𓍢 ⋆📖⊹ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ you are reading: midnight release
mmafighter! ni-ki x f.reader (niki has tatts and an eyebrow piercing yay, smut +18, mdni)
"being the personal agent of an mma fighter at the beginning of his career isn't easy, especially when he's dealing with so much pressure. what about giving him a little help?" wc: 6.7k author's notes: writing this was intense, to say the least. this is probably the smuttiest smut ive ever written in my life so far... yeah. so i really hope u guys can enjoy. im so ashamed to list some songs i heard while baking ts but here we go> altitude by montell fish, in for it by tory lanez, all mine by plaza, needed me by rihanna (ENOUGH)! i reread it like 3x but its probably full of liddol mistakes sorry T_T anywaysss good reading!!! ALSO PLZ HAVE IN MIND THAT ONE SCENE FROM 'RIVALS' WHERE ART PLACES HIS HEAD ON TASHIS LAP AND LOOKS UP thats very important for references! tw: english is not my first language!!!, anger issues, violence (not towards the reader), reader is a little older, mma terms (few), mentions of blood and cuts, use of yn and noona, lowercase writing, some romaji (dont come at me riki talking in his mother tongue is so sexey), massive manhandling, massive size difference (yeepyy), dirty talk, oral (f. rec), clit play, nipple play, pussy slaps (FAH-), different positions, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it duh), multiple orgasms, belly bulge, coming inside, edging, praising LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANY!
the shrill sound of bells ringing signaled the end of the final round! on one side a boy slumped, hunched over, eyes unfocused, without any strength left, on the other niki, as everyone called him; a thin trickle of blood ran from his brow down to his chin where it dripped and stained the rubberized floor, but the adrenaline simply kept him from caring.
the central referee approached, pulling him by the shoulder and raising his arm, victorious. he smiled tiredly, showing off his mouthguard covered in diamond patterns and looking around.
the arena went wild.
nishimura was the sensation of the moment, pointed out by several articles as the 'future of mma', he was only 20 years old, but had a great thirst for victory. banners were raised in celebration and you, the boy’s agent, stood outside clapping and shouting encouragement. with that result he could finally earn better sponsors, and climb quite a bit in the rankings. the team gradually gathered, some hugging, others greeting each other as they exchanged congratulations...
that is... until the announcer drew everyone’s attention again.
"wait, what’s this? it looks like the jury panel are signaling to the referee! they’re checking the footage from the second round!", the celebration was interrupted.
quickly the feeling of excitement was replaced by one that made the heart race just as much; anxiety. you hurried over as well, alongside your boy who stepped down from the octagon with his eyes widening, not understanding. "what’s going on? i won, didn’t i?", he asked hoarsely and breathless after removing the mouthguard. his sweaty, heated body slowly beginning to feel the thermal shock from the venue’s air conditioning.
the arena fell into complete silence as the commentators explained the situation and the replay was shown on the big screens.
the two of you came closer to the panel where they analyzed the monitors. on each screen, different timings of the replay showed riki being pressed against the fence. to avoid being taken down, his fingers, by instinct, curled into the gaps of the wire mesh, pulling it to regain balance. it was a half-second movement and enough for the judges to change the score.
"ladies and gentlemen, we have an unbelievable turn of events! confirmed! violation for holding the fence in the second round. the judges are deducting one point from fighter nishimura. with that, the final score that would have been 29-28 in favor of the japanese fighter now becomes 28-28. we have a majority draw!"
the suspense in the arena, however, was not broken by any of the spectators - who were still trying to understand how something like that could nullify such an overwhelming victory - but instead by the opposing coach, who let out a mocking laugh, intentionally commenting out loud that the prodigy was just another cheater.
and he got exactly what he expected. it was the perfect trigger. within seconds riki had him by the collar, gripping him - to the point his knuckles turned white - eyes locked, nostrils flared, asking over and over if the man would repeat that to his face and saying they could settle his discomfort in a more direct way. the grip was so tight that the tape wrapped around his fingers snapped and the other man’s shirt collar stretched loose.
the scene played before your eyes like slow motion.
when you first met the boy, it was during one of the sponsor visits to the gym where he trained. the group had asked the boys to organize among themselves to fight and show their best. the matches would all be balanced and everyone knew each other, without exception. there was only one problem, none of the others wanted to fight him.
at first, he was just another quiet dude, head down, lip bruised in a familiar way, but as the eliminations went on, riki grew more and more intimidating, more aggressive and out of control. it was in the final bout when he wouldn’t stop hitting even as his teammate tapped the floor in surrender that your superior decided to call him to sign an exclusive contract. he was young, very strong, a bit unbalanced, but your boss believed that with some guidance from a personal agent he could achieve great results; in other words, he was willing to turn riki into his fighting dog and profit enormously from him.
members of both teams moved to pull them from each other, the man raising his hands as if surrendering, reinforcing the blond’s image of being unstable. the head coach grabbed riki by the shoulders, dragging him away toward the locker rooms, and you threw a towel so they could cover his face while passing through the press and the crowd gathering at the exits.
the previous silence now gone, shouts, questions, the sound of camera flashes, commentators once again discussing the fight and technical mistakes that had already proven fatal in other mma moments. you refrained from answering any reporters, leaving the arena with the rest of the team.
"that was quite a reaction from little niki, don’t you think?", one commentator remarked, triggering laughter from the other two. "i think he needs to learn a thing or two about temperament before trying to climb the rankings."
***
as soon as you finally entered the room, the first thing you saw was nishimura throwing his gloves away, hard and far, then moving to kick the coffee table - and the decorations on top of it - and punching the nearest drywall. the blond’s voice came out like an angry growl as he cursed in his native language.
the coach wore an expression of someone not surprised by the reaction and who would do nothing to stop it, the cutman didn’t even dare suggest cleaning the open cut on the boy’s eyebrow, everyone grabbing their gear and leaving the ticking time bomb to you. "see you at the meeting" the last one said on his way out, and you gave a faint smile, arms crossed, waiting for riki to sit on the couch before approaching him.
the boy dropped onto the narrow black leather sofa and held his head with both hands, elbows resting on his knees, staring down.
"have you calmed down a bit? you know i’m not coming near you while you’re like this, right?" your voice was low, calm, restrained.
there was no answer, but he didn’t move anymore either, just tapping his bare foot repeatedly against the floor, anxious, impatient.
you picked up the hoodie he had brought in his bag and carried it over to him, sitting beside him and extending the change of clothes. "get changed, i’ll tell the driver to wait for us at the back entrance" you said. riki snatched the item from your hands, clicking his tongue as he stood up to put them on.
the exchange of messages on your phone was brief, everyone was always on standby on competition days. and it was obvious you would play dumb about all the adjacent messages the sponsor had already sent you, at least for now. truthfully, you weren’t in a much better position than the fighter, it was your first real job, and you were still in your early twenties; it wasn’t as if you inspired much respect from the man who paid a large portion of your salary.
riki finished dressing and put on sunglasses, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking out behind you.
if you were good at playing dumb with the agency’s demands, he was good at pretending the media didn’t exist. he didn’t stop to answer invasive questions or even the reasonable ones, didn’t smile, and didn’t step aside, which resulted in several shoulders being bumped. the young man slid into the back seat of the car and slammed the door shut while you once again declined interviews and blocked one of the cameras pressed against the window trying to film and photograph through the tinted glass, before walking around and getting in on the other side.
"where to?"
"let’s head back to the apartment. you’re off after that, aj."
"thank you, ma'am."
the ride inside the vehicle was suffocating. the low volume of the radio did nothing to ease the tension. riki stared out the window, but his aura radiated a state of nerves that made your skin prickle; it was almost as if his anger wasn’t limited to the mistake he had made or the opponent’s provocation, but to everyone who had witnessed it… everyone who had been there during his humiliation, especially you.
***
the door opened after you entered the code into the digital lock. nishimura walked in, still head down, without saying a word since the arena. he tossed his backpack somewhere in the living room and went straight to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. you sighed and headed to the kitchen, getting some water for yourself and leaning against the counter before returning one of the many calls you had received.
"yes, yes, he’s aware of the rules. he has been training, yes" you replied unenthusiastically. "i understand the frustration, sir, i understand about the sponsorships as well, but it was a technical mistake and-, i’ll handle it".
your exact role as niki’s agent was to manage his career, the bureaucratic and unbearable part, the marketing, what he posted on instagram or what he absolutely could not post. however, from the very first day, you had both been placed to share an apartment, and so your extra function became that of a full-time babysitter.
you grocery shopped together, bought clothes, you were the one who received his deliveries, you were the one the boy talked to about trivial things and the more complicated feelings, it was you he called to watch a movie or try a new recipe, to watch him play some game he liked, or simply sit in the same space doing nothing. in short, the closest person he had since the contract.
you knew about his explosive temper, knew about the heavy armor he hid behind when things didn’t go his way, knew about the distance from his family… you also knew he was always in a good mood when he had natto for breakfast, that he loved playing basketball on the court of the apartments complex, and that he preferred handheld consoles over computer games.
riki was young, even younger than you. carrying the weight of thousands of people’s expectations on his shoulders. he needed to perform well, he needed to qualify, climb the rankings, win… he needed to be “the niki” people admired. there was no room to be anything else.
you answered a few more emails and put your phone on silent, not intending to respond to anything else. you finished your water and turned around, leaning back against the marble counter as you opened the delivery app. if you ordered his favorite food, maybe you could sit down and talk for a bit.
you ordered from the restaurant you were already used to. rice balls, ramen, some grilled meat, and a taiyaki for dessert.
you left your phone there and went to the bathroom, grabbing a first aid kit from the cabinet before heading to his room. you knocked once, calling softly, and on the second try you noticed the door wasn’t locked. when you stepped inside, riki was finishing putting on a pair of jeans, the fresh scent mixing with his woody cologne, his broad back still dotted with droplets of water running down, making it clear he had just come out of the shower.
"are you going out? i just ordered food" leaning against the doorframe, watching him.
"not in the mood" he answered dryly, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his sneakers.
"you should at least take care of your cut first," you said simply, receiving a faint side smile as a response; meaning: he wouldn’t. "i see" you concluded. "well, don’t do anything you’ll regret later" you added before stepping away from the doorway.
that was new.
he usually stayed quiet for a while after one of his outbursts, but he always preferred staying home, specifically in his room. you thought maybe he just needed some air, or a change of scenery. so you didn’t insist. truthfully, you didn’t have the energy to either, since the situation was awful for everyone.
you walked to the living room and dropped onto the couch, burying your face into the cushions. you always felt like screaming whenever things slipped out of control, but you never did, always wanting to set an example for him. you always chose to put on headphones or take an extra long hot shower, but never to physically release your feelings, even though you were fully aware it would probably be far more effective.
"have fun-" you were cut off by the loud sound of the front door slamming shut as he rushed out. "okay…"
***
neon lights sliced through the room in shades of blue and violet, but to riki, everything looked monochrome. the loud music pounded against his temples, as if the dj himself were there hammering at his skull, competing with the relentless echo of those infernal bells from the octagon and the commentators’ laughter that wouldn’t leave his head. the drink in his hand had already gone warm, the melted ice watering down the liquor he barely felt like swallowing whenever he brought it to his lips.
in front of him stood a pretty girl whose name he had already forgotten three times. her lips moved animatedly. it was something irrelevant, maybe about a party or someone they both knew, but to him it sounded as interesting as an ant crossing the asphalt.
riki was there, but his mind was elsewhere.
he was back in the arena, replaying moments from the fight and searching for some way he could have avoided the penalty. he was in the locker room, under his team’s eyes once again forced to endure his loss of control. and finally, he was at the apartment. more specifically, on the expression you made. that tired look, the low voice trying to be his safe harbor even when he acted like an animal. the way you held the first aid kit, ready to care for a cut he couldn’t even feel, but that you seemed determined to heal with all the patience in the world.
he felt a familiar tightness in his chest. the boy hated not being in control. hated the contract that bound him, hated having started at the top without being ready for the fall, and hated, above all, that the only person he truly wanted to scream at, cry with, or simply exist beside in silence was the same person who had to be his professional "babysitter".
it was maddening. how could they expect him to keep his hands off you when you were the one who picked up his pieces every single time? it infuriated him that that damn phone was always between you, reminding him that you were paid to be there. he wanted you there because you wanted to be, not because some old man could fire you if you weren’t.
"hey, are you even listening to me?"
the girl’s hand touching his arm felt like an unwanted electric shock. he blinked, dragged back into the suffocating reality of the bar. he looked at her fingers against his skin and felt an immediate recoil; it wasn’t the touch he wanted. it didn’t carry the soft perfume you wore, nor was it firm and subtle like yours.
he forced an awkward smile, the kind he used for cameras when he wanted to be left alone.
"i need to go" he muttered, his voice rough from disuse.
the girl parted her lips, confused about what reason he could possibly have. he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, an automatic gesture from someone whose body was already turned toward the exit. he stepped away from the table, ignoring the protest forming at the tip of her tongue, and pushed through the crowd.
***
the ride back was a thin line between unease and regret. as soon as riki stepped out of the bar, the icy dawn breeze hit his face like a bucket of cold water, but what truly chilled him was the phone screen: zero notifications.
usually, when he stayed out past two in the morning, there was always a message from you. a sarcastic "did you get lost on the way?" or a picture of the tv paused on a movie you both liked, a silent invitation for him to return. the absence made the knot already tight in his throat feel like it had turned into a sailor’s knot.
as if conditioned by that emptiness, he climbed onto his bike and started the engine. the machine’s growl echoed through the street, and as he accelerated, the streetlights blurred into dotted streaks along the horizon. the building’s automatic gate seemed to take forever to rise, every inch of metal dragging upward while the boy’s leg bounced anxiously against the pedal.
he entered the apartment abruptly, the beep of the digital lock cutting through the air. the living room lights were low, casting long, cozy shadows. spotify was still connected, playing a soft instrumental that filled the silence, and on the table, a few beer cans showed that you had tried, in your own way, to cope with the night’s frustration.
nishimura stopped. a small smile appeared when he saw you there, curled up among the couch cushions. you were dozing, one hand beside your head, the other resting on your stomach, now exposed where your shirt had ridden up slightly in your sleep. so serene and unguarded, so different from the composed posture you always carried, the one he knew was exhausting.
he approached slowly, kneeling on the rug to be at your level. the scent of your perfume mixed with the familiar air completely disarmed him. with rough, calloused fingers, he reached out and brushed your cheek in an almost imperceptible caress.
"i’m sorry" he whispered. his deep voice came out unsteady, heavy with everything he hadn’t managed to say before.
the warmth of his touch and the sound of his voice stirred you awake. your eyes opened slowly, focusing on the japanese boy watching you with an intensity you rarely saw.
"i thought i’d have to put your face on a ‘missing’ poster" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep, a gentle tease to break the tension.
that drew a genuine smile from him, the first of the night to reach his eyes, but the movement pulled at the skin of his brow. he hissed softly through his teeth, bringing his fingers to the cut he had ignored the entire time. the sting finally caught up with him.
you sat up. gently, you held his face, guiding riki’s head down until it rested in your lap. he didn’t resist; on the contrary, he let his full weight sink, eyes closing as he felt your small, soft hands steadying him. "let’s take care of this, hm?" you said quietly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
there it was, the tenderness riki had never learned how to receive, yet desperately craved. the softness of your skin against his, the comfort of someone who shared none of his blood. closer, and impossibly out of reach. he simply nodded, his chest falling with a long, deeply held sigh.
***
the taller one sat on the closed toilet lid while you remained standing between his legs. the kit with bandages, alcohol, cotton, and healing ointment lay open on the bathroom sink. with one hand, you held his chin, keeping it lifted. dark, sharp eyes watched you the entire time, warm, steady breaths brushing against the back of your hand or your wrist whenever you pressed the alcohol-soaked cotton to the wound that was beginning to form a thin scab.
"you’re probably the most stubborn person i know, you know that?" you teased, but he simply nodded, his focus completely fixed on you. "good… because if that cut gets infected, you’ll have to take out your piercing…"
riki would listen to you talk for hours, even if it was just to complain about him and his reckless actions. he watched your lips, your eyes, your lashes fluttering softly, your neck, your collarbones, your smooth skin that mocked him and the desires hidden behind every swallow of his throat. he wasn’t much of a talker on his own, but when he was with you, it felt like a sport, and he would watch every season where you were the main objective.
"noona…" he called.
"shh… this is going to sting a little, i’m going to spray the antiseptic…"
"yn…" he insisted, lifting his hands to your wrists, holding them so you would look back at him.
"yes, i’m listening…" you looked down and found a different expression on his face. it wasn’t anger, nor that neutral mask he wore when he didn’t want to be bothered, nor even the guilty look of a scolded puppy. he looked feverish, eyes shining with something uncertain that made your heart skip a beat. you were about to ask if he was feeling alright, but your words vanished when riki buried his face against your chest.
"niki…"
"no… not like that…" he muttered, shifting slightly.
"riki…" you ran your fingers through his soft hair in a half-caress, noticing as he lifted his face just enough to stare up at you. "what are you-"
"don’t ask questions you already know the answer to" his large hands slid higher, fingers intertwining with yours.
"we’ve already talked about this…"
"have we?" he challenged, and you pressed your lips together.
"it’s in the contract"
"i don’t care…" he said, leaning into you again, inhaling deeply, absorbing your scent before turning his face, rubbing softly as if seeking comfort. "i need you"
"i’m here…"
"you don’t understand…" his voice vibrated against you, the familiar growl surfacing as his nerves tightened. "i’m at my limit"
he pulled back once more, looking at you.
"i understand how things work now. i understand the road is long, that i’m still a rookie, that i’m not as good as the journals say…" his grip tightened around your fingers, not to hurt. "but this contract… i can’t do it anymore. honestly, i don’t give a damn about it. and i’m so tired of denying… denying that i need you. not as a caretaker who organizes my schedule, but as a woman… my woman"
your cheeks burned, the air suddenly too thin in your lungs. but he didn’t stop. his gaze dropped, intense, almost obsessive.
"you think i don’t notice? the way you bite the end of that pen while frowning at my planner? the way you straighten your posture and hold your elbows when you’re nervous?" he shook his head, as if the confession itself exhausted him. "i tried… i tried going out with other girls, tried feeling anything that wasn’t the same indifference i feel with paparazzi… but it doesn’t work. none of them are you". he let out a soft breath of a laugh. "i know i’m terrible with feelings, i can’t even explain them properly, but this…" he guided your joined hands to his chest, where his heart pounded like a caged beast. "this is clear to me"
the heat radiating from him felt overwhelming. your fingers burned, the bathroom air thickened, your vision blurred. you tried to pull away, clumsy, attempting to free yourself.
but riki’s reflexes were too quick.
before you could reach the doorknob, he rose, strong arms circling your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his broad, heated chest. the contact was immediate, his jeans against your hips, his lips near your ear.
"running away? pretending your heart isn’t racing just like mine?" he pressed a slow, damp kiss beneath your ear, making you shiver. "tell me… do you really feel nothing? you really don’t want me at all?"
to seal the fate of that night, riki turned you gently yet firmly toward the large bathroom mirror. the reflection revealed the stark contrast. You, flushed, breathless, held against his solid frame. his hands slid upward, palms exploring the lines of your body, one circling your neck, the other lifting your chin.
"look at us…" he commanded, his face close to yours. "tell me i’m the only one who’s lost control… tell me you don’t want me too…"
***
the confined space made everything feel claustrophobic. your mind swirled with emotions, yet none of them involved denying that you wanted him too. how many times had you caught yourself watching his sharp profile, his jawline, his perfect lips, his sweat-slicked torso, muscles tightening at the gym or during training. it was impossible not to notice. and like a switch flipping, you turned toward him, hands framing his face as you pulled him down into a kiss.
the boy was surprised for exactly one second before responding with enthusiasm. the kiss was a collision. the way your mouths clung together, lips crushing, your slender fingers sliding up to the back of his neck. riki sniffed softly, almost in relief, bending further over you, craving more contact. one of his hands braced against the mirror, the other slid down to your thigh, gripping firmly as he pulled you closer.
he lifted you, setting you onto the cold marble counter, drawing a heavy gasp from you. the walls seemed to close in around you both, the tension far too thick to stay contained there. riki held you with ridiculous ease, stumbling through the doorway with you toward the living room, never breaking the kiss for even a second.
he dropped you onto the couch possessively and, in one fluid, impatient motion, crossed his arms to pull his shirt off, tossing it somewhere without care.
you parted your lips, breath uneven, eyes roaming over his sculpted torso, the tattoo trailing along his ribs. your senses blurred, and you couldn’t help it, the tip of your tongue slipped out, wetting your lower lip as you devoured him with your gaze.
riki smirked before kneeling again, hands gripping your hips as he pulled you to the edge of the couch. he didn’t need to ask for help; your fingers were already at your jeans, undoing them so he could slide the fabric down and off you.
"damn…" his eyes swept over your thighs, quick, hungry, hands roaming shamelessly. he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to bite and suck, leaving a reddening mark.
"you are going to eat me out?" your voice came out slow, breathless.
"eat you out?" he looked up at you, tongue tracing a heated path along your inner thigh. "i’m going to devour you…"
your body arched in impulse... the shame was there, yes, but it was what turned you on the most. the shame, the fact that this would fuck up any professional relationship you had. but, when his hot tongue touched your covered pussy a spark ran through your body, making a whimper escape you and your worries evaporate. nishimura shook his head, laughing softly and repeating the act, only soaking the already messy fabric further; bordering on transparency.
thick fingers hooked into the waistband of your undies and he didn't take it off, he just pulled until the fabric tore, revealing your sex flushed and glistening with lubrication.
riki lowered his mouth, opening wide enough to take you all in. his tongue spread out, licking deep from bottom to top. his eyes closed so he could concentrate, his nose also burying itself, brushing against your clit every time his head went back and forth to lick you. he didn't need to breathe that much.
you watched as he dived in there, his puffy lips sucking your folds, before he took his thumb to your bundle of nerves to finger you there, horizontal and circular motions, alternating. you threw your head back when he penetrated you with the damp muscle, taking it in and out making your hips lift in small jolts from the force he put into it.
"hnng i-... riki!", you tried to warn the younger one.
"mhmm?", his voice muffled as he squeezed your pussy between his index finger and thumb, like a sandwich, and turned his face to engulf all the sensitive flesh munching. he didn't make it easy, furrowing his brow when your thighs tried to close and holding you spread open for him.
the blonde enclosed your clit again, sucking greedily, fingering your entrance which pulsed non-stop now, indicating you were on the edge. he held the nub between his lips and used his tongue to lick fast, looking up at you again just so he wouldn't miss the exact moment your eyes rolled back.
your fingers tangled in his hair pulling him down as you came, grinding against his mouth through the whole orgasm. he let out a needy groan feeling your fluids wet his chin and yet he didn't stop, continuing to lick with will even as your legs shook, completely inebriated.
"give me one more, please, please...", he asked coaxingly, not giving you time to think of protests before pressing his mouth to your pussy again, this time taking a finger to the entrance and shoving it to the base... he curved it inside and heard you practically meow, loving how you sounded for him. "can do it for me?". it didn't take long for him to find the spongy part that made you see stars when he pressed it. he added another digit leaving you full just with them, making a curved back-and-forth motion that hit all the spots you needed most.
at this point your restless hands squeezed your own breasts over your shirt and bra. lower lip was swollen and reddened from so much biting. the tickle in your lower belly indicating you could handle even less.
the boy licked slowly this time, savoring every groan, every time your hips lifted without your permission, every time your sweet spot pulsed for him. he was completely ecstatic with your taste, with your texture.
"fu.. i can't-!!"
you came once more, squirting a little, making him watch mesmerized, as if he had discovered oil right there in the living room. you whimpered while your abdomen contracted and you closed your legs. riki denied it and grabbed your knees this time, using all the size and strength difference between you in his favor.
he blew against your sex and the cold wind hitting the hot, damp flesh made you suffer a groan before pulling a pillow to hide your face behind.
"ah- hontouni kawaii", he spoke softly, so absorbed in the scene that the phrase came out in his native language, rising and kneeling on the sofa, before taking the pillow from you and holding your wrists together with one hand, lifting them above your head while capturing your mouth again, kissing you and letting you taste yourself.
his mouth then went down to your neck, nipping at your soft neck skin, giving little bites. "you're so delicious", he whispered, making you shiver. he held your face, sliding his thumb across your mouth, feeling your trembling and wet lips.
the younger one's gaze was so piercing, he moved his hand to squeeze your chest pointing through the fabric, testing the weight and softness before finally letting go of your wrists. with agile movements, he helped you get rid of the rest of your clothes.
when you were already naked, he also took off his pants, staying only in gray boxers that left almost nothing to the imagination. you saw his perfect outline, big and thick, leaving the fabric darker where he leaked pre-cum.
"come here" riki sat on the sofa and pulled you onto his lap. the size difference was glaring. his hands circled your waist and almost met at your back without effort, making you feel tiny and completely at his mercy to handle.
"are you holding back?" you questioned, feeling his skin comfort yours as you leaned over his strong body.
"maybe... a little" he admitted with a smirk, that dangerous glint still in his eyes.
"why?" curiosity bordering on innocence.
he looked away for a second trying to keep his composure, fingers tracing your narrow shoulders with a delicacy that contrasted with the bruises he usually caused in the ring. you were so soft, so small, so perfect...
"because i don't want to hurt you..." he replied, his voice heavy with that low vibration that made you melt.
"but i want that" you cut off his thought.
riki stopped his hand movement, lifting an eyebrow slightly, his index finger tracing a downward path until reaching your perky nipple, circling the areola around it. "you do, huh? what exactly do you want?" he brought his face close, leaving your noses brushing, his breath mixing with yours.
"i want you to use me... to relieve all the tension you've been feeling...", you whispered back, grinding lightly against the stiff member positioned right toward your mons pubis, maintaining eye contact. and you meant it.
"you're asking me to fuck you hard then?", he put it in more direct words, almost disbelieving what he had heard from you. squeezing the nipple he was playing with, pinching and pulling, eliciting a groaned 'yes' from you. "you're going to let me fuck you right, noona?", he continued, close, involved, just feeling your lips crawling over each other as you nodded positively.
the energy of the environment changed gradually, as if the air were charging with a silent electricity. riki's pupil dilated and narrowed, adjusting focus as he interlaced his fingers in the hair at your nape before pulling hard. "get on all fours then".
***
riki kept you arched on the sofa, hips raised perfectly for him while your hands pulled your butt cheeks apart as he had asked. he brushed your entrance with the tip, teasing. the sound was obscene, the wet slap of skin on skin every time he hit the length of that thick dick against your slit, already dripping with desire, was a trigger for your brain to tingle.
"how naughty, getting so soaked for your own dongsaenggie..."
before you could process the outrage, he delivered a stinging slap to your butt, the sound echoing in the room. and he took advantage of the exact moment you let out a whimper of surprise and pain to thrust in all at once, sinking to the base.
his teeth clenched, letting out a low curse about how tight you were. the boy blew air out forcefully through his mouth and groaned low before moving, holding your hips firmly to fuck your pussy with precision.
he dragged one hand to your head, forcing your face against the sofa upholstery. the pressure made your cheeks squeeze and your mouth form a beautiful pout, while he started to ram faster and faster. your body rocked violently with every thrust and your moans only grew in volume, filling the apartment.
he sank his fingertips into your hips, leaving marks, before pulling you flush against him. he used his own thighs as support for you and slid his flat hand to your lower belly, feeling the bulge he caused himself as he stretched you out from the inside.
"can you feel me here?" he nibbled on your ear, his voice breaking with pleasure. "so deep in this tight cunny..." he pressed harder against your belly, feeling you writhe before him, completely surrendered, babbling things and trying to hold onto his forearms.
the sofa creaked under the weight of both of you and that rhythmic, wet squelch mixed into the sensual melody you created together. riki seemed in a trance, eyes focused only on your body's reaction to his every move. and as soon as he felt the inner walls of your canal spasm, squeezing him with an almost desperate force, that "strangulation" that indicated you were at your limit, in a moment, he pulled out.
the sudden emptiness made your body give way, falling against the cushions, trembling arms barely able to support you. the japanese boy remained kneeling behind you for a few seconds, catching his breath. he tilted his head to the side, hair sticking to his forehead from sweat, watching with a dark fascination the way your intimacy pulsed, contracting in search of the fulfillment he had just taken away.
he slid his perfectly trimmed nails along the inside of your thighs, a caress that sent shivers to your soul, before delivering a sharp slap right on your sex.
"oh she’s begging..." he whispered, his voice thick with a cruel satisfaction.
as he pulled his hand away, a string of lubrication connected his fingers to your entrance, glistening under the low light of the room. you let out a muffled whimper, face hidden, but he gave you no rest. riki pulled you by the waist, handling your body as if you were a doll.
now, your back was pressed against the fighter's broad, warm chest. he distributed wet kisses along your sweaty nape, savoring the salt of your skin as if it were addictive. with firm hands under your knees, he guided you, aligning your bodies again. guiding you to help him with it too.
you felt his tip press against the entrance and, as he lowered you, you were slowly impaled, feeling every inch being reclaimed again. your back arched, head hanging back on his shoulder while the moans became constant, almost a song. "shit- taking me so good" riki gasped, erratic breath hitting your neck.
the blonde started making you bounce, up and down; every squeeze, every sound, every thrust loaded with lust. with every harder descent, his cock hitted your cervix, producing a muffled, wet little noise that seemed to shut down the boy's last neurons.
he tightened his grip under your legs and began to lift his own hips to meet you halfway, accelerating the pace frantically.
"..kuso!" he cursed in a thin voice, failing as he felt he was about to lose total control at the way you squeezed him inside. "you're driving me crazy! fuuuck… i'm gonna cum-"
his hawk-like eyes went down to where the bodies met just so he could see your pussy lips fully stretched around his girth, making him bite the tip of his tongue before wrinkling his nose. he used one arm to hold both of your legs, taking his newly free hand to finger your clit which was exposed by the bulging.
in a few seconds you were squirting once more, much more than the first time that night, squeezing him as if you wanted to break him, but all it did was make him cum, releasing loads and loads of cum inside you while he held you against his lap, groaning low and husky.
***
your bodies relaxed together, with you feeling every muscle of his abs against your back contracting with a breath that was slowly steadying... the warm cum escaping only after he went soft inside you, dripping and forming a puddle between your legs. the smell in the room was strong, a thin, nearly imperceptible layer of steam thanks to the closed windows was created.
lifted a hand that was resting on your thigh to bring it to his face, giving him a slow caress which nishimura accepted, leaning his heavy head into it, still daze in his own state.
“i’m going to tear that piece of shit contract up” he finally said, as if telling a secret, without moving a single muscle to pull out of you or move away.
“I’d make you glue it back together, piece by piece...” you replied with a tired smile.
“you know no championship belt guarantees me this...” he murmured, burying his face in the curve of your neck.
you thought about the words spoken, laughing to yourself with the only response that came to mind at the moment. “then this will be your consolation prize every time”, whispered, and felt his smirk widen against your skin.
*
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