𝐿𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝐼𝓉 | 𝒩𝐼-𝒦𝐼
ᥫ᭡. An ENHYPEN NI-KI oneshot
ᥫ᭡. Ni-ki as a tattooist. Does he know I'm crazy?
ᥫ᭡. Very specific genre for a VERY SPECIFIC AUDIENCE therefore
⚠️‼️Mdni‼️⚠️
ᥫ᭡. 18+
ᥫ᭡. Smut
ᥫ᭡. Songs
•Backshots - Swae
•Headshot - ptasinski & RJ Pasin
•Heaven - Julia Michaels
•Wet the bed - Chr*s Br*wn ft Ludacris
•Feel something - Chr*s Br*wn
•Candy shop - 50 cent ft Olivia
•Drunk in love - Beyoncè ft J*yZ
•Slow Down - Chase Atlantic
•Church - Chase Atlantic
•Tidal Wave - Chase Atlantic
•When we - Tank
•Pillowtalk - ZAYN
•Chaconne - ENHYPEN
•Girl with the tattoo - Miguel
•Why'd you only call me when you're high? - Arctic Monkeys
•R U Mine - Arctic Monkeys
•Nasty - Ariana Grande
•off the table - Ariana Grande & The Weeknd
•Everyday - Ariana Grande ft Future
•Living room flow - Jhenè Aiko
•Shirt - SZA
•One night only - Sonder
•Care - Sonder
•Void - The Neighbourhood
•Poison - Brent Faiyaz
•All mine - Brent Faiyaz
•Kiss it better - Rihanna
•Needed Me - Rihanna
•Talk 2 me - Montell Fish
•Altitude - Montell Fish
•Bathroom - Montell Fish
•Destroy myself just for you - Montell Fish
•Girls need love - Summer Walker
•Morning - Teyana Taylor ft Kehlani
ᥫ᭡. Tags (open but please follow to be part of the list ✨): @vanishingnana @kittyyhoon
The bell above the door chimed a tinny, hollow sound that did nothing to soothe the spike of irritation thrumming under Kira's skin. She hated changing her routine. She hated having to outsource something as intimate as skin modification to a stranger, but her regular artist had a six-month waiting list, and this downtown parlor advertised a rare, last-minute tat session. Kira just wanted the ink done. The finality of it. She wanted to look down at her hip and see something beautiful and entirely hers. A fresh start. A sharp contrast to the chaotic, fractured mess her life has been since the breakup eight months ago. She never thought about him in weeks. She actively trained her brain to treat his memory like a ghost town, assuming he did what he always threatened to do: pack up his machines and move three countries away to escape the suffocating weight of his own head.
Then she heard it. A low, gravelly and completely unmistakable grunt from the back corner chair, shielded partially by a heavy velvet curtain.
Kira froze, her breath catching in her throat. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
The curtain was nudged aside with the blunt end of an elbow. Riki looked up. The heavy, industrial coils of his tattoo machine whined down to a low hum, the needle hovering mere millimeters above a customer's half-shaded forearm. His expression didn't shatter. Riki was a man built out of granite and pure spite, a permanent scowl etched into the sharp, hard lines of his brows. But she saw the exact second the recognition hit him. His jaw clenched so hard a corded muscle leaped in his throat, and his dark eyes narrowed into slits of pure, unadulterated ice. He didn't say a single word. He just stared at her, the silence stretching between them like a tightrope over a canyon, heavy with the suffocating weight of everything they burned to the ground.
Kira's instinct was to bolt. She was normally the carefree one, the sweet, chilled-out presence who smoothed over Riki's jagged edges, but the sheer toxicity of their relationship left her cautious, guarded and fiercely stubborn. She already paid a non-refundable hundred and fifty-dollar deposit and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of fleeing. When she turned to the receptionist, the poor girl looked like she wanted to swallow her own tongue, awkwardly skimming through the shop's schedule book. "Uh…yeah, so our other tattooist Heeseung called in sick for today. It's...it's Riki's chair....or we can rebook you in about three weeks."
"I'm staying." Kira said, her voice dropping an octave.
Riki didn't break eye contact as he finished the final line on his current customer's arm. The moment the man left the shop, Riki stood up, towering and imposing in his black denim, his movements detached. He tore off his contaminated gloves, threw them into the biohazard bin with a wet snap, and walked over to the stainless-steel sink. He washed his hands without a word, the harsh scent of green soap filling the air, the rhythmic scrubbing acting as a countdown to the inevitable collision. When he finally walked over to his station, he didn't offer a greeting. He just held out a gloved hand for her design.
Kira handed him the crumpled paper. It was a picture of a lily. White lilies were traditionally symbols of rebirth, fresh beginnings and the cleansing of the past. But this lily was particularly unique because she asked for the edges of the petals to be slightly frayed, bleeding into sharp, geometric lines with the word Sovereign drawn over it. It was meant to go on her lower hip, curving just above the lace of her panty line, a declaration that her body belonged to no one but herself.
Riki looked at the stencil. He smirked. Just once, a bitter, knowing twist of his lips before he wiped it clean off of his face, his professional mask locking back into place. "You sure about this? That's a pretty sensitive area."
"Just do it, asshole." Kira shot back, her voice a dangerous purr.
Riki didn't argue with her. He prepared the site, his movements clinical but tense. When Kira hopped onto the high leather chair, leaning back and pulling the waistband of her jeans down just far enough to expose the soft curve of her hip, the air in the room thinned. Riki prepped the skin with alcohol. It was cold, a stark contrast to the sudden heat radiating from his body as he leaned in. He kept his boundaries professional for the first five minutes, his gloves, stencil alignment and the initial bite of the needle tearing into her flesh. Kira locked her jaw, refusing to give him a sound, focusing entirely on the burning sensation of the ink entering her dermis.
But as the minutes bled into a heavy, agonizing half-hour, the professional distance disintegrated. Riki leaned in closer than necessary, his broad shoulders blocking out the lights of the shop, trapping her in his shadow. His breath, warm and smelling faintly of mint and cannabis, ghosted over the bare skin of her stomach. Every time he reached for a paper towel to wipe away the excess ink and blood, his knuckles brushed deliberately against the sensitive, hyper-reactive skin just above her crotch. He called it "expanding the canvas," but they both knew the truth. He was reclaiming the territory. His thumb pressed firmly against her pelvic bone, adjusting her position, his touch lingering a second too long, always sliding just a fraction of an inch under the material of her underwear.
Kira was furious. She was humiliated by her body's betrayal. Because despite the hatred boiling in her chest, the proximity was doing exactly what it used to do: lighting a fire between her thighs. She could feel the heavy, thumping ache deep in her pussy, a wetness pooling against the cotton of her panties. She knew he noticed. He noticed every single time her thighs pressed together involuntarily and every sharp, hitching inhale she took when his hand grazed her, every tremor of her abdominal muscles.
Riki knew her body better than he knew his own. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.
Kira tried desperately to ignore it, pulling out her phone and scrolling mindlessly, her teeth grinding together so hard her temples ached. The silence between them was a living, breathing thing. It felt suffocating. Finally, Riki broke it. His voice wasn't cold. It dropped into that quiet and rough, almost gentle register he only used when they were alone, stripped of their armor.
"Quit being so nervous and stay still."
Kira snapped, locking her phone and glaring down at the hair on his head. "I can't if you keep doing that on purpose."
Riki paused the needle. The sudden silence of the machine was deafening. He slowly lifted his head, looking up at her from where he sat perched between her parted legs. His dark eyes were burning, completely stripped of his usual nonchalant indifference. "Doing what Kira?"
"Being...close. Stop."
"I'm doing my job, genius..." He murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. The ridiculous lie hung in the humid air between them and neither of them bought it.
He lowered his head again, finishing the final shading of the lily. The needle dragged across her skin, a beautiful pain that felt like an exorcism and an invitation all at once.
The hum of the tattoo machine finally died, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in the shop. The air smelled of rubbing alcohol and blood. Riki didn't pull away immediately. He sat on his low stool, trapped between her parted legs, staring down at the fresh, angry red welt on her hip. He used a piece of green-soap-soaked paper towel to wipe away the excess ink and the tiny beads of blood rising to the surface of the lily. His touch was firm, pushing into her skin just hard enough to sting and make her hips twitch.
"A lily huh?" He started, his voice a deep rasp that cut through the quiet. He didn't look up at her face yet. His thumb traced the swollen contour of the petals, pressing just hard enough to make her inhale sharply. "Rebirth. Clean slate. That's what this means, right? You look up the meanings online or something?"
Kira locked her jaw, her fingers gripping the edges of the leather chair. "It means whatever I want it to mean, Riki. Just wrap it up so I can leave."
"You're trying to wash your hands of me. That's what it means..." He countered directly, his eyes finally snapping up to meet hers, dark and turbulent. "...you wanted Heeseung to do it, but you got stuck with me because you can't get rid of me that easily, Kira. It's a joke, putting this on your skin. You think a flower could wash away your sins and change the fact that we practically burned each other alive?"
"Oh God not this again..." Kira whispered rolling her eyes, her voice lacked its usual lightness. It trembled. "....this is me moving on. I wanted something beautiful. Something that wasn't toxic like us. I'm actually glad I left your ass so I no longer have to deal with your childishness. Finish up so I can get out of here."
Riki let out a harsh, cynical breath, his thumb running over the word Sovereign freshly carved into her skin. "Beautiful? Kira look at it. It's bleeding. It's a white lily, but it's stained with your blood and my ink. That's our entire fucking relationship. You wanted a clean slate. To start over, but you came back to the one person who you claimed 'destroyed your life'. You can't separate the beauty from the damage. This bullshit doesn't mean anything. You're a hypocrite."
Kira's chest heaved, his words cutting deeper than the needles ever could. The sheer paradox of it paralyzed her. He was right. She sought out an act of rebirth, but by a twisted stroke of fate, she delivered her canvas to the executioner of her terrible past. Their love was never, ever gentle. It was a beautiful, volatile disaster, much like the frayed, bleeding edges she requested on the petals. Kira wanted to be free of Riki, yet she just allowed him to permanently alter her flesh, binding his craftsmanship to her body for the rest of her life.
"Moving on doesn't look like this..." Riki murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth, then back to the fresh wound. "...you're shaking. You've been shaking since you sat down. And I know it's not because of the needle."
"God you're a narcissist!" She shot back, though there was no real venom in it, only desperation. "...you think everything revolves around you."
"When it comes to this skin? Yeah, I do." Riki said, his voice dropping an octave as he stood up, his massive frame instantly looming over her, trapping her against the backrest of the chair. He tore off his latex gloves and threw them into the bin. He leaned in, placing one hand on the armrest beside her head, his face centimetres away from hers. "...do you hate me?"
"I do." She breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs, the proximity making her dizzy.
"Good. Because I hate you too..." He confessed, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle leaped in his throat. His façade completely cracked, revealing the raw vulnerability he only ever showed her. "...I hate that you walked out on us. I hate that I can't sleep because the bed feels too big. And I fucking hate that you came into my shop with that stupid sketch looking for a clean slate." He mocked. "You're basically saying that you and I are completely through. It pisses me off. You're making me want to ruin you all over again."
Kira looked up at him, the walls she built up over the last eight months crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. She didn't want the clean slate anymore. She wanted the feeling of excitement that came with the chaos he brought to her life. She reached up, her fingers tangling in the collar of his black shirt, pulling him down.
"What's stopping you then." She whispered.
Riki's mouth crashed into hers with a rough, desperate violence that shattered any remaining illusion of hatred. It was a punishing, bruising kiss that confessed everything Riki's pride never would:
I hate you.
I hate how much I need you.
I haven't slept a full night since you walked out.
I still see your legs wrapped around my neck every time I close my eyes.
His dick throbbed harder now. Kira let out a groan into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his blond-ish platinum hair, pulling him closer until their teeth clashed.
They didn't make it to the back room. The other artist left early a while ago, leaving the shop entirely empty with the front neon sign buzzing. Riki broke the kiss just long enough to stride to the front door, his heavy boots clicking against the floor. He threw the deadbolt with a heavy thud, flipped the sign to 'Closed,' and turned back to her like a predator cornering its prey.
The tattoo chair was still warm when he ripped her jeans down past her knees. Riki didn't waste time with gentleness. Their entire relationship was a push-and-pull of intense passion and volatile arguments, and this was the culmination of eight months of starved frustration. He grabbed her by the hips, lifting her off the chair and slamming her back down against the sleek, cold stainless-steel counter of his workstation. The contrast of the freezing metal against her bare backside made her gasp, her legs instantly wrapping tightly around his waist, her heels digging into his back.
"Riki-" Kira choked out, but he silenced her with his mouth, his tongue invading hers as his large hands ripped her panties off, discarding them carelessly onto the floor.
He didn't use protection and frankly, he didn't care, and neither did she. He fumbled with his own belt, his jeans dropping slightly as he freed his length, thick, hard and pulsing with a desperate need. Riki guided himself to Kira's entrance, which was already dripping with pre-cum, desperate for him. He paused for one second, staring into her eyes, his chest heaving.
"Tell me to stop..." He growled, a rare flash of vulnerability breaking through his gruff exterior. "...tell me to stop, Kira, or I'm going to ruin you."
"Go ahead. You've done it before, why stop now." She breathed, her hands clutching his broad shoulders.
Riki drove into her with a heavy, single thrust that embedded him deep within her core. Kira's head snapped back, a sharp, ragged scream catching in her throat as her internal muscles clamped around him, fiercely tight.
"Aw, fuck yeah!" Kira moaned. He was too large, stretching her pussy completely, filling the emptiness that plagued her for months. He didn't wait for her to adjust. He began to move, his strokes long, hard, and punishing, slamming his pelvis against hers with a rhythmic, wet heat that echoed through the empty parlor.
The pleasure was blinding, sharp and laced with the stinging ache of her fresh tattoo. Riki's hand reached down, his large palm gripping her hip right next to the raw, blood-stained lily, his fingers digging into her flesh to anchor her as he pounded into her. Every thrust jarred the fresh wound, a beautiful, sadomasochistic blend of pain and ecstasy that had Kira crying out, her tears blurring the sight of his face above her.
"Fuck you feel so good princess!" Riki groaned.
Kira locked her fingers in his hair, her grip tightening until it was an uncompromising command that forced his head back. "Kneel." She rasped, her voice dripping with an authority that shattered his façade again. "Look at what you did, and clean it up. Lick it."
Riki's chest heaved, a dangerous flare in his dark eyes before he pulled out and dropped heavily to his knees between her thighs, completely submitting to the gravity of her touch. He leaned his face into the soft curve of her lower hip, his hot breath ghosting over the fresh, weeping ink of the lily before his tongue flicked out, tracing the raw, slowly stinging line of the stem, lapping up the tiny beads of blood and clear plasma with a reverence that felt religious. The sharp, copper tang on his tongue only fueled his desire, and without a word, he slid his hands under her thighs, parting her further as he buried his face directly into her soaking puh. Riki didn't hold back. His tongue parted her swollen lips with broad and heavy strokes, drinking her in, while his nose pressed deep against her clit, his harsh, rhythmic breaths driving her absolutely wild as he ate her with a fierce, starved desperation that echoed through the quiet shop.
"That's right!~" Kira cried out.
He was tenacious. He changed their position, dragging her down onto the floor, using his discarded jacket as a meager barrier against the hard floor. He pinned her hands above her head, his chest crushing her boobs as he drove back into her from above, his movements frenzied, a chaotic release of all the words he never spoke and lonely nights.
"You're mine." Riki growled against her neck, his teeth biting into the sensitive skin of her shoulder, marking her in a different way. "You think you can just walk in here and get a flower to wash me out? You're fucking insane Kira. You'll always be mine no matter where you go or who you're with. You will fucking remember me in every face you see."
Kira couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. The friction was a wildfire, the heat of their bodies making a desperate, sticky sound with every hard shove. Kira's hips arched up to meet him, begging for the final release, her toes curling as the contractions began to ripple through her lower abdomen.
Sensing her climax, Riki shifted Kira again, dragging her to her feet and walked towards the high wooden reception desk near the front door, bending her over the table. He forced her torso flat against the wood, pulling her hips back until she was perfectly aligned for him. He thrusted into her from behind, deep and hard. To keep her from screaming loud enough to alert the people on the street outside, Riki brought one large calloused hand around, pressing his palm firmly over her mouth.
Kira's eyes widened, looking at their reflection in the dark front window of the shop as Riki took her brutally.
"Oh gosh YES!" Kira screamed.
With his hand muffling her cries, Riki bit down fiercely on her shoulder, his teeth sinking into her flesh to anchor himself as the orgasm finally ripped through the both of them. It was a violent, shattering release that left Kira's entire body trembling, her internal walls pulsing around his dick in tight, frantic waves. Riki let out a low, guttural roar into her hair, his pace accelerating into a blinding blur before he gave one final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he filled her, his body shuddering violently as he spent himself inside her.
The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by their ragged, echoing breaths. They stayed like that for a very long moment, chest to back, the reality of what they just did slowly settling into the room. True to their nature, neither of them said I love you or I'm sorry. The damage was done a long time ago, the fire burned and the ashes were still hot.
Riki slowly pulled out and got dressed thereafter. He walked to the back, his nonchalant, grumpy demeanor locking back into place like iron shutters. When he returned and handed her a cold bottle of water, his eyes averted as he picked up his tattoo machine to clean it.
"Don't go to another artist next time. Come to me." He muttered, his voice rough.
Kira leaned against the desk, her legs shaking, her hair a wild and tangled mess. She let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. "Next time?"
Riki shrugged, his back turned to her, though the tight set of his shoulders betrayed his tension. "Your tattoo needs a touch-up in two weeks. It's a delicate spot. Ink bleeds a lot."
Kira didn't answer him. She gathered her jeans, slipping them on with a wince as the denim rubbed against her raw tattoo. She walked out of the shop into the cool midnight air, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. She got into her car, staring at her reflection in the rearview mirror before shifting her gaze down to her waistband. She pulled it back. The lily was perfect. It was a symbol of rebirth, yes, but it was carved into her skin by the very man who destroyed her, proving that some endings were never truly...an end?
"Kira, what are you doing." She muttered to herself, her senses finally returning.
Her phone buzzed in the cup holder.
1 new message
Fuckass piece of shit
You forgot your panties on my floor :)
Kira did not read the message nor did she reply. She put the car in drive and pulled away into the city, regret slowly sleeping into her bones after realising what she's done.
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆
Written by: Bunny_JHS©
