Content+Warnings: smut, pwop,soft dom , he rambles about anime & physics when he’s nervous or turned on, pure filth,kinda cute ki.
MNDI.
Note: likes+reblogs r appreciated,first time posting here lwk nervous˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ꫂ᭪݁
The scene no one at uni gets.
how did the quiet, lanky, glasses-wearing game-dev major with the messy black hair and perpetual hoodie pull you? he still doesn’t believe it half the time. but when the door closes, the shy boy disappears and the one who knows exactly how to ruin you takes over. he just can’t stop talking through it.
You never planned on falling this hard for someone like Ni-ki.
He was the guy who sat three rows behind you in Advanced Calculus, always doodling mech designs in the margins of his notes, earphones in, hood up even indoors. The kind of boy people called “cute in a pathetic way” when they thought he couldn’t hear. You were the one everyone noticed — confident, sharp tongue, the kind of pretty that made people stare a second too long.
Yet here you were, three months into whatever this was, heart doing stupid flips every time he pushed his glasses up and gave you that small, crooked smile like he still couldn’t believe you were real.
Tonight started innocently enough.
You’d dragged him back to your dorm after he spent the entire study session quietly losing his mind because you kept brushing your leg against his under the library table (accidentally¿)but he wasn't having any of that. The second the door clicked shut he was on you — not rough, never rough with you — but desperate. Hands trembling as they slid under your shirt, mouth clumsy and hot against your neck fondling and squeezing the squishy fat of ur breasts through the thin materialof your top.
“Fuck… I thought about this all day,” he mumbled, voice already hoarse trailing hot kisses from neck to ur shoulders.“You in that skirt… sitting there like you weren’t trying to kill me.”
You laughed softly, tugging his hoodie off. “You’re such a loser, Riki.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, pushing you gently onto the bed, “but I’m your loser.”
Clothes came off in a messy trail. His long fingers — the same ones that could code for eight hours straight without breaking — traced every inch of you like he was memorizing a new map. When he finally pushed inside you, slow and deep, both of you let out shaky sounds that didn’t even sound human.
He bottomed out and stilled, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
“God… you feel— you always feel so fucking perfect,” he whispered. His voice cracked a little. “Like… like you were made exactly for me. I don’t deserve this. I don’t —”
“Riki,” you cut him off gently, cupping his face. His glasses were slightly fogged. “Shut up and move.”
He let out a broken laugh, moving painfully slow.The first few thrusts were careful, almost reverent. Then something shifted. His hips snapped harder, the shy nerd melting away as he found that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.
“You’re so tight… every time, fuck” he groaned, voice dropping lower. “It’s like you’re trying to keep me inside forever. Physics doesn’t even explain this— how you can feel this good. I swear I could stay here for hours.”
You moaned his name, nails digging into his shoulders. He was big — unfairly so for someone who looked like he’d never seen a gym — and he knew exactly how to use every inch once he stopped overthinking.
He hooked one of your legs higher, angling deeper, and suddenly the rambling started for real.
“Remember that scene in Neon Genesis where— fuck— where Shinji finally stops running? That’s how I feel when I’m inside you. Like everything else disappears and it’s just… this. Just us.” His thrusts grew messier, more urgent. “I love you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. Like what if you wake up one day and realize you could do so much better than some dork who builds Gundam models at 3 a.m.?”
Tears pricked your eyes — not from the overwhelming pleasure (though that was definitely part of it), but from the raw honesty in his voice. He always got like this when he was close: vulnerable and filthy at the same time.
“Riki… baby, stop saying nonsense and look at me.”
He did, dark eyes glassy behind his crooked glasses, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.
“I chose you,” you gasped between moans. “I want you. The nerd who explains orbital mechanics during foreplay. The one who blushes when I call him pretty boy . All of you.”
That seemed to snap something in him.
His pace turned punishing in the best way, one hand sliding between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit while he drove into you. The wet sounds filled the small room, mixed with his low, broken whimpers and your desperate cries.
“You’re gonna cum for me, right?” he panted, voice wrecked. “Please— I need to feel it. Need to feel you squeezing me while I’m still inside you. I want to fill you up so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow when you’re sitting in lecture pretending you’re not thinking about this.”
You came hard, vision whiting out, thighs shaking around his waist. He followed right after with a choked moan of your name, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you, hot and endless.
But he didn’t pull out.
Instead he collapsed carefully on top of you, still buried to the hilt, arms wrapping around your waist like you might disappear if he let go. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, breathing ragged.
You could feel him twitching inside you, oversensitive and spent, yet he stayed there, cockwarming you through the aftershocks.
“Stay like this… just a little longer,” he whispered, voice small again. “I like feeling close. Like I’m still part of you.”
You ran your fingers through his damp hair, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
He let out a quiet, shy laugh against your skin, then mumbled, “You know… if we calculate the average time it takes for my heart rate to return to normal after you wreck me like that, it’s statistically impossible because it never really does. Not when it’s you.”
You smiled, heart so full it almost hurt.
“Shut up, Riki.”
“Make me.”
So you kissed him again — slow, deep, full of everything neither of you could quite say out loud yet.
And in the quiet glow of your desk lamp, with his long body draped over yours and his heartbeat steady against your chest, the rest of the world and all its confusion about how you two fit together faded away.
⋮ ⌗ ┆概要 ⨾ a weed brownie changes everything for riki, where in the back garden of jake's latest house party, he meets you ─ his latest obsession.
西村力 𝔁 𝒻 .ᐟ读者 ── 8.1k
explicit content ⋆ smut (mdni)、dom!riki、sub!reader、heavy mentions of and scenes of recreational drug use (weed)、college/university au、morally grey(ish) characters、misogynistic themes and language (the portrayal of any characters here does not reflect their real life character)、cigarette smoking、oral (m. & f. rec)、oral fixation、vaginal fingering、unprotected sex (don't do this)、creampie、breeding kink、come swallowing (m. & f.)、(slight) degradation & humiliation、dacryphilia、multiple orgasms、 hung!ki、bulge kink、overstimulation (f.rec)、spit kink、missionary & mating press position、petnames used: angel、baby、good girl、pretty thing、princess.
guest appearances by: enhypen、beomgyu & taehyun (txt). ⌇ℳ.list
⋮ ⌗ ┆便条 ⨾ hi 😁 so im back close to 24 hours since my last post. the high of writing again and sharing it called me to cast aside my obligations and i wrote this - genuinely in a matter of hours. i don't know HOW i did that and continue to surprise myself, but i already had some vague idea of stoner!riki being a #munch, so thanks to an ask i got sent, their ideas very much added the context of what happens in this fic. i haven't proofread this in the slightest, so i'll come back and edit but i wanted to share this now because im too excited not to 😭 thank you so much, hope you enjoy and much loveeeee! <333
Riki didn't care much for parties.
Despite how feral he'd get over tequila in his first years of uni, perhaps his taste had matured since then. Graduated to the expensive whiskey his father rewarded to him for the last year of uni he embarks on, shifting from the daze of break-dancing in someone's living room to sitting on plastic white chairs in his backyard, passing a blunt between his fingers. He'd dabbled in mostly everything, seeing univeristy as the lawless grounds nothing felt real in, which explains why in the summer before he leaves home, he buys his first g. The pick-up point is in the abandoned park he loved as a child, in the barely-on, flickering lights of a tunnel he had no business loitering in, kicking his feet and rubbing his nose like the newbie he made himself out to be. The dealer - a friend of a friend - a uni dropout with the voice of Darth Vader, gives him a nod before they exchange weed for cash, so casual in nature despite the thrum in his neck.
Only when he's scattered away, stuffing the bag so far into his hoodie pocket, it'd bury into the material, can he exhale. Except when he gets to his friend's house, free of rigid parents for the weekend, does he realise he doesn't know the first thing about smoking weed. He assumes it's like smoking a cigarette, which he'd regretfully done at a house party once and threw up rosé on some poor girl's shoes thereafter. He didn't inhale right, hacked every time he tried burying the puff of smoke in his lungs, then while his high school friends starfished on the living room carpet, giggling to themselves, Riki sits on the couch, his cheek pressed into knees brought to his chest as he watches Courage the Cowardly Dog, wondering if uni will be any better.
It is ─ he finds his crowd, people with a knack for empathy and knowledge despite the stupid shit they get up to, but something in Riki relaxes. Lets him come into himself and ride the wave of new and exiciting experiences, trying this and that. Cocaine's too expensive, pills swing his jaw and ket makes him boneless on an overcrowded dancefloor. They come and go, but weed stays. Gives him the kind of highs where he finds amusement in the smallest things or finally quiets his mind, constant drones of the future drowned out by the shapes and colours of his lava lamp. In the midst of all the oragnised chaos, Riki somehow finds himself with sufficient grades, earning his best score yet on a paper written unreasonably high, laughing in disbelief all the way back home. Coming through the doorway, he spies his housemate Jake, the high mark the first thing he relays, to which Jake grins like some proud father, corners of his lips to his ears before he gives Riki a hug.
"That's my guy," his palm smacks onto Riki's back, hand braced on his shoulder as Jake pulls away, a knowing grin on his face. "I say we celebrate."
"Over some coursework?" Riki's eyebrow quirks. "That's uhm, sweet but no need, broski."
"Bro, I'm making brownies. The good kind," Jake nods over his shoulder, the chocolate aroma hitting Riki suddenly, wafting with the undercurrent of the unwind of his tension-packed shoulders. "Hee's finally submitted that CompSci thing that's made him a ghost and Sunghoon's got a game he's gonna win. We're celebrating."
Riki lets the idea carry his smile, stretching further as he deserts his leather bag on the couch and walks into the kitchen with Jake, timbs echoing against vinyl as they check on the progress of Jake's creation. Riki's fairly acquainted with the various ways of ingesting weed, his Chrome Hearts themed bong bought off Etsy one of his prised possession, but brownies are still his favourite. Quick and easy, his second year dealer an aspiring chef with a knack for desserts, from space cake to the likes of tiramisu. The latter his favourite, sweet enough for him to stand and strong enough for him to laugh controllably watching Fantastic Mr. Fox, collapsing over Sunghoon's lap in breathless laughs echoed in the back of his throat.
Needless to say, "What the cuss?" became a go-to phrase between the two, unavoidable in first two weeks of its life, and forever a running joke between the two.
Shuffling out his bedroom door later on, the front door adjacent to it flings open, heavy clattering following as Sunghoon's figure ambles through. He topples over the mess of shoes stationed at the door all needing a wash, hands splayed against the narrow hallway walls to stead himself.
Riki raises an eyebrow.
"You good?" His head lowers, mirroring Sunghoon's ducked one as he struggles tugging off his sneakers, a dramatic sigh emptying out him as they fling off, his flushed face in full view. "You drank already?"
"The guys insisted on a pint after we pummelled Yonsei 7-0 ─ an embarrassing shutout," Sunghoon runs his hands through his sweaty hair, face settling into a lax Riki's happy to see. "But you know, it's never just one and now I'm halfway smashed and I still need to fucking shower,"
He starts departing, socks hitting carpet, clapping a hand over Riki's shoulder with a heavy squeeze as he yells ascending the stairs. "If you hear me fall over, just ignore it. Later!"
Riki can only smile, shaking his head before he styles his caramel blond strands into something more spiky, finally having time to put effort into his appearance after coursework that literally stole the swag from him. In the mirror, he's the painting of a 2000s punk love interest, only ever existing in a mall food court or Hot Topic, going as far as painting his nails chrome. And soon enough when the lights dim, living room illuminated by disco LED lights and packed with conversating bodies, Riki's dodging drunken spills, reaching into the back of the fridge for Jake's brownies to bring out back, pebbles rubbing together under his shoes as he plots down in the circle of his housemates and a few other friends, a welcome slow in mellow conversation.
"I'm pretty sure I'm part whatever they put in Monster because besides that and microwave Mac & Cheese, that's all I survived off," smoke blows out Heeseung's lips, some cheap cigarette from the corner shop between his fingers as his body slumps into the plastic chair. His free hand pulls his black beanie downwards, his fringe peeking out. "You know how down bad I am if I'm a nitty again."
He takes another drag, head tilted to the sky, moonlight bathing the slopes of his face in shadows and brilliance. Riki watches on quietly.
"Well, it's done now. So, do yourself a favour and buy better cigs," Jake chuckles, eyes moving opposite him to Riki. "You brought them out?"
"Yeah, I'm not looking to drink twelve pints tonight," he unwraps the cling wrap over the brownies, rings clinking together as he offers the stacked amount around. "Plus, they're fresh. And hopefully better than the last batch."
Beomgyu, one of Heeseung's friends breaks out into a chuckle, laughing along with his friend who says, "Those were an attempt."
"Hey! It's harder than it looks, okay?" Jake insists, biting into his brownie. "The fuck would youse know about using an oven, much less baking."
"Well, if your aim was to give us diabetes, you were halfway there," Riki laughs, gulping before he takes a bite. Dense but still somehow airy, not too sweet - good on Jake. "I'll give you a pass this time."
"Thanks Riki, because I really only live for your validation," Jake's eyes roll, amusement on his face before he nods over to Haechan. "What you think?"
"Like I won't need a glucometer," he giggles, mouth circled in crumbs. "It's really science if you think about it. I'm glad you learned the error of your ways."
"Fat fucking chance if you think you're taking any home," the two stick their tongues out at each other, to the sound of Beomgyu moaning, "Just kiss already, I'm close." Jake's laugh only lasts moments before his phone buzzes in his pocket, screen illuminating his face. "Oh shit, she's here."
"Who's here?" Riki asks, another bite into his brownie.
"Wonder if she's run into Sunghoon. Lord knows that man is a mess," Jake supplies, neck straining to peek at the backdoor.
"Yeah, I haven't seen that man so fucked since St. Pattys - and that was last week," Haechan adds. "Think he'll make a move?"
"He'll try but she won't have it. He's probably got beer and sick down his shirt anyways," Jake replies, lighting up at the opening door. He waves his raised hand, more enthused than Haechan's. "Took you long enough."
"Sorry, but Sunghoon insisted to talking to me with his sicky breath," a feminine voice echoes from the narrow alley leading towards them, your figure emerging from the shadows. "I had to get him to brush his teeth. He gagged brushing his tongue ─ pussy."
Cheeks full of chocolate brownie, Riki feels all his weight sink to his feet, body running arctic cold then densely warm at the sight of you. You're so pretty it hurts, sweet in the face with a confidence keeping your shoulders back and head high, the smirk across your face alone very much capable of making him pop a boner. In the silent howls of the night, so much air surrounds them yet makes no effort to slither past his shut mouth, his body a burning furnace as he watches your every move.
"Oh, is that a brownie? Fuck yeah," you lean down into Jake's hand, teeth sinking into the dessert with a nonchalance so alarming Riki only can blink once per minute, a heavy gulp moving down his throat. "Hm, that is good. That dealer hasn't left for France yet?"
"Nah, it's my own humble creation," Jake's hand splays over his chest, nodding proudly. "Happy you like it. Kiss for my troubles?"
"My God, this whole house is full of horn dogs," you drag the last plastic chair closest to Riki, ripped leather trousers crying against the material as you settle, sipping on your drink. "Don't tell me you're one of them."
The sentence is directed at Riki, who's still baffled how he's gone three and a quarter years not having seen you once. Not at any party, not at any club, not even on campus. Perhaps it's for the best because if he knew you existed, his focus would boil down solely to you as it does now. Trailing the stacked silver hoops and chains lining your ears, the dermals under your right eye haloed by dark, unworried makeup, the snake bites settled beneath the plump of your lips with sharp nails and leather clothing plucked from his wildest dreams. Slouched back and manspread, he gets full view of the belly piercing beneath your black vest, a skeleton hanging at the bottom.
It's then he thinks he might explode.
"Riki, you good?" Heeseung asks, blowing smoke with a knowing smirk. Riki can only groan. "Brownies already hitting?"
"Something like that," he only spares his friend a glance, eyes fighting for more time with you, a polite smile on your lips. He hates how quick he is to imagine your lips elsewhere. "We haven't met before."
"We haven't," you confirm. "I had the displeasure of being in a group with Jake for some workshop a bit ago. I'm only in it for the baked goods."
"Sounds like something totally unrelated." Beomgyu chimes in.
"He wishes," your nose scrunches, laugh contagious in the coy smiles dispensed around the group. "Good to meet you, Riki. Your fits live up to the hype."
Riki points to himself, incapable of social interaction. "My fits?"
"Hair's a bit questionable. Bro looks like he got electrocuted." Heeseung jokes, just to wind him up.
"Coming from a man smoking cheapo cigs, I'd pipe down," you retort, a low blow that has the guys snickering behind enveloped mouths and veined hands.. "It's cool spiked up. A bit out of place ─ hang on,"
A small, "Can I?" escapes your lips, dialled low enough to confuse his brain into a moment of intimacy, his answer immediate nod as he nods. Then, his eyes trail, following your hand that has the lightest touch, carefully arranging his hair back into place, concentration pulled into satisfaction as you admire your work. "Now this is a look."
His blush floods all the way to his ears, not missed by Heeseung who only shakes his head with a chuckle, sending dancing eyebrows and bitten back smirks his way. Riki chooses to ignore it over the gentle thump of music from inside the house. It’s so starkly dissimilar to the calmness of the back garden, nothing but conversation and Jake's chill RnB playlist humming through his phone's speakers. Riki learns all sorts about you that night, lulled by your velvety voice and weed making him float on a cloud. However, what becomes blaringly obvious is no matter what anecdotes he learns over the short time you spend outside, it will never suffice.
Not until you're his to have.
Whatever Riki's dissertation his Sports Science degree is based on takes a backseat, all of his thoughts circling back to you. He experiences the phenomenon of life at university, where you see a person once and never see them again or see them everywhere ─ you are the latter. Blooming in places once unimportant to him, now noted down by the grace of your presence. He sees you in the university mail room collecting your guitar pick parcel, sees you on the grassy lawn near the library catching the sun's rays while he's sentenced to lecture catch-ups in the library, cat eye sunglasses perched on your septum-pierced nose, laughing as a kicked football bounces off your sunbathing friend's ass. He sees you in said library nodding your head to the Drum & Bass leaking through your headphones, blitzing through work with coffin nails pattering against your keyboard. He even catches you outside the Design School building, giggling as you swap a blunt between friends in a nearby bike shed, not the least bit worried of getting caught.
Having access to you like this makes his mind wonder, go places fuelled by fantasy and desire, and it hotwires his system to you. In your mystery black but bright smile, the silver of your jewellery and the warmth of your heart. How in all the moments he thinks he's alone in seeing you, your head turns. Most times, you motion him over for polite chatter or simply smile, acknowledging him in the smallest interaction he'll spend all day thinking of. His brain doesn't allow him to forget you, finding every excuse to bring you up in conversation, try your favourite foods, listen to your favourite artists (which has a lot of crossover with his) and just…well, simp over you as Heeseung so lovingly puts it.
Riki can protest all he wants, but he knows it to be true. How much he's fallen for how you move through the world like its yours, carving every bit of yourself in spaces he'll never forget, whispering your name in suppressed whimpers as he doesn't let his thoughts venture too far, just the image of you laughing at some poor joke he made or the compliments you so freely give him.
And then he's coming. All over his hand, sticky with relief and shame. He can only sigh then, because even if he hates himself for how low his obsession has taken him, he can't bring himself to banish all thought of you.
You're hard to forget after all.
"Is she coming?" Riki asks, always referring to you as he follows Jake down the stairs. The older of the two scampes through to the living room where Sunghoon's left some hockey game playing and ventures back into his room, lived in-neat with the scent of sea salt living in his space.
"Man, I don't know. It's like you have a crush on her or something," Jake says absently, sifting through his closet for something to wear. Except when he only hears the scrape of his clothes hangers and not Riki's immediate denial, he stops. Looks his friend in the eye, peeking through chestnut curls to display his surprise. "What the fuck? You're joking."
Riki could deny it. Save himself the additional teasing, but he's always been a shit liar.
"She's cool." He ends up admitting, looking down at his suede sneakers. They need a clean.
"Yeah, I bet she is since you beat your meat to her," Jake laughs, pulling out an outfit he's satisfied with - jeans and a brown plaid zip-up jacket. "I get it, but you're not the only one. Jay from Psych acts like she's cast a love spell on him, and Sunoo follows her around constantly. And you know Sunghoon wants her, so…"
Riki groans, fed up with the situation. "Come on, he has options."
"And you don't?"
He considers it. Thinks about that girl in his Advanced Sports Biomechanics lecture he's been pining over since they last kissed first year, but quickly got a boyfriend before he had the balls to ask her out. Thinks about the other girl from the library months ago who he suspects likes girls and somehow, he finds peace in it all. Letting go of a past he no longer identifies with, and finds you. Nestled into crevices of his life that matter more than before.
He's an absolute goner.
"She's special," Riki lets it be known, his nape a source of comfort as his nails scrape away. "I only want her."
"Aren't you a romantic," Back turned to him, Jake circles back with a baseball cap with a design of unbuttoned jeans. He's stolen that out of Riki's closet, reminding him to lock his door when he leaves for lectures. "Maybe talk to Hoon about it. So we can avoid another shared-girl situation,"
"Unless you're into being a cuck or whatever."
"You signed up for that."
"Different strokes for different folks, I don't know what you're into," Jake can only shrug, bottom lip jutted out. "Don't think I want to know either. Just talk to the guy so there's no drama."
And because Riki's preferences don't line up with Jake's, he makes the trek upstairs to the attic room, hearing Heeseung yell from his corner-tucked room, probably playing League of Legends.
And he calls Riki a loser.
Riki knocks, Sunghoon yelling for him to come in.
Up the trifle of stairs, he spirals up into Sunghoon's room, fitting for the so-called 'slut' of their house, the most spacious of all four bedrooms, decently clean with hockey memorabilia scattered all around. He's at his desk to the stairs' right, thick-rimmed glasses on his nose bridge as he actually works on his dissertation, slumping back at Riki's presence.
"Need something?"
He avoids his gaze, fingers threading through the hairs down his nape. He'd cut it if it wasn't for your lone mention of preferring longer hair.
That night he'd dreamed of you pulling on his strands, head between your legs, coming undone by nothing but his mouth.
"Yeah, I wanted to run something by you," he sits on the edge of Sunghoon's navy blue bed, legs not having much strength to stand. He chooses to ignore the mystery white stain centimetres away on Sunghoon's duvet cover.
"Shoot."
"Well, you know," he then mentions your name, shoving back down the spike in nerves at Sunghoon's small but undeniable grin. "You uhm, like her or something?"
"The fuck's with all the awkwardness?" Sunghoon laughs, nose scrunched before he lets out a sigh, fingers carding his hair back. "Yeah, she's cool."
Same words Riki said. He's screwed.
"How much do you like her?" Riki asks, fingers playing with the frayed fabric of his shorts, head buried all the way into imaginary sand. "Because I mean, there's no girl that doesn't want you. I just wanted to know so-"
"So you could get a hall pass?"
His question is accented with a disbelieving brow-raise, something like distaste amongst his moled features. Riki's hand smooths over his neck, unsettled by how nervous he is in the presence of a friend.
"Something more long-term, actually," Riki supplies, finding it in himself to verbalise what he's kept locked away since that night. "I like her. I'd like to take her out if she'd let me."
There's a silence after his words, nothing but the house's usual sounds of Heeseung's yells and keyboard smashes, Jake's playlist playing through the living room speakers. It's a confession he's known since he'd first met you and yet, when said in front of Sunghoon, he isn't quite sure how the words will land.
"Shit Riki," Sunghoon curses, something akin to amusement in his features. He leans back in his office chair, matching grey hoodie and shorts hanging off his large frame. "Should've just said you were serious about the girl. Would've backed off ages ago."
"You seemed close," Riki recalls, thinking back to when you physically helped him brush Sunghoon's teeth. The intimacy of the moment lingers in his mind longer than he's liked.
"Well, yeah. I've been trying since first year," Sunghoon laughs, not even minutely embarassed at being rejected for almost four years. "But she's pretty set on being friends. Even more so lately,"
Recollection pinches his features together, hands smoothing over the five o'clock shadow he almost always has. "Lowkey she might be into you. She's brought you up into convos loads."
Riki can't quite believe his ears. "Sorry?"
"She has this Pinterest board - I even downloaded that for her - for guy fits she likes, but I think it's just what she'd dress her boyfriend in," Sunghoon says, shaking his head. "Anyways, it's like, your style to a tea. So, she wouldn't have to convince you. Plus, she said you're cute. She never compliments guys."
Riki frowns. "Surely that's not true."
"Bro! During my bulk, when I was at like, peak sexiness, she said I looked like I'd burst from all the roids I must be taking," Riki swipes a smile off his face, clearing his throat to disguise his laughter. "Mind you, I don't need enhancers to get big anywhere,"
Riki's eyes roll. "She's also said nice things about Jake, but never his appearance and he's a fucking stud."
"Maybe that's not what matters to her."
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, chair creaking as he turns back to his monitors. "Here you go, Romeo," he shakes his computer mouse, clicks bringing screens to life. "Maybe that's shit she's charmed for ─ couldn't be me. But yeah, go ahead. She's all yours."
A flutter kickstarts in Riki's chest, lips folding over each other to disguise what he's already shown.
"Only mine?'
"Don't push it," Sunghoon warns through a side eye, no real bite to his words. "Close the door behind you, I'm gonna have a tactical jerk before tonight's party."
"Right, because you've got chyl─"
"Get out, Riki."
How Riki's found himself in this situation, he'll never know. Nevertheless, if there's a higher power orchestrating this, he'll spend his existence in good faith because there's simply no way this is happening.
The evening starts off with a crackle of nerves, enough for him to desert his dinner thanks to Jake's inability to make one serving. He apologises, saying he's had a big lunch but his leftovers will be tomorrow's lunch, whisking off to their shared downstairs bathroom to start getting ready. While he does put effort into his appearance, this goes above his norm, every item of clothing or jewellery picked out with precision, laid out and deliberated in time that seems to fly by. He takes his time with his hair, a bit overgrown but styling it like you had that night, dusting the blush on the apples of his cheeks as he peers at his reflection. Heck, he even gives himself a manicure, pushing back his cuticle and making sure his nails are trimmed with no sharp edges, nails shining in chrome like a good luck charm. When Heeseung abruptly comes into his room for some cologne, they're both startled. Riki sitting on his edge of his bed ,in a black bathrobe with a green face mask on, nail file in hand.
Heeseung damn nearly topples over in laughter when Riki pushes him out, shutting the door to hear Heeseung yell out. "Holy fuck, this guy's pussy whipped!"
Perhaps the comedic break does some good to his nerves, but they're very much well and alive once the house party starts, one last night before the Easter break. So, if Riki wants to spend the next four weeks reliving every interaction you've had because he was too scared to get your number, he'd have to put in work tonight.
Usually, he has little to no alcohol before he moves onto weed, but with shaky pupils scanning the living room, he's yet to see you and since his heart can't differentiate between being held hostage and looking for you, he yields to Sunghoon's request of a friendly beer pong game. Sunghoon hard carries their team against his two teammates, Jungwon and Taehyun, and because Riki can't think straight, he has almost four drinks before he's trudging outside, needing some air and a blunt.
The usual suspects are outside - Jake, Haechan, Beomgyu, Heeseung and you. He'd missed you, your entrance made through the back alley because Jake said he had hot gossip that couldn't wait. Relief drops him into the chair opposite, a side-eye cast at Heeseung whose purposely positioned himself next to you with Jake on your other side, the dirty look all but gone when you acknowledge him in front of the entire group.
"Was wondering when you'd swing by," something unlabelled lines your lips, pulled in easiness accelerating Riki's heart rate the more he looks at you. The bore of your eyes. "Wanna hit the bong?"
He's too hopeless to speak, settling for a nod and looking back on it, he thinks it's then that seals his fate. How racket settles in his chest and mellowness makes his lids heavy, opening him up to normal interaction, careless jokes thrown around because despite how comfortable you make others around you, the romantic prospect of you has always held him back. Scared that he'll seem like a try-hard, that he's starved for attention, a turn-off, for a lack of better words. However, his perspective is warped at best, a shuffle of seats having you end next to him as their circle go in and out the house. You talk like you're the only ones outside, close and whispered, enough for the hairs on the back of his neck to stand when you lean in further, lips so close to his jugular he's afraid you'll hear the hammer of his heart. Know he's into you.
"You've got a mole here too," you offer up some space before he's about to combust, your finger instead resting on the mole. It's under his chin, dangerously close to his quick pulse. "They're really pretty."
"I've got more down my back," he answers, because he's stupid. A fucking idiot actually. "Seven, I think."
You lean back in your chair, leg swinging over to hike your impossibly short skirt dangerously high, slyness pulling your features. "Isn't that a treat."
That's the nail in the coffin. One Riki doesn't hear beyond the desperate squeeze his burned lungs do, eyes quickly averting to Heeseung's prying ones, mouthing a shared, "What the fuck?" Somehow you miss it and slip back to conversation, like you didn't single-handedly dismantle Riki's brain. He performs the miracle of making his brain work despite the ingested weed's call for slow, making up some sentences up until Riki mentions his Chrome Hearts themed bong, your eyes sparkling in response. You ask to see it and even though he has many pictures of the thing, he wants to show you properly. Offers a quiet hand to you after he's stood to his feet, smiles mirrored between you two before navigates through the warm bodies swaying to music, beelining to his bedroom.
He notices you lock the door behind you. Shyness offered. "Don't tell me you haven't been locking your door during these parties."
"I'm usually good about it," Riki speaks slower, aided by the relaxation coursing through him.
"Good. Because we've had forks stolen during one of ours," you roll your eyes, shrugging off your faux-fur toasted jacket. You hang it amongst the rack of Riki's coats, the piece fitting in so nicely with his. "Uni students steal anything."
"Tell me about it." He thinks back to the traffic cone Sunghoon had in his bedroom first year, then promptly forgets all about him. About everyone except you.
He shows you the bong, hoping his mind isn't hallucinating how close you are, pretty much doing a Show n' Tell because now with you in his room, everything seems serious. Like if he says the wrong thing, interepts something wrong and goes along with it, it'll ruin his chances forever.
"It's not much, but it's me."
"That's what I like about it," you express, perched on the edge of his bed alongside him. Thighs touching, face illuminated by the black candles matching with every colour choice in the room except deep splashes of maroon. "It's got all your memories, everything you've loved and are. It's…refreshing,"
Your hand falls over his, fingers threading between the gaps of his fingers, squeezing. "Thank you for showing it to me."
"Of course," his answer comes out in a whisper, muffled by the students coming in and out the house. "It's easy with you ─ comfortable."
It's the first bone he throws, not intentionally but a peek into his vulnerability he can't get mad at himself for, not when you're smiling at him like you do. With his laptop in front of you two, where his desk is, he gets his Spotify up, putting on a blend playlist at your suggestion. You don't stop holding hands through the entire interaction, more command in his veins as his thumb grazes over your knuckles. Some more talking happens, but it's almost lost in the grand scheme of things when his heavy lids drop down to your lips, wondering how the cold metal of your snakebites would feel, the noises you'd make when he wouldn't rush kissing you like every loser looking just to get some. How he'd savour you like he's wanted to ever since he laid eyes on you.
The opportunity comes like destiny, over the chorus of Joey Bada$$' 'Y U Don't Love Me?' forever remembered as the moment he kisses you. Colour explodes beyond his closed eyes, a moan releasing at the pillowy press of you, your free hand coming up to cup his face while his other rests around your nape, thumb stroking skin as he loses himself in you. The weed cycling through his system intensifies the moment tenfold, having to hold onto you to assure himself he's tethered to reality, groaning at the cold metal sliding past his lips as he captures your bottom lip in a teasing bite. You moan at that, the prettiest sound he's ever heard and when he's ready to get on his knees to worship you like he's always wanted to, you beat him to it.
"I wanted to─" Riki starts.
The unbuckle of his belt is strikingly loud amidst the house party, ringing in his ears as your tongue swipes your bottom lip, teeth left in its wake as you insist. "Later. I want you in my mouth now."
And who is he to argue? Especially when every second of this is plucked from the dark corners of his mind, watching with a laboured chest as you unbutton his jeans and free him from his precome-damp boxers, cock springing free.
Wonder dazzles in your eyes, a satisfied hum resonating through your chest as your tongue immediately lolls out, swirling all around his flushed tip, ending off a dipped tongue in his precome-filled slit, groaning at the taste. "Fuck, you're huge. Taste good too."
Riki's shoulders drop in defeat, hand coming out to cup your face as he looks at you with agony. "You're gonna be the death of me."
"Don't go dying on me, Riki," you smirk, lowering your plump lips to his cock, hand folded over it, thumb grazing its engorged veins. "You haven't fucked me yet."
Between the weed-amplified sense and the dream that is you, Riki doesn't anticipate himself lasting long. Especially when you're working him like this, unconcerned with being messy as you cover his length in spit, smeared it into your hands to account for what can't fit into your mouth. You start off so sweet, teasing disguised as you cover his length in adoring kisses, from his balls your hands fiddle with, up his shaft to his tip, leaking by the time you get there. The chuckle you do vibrates into his hot skin, earning a hiss from him as you lap it up with devious enthusiasm, taking all you can in one go.
"Fuckkkk,"
If his other hand wasn't supporting him to sit straight, it would've pulled at his bleached strands, thighs quivering at the warm sensation of your mouth feeding itself more and more of him. Your head bobs further each time you take more, sloppy as ever as the wet suction and slick drag eating away at the music from his laptop. Or the party right outside his door, so far from mind as his ears only catch on the sounds of the gags you do on him, overconfident but never relenting, the constant throat-close around him pulling a pained whimper from him.
"God, your throat feels so good, baby," the words come so naturally to him, eyes closed in pleasure. "Taking me so well."
Around his length, you mumble, "I'll take more. I want more."
He damn near comes right then and there, precome beading down your throat you attempt to fit more of him into. Riki throws his head back, fingers carding through your hair and pulling, not meaning to but spurred on by your moans of ecstasy, his cock throbbing in your mouth as you keen, "Harder please,"
So sweet to him, he could never say no to you. As your head bobs, your tongue swirls, a groan unearthed from the deepest of Riki's chest as he pulls harder at your strands, breaths coming out hard and fast as he tries holding himself back. But you're so good, moving your hand in tandem with your mouth, sucking him like he's the best thing you've put in your mouth and he undoes.
"Shit, wait ─ I'm gonna come," he warns, eyebrows pulled together but it appears as no concern to you. Gaining confidence and momentum, you push yourself to nuzzle your nose against his pelvis, gagging hard enough to wet your lashes but everything's secondary to you. Getting Riki to come is everything, which comes as you whimper and cough around his length, nails scratching at his hips, over the mole you kissed on your way down his torso and he comes. "Gonna fill your─hmph!"
He pulls hard at your hair, only adding to his orgasm as you squeal around his length, wiggling your ass like you'll push into some pressure and it kills Riki, flooding your mouth in hot spurts of come, his body curling into itself as his cock softens in the mouth you keep him in. Once he's blinked enough for his sight to return, relieved but wanting more, his cock slips from your glossed lips, your face coming into view as tears streak down your warm cheeks, so pretty and perfect for him with come edged in the corner of your lips.
"Don't swallow."
You're about to swipe the come into your mouth when he says that, curiosity in your expression, morphing into surprise as he pulls you closer into a kiss. The gasp muffles against his plump lips, some of his come already down your throat but enough shared between your mouths as his tongue darts into your mouth, kissing and tasting every inch of you, leaving you dizzer than ever. You're fawn legged, collapsing in a heap back onto the grey carpet after the kiss, looking up at Riki with saucer eyes, a look across his face familiar in the way he feels he looks at you like. He can do nothing but smirk as his thumb swipes away missed come from the corner of your lips, licked off his thumbpad.
"We taste so good together, angel," he smirks, darkness flared in his eyes. "Just like I thought."
Riki thinks he's scared you off.
Perhaps the heat of the moment led him astray and this is its consequence, but he'd been so deprived of your lips on him, he took every chance to have you on him. Including when your mouth was full of come.
When Heeseung hears this the next morning, he sits there with his pink cat-ear headphones with a jaw dropped, appalled. "You're a fucking freak, dude. Or a narcissist. I can't tell the difference."
Heeseung's words don't inspire much confidence, especially when Riki recalls how after the kiss, your phone buzzed, a frantic call coming from your housemate that ultimately ends up with you disappearing into the moonlight, a thousand apologies falling from your lips as you scurry out the door, shouldering people in the torpido wind you rush off with. Nothing more said, just a rushed goodbye...not even a goodbye kiss, if Riki allows himself to be more embarrasing about you.
Days later, he's settled on a kitchen stool, house vacant as the rest of the guys have left for the holiday break. Riki runs his hands through his hair, cursing himself for scaring you when he had you. Plentiful curse words cross his minds, cut off by the ping of his phone lighting up on the kitchen marble counter.
Unknown number: hey, i got your number for jake. sorry for the unexpected text (╥﹏╥)
Unknown number: my housemate's boyfriend broke up with her and i think we've eaten enough ice cream and egged his house enough for her to get home okay. i don't like how i left things, but i at least wanted offer an explanation for me dipping so suddenly.
Unknown number: if you're still around, you're welcome to come round mine or i can come to yours. i'd just like to talk things out if you're willing to. i'm really sorry <3
Being mad at you hadn't even crossed his mind, but it very clearly crossed yours. And when the realisation hits, he grabs the few things he needs and bolts out the door, on his way to you.
You're waiting outside your doorstep for him when he drifts round the corner, air cycling out his lungs as he runs the rest of the way, watching you blink back surprise, only for it to muffle against his lips as he crashes lands on you, face screwed in all the worry and longing he has for you. Always had for you, body pressed to yours as you melt into his embrace, hands gripping the collar of his jean jacket for dear life as you lose yourself too.
Not much talking is done, just a lot of 'miss you's and 'you're it for me,' coming from Riki. He's so wrecked when he can have you like this, splayed across the wine and charcoal of your bedspread, shorts and underwear tossed aside, folds glistening with all the arousal swimming in your eyes as you cry, "Riki, please."
"Let me, princess. Let me," he whispers breathlessly, so close to your cunt, the warmth of his breath making you shudder. "You're so fucking pretty, baby. Been dreaming of this forever."
Speaking like a man tortured, he gives into his dreams, falling into the inevitable as he presses a kiss to your clit before licking a stripe straight from your entrance back to your clit, swallowing slick after the swirls of his tongue. You keen high in your throat, hands flying to his hair for stability, nails grazing his scalp as his life's purpose deviates to eating you out, eyes falling shut as he gets off on the withers of your body, your breath quivering each time you whine his name. He catalogues it all ─ somewhere where his brain isn't present, laser-focused on the slow open mouth kisses he gives your clit, tongue swiping to the chorus of your moans.
"Rikiiii," you whine, his eyes finding yours squinted as pleasure blooms across your face. "Your fingers ─ hmph! Need them,"
"Anything you want, pretty thing," he mumbles against you, lips glistening in your slick as two fingers trace your entrance, obsessed with its repeated clench to catch them. He noses along your cunt, swirling his tongue with the right pressure to chase after your incoming orgasm. "Just ask me, I'm all yours."
The impatient whines dye his ears red, eased by helpless whines as his arm extends to your chest, pushing up the flimsy material of your tank top to play with your pebbled nipples, thighs closing around his head. He doesn't care, the close proximity only gets him harder as his fingers push into your crying walls, closing in on him with everything you have.
Your fingers pull harder on his hair, a groan stifled against your clit as his fingers curls in you, a croak in your throat echoed as the sensation ripples through your body.
"You're so pretty when you don't know what to do with yourself," he chuckles, a harder curl of his fingers bringing a stretched keen through gritted teeth. "Feel good, baby?"
"I-I can't think," you admit, cheeks flushed and expression dazed, eyes trying to find his. "Just want you, Riki. Want all of you."
"You have me, princess. Let me eat you out first," he speaks in a husk, only aiding the tension-filled coil pulling in your stomach. "You taste so good, baby. I'd spend all day here if I could."
And to an extent, he does. He's so attuned to what you like, how much pressure, how much suction that it's not long before desperate gasps for air swallow the room whole, eating at the wet mess sounds Riki makes between your thighs. Again, it's all secondary to the hurtle your body does, a cross between cries, begs and screams running out your lips as you chant his name, coming and coming. The burst of ecstasy is unlike anything you've ever felt before, body mirroring the free float you do in between someplace between time and space, body raking through with shakes only feeding Riki's ego. Through it all, he maintains incessancy in his fingers as they pump into you, tongue migrating down around his fingers to taste every drop of your come. It's the kind of fixation you couldn't concoct in your wildest dreams, everything a mere mirage as your body just gives whatever Riki takes, sucking your clit and fingering you until you're shivering from overstimulation, bedsheets wet beneath you as you choke for air.
Riki is nice enough to allow the nanoseconds between the removal of his lips on your cunt to the press of your joined lips to let you breathe, whining against you as his tongue darts into your mouth, your head tipped back as your syrupy head lives off the taste of you two mixed, getting every bit of obsession of you two together.
"Don't we taste so good together?" he'd asked and even then, you agreed. More so now that in the bloom of softness and intimacy between you two, fingers curled in his strands as he rids himself of his pesky clothes, not having the heart to separate your lips as you help tug off his trousers and boxers.
When nothing separates you, you do like you did back then in his room, fingers tracing the tattoo on his ribcage with a hungry fever, a kiss pressed into the kiss mark just near his hip before your teeth sink into the mole on the other hip. You're feral, one-track minded as Riki consumes all your thoughts, switching positions until your back is pushed back down into your mattress and your legs spread. Your head lifts to view him hold his hard cock in hand, tip weeping as his body folds in desperation, tip smearing your folds with precome.
"Tell me you want it," Riki gruffs out, eyebrows knitted with pillowedlips. "Beg me to fuck you."
"Riki, please fuck me," impatience and frustration extend every letter of your plea, similar tears lining your eyes as your hand lowers to spread your folds, enticing him by the bite of his lips. "Your cock would feel so good in me. Am I not yours?"
"Fuck, you are."
"Then make me yours."
It's all he needs to hear, having had enough of his own games before he pushes in, both your mouths falling open at the stretch, your walls gripping him with all the hunger you have and more. The molten burn curls your toes and grits your teeth, feeling Riki everywhere, attached to all your senses as your breath stunts at the fill of him. And he has more to offer, feeding inch after inch until he's buried to the hilt, rewriting any concept you know of pleasure to him.
He stalls in you, chest rising and falling as all his eyes consume do is you, your body beneath him, cunt stuffed with his twitching length, skin sweat-lined with a body half the size of him, quivering. Your pupils are blown, your eye colour serving as a mere ring around them, so gone for him he doesn't know how he maintains his composure. Just strokes hair out your face with the back of his fingers before he starts thrusting.
He doesn't start off slow, fast-forwarding to the moment he's pondered when alone and nothing his brain conjured before compares to this. Not in the slightest - the warmth of your skin, the squeeze of your cunt, the cries you do as your stomach pulls in overload, nails scraping at the duvet cover with forgotten restraint. Everything about this, he will never get over, refuses to and with the look you give him, he thinks you feel it too.
He notches himself harder into you, groaning at the high keen you do as your eyes roll back, blinking tears away as you cry. "Kisses, Riki."
"You're so fucked out, princess," he purrs, a carnal feeling harbouring in his chest as he lowers himself down to you, safety-pin pendant on his chain feeding into your mouth, sucked on. "Your mouth's lonely, huh baby? Need to keep it stuffed, don't I?"
You nod around the pendant, all teary and doll eyed for him, soft gasp escaping as you let it go, finger curling around it to pull him closer. "Kiss me."
"Manners."
"Pleaseeeee!" it comes out so rushed, so pathetic you can't quite believe the voice belongs to you, so high you only seek what you want. And that is him alone. "Pretty please, need you. Need your lips, need you so bad, 'Ki."
"Open your mouth."
His command comes out with the kind of authority you're only compliant to, lips parted as spit lands on your tongue, at the back of your throat. Your mouth closes to taste him, whimpering at the mix of you two together. "Again, again. Please,"
"You're so greedy, baby," he replies, voice frayed by the grip of your cunt, smacking bodies bouncing off your cluttered walls. "It's okay, I want you too. Always wanted you."
He gives in, jaw unhinged under a dominating hand that keeps your mouth open for his spit, the force of its landing closing your eyes and contracting your body, a squeal muffled to your closed lips before his lips find them, kissing you like a man possessed. Kissing and tasting everywhere, making sure to fuck you through it all, nails scraping down his shoulder blades and back as he hits your sweet spot again and again.
You could cry. You do, stray tears escaping the squeeze of your eyes, their trail licked by Riki as he separates from you, sharing breaths with his forehead against yours before he leaves altogether, firm hand pressing into the bulge peeking through your stomach as he thrusts in, watching the outline of him in you.
"Rikiiii," you moan, so lost. "So good. You fuck me so─ngh, so good."
"I do, don't I, princess?" he muses, composure fraying further as he relishes in the faint-feel of his tip under his palm. "You're close, can feel you clenching for me,"
"You gonna be my good girl and come for me?"
The coil in your stomach is impossibly tight, you don't know much more you can take, frantic breaths choked back on sobs as you swipe tears out your eyes, looking at him despite the fact. "Yes! I'll be your good girl. I'm gonna come─!"
"Who's making you come, baby?" he asks, his husky voice all around you, your legs pushed to your chest as he leans his bodyweight into you. You can only sob. "Tell me."
"You, Riki. You!" you wail, stumped by your intercepted breath as he pushes further into you, face so close that your lips brush while you whine. "You're gonna make me come."
The coil snaps, everything coming afterwards. The cry of your lungs, the suspension of your breath and the dismantling of your body, so malleable to Riki's whims you accept him whole, hold his face as he ruts into you the last few times, whispering words that make you clench around him.
"Taking all my come like the greedy girl you are, princess," he whimpers, eyebrows screwed tight. "Gonna keep you nice and stuffed. That'll keep you happy, won't it?"
It will, a chorus of agreements and kisses peppering his face as he shatters in your hold, burying himself deepest in you before he convulses, swallowing the room in his drawn out moans and curses. He doesn't want this to end, sees no end in you as he gives a last few half-hearted glides of his cock before he cringes from overstimulation, body collapsing onto you, going soft but keeping you plugged. Just like you wanted.
"You're everything I want," he confesses, pink in his cheeks and tip of his nose as he caresses hair out your hair, easing off you. "Please tell me you're mine. Let me take you out ─ please?"
He's so soft like this, sinking into every tender sentiment he holds in his heart for you. Merriment flutters in your chest, producing the giggle you do as you cast hair behind his ear, loving the overgrown look of his bleached hair. "Took you long enough."
He smiles, the boxy kind that makes your heart soar before he giggles, kissing you with everything between the two of you, together as one.
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your boyfriend sees your boobs for the first time and doesn’t know how to act.
heeseung
you’re a little drunk.
like warm-tummy, loose-shoulders, stupid-giggle drunk.
heeseung’s lying on your bed, scrolling, talking about something dumb — a dream he had, maybe. you’re sitting on the floor, half-listening, sipping from your glass, and then suddenly—
you stand up. pull your shirt over your head. no warning. no speech. just tits.
he looks up. and he freezes. scrolling finger mid-air. lips parted. expression blank. like you just slapped him with a gospel truth.
“bro,” he whispers.
you raise a brow. “bro?”
“oh my god.”
you just stand there, shirt in one hand, boobs out. vibes immaculate.
“are you for real?” he says, sitting up so fast he nearly drops his phone. “are those— are they always like that?”
“like what?”
“like fucking perfect?”
you laugh so hard you nearly fall over.
and he just keeps blinking at them. like they might change shape if he stares too long. like they’re a hallucination.
“you’re not real,” he mutters. “i’m in a dream. this is a simulation.”
you roll your eyes and sit on the bed, pulling the blanket around you lazily.
“okay, enough,” you giggle. “you saw them. you can stop worshipping now.”
he doesn’t move.
“no. no i can’t. this changes everything. i saw the light and now i’m different.”
jay
he doesn’t mean to look.
you thought he wasn’t paying attention.
but the moment your shirt lifts — before you even have time to toss it in the hamper — you hear him go quiet. like, dead silent.
you turn around, confused.
he’s sitting up now, remote in one hand, lips parted. just… staring. his entire soul left his body.
“what?” you ask, blinking. “why are you looking at me like that?”
“you…” his voice breaks.
he coughs. clears his throat. blinks like he just came back from war.
“you’ve been hiding those from me?”
you glance down, realize you’re still topless, and laugh — “i thought you weren’t looking.”
he puts the remote down slowly. reverently.
“i wasn’t. and now i’m being punished for it.”
you start reaching for your shirt again, but he stops you.
“no. no, you don’t get to take them away. i just met them.”
you laugh even harder, grabbing a hoodie, but he just looks betrayed. hand on his chest. like he needs a moment.
he’s so serious.
“i’m gonna write about this in my notes app. i just need a second to process. they were so pretty. like. aesthetically. artistically. spiritually.”
you roll your eyes. “you’re being so dramatic.”
he just nods slowly. “i know. and i’m right.”
and later that night, when you’re finally in bed, hoodie zipped to your chin, back turned…
you feel his hand on your waist. his lips near your ear.
“next time… warn me. or don’t. i’ll survive either way. i think.”
(he won’t.)
jake
he was laying on your stomach.
like full face-planted. arms around your waist. humming into your skin, half-asleep, talking nonsense between every other breath.
you thought he was dozing off. so when you finally sit up, lifting your shirt over your head, you don’t think twice.
you’re just changing. grabbing a hoodie. your back’s to him, and it’s dark. no big deal.
until you hear him choke.
“oh.”
you glance over your shoulder. “what?”
he’s sitting up now. like—straight up. eyes wide. cheeks red.
“did i—did you just—i mean, did i see that?”
you pause. blink. realize what he saw.
“oh. yeah,” you say casually. “sorry, i didn’t think you were looking—”
“NO i mean—it’s okay i just—wow.”
you laugh, pulling your hoodie on, but he’s still sitting there like he witnessed a miracle.
“you’re just… walking around with those? like… they’re real?”
you look at him.
he looks at you.
then covers his face with both hands and groans.
“i’m gonna have dreams about this,” he mumbles. “like not even in a gross way. just in a i saw something sacred kind of way.”
you crawl back under the blanket and he immediately wraps himself around you like a koala. kisses your collarbone like he’s trying to prove his love to god.
“you know i’d die for you, right?”
“because of my boobs?”
“yes. but also your soul.”
sunghoon
he just wanted his charger.
you’d taken it earlier. said he left it in your room. told him to come grab it when he needed it.
he didn’t knock. he thought you were in the kitchen.
so when he pushes the door open and sees you — topless, glowing, towel low on your hips, hair still damp, hand frozen mid-lotion — he doesn’t speak. doesn’t move. just. stares.
your eyes meet. for a second, you both just blink. like a standstill.
and then—“oh my god—” you gasp, arms flying up to cover your chest.
he flinches so hard he nearly drops his phone.
“i’m sorry—i’m so sorry—i thought you were—i didn’t know—i didn’t—”
he steps back, slams the door shut, and stands there. outside your room. in silence. breathing heavy.
you call through the door.
“did you at least grab the charger??”
his voice cracks.
“no. i… i blacked out a little.”
you start laughing, and he wants to crawl into the floor.
he walks back to the living room like he just got hit by a bus. plops on the couch. face flushed. head in hands.
his phone buzzes.
you: “they were nice though right 😌”
him: “don’t do this to me rn”
you: “i’m just saying”
him: “i’m spiraling”
he doesn’t talk about it again until a week later.
you’re cuddling. watching something dumb. his hand on your waist. and he whispers— “i wasn’t trying to see you like that.”
you smile. “i know.”
he exhales.
“but i think about it every day.”
sunoo
he knew you were a little drunk. and he loved it.
you were glowing — cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, giggling at nothing, spinning in his room like the floor was made of clouds.
“this song is so cute,” you hummed, dancing barefoot in your loose, but cropped tee. “you like it?”
“you’re cuter,” he said automatically, phone in hand, recording you from the bed like a proud dad. or a smitten boyfriend. or both.
and then you twirled. just once. dramatic. shirt lifted. boobs out. fully. jiggled in the light.
he screams. like, not a little gasp. a full-bodied, hands-flailing, dramatic-ass scream.
you freeze.
he drops his phone.
“what was that?!”
“what do you mean?” you blinked innocently.
“you just showed me your entire whole everything!”
you laughed. “it was like half a second!”
“HALF A SECOND TOO LONG!.”
he turned his back like it was a crime scene. hands on his hips. pacing.
“do you know what that did to me? i can’t just see those and go back to normal?? i have to live with this memory now???”
you’re still giggling, flopping on the bed.
“are you mad?”
he turns back slowly. shakes his head with deep, dramatic disappointment.
“i’m not mad. i’m… changed.”
you smile at him, hair messy, shirt hanging off your shoulder now, and he just sighs.
“your boobs are pretty,” he said, soft.
“thank you,” you whisper back.
ten minutes later, he’s cuddled into your side, face buried in your chest like nothing happened.
“just so you know,” he mumbles, “those are mine now.”
jungwon
he wakes up slow.
sunlight leaking through the curtains. sheets warm. room still. his head hurts a little, but it’s dull — the kind of ache that tells him he slept too hard, not too little.
your back is to him. face tucked into the pillow. one arm curled under your head, the other hidden beneath the blankets. hair a mess. tank top clinging to your shoulder, twisted near your ribs.
he yawns, stretches, blinks a few times—and then sees it.
he doesn’t even mean to look. he just happens to glance down as he shifts closer. and it’s there.
the curve of your breast. soft in the light. warm against the fabric. and your nipple. completely out.
his breath catches. eyes widen.
he goes still. so still. his body locks up like if he moves too fast, he’ll ruin the moment—or combust.
he stares for maybe two seconds too long. just enough to memorize the shape, the color, the way it’s pressed to the blanket. then he flips over and stares at the ceiling like a freak.
his brain short-circuits.
“you weren’t supposed to see that.”
“but i did.”
“you need to act normal.”
“i can’t.”
he’s spiraling. breathing too carefully. sweating for no reason. his heart’s beating like you just kissed him, but you’re not even awake.
he hears you shift. the blankets rustle. he wonders if you’re about to wake up and ask why he’s being so quiet.
so he gets up. fast. grabs his phone off the floor. stumbles into the kitchen like he’s being chased by demons.
ten minutes later, you walk out half-asleep, tank top still traitorous, rubbing your eyes.
“morning,” you mumble.
he can’t look at you. he sips his tea like it holds the answers.
nods once. “morning.”
you pause. tilt your head. “you okay?”
he nods again. eyes still fixed on his mug.
“…did i say something weird in my sleep?”
“no.”
you raise a brow. he finally glances up—but the second he sees your shirt slipping again, he FLINGS his gaze back down.
“jungwon,” you laugh, catching on. “did you see something?”
he says nothing. just takes a breath and murmurs, “i shouldn’t be seeing this. pausing a bit more before he whispers, “but it was beautiful.”
and that’s all he says.
for the rest of the day, he can’t look at you without blushing.
and for the rest of his life, he never forgets it.
ni-ki
you’re in his room, lights low, legs tangled under the blanket with a half-eaten bag of spicy chips between you.
the tv’s playing something dumb neither of you are watching — both too busy side-eyeing each other between jokes, limbs inching closer, pretending the tension doesn’t exist.
“you’re literally so bad at arguing,” you mutter, tossing a chip at his chest.
he catches it. eats it. shrugs.
“because i’m never wrong.”
you scoff. dramatic. lean back against his headboard like he didn’t just say something delusional.
it’s hot. too hot. the hoodie you’re wearing feels like it’s suffocating you. so you sit up. lift it over your head mid-sentence, not even thinking — just pull it off and toss it to the floor.
you don’t notice how your tank top rises too. you don’t notice how loose the armhole is. you don’t notice that for a split second, your left tit literally says hello to the room.
but he does.
he goes still. chip mid-air. eyes locked on you like he just saw a solar eclipse and isn’t sure if it was real.
you look at him.
“what?”
nothing. no answer. just him blinking.
“…what?” you laugh.
he points at you. expression unreadable. voice low.
“you did that on purpose.”
you blink. “did what?”
“you just flashed me.”
your face scrunches. you look down. your shirt is back in place.
“i didn’t flash you.”
“you did.”
“it was like—maybe a second.”
“that’s all it took,” he says, leaning back. “i’m a changed man now.”
you roll your eyes, dragging the blanket back over you, acting unfazed.
he turns away for a second. exhales. then you hear him mutter, mostly to himself—
“they were so pretty.”
you freeze.
he doesn’t take it back.
just grabs another chip and pops it in his mouth, chewing like he didn’t just say the most devastating sentence of your life.
“you’re annoying,” you say quietly. your voice cracks.
“no, you’re annoying ,” he fires back. “don’t take your clothes off around me if you want me to act normal.”
you laugh. loud. flustered.
he smiles. like he meant to do that. like he’s proud of himself.
this whole thing with riki started three months ago.
friends with benefits. no strings. just stress relief when you both needed it.
except somewhere along the way it stopped being just casual. the way he texts you at 2am not for a hookup but because he can't sleep. the way he brings you food when you mention you haven't eaten. the way he looks at you sometimes like—
you're not thinking about that right now.
right now you're in his apartment, face down on his bed while he kisses down your spine, and you're very aware that he's about to see something you haven't mentioned.
"you're tense," he murmurs against your shoulder blade. "relax."
"i am relaxed."
"liar." his hands slide down your sides. "what's wrong?"
"nothing's wrong."
he pauses. you can feel him looking.
"what—" his voice changes. "what are these?"
fuck.
"dermals," you say into the pillow. "back dermals."
"since when?"
"got them a few weeks ago.."
silence. then his fingers trace over them—four small titanium posts down your lower back, each topped with a tiny gem. delicate. pretty. you'd gotten them on impulse after a particularly bad week.
"why didn't you tell me?" he asks quietly.
"didn't think it mattered. it's just jewelry."
"just jewelry," he repeats. his fingers are still tracing them, almost reverent. "you have fucking diamonds on your back and you thought it didn't matter?"
"they're not diamonds, they're—"
he interrupts you by kissing the top right. then the left. then the bottom ones.
"riki—"
"these are so fucking hot." his voice has dropped lower. "do you know how hot these are?"
"they're just piercings—"
"they're not just anything." he's kissing down your spine again, paying special attention to each dermal. "they're fucking perfect. you're fucking perfect."
you can feel how hard he is against your thigh.
"you're really into this," you observe.
"i'm losing my mind over this." he bites your shoulder gently. "how am i supposed to be normal knowing you have these?"
"it's literally just jewelry—"
"stop saying that." he grabs your hips, pulling them up. "on your knees."
"bossy—"
"now."
you comply, rising onto your hands and knees, and hear him swear under his breath.
"fuck. look at you." his hands slide up your thighs. "look at these. catching the light. so pretty."
"riki—"
"i need to fuck you like this." his hand slides between your legs, finding you already wet. "need to watch these while i'm inside you. can i?"
"yes—"
he's already reaching for a condom, ripping it open with his teeth. you hear the snap of latex, then feel him line himself up.
"ready?" he asks, and there's a roughness to his voice that makes you shiver.
"yes—"
he pushes in slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. from this angle he feels even bigger, the stretch intense.
"okay?" he asks, hands gripping your hips.
"more than okay. move."
he does, starting with slow, deep thrusts. but his eyes are fixed on your back, on the foursmall gems catching the light with each movement.
"so fucking pretty," he mutters. "can't stop looking at them. at you."
"they're just—"
"stop." he thrusts harder, making you gasp. "stop calling them 'just' anything. they're fucking art. you're fucking art."
he picks up the pace, one hand sliding up your lower back to trace over the dermals again. the touch is gentle, reverent, completely at odds with the way he's fucking you.
"i'm obsessed with these," he admits. "gonna think about them every time i see you now. gonna imagine them under your clothes."
"that's—ah—inappropriate—"
"we're literally fucking. i think we're past inappropriate." he leans over you, changing the angle, and hits that perfect spot. "besides, you like it. can feel how you clench when i touch them."
he's right. every time his fingers brush over the dermals, you tighten around him involuntarily.
"that's it," he encourages. "so good. taking me so well."
his hand slides around to find your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts.
"riki—i'm close—"
"yeah? gonna come for me?" he speeds up slightly. "want to feel it. want to watch these pretty little gems sparkle while you fall apart on my cock."
the combination of his words, his fingers, the angle—it's too much. you come with a broken moan, face pressed into the pillow, and he groans.
"fuck, yes—just like that—so perfect—"
he thrusts a few more times before following, grip tight on your hips, and you feel him pulse inside you.
for a moment neither of you moves, just breathing hard. then he pulls out carefully, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you.
"that was—" you start.
"incredible." he pulls you against his chest. "you're incredible. those piercings are incredible. i'm never getting over this."
