this mouth for years."

He pulls away with a wet sound, breathless, his chest heaving. His eyes are dark, blown wide with want, and when he speaks, his voice is wrecked.

"Back seat now, okay? I need to touch you properly, princess."

Before you can respond, he's already climbing over the console with fluid grace, maneuvering into the spacious back area. 

The car isn't just a regular vehicle — it's something between a luxury sedan and a limousine, with extended seating and room enough for someone his size to move without restriction.

As he settles beside you, his cargo pants ride dangerously low on his hips, and you catch another glimpse of those red boxers peeking above the waistband. 

An unfamiliar heat pools low in your stomach, throbbing and insistent, and you squeeze your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure.

Riki notices. 

Of course he does.

"Ah-ah," he tuts, his hand coming to rest on your knee, pushing your legs apart. "Don't hide from me, princess. Let me see how wet you are."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you, and you feel your underwear sticking to your core, ruined.

"That's it," he murmurs, satisfied. "Such a good girl for me."

He guides you both to the far back, where plush cushioned seats stretch along the rear like a leather couch. 

He settles first, then pulls you onto his lap in one fluid motion. Your knees bracket his hips as his mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, filthier, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

"Fuck," he growls into your mouth, "I've thought about this—about you—every single fucking day. Do you know how many times I've had to fuck my own fist thinking about you? Thinking about this pretty mouth, this body, the sounds you make when you come?"

You whine, high and desperate, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding down against the growing hardness beneath you. 

The friction is maddening — not enough, but too much at the same time.

"Ki, please—"

"Please what, baby?" His hands slide under your shirt, splaying across your bare back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Use your words. Tell me what you need."

"You, ugh, I need you—"

"Need me to what?" He's teasing now, cruel, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. He finds that spot, the one that makes your knees weak, and bites down before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Need me to touch you? To fuck you? To make you scream my name until you forget everything but me?"

"Fuck—yes, all of it, please—"

His hands slide up your ribs to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they peak and ache beneath his touch.

You arch into him, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more everything.

"These tits," he groans, squeezing gently. "I've thought about them so much. How they'd feel in my hands, in my mouth. You have no idea how crazy you drove me, walking around in those tight shirts whenever your little squad was in the middle of an operation, you didn't know exactly what you were doing to me when I saw those pictures taken by my men."

"I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Liars go to hell, baby." His thumb flicks over your nipple, hard, and you gasp. "But you're already there, aren't you? Wet and desperate on my lap, grinding on my cock like the needy little slut you are."

His dirty words should embarrass you, but instead they just make you wetter, needier. 

Your hips grind down harder, chasing the friction you crave, and he lets out a dark chuckle.

"Look at you. So fucking desperate. You'd let me do anything to you right now, wouldn't you?"

"Yes—anything, please, just fuck me—"

"Anything?" His voice drops lower, dangerous. "Would you let me bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk? Let me use that pretty mouth until you're crying? Let me mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to?"

The words hit you like a physical force, and you shudder, nodding frantically.

"Yes, god, yes—yours, Ki—I'm yours—"

"Damn right you are." He captures your lips again, swallowing your whimpers. "You've always been mine. Even when we were apart. Even when you hated me. Mine."

His hands tighten on you, possessive and reverent all at once. Your own fingers card through his hair, tugging hard, and the sound that escapes him is downright sinful.

"Shit, princess, do that again—"

You pull harder, and he groans, his hips bucking up into you.

"God, baby, I've missed you so much — you don't even know," he murmurs against your jaw, his lips trailing hot and wet down to your neck. 

Beneath you, you can feel him getting harder, straining against the confines of his pants, and it makes you ache with want.

He's so, so big. 

You can feel every inch of him through the layers of fabric, thick and hard and pressing right against where you need him most.

"Feel that, princess?" He rolls his hips up, grinding against you. "That's what you do to me. Have been half-hard since I saw you in that grass, looking all professional and sexy, thinking you could actually catch me."

"I could have," you manage, though your voice comes out breathy and unconvincing.

He laughs, dark and low. "You didn't want to catch me, baby. You wanted me to catch you."

Before you can respond, an idea sparks in your mind.

You pull back slightly, reaching for your bag on the floor. His eyes follow your movements, curiosity flickering across his features, until you pull out the handcuffs.

His entire body goes still.

For a moment, genuine wariness flashes in his eyes. His jaw tightens, and you see his brain working — calculating, assessing. He doesn't know if this is a scheme, if you're still playing the detective, if this is all an elaborate trap to bring him in. 

The tension is palpable, his muscles coiling like he's ready to spring.

"Baby," he says carefully, "what are you doing?"

You see the uncertainty in his expression and smile, slow and wicked.

"Relax, cutie," you purr, trailing your free hand down his chest. "You're under arrest."

His brow arches, skepticism warring with arousal. "Under arrest for what?"

The raw hunger in his gaze belies his casual tone, and you lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"For being way too hot."

Something shifts in his expression, relief flooding in, followed immediately by dark, burning want. 

He holds out his wrists without protest, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Well then, officer. I surrender. Do with me what you will."

You click the handcuffs into place, securing his wrists together. The metal is cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Fuck," he breathes, testing the restraints. "You look so hot like this. All commanding and in control. Who knew my girl had an authority kink?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

You shove him back against the seat, climbing over him, and capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. 

He responds immediately, straining against the handcuffs, desperate to touch you but unable to.

"Having trouble there, baby?" you tease against his lips.

"You're going to pay for this," he growls, but there's no real threat in his voice — just a promise.

"Looking forward to it."

Slowly, deliberately, you trace your fingers down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, following the trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband. 

His breath hitches, muscles tensing and jumping beneath your touch.

"Your hands," he rasps. "Been dreaming about your hands on me for so fucking long."

Your fingers find his belt, unbuckling it with agonizing slowness. You take your time with the button, then the zipper, letting the anticipation build until he's practically vibrating beneath you.

"You're such a tease," he groans. "Always were. Fucking torture."

"Patience, you hunk."

The nickname catches him off guard, you've never called him that before, and his eyes darken impossibly further.

"Call me that again."

"Make me."

You hook your fingers into his pants and pull them down his thighs, leaving him in just those red boxers, his erection straining against the thin fabric. 

A wet spot has already formed at the tip, and you run your thumb over it, spreading the moisture.

"Shit, baby—" he chokes out, his head falling back against the seat. "Your fingers, they’re so—fuck—"

You lean down, your breath ghosting over him through the fabric, and he lets out a sound that's half-moan, half-whimper.

"Please, baby, don't tease me—"

"Where's that famous composure, Ki?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his tip through the cotton. "The big bad mafia leader, falling apart from just this?"

"I'll show you falling apart," he threatens, but his voice cracks on the words. "Just wait until I get my hands on you."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

"Liar."

You grip the waistband of his boxers with your teeth, and his whole body jerks.

"Holy shit, you're—shit, so sexy, fuck—"

You drag the fabric down slowly, torturously, inch by inch, revealing the sharp cut of his hip bones and the base of his cock. 

His abdominal muscles are trembling, tensing and releasing with every shaky breath.

When you finally pull the fabric down enough for him to spring free, he's flushed and leaking, hard enough that it looks almost painful. 

He's thick and long, bigger than you could’ve ever imagined, veins running along the underside that you want to trace with your tongue.

"God, Ki," you breathe, taking him in. "You're so fucking thick. How am I supposed to take all of this?"

"Trust me, baby," he groans, his voice wrecked. "You'll take it. You'll take every fucking inch because you're my good girl, and good girls take what they're given."

The filth spilling from his mouth makes you clench around nothing, arousal dripping from you.

You wrap your hand around the base of him, feeling him pulse in your grip. He's hot, hard, velvet over steel. 

You lean in and kitten-lick the tip, gathering the precum beading there.

The sound that tears from his throat is obscene, a broken moan that echoes through the car.

"That's it," he rasps, straining against the handcuffs. "Fuck, your tongue—so good, mmgh, just like that—"

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, letting your saliva coat his length. The weight of him on your tongue is intoxicating, and you moan around him, the vibration making him buck up involuntarily.

"Shit, I’m sorry, can't—" He's losing control, his hips twitching, trying so hard to stay still but failing. "Your mouth, princess, you have no idea what you do to me—"

You pull back to breathe, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. The sight makes him curse under his breath.

"Look at you," he growls. "So pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock. Such a good little thing for me."

You take him again, deeper this time, relaxing your throat. 

But he's too big, you can't fit all of him, so you stroke what you can't reach, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, rubbing your thumb over the sensitive spot beneath the head.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, baby—" His voice is cracking, his thighs trembling violently against the leather seats. "You're—you're gonna make me—"

The handcuffs clink against the seat as he strains, desperate to touch you, to grab your hair, to control the pace. 

But he can't. 

He's completely at your mercy, and it's driving him insane.

"Just like that, baby, princess, you're doing so well—taking me so good—" His words are punctuated by groans and gasps, his chest heaving. "Missed you, missed this, missed your mouth—your hands—everything—"

You hum around him, and he almost sobs.

"I'm, fuck—wait, princess, I'm gonna—"

You don't stop. If anything, you move faster, sucking harder, determined to push him over the edge. Your hand works in tandem with your mouth, slick and fast and relentless.

"Shit, you're—you're gonna make me come, baby, wait, want to come inside you—"

It's too darn late. 

With a broken cry, he spills into your mouth, hot and thick and so much of it. You swallow what you can, some of it spilling from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He comes down slowly, his body going boneless against the seat, his chest heaving. His eyes are glassy, distant, completely fucked out.

When you finally pull off him with a wet pop, he stares at you with something between awe and obsession.

"Come here," he rasps.

You climb up his body, and he captures your mouth in a messy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. He groans into it, filthy and unashamed.

"You're such a greedy little slut," he murmurs against your lips, but there's nothing but reverence in his voice. "Taking everything I gave you. So perfect. So fucking perfect."

You reach up and unlock the handcuffs, freeing his wrists. The moment his hands are free, he's on you, flipping your positions until you're beneath him on the leather seat, his eyes dark with renewed hunger.

"My turn," he growls.

His hands find your pants, undoing them and yanking them down your legs along with your underwear in one impatient motion. 

The cool air hits your soaked core, and you shiver.

"Look at you," he breathes, staring at your glistening folds. "So wet. Did sucking me off turn you on that much, baby? Got yourself all messy just from having my cock in your mouth?"

"Yes, god—" you admit, shameless.

"Filthy girl." But he sounds pleased. "Let me clean you up."

He starts to lower his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

"Wait, I need you, right now, please—"

"But baby, I need to taste you—"

"Later, fuck me first, please, Ki—"

The desperation in your voice must get to him, because he curses and nods.

"Okay, princess. Okay. I've got you."

He lifts you effortlessly, settling you onto his lap, your core pressing against his already-hardening length. You're so wet that you slide against him easily, coating him in your arousal.

"Already hard again?" you tease, though your voice is breathless.

"For you? Always." He grips himself, positioning at your entrance. "You have no idea what you do to me. Could stay hard for you forever."

He starts to push in, and you both groan at the contact. Just the tip, but you already feel impossibly full.

"That's it," he soothes, his hands gripping your hips to steady you. "Just the tip, baby. You're doing so good."

He pushes in further, inch by agonizing inch, and you feel yourself stretching around him. It's overwhelming, the burn, the fullness, the intimacy.

"Fuck, you're so tight, so wet…" His voice is strained, his control hanging by a thread. "Relax for me, princess. Shit, let me in."

You try, forcing your muscles to unclench, and he slides in deeper.

"That's it, such a good girl, baby, you're taking me so well—"

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he's fully seated inside you. You stay there for a moment, trembling, trying to adjust to the impossible stretch.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice softer now, genuine concern bleeding through.

"Y-yeah. Just—you're so, so big, Riki. I feel so full."

He groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. "You can't say shit like that. I'm trying so hard to be gentle."

"Don't be gentle."

His head snaps up, his eyes dark. "Baby—"

"I can take it. I want it. Fuck me, Ki. Make me feel it."

Something in him snaps.

He lifts you up and slams you back down, and you scream. It's too much, it's perfect, it's everything.

"That's it, scream for me, let me hear how good I make you feel—"

He sets a brutal pace, bouncing you on his cock, using you like you're nothing more than a toy. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, obscene and wet.

"Shit, Ki, please—"

"Please what, princess? Use your words."

"Harder, I need it harder—"

He flips you onto your back, hiking your legs over his shoulders, and drives into you so deep you see stars.

"Like this? Is this what you needed, baby? Needed me to split you open on my cock?"

"Yes, god, yes—"

His hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles, and you feel your orgasm building already.

"Come for me, baby. Come on my cock like a good girl."

You shatter, screaming his name, clenching around him so hard he hisses. But he doesn't stop — he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

"One more, give me one more—"

"I can't, it's way too much—"

"You can. You will. Be a good girl and come for me again."

He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision white out, and you come again with a broken sob, squirting around him.

"That's it, fuck, such a good girl, making a mess on my dick like the needy slut you are—"

His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing ragged.

"Where do you want it, baby? Inside? On your face? Tell me —"

"Inside, come inside me, please—"

He buries himself deep and comes with a groan, filling you with warmth. You can feel him pulsing inside you, pumping you full, and it's so dirty and perfect that you nearly come again from the sensation.

He stays inside you for a moment, catching his breath, before slowly pulling out. You feel his release trickling out of you, and he groans at the sight.

"Look at that," he murmurs. "So pretty with my cum dripping out of you."

He reaches down, gathering some on his fingers and pushing it back inside. You whimper, oversensitive.

"Can't let any go to waste, baby. This is mine. You're mine."

He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. You're both a mess, covered in sweat and come and saliva, but neither of you cares.

"I love you," he whispers against your hair. "I still love you so, so much. I have so much love to give you."

You cling to him, overwhelmed, your heart pounding against your ribs.

"I love you too," you murmur. "But Ki... how? Our jobs — we're on opposite sides—"

He pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. His eyes are soft, earnest, the same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.

"We'll find a way," he says firmly. "Because love knows no bounds. It's you. It'll always be you, no matter what."

He presses a final kiss to your forehead, then gently brushes the tangled hair from your face, wiping away the sweat and the remnants of your shared passion. 

His touch is so gentle, so tender, a stark contrast to the filth that was spilling from his mouth minutes ago.

"I love you," he says again, softer this time. "Let me love you. Let me figure this out."

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･