—𝑶𝑹 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 you walk into a tattoo shop drunk just to prove a point, and walk out with the best thing to ever happen to you. Except he’s hiding something. And between the secrets and your stalker classmate closing in, you get it twisted before you get it right.
playlist… hanging out to dry — florence road // vampire — dominic fike // addicted — lovelace // fallen star — the neighbourhood // real people — hozier // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby — cigarettes after sex
pepa speaks!! hii so this is my first time writing a fic and I’ve been working on this for like a longgg time and decided to post bc I’m a bit nervous LOL uhm so yeah there will be a part 2 btw and also my taglist is open! pls enjoy and I’d really appreciate likes and reblogs 🤭💐
The thing about a girls’ night with Ria was that it always ended somewhere it wasn’t supposed to. The club had been Hana’s idea. The fourth round of shots had been Soo’s.
The part where all four of you ended up on the pavement at eleven-forty-five, heels in hand, looking at a tattoo shop with a red light glowing in the window like it was personally inviting you in — that had been Ria. “We’re going in,” she said.
“We are not going in,” Soo said.
“It says open.” Ria pointed at the sign. Studio 13. Like that settled it.
“It’s almost midnight.”
“They put the sign out.”
“Ria—” But you were already looking at the door and thinking why not, which was the alcohol talking, and also you were cold and your feet hurt and the red light looked warm from out here on the pavement. “I want a piercing,” you said.
Ria grabbed your hand. “She wants a piercing.” Soo looked at the sky. Hana was already moving toward the door.
The club outfit had been Ria’s fault entirely. The top was small — that was the only word for it, small and black and doing everything a top could reasonably be asked to do. The skirt wasn’t much better. You’d spent the whole night at the club feeling like the main character, which was the intended effect, and the cold air outside had done nothing to make you feel less exposed.
You pushed the door open and the warmth hit you first. Then the smell — ink, clean soap, something faintly chemical underneath it. Black walls covered in flash art. Low red lighting that made the whole place feel like a deliberate secret. Something slow playing from speakers you couldn’t locate.
Two guys inside. One in the back with his head down over a drawing tablet. One at the front counter. The one at the front counter looked up.
He was tall even on the stool, long legs stretched out in front of him, forearms resting on the desk like he owned the surface and everything past it. Full sleeve on his left arm. Silver rings on most of his fingers. Dark hair pushed back slightly. One earring. The kind of face that got you in trouble if you looked at it for too long — sharp jaw, dark eyes, a mouth that was currently sitting in the very early stages of a smirk.
He took in all four of you in about two seconds. Then his eyes found you and the smirk finished forming. “We’re open,” he said. “Barely.”
Ria and Hana peeled off toward the flash wall immediately. Soo planted herself near the door with her arms folded. Which left you walking up to the front counter alone, bare legs, tiny skirt, heels clicking on the concrete floor.
You watched him watch you walk over. He didn’t pretend he wasn’t watching. Didn’t do the polite thing where you glance away and back. He just watched, easy and unhurried, the way someone looks at something they find genuinely worth looking at, and when you got to the counter and leaned on it his eyes moved — slowly, and with complete lack of apology — from your face down to your chest and back up again. Held eye contact like nothing had happened. You’d been looked at before. This was different. This was a man who had decided he wasn’t going to pretend. “Hi,” you said.
“Hi.” His voice was low. Even. The smirk hadn’t moved. “Can I help you?”
“I want a piercing.”
“Yeah?” He leaned back on the stool, arms folding across his chest, the sleeve shifting with the movement. His rings caught the red light. “What are you thinking?”
“Tragus.” You reached up and tapped the outer ridge of your ear, which meant your arm lifted and your top shifted and you watched his eyes drop again, briefly, before they came back to yours like he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it. “I’ve been putting it off. I’m in a decisive mood.”
“Decisive,” he said.
“Very.”
“I can see that.” He said it like it meant something else. Then: “How much have you had tonight?”
“Enough to be excellent company.”
He looked at you. Really looked — quiet and thorough, taking in your face, the flush across your chest, the way you were leaning on his counter in that top — and then his tongue pressed briefly against his cheek like he was trying not to smile properly. “Can’t pierce you with alcohol in your system, baby.”
Baby. Like he’d been calling you that for years. Like it was already established. “That’s a rule?” you said.
“That’s the rule.”
You leaned further onto the counter, closing some of the distance between you. His eyes went exactly where you expected them to go and stayed there for a beat longer than was professional before dragging back up. His expression didn’t change. He was completely comfortable with being caught, which was — honestly — impressive. “What if I promised to be very good?” you said.
“I’m sure you would be.” His voice was smooth, unhurried. “Still no.”
“What if—”
“You can come back tomorrow,” he said. “Sober. I’ll pierce your tragus.” A pause, his eyes dropping once more, quick and deliberate, before landing back on yours. “Or whatever else you want.”
The air between you did something. “That sounds like more than a professional offer,” you said.
“I’m a professional.” The smirk was fully settled now. “The offer’s professional. What you do with it is up to you.”
You held his gaze. He held yours back without any effort at all, completely at ease, like this was just how Tuesday night went for him. It was annoying. It was also working. “I don’t know where this place is sober,” you said.
He was already reaching under the counter. He slid a card across the desk with two fingers — didn’t look down to do it, kept his eyes on you the whole time. STUDIO 13. NISHIMURA RIKI. PIERCING.
You picked it up. “Your personal card,” you said.
“Goes straight to me.”
“Bold.”
“Efficient,” he said.
You looked at the card. Then at him. “I’m Y/N.” His eyes went down again — unhurried, completely unapologetic, a slow look that started at your face and made its way south before coming back up — and then he said, “Y/N,” like he was just trying the name out. Like he’d be using it again. “You gonna remember that?” you said.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’m going to remember that.”
The way he said it made it about more than your name. Behind you, Ria made a noise she covered poorly with a fake cough. You didn’t turn around. “Come back sober,” Riki said. “I’ll take care of you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I’m going to do it.” He picked his phone back up, easy as anything, like the conversation was filed away now and he was done performing — except the smirk stayed. “Get home safe, Y/N.” Dismissed. Warmly, cockily, with complete confidence that you’d be back.
You picked up the card, slid it into your bag, and let Soo steer you to the door because your own legs had made a decision to co-operate with his energy and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Outside Ria grabbed your arm with both hands. “Y/N. The way he looked at you—”
“Ria.”
“He looked at your tits like—”
“Ria.” Hana was fanning herself. Even Soo was quiet, which was its own verdict. The Uber was three minutes away and you looked at your phone and felt your face doing something warm that you were crediting entirely to the alcohol.
Inside, Heeseung finally looked up from his drawing tablet. He’d watched the whole thing. Ten feet away. Nobody had noticed. He looked at Riki.
Riki had his phone in his hand but he was looking at the door — at the space where you’d just been standing in that top, leaning on his counter, letting him look — with an expression Heeseung couldn’t quite name. Something had landed and settled behind his eyes.
“Who was that?” Heeseung said.
Riki looked down at his phone. “Some hot girl.”
“Some hot girl,” Heeseung repeated.
“Wanted a tragus piercing.”
“Uh huh.” Heeseung looked at the counter. At the space where Riki’s personal card had been sitting ten minutes ago, now somewhere in your bag on the way home. “You give clients your personal card often?”
Riki said nothing. Heeseung looked back at his tablet. “Right,” he said quietly, and said nothing else.
Three weeks later you were standing outside Studio 13 again and this time you were completely, annoyingly sober. “I don’t know why I’m here,” you said.
“Because Riki said come back sober and you kept his card for three weeks,” Ria said, pushing the door open.
“I kept it by accident.”
“In your purse.”
“That’s where cards go.”
“You don’t keep any other cards in your purse, Y/N. I’ve seen your purse. It’s a graveyard of receipts and one lip liner.” You followed her inside because the alternative was standing on the pavement arguing with her and you’d already lost this argument six times on the way over.
Ria had a tattoo appointment. That was the reason you were here. You were just here for moral support. You were going to sit in a chair and look at your phone and not think about the guy who had looked at you like that and said I’ll take care of you with complete sincerity and a smirk that should have been annoying.
The door swung shut behind you. Same as before — black walls, flash art, red light, the slow dark playlist. A different energy in the daytime though, busier, more lived-in. Jay was at the side counter doing something with ink caps, talking loudly to no one in particular. Jake was sweeping near the back. Heeseung was visible through the half-open door of the back room, head down, working.
No one at the front desk. You relaxed slightly. Ria was already at the counter, checking in for her appointment, and you drifted toward the flash wall and started looking at the art because it was genuinely good and also because you needed something to do with your eyes.
You heard the door from the back open. Heard footsteps. Heard someone say, “Riki, someone’s here—” You turned around because you were a person with normal human reflexes and not because your body had already clocked the name.
Riki came through the back door with a pair of gloves half-on, looking down at the appointment book, and then he looked up.
He saw Ria first. Then his eyes moved — one smooth, unhurried slide — and found you standing by the flash wall in your jeans and your jacket looking like someone who was absolutely only here for moral support. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” you said. There was a pause that lasted slightly too long for two people who didn’t know each other.
“You came back,” he said.
“Ria has an appointment.”
“Right.” He looked at you. “And you’re just here for Ria.”
“Correct.”
“Nothing to do with the card.”
“I forgot I even had it.”
“Uh huh.” He pulled the second glove on, still looking at you, and the smirk had settled into something warmer now — less performance, more genuinely pleased. “How’s the tragus feeling? Still decisive?”
Ria made a sound from the counter that she turned into a cough. You didn’t look at her. “I’m considering my options,” you said.
“Good answer.” He turned to Ria, professional now, easy switch. “Ria, yeah? Heeseung’s got you, he’s just finishing up. Five minutes.”
“Perfect,” Ria said, and then immediately looked at you with an expression that meant she was storing everything and you would be debriefed extensively later.
Riki came around the counter. Didn’t go back to the desk — came and stood near the flash wall, close enough to talk, far enough to be plausibly looking at the art. “You look different,” he said.
“I’m sober.”
“That’s probably it.” His eyes did the thing — a brief, easy drop and return, taking in the jacket, the jeans, the way you were standing — and then he was looking at your face again like that was just how he operated. Open about it. Unbothered. “Still good though.”
“You’re very confident,” you said.
“I’m accurate,” he said. You looked at Riki. He looked back. This close you could see the bar through his tongue properly — silver, subtle when his mouth was closed, noticeable when he talked — and the ring in his ear and the way his rings shifted when he crossed his arms.
“So,” he said. “You actually want the piercing or did you come all the way here just to tell me you forgot my card existed?”
“I could still want the piercing.”
“You could.” He tilted his head slightly. “Do you?”
You held out for three more seconds. Then: “Yeah.”
His smile did the thing again — the slow, settled version, the one that looked like satisfaction and something warmer underneath it. “On the house,” he said.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He was already moving back toward the piercing station, unhurried, like it was decided. “Come on.”
The piercing chair was in a partitioned section near the back — semi-private, its own mirror, a tray of tools laid out with the kind of precision that told you he took this seriously. He snapped a fresh pair of gloves on and gestured to the chair and you sat down and tried to look like you were not thinking about the last time you’d been in this general vicinity, considerably less sober, telling him he had criminally pretty eyes. You were thinking about it.
He adjusted the chair height without asking, tilted the light, and then stepped in close to look at your ear. His fingers were gentle when they touched the outer ridge — thumb pressing lightly to test the cartilage, professional and careful — and he was close enough that you could smell whatever he was wearing, something dark and clean. “Tragus is a good choice,” he said, still examining your ear. “Suits you.”
“You can tell that from my ear?”
“I can tell from your face.” He stepped back, reached for the marking pen. “You’ve got good bone structure. Something small here draws attention without being loud.” He met your eyes in the mirror. “You’re already loud enough.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“It was one.” He marked the spot with the pen — quick, precise — and then held up a small mirror so you could check the placement. His hand was steady. Everything about him was steady, which was both reassuring and slightly irritating. “Good?” he said.
“Good.”
He put the mirror down. Reached for the needle. And then paused, looking at you in the main mirror with an expression that was more direct than the smirk — more level. “You nervous?” he said.
“No.”
“Your jaw is doing something.”
“My jaw is fine.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m a little nervous,” you said. “About the needle. Not about—” You stopped.
“Not about?” he said.
You looked at him in the mirror. He looked back. The smirk was quiet right now, just his face, just the question sitting there. “The needle,” you said. “I said what I said.”
He let it go. Looked back at your ear, positioned his hands. “Breathe in,” he said. You breathed in. “Out.”
You breathed out and he moved — quick and precise and over before you’d finished processing it. A sharp bite of pressure, brief, clean, and then his hands were already switching out the needle for the jewellery, smooth and practiced. “Done,” he said.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He stepped back to let you see in the mirror. Small flat-back stud, exactly where the mark had been, sitting perfectly. “What do you think?”
You looked at it. Turned your head slightly. It was — actually exactly right, the placement, the size, the way it sat. “I think you’re good at your job,” you said.
“I know.” But he said it lightly, without the edge, and when you looked at him in the mirror he was looking at the piercing with something that read like quiet pride. Like he actually cared that it was right.
He peeled his gloves off. Started going through aftercare — saline spray, what to avoid, how long to leave it — and you listened and watched his hands and thought about how he’d looked at you when you walked in. That slow, settled smile. You came back. Like he’d known you would. “Any questions?” he said.
“No.”
“Good.” He handed you the small aftercare card. His fingers brushed yours when he passed it over and he didn’t move his hand immediately, just let the contact sit there for a second before stepping back. “You should come back in four weeks so I can check it.”
“Is that standard?”
“For you it is.”
You looked up at him. He was close still, leaning against the counter beside the chair, arms crossed, completely at ease with the proximity and what he was saying and the way he was looking at you. “That’s a very smooth way to make a follow-up appointment,” you said.
“I’m a smooth guy.”
“You’re a cocky guy.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” He smiled properly. “Four weeks, Y/N. I’ll be here.” From the main floor, very clearly, you heard Jay say to Jake in a voice that carried: “Twenty says she’s back in two.”
Heeseung appeared in the doorway of his room as you were walking back out to wait for Ria. He looked at you. Then at Riki, who was cleaning up the station behind you. He said nothing.
When you were out of earshot, he leaned in the doorway and looked at Riki with a level expression. Riki didn’t look up. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
Heeseung was quiet for a moment. “She coming back?”
Riki stacked the packaged jewellery back in the tray. “Four weeks.”
Heeseung looked at the ceiling. Looked back down. “Right,” he said, and went back into his room.
Riki looked up once — just once — at where you’d gone back to sit with Ria, talking and laughing, your hand coming up to touch the new piercing gently like you were checking it was real. He looked back down at the tray. Picked up his phone. Set it down again. Four weeks was a long time.
You were back in two weeks. You told yourself you had a legitimate reason. The piercing felt slightly tender on one side and the aftercare card said to come back if anything felt off and this was a medical concern, essentially, and had nothing to do with anything else. Ria, when you told her this, said “uh huh” in the exact same tone Riki had used and you’d hung up on her.
You pushed the door to Studio 13 open at four on a Thursday afternoon.
Jay was at the front counter this time. He looked up, recognized you, and his whole face did something delighted. “Y/N,” he said, like you were a returning champion.
“Hey.” You unwound your scarf. “Is Riki—”
“In the back.” Jay was already leaning back in his chair, tilting toward the hallway. “Riki.”
“I could have just—”
“RIKI. Your girl’s here.”
From the back, a pause. Then footsteps. Riki appeared in the doorway with a black coffee in one hand and his phone in the other and when he saw you something moved across his face — quick, controlled — before it settled into the usual. “Two weeks,” he said.
“I know.”
“I said four.”
“The piercing felt off.”
He looked at you. You looked back. He took a slow sip of his coffee. “Come here,” he said. Back in the piercing section again. The chair, the mirror, the tray. He set his coffee down on the counter and snapped gloves on and tilted your chin to the side with two fingers, turning your head so the light hit the piercing properly.
He was quiet while he looked. Close, the way he’d been last time, close enough that you were aware of exactly how tall he was and exactly how little space existed between you. “Looks fine,” he said.
“It felt tender.”
“New cartilage piercing. It’s going to feel tender.” He turned your head a fraction more, examining the entry and exit points. “You sleeping on it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Don’t.” His thumb pressed gently just below the piercing, checking the tissue. “You’re not rotating it, are you?”
“The card said not to.”
“People do it anyway.”
“I follow instructions.” He made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. His fingers were still at your jaw, light but there, and in the mirror you could see him looking at the piercing with that focused, careful expression he got when he was working — like the rest of him went quiet and it was just this, just the task, just making sure it was right.
“It’s fine,” he said again, quieter this time. “A little irritated but nothing bad. You’re cleaning it?”
“Twice a day.”
“Good girl.” He said it the same way he said everything — even, unbothered — and went right back to examining the piercing like he hadn’t just said it, like it was nothing, like your entire nervous system hadn’t just done something embarrassing.
He stepped back. Pulled one glove off. In the mirror you watched him look at you — your face this time, not the piercing — and the focused work expression shifted back into something more personal. His eyes moved down briefly, back up. Unhurried. Unapologetic. “You didn’t just come for the piercing check,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. “I was in the area,” you said.
“Y/N.”
“I was.”
“Okay.” He pulled the second glove off, dropped them both in the bin. Leaned against the counter beside the chair with his arms crossed, looking at you with that steady, patient expression. Like he had all the time in the world and was fully prepared to wait you out.
The rings on his fingers caught the light. The bar through his tongue was visible when he spoke and sometimes when he didn’t, a small flash of silver that your eyes kept going back to without your permission. “Can I ask you something?” you said.
“Go ahead.”
You nodded toward his mouth. “Does it affect anything? The tongue piercing.”
The corner of his mouth pulled up. He knew exactly what you were asking and you both knew you both knew it. “Depends what you mean by anything,” he said.
“Talking,” you said. “Eating.”
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t affect talking or eating.”
The way he said it made the implication sit in the room like a third person. “And what about—” you started.
“Yes,” he said simply. You looked at him. He looked back at you, completely relaxed, the smirk at about thirty percent, like he was letting you sit in the answer rather than pushing it.
“That was going to be a different question…” you said.
“Was it?” It wasn’t.
You looked away first, which you were counting as a tactical retreat rather than losing, and he made that almost-laugh sound again and pushed off the counter. “Come out front,” he said. “I’ll get you the saline to take home.”
Jay was now pretending to organize a drawer he had clearly already organized when you came back out. Jake had appeared from somewhere and was leaning on the wall near the door with his phone out. The effort to look casual was extraordinary.
Riki went behind the counter, got the saline, slid it across to you.“Stop sleeping on it,” he said.
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Just don’t do it.”
“You’re bossy,” you said.
“I’m thorough.” He leaned on the counter. His forearms were right there, the sleeve on full display this close — you’d been trying not to look at it properly but it was a lot of work. Intricate blackwork, something that looked botanical near his wrist, darker geometry climbing toward his elbow. “Like the sleeve?” he said.
You looked up. He’d caught you. “It’s good work,” you said.
“Heeseung did most of it.”
“Heeseung tattooed you?”
“First one when I started here.” Something shifted slightly in his face — not closed off, just more considered. “Kind of a thing between us.”
You wanted to ask what kind of thing. Something in how he’d said it made you not push. “You do your own piercings?” you said instead.
He tilted his head so you could see the earring. “This one.”
“Doesn’t that hurt more when it’s yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“And you did it anyway.”
“I do most things anyway,” he said. He said it lightly but there was something under it, something matter-of-fact about pain being a variable he’d simply accounted for. You looked at him for a second longer than you meant to. “Four weeks,” he said, quieter now, just to you. “Come back in four weeks and I’ll check it properly. And if you’re in the area before that—” he held your gaze — “you know where we are.”
“Very smooth,” you said.
“You keep saying that.”
“You keep proving it.” He smiled. The real one — not the smirk, not the performance, the actual smile that did something to his whole face. You’d only seen it once before, the night you came in drunk when he laughed at something Ria said, and it was worse up close and sober.
You picked up the saline. Shouldered your bag. “Thanks for checking it,” you said.
“Anytime.”
You were halfway to the door when Jay said, loudly, to no one: “Two weeks. Called it.”
“Jay,” Riki said, flat.
“I’m just saying—”
“Jay.” You pushed the door open and let it close on whatever Jay said next. On the pavement you breathed in cold air and stood there for a second. I do most things anyway. You thought about that the whole way home.
You texted Ria that night.
you: the piercing was fine btw. just irritated.
Ria: sure
you: it was a legitimate medical concern
Ria: how did he look
you: that’s not relevant
Ria: how did he LOOK
You stared at your phone. Put it face down. Picked it up again.
you: good. he looked good. go to sleep.
Ria: 😭😭😭 Y/N YOU ARE SO DOWN BAD
You put your phone on the charger and lay on your back in the dark and stared at the ceiling. The bar through his tongue caught the light when he talked. Yes, he’d said. Like it was nothing. Like he said it every day. You put a pillow over your face.
Across the city, Studio 13 was closing up. Heeseung was cashing out. Jake was wiping down surfaces. Jay was retelling the afternoon to Sunghoon, who had come in for his evening shift and was listening with the specific expression of someone enjoying information they could use later.
Riki was at the piercing station. Cleaning the tray. Doing the same task he’d done a hundred times. “She came back in two weeks,” Jay said.
“I heard,” Sunghoon said.
“I called it.”
“You did call it.”
“Riki,” Jay said. “You owe me twenty.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Riki said. “We didn’t make a bet.”
“Spiritually we did.” Riki said nothing. Put the tray away.
“She’s coming back in four weeks,” Jay told Sunghoon.
“Or two,” Sunghoon said.
“Or two,” Jay agreed.
“Both of you,” Riki said, without heat, “can shut up.”
They did not shut up. He let them talk and went back to the tray and thought about the way you’d looked at his mouth when you asked about the piercing. The way your eyes had gone somewhere specific and come back and you’d tried to cover it with a different question.
He’d watched the answer land. Had watched you process it and look away and call it a tactical retreat when it wasn’t. He was good at reading people. He’d had to be, for a long time, for reasons that had nothing to do with tattoo shops or piercing chairs.
You were going to come back before four weeks. He put the tray away and picked up his coffee and didn’t say any of that out loud.
You were back in ten days. You didn’t have a reason this time. You’d run out of reasons. You showed up at three on a Wednesday with two coffees and the vague awareness that something had shifted from I’m in the area to something you didn’t have a word for yet. Jay opened the door before you reached it. “She’s got coffee,” he announced into the shop.
“Jay—”
“Is one of those for me?” He was already holding the door open, looking at the cups in your hand with genuine hope.
“No.”
“Y/N.”
“I brought two.”
“There are multiple people here who drink coffee.”
“There are two coffees,” you said. “Do the math.”
Jay looked wounded. You walked past him into the shop and he let the door close and called after you: “I’m telling Riki you were mean to me.”
“Please do.” Riki was at the front counter. Actually at the counter this time, not coming through from the back, sitting on the stool with his forearms on the desk and his phone in his hand. He looked up when you came in and his eyes went straight to the cups. Then to your face. Then he smiled — not the smirk, not the performance, just a real and immediate thing that he didn’t seem to think about first. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” You put one of the coffees on the counter in front of him. “I didn’t know how you take it.”
He looked at the cup. Looked at you. “Black is fine,” he said.
“Lucky guess.”
“Is it?” He picked it up. His fingers overlapped yours on the cup for a second before you let go — brief, probably accidental, neither of you addressed it. He took a sip. Put it down. “Ten days.”
“I know.”
“Getting closer to two weeks, not further.”
“I’ve been busy,” you said. “This was the first chance I had to—”
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“You don’t need a reason,” he said simply. You looked at him. He looked back, completely even, like he’d just said something neutral about the weather. “Sit down.”
That was how it started. Not with anything dramatic. Just you sitting on the other side of the counter on a Wednesday afternoon with a coffee while Riki worked through his admin, and the conversation that happened around it — easy and unhurried, drifting from one thing to another, the kind of talk that didn’t feel like it was going anywhere because it didn’t need to.
You learned things without asking for them. That he’d been at Studio 13 for two years. That he and Jay had met here. That he had opinions about piercing placement that were borderline philosophical and he’d share them unprompted if you let him.
He learned things back. That you were in your final year. That Ria had been your best friend since you were sixteen. That you had three other piercings already and had done two of them yourself, which made him look up from his phone with an expression that was equal parts impressed and horrified. “You did your own helix,” he said.
“With a kit.”
“A kit.”
“People do it.”
“People also do a lot of things I have to fix,” he said, and leaned across the counter to look at your ear without asking. His fingers found the helix piercing, examining it with the same careful focus he brought to everything, and you sat very still. “It’s crooked,” he said.
“I know.”
“I can fix it.”
“I know.”
He was still looking at your ear, close, his thumb light against the cartilage. “Why haven’t you?”
“I kept meaning to.” You paused. “And then I found Studio 13 and I figured I’d—”
You stopped. He pulled back just enough to look at your face. His expression said he’d heard the end of the sentence even though you hadn’t said it. “Figured you’d what?” he said.
“Come here eventually,” you said. “For things.”
The smirk appeared. “For things.”
“Piercings.”
“Right.” He stepped back, let you breathe, picked his coffee back up. “I’ll fix it whenever you want.”
“Add it to my tab.”
“You don’t have a tab. Everything I do to you is on the house.” He said it completely straight and then looked at his phone, leaving you to sit in the everything I do to you by yourself.
Jay appeared from the back at that exact moment, looked at you both, looked at the counter between you, and went directly back the way he came without saying anything, which was somehow more powerful than if he had.
Hana came with you the following Wednesday. She had been angling to see the shop since Ria had described it in approximately four hundred texts and the second she walked in she stopped in the middle of the floor and looked around with wide eyes. “Oh,” she said. “Oh this place is cool.”
Jake, who was at the side counter, looked up. Hana looked at Jake. Jake looked at Hana. You filed that away.
Riki was with a client in the piercing section — you could see him through the partition, gloved up, talking the client through something in that low steady voice. You hadn’t told him you were coming. You weren’t sure why, except that you’d wanted to know what it felt like to walk in and see him before he saw you. It felt like something, as it turned out.
He was focused on his client, head tilted, hands precise. He’d pushed his sleeves up and the full length of the tattoo was visible now — blackwork that climbed from his wrist to somewhere past his elbow, detailed and dark. He was saying something that made the client laugh. Patient and calm and completely in his element.
You stood there and looked at him for maybe four seconds too long.
“Y/N,” Hana said quietly beside you.
“What.”
“You’ve got a face on.”
“I don’t have a face.”
“You’ve got a very specific face.” She looked at Riki. Looked at you. “Oh you are done.”
“I’m looking at the flash art,” you said, and turned to look at the flash art.
Jay materialized at your shoulder. “She does this every time,” he told Hana, like you weren’t standing right there. “Comes in, looks at him, then looks at the wall.”
“I can hear you,” you said.
“I know.” Jay smiled. “Coffee?”
Riki’s client left at half past three. He came through from the partition still pulling his gloves off and stopped when he saw you and Hana at the counter with Jay. The gloves came off slower. “You didn’t text,” he said to you.
“Spontaneous visit.”
“Hm.” He dropped the gloves, came around to the main counter. His eyes moved to Hana briefly, assessing, friendly. “Friend?”
“Hana,” you said. “She wanted to see the shop.”
“Welcome.” He said it to Hana and then his attention came back to you in that way it always did — like you were the fixed point and everything else was peripheral. “How’s the piercing?”
“Fine. Good.”
“You sleeping on it?”
“Mostly not.”
“Y/N.”
“Mostly not. I’m a side sleeper, it’s a process.”
He leaned on the counter. His coffee was cold by now but he picked it up anyway. “I’ll fix the helix today if you want. While you’re here.”
“Yeah?”
“Chair’s free.” Hana’s elbow found your ribs with surgical precision. You ignored it.
“Okay,” you said.
The helix took ten minutes. Precise, careful, the same focused quiet he brought every time. Afterwards he checked the tragus — habit, he said, like that was a normal thing, like of course he was checking it — and you sat in the chair and let him and looked at his face in the mirror while he was looking at your ear.
Up close like this you could see things you couldn’t from the other side of a counter. The small scar through his left eyebrow, barely visible. The way his jaw set when he was concentrating. The rings on his fingers — he took them off for client work and put them back on after, and watching him slide them back on was a thing you were apparently noticing now.
He caught you in the mirror. Didn’t call you out. Just held your gaze for a second and then looked back at the piercing, and the corner of his mouth moved slightly. “Good,” he said. “Helix looks better. You’ll need to re-do the aftercare cycle.”
“I know.”
“You actually know or you’re saying you know?”
“Riki.”
“I’ll write it down.”
“I literally work a piercing counter in my memory called things Riki has told me,” you said.
He went still for a half second. Then: “Yeah?”
“You’re very thorough,” you said. “It sticks.”
He looked at you in the mirror. Steady, quiet, something behind his eyes that was more than the usual easy confidence — something that had weight to it. “Good,” he said, quieter.
He stepped back. Started cleaning up. Normal, routine, the way he always moved through the shop like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. “Same time next week?” he said. It wasn’t really a question.
“Sure,” you said.
In the main shop, Hana was sitting on the counter watching Jake explain the difference between traditional and neo-traditional tattooing with the energy of someone who had found religion. Jay was watching this with profound satisfaction. When you came back out Hana looked at you and then at Riki behind you and then at you again. “We should go,” you said.
“Should we,” Hana said.
“Yes.”
“Jake was just explaining—”
“Hana.” She got up, reluctantly, and said goodbye to Jake in a way that suggested she was also going to be back before four weeks. Jake watched her go with an expression that Riki clocked and then looked away from like he hadn’t seen it.
At the door you turned back. Riki was at the counter, already on his phone, or pretending to be. “Thanks for the helix,” you said.
“Anytime.” He didn’t look up. “Wednesday?”
“Wednesday,” you said. Jay made a noise. Riki didn’t look at him. You pushed the door open and the cold air hit you and behind you you heard Jay say, quiet and satisfied to no one in particular: “Regular.”
The Wednesday visits became a thing. Not every week, sometimes every ten days, but consistent enough that Jay started having your coffee order ready. Consistent enough that Jake stopped looking surprised when you walked in. Consistent enough that Heeseung, who said little and noticed everything, started nodding at you when you arrived like you’d passed some quiet assessment he’d been running.
Riki never texted first. You did sometimes — nothing significant, a meme about piercings, a question about aftercare that you probably knew the answer to. He always replied. Never with much. But always.
The counter between you was becoming a problem. Not the physical one — the metaphorical one. The distance that was exactly the right size for this isn’t anything yet and felt increasingly inadequate for what was actually happening in the space between you every Wednesday afternoon. He looked at you like you were a decision he’d already made. You were starting to think you had too.
Daniel texted on a Thursday.
Daniel: hey, haven’t seen you around much. you ok?
You stared at it. You and Daniel had two seminars together and a loose group chat and approximately nothing else, and this was the third text this week.
you: yeah all good, just busy
Daniel: we should get coffee sometime
you: I’m pretty slammed rn, sorry
You thought nothing of it. You mentioned it to Riki the following Wednesday — offhand, in the middle of a conversation about something else, not thinking. “This guy in my seminar keeps texting,” you said. “It’s starting to get annoying.”
Riki was writing something on the appointment book. His pen slowed.“What guy?” he said.
“Daniel. We’re in the same module. He keeps asking for coffee.” Riki’s pen stopped. You looked up. His face was the same — neutral, easy — but something had shifted underneath it. Something had gone very still in the specific way of a thing that was actively being held still.
“You said no?” he said.
“Obviously. I’m not interested.”
A pause. He looked back at the appointment book. Wrote something. “Good,” he said.
Just that. Good. You looked at him for a second. “Riki.”
“Hm.”
“Are you—”
“Helix check,” he said, and stood up from the stool. You let him redirect you. Sat in the chair. Let him check the helix he’d fixed two weeks ago and didn’t need to check again. His hands were as steady as they always were. His voice was as even.
But when you looked at him in the mirror his jaw was set in a way it wasn’t usually and his eyes, when they met yours in the reflection, had something in them that was more than the usual warm certainty. Something that looked a lot like mine with nowhere to go yet. You looked away first. Neither of you said anything about it.
Daniel was waiting outside your seminar on Tuesday. Not accidentally. He was leaning on the wall opposite the door with his phone out, and when you came through he pushed off and fell into step beside you like it was coordinated, like he’d timed it. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” You kept walking.
“Good seminar?”
“It was fine.”
“I thought Professor Kim made a good point about the—”
“Daniel.” You stopped. Turned to face him. He was decent looking, objectively — tall, friendly face, the kind of guy who probably did well in situations where persistence read as flattering. “What’s going on?”
He smiled. Easy, practiced. “I was thinking we could grab that coffee.”
“I said I was slammed.”
“You’re not slammed right now.”
“I have somewhere to be.”
“Where?”
You looked at him. “That’s not really—”
“I’ll walk you,” he said. Like that was a reasonable response. Like the answer to I have somewhere to be was I’ll come.
“Daniel.” You kept your voice even. “I appreciate it but I’m not interested. Okay? Not trying to be harsh, just being clear.”
Something moved across his face — not anger, more like recalibration, like he was filing this away as a temporary obstacle. “Maybe just as friends,” he said.
“I’m good. Thanks though.” You walked away. Heard him say something behind you — see you Thursday — and didn’t respond. You texted Ria about it on the bus.
you: the Daniel thing is getting annoying
Ria: what happened?
you: he waited outside my seminar
Ria: ew
you: I told him straight I’m not interested
Ria: good. are you telling riki?
You stared at that.
you: why would I tell riki??
Ria: because you tell riki everything now??
you: I do not tell riki everything
Ria: you told him about your mum’s cat
you: that came up naturally and I’m not telling him, it’s not a big deal
You put your phone in your bag. You didn’t tell him.
Wednesday came and you sat at the counter with your coffee and talked about other things — Hana and Jake’s ongoing situation, which was developing at a glacial pace that was driving Ria insane. A new flash piece Heeseung had drawn that you’d been looking at for twenty minutes when you came in. Whether you should get a second tragus on the other ear. “Yes,” Riki said, without hesitation.
“That’s a very immediate answer.”
“It’s an obvious answer.” He looked at your ears, both sides, that assessing look. “Symmetrical double tragus. Come in next week.”
“Maybe I want to think about it.”
“You don’t need to think about it.”
“Riki.”
“You came in drunk wanting a tragus piercing,” he said. “You knew then. You know now.”
You looked at him. He looked back with the patience of someone who was completely certain and was willing to wait for you to catch up. “Fine,” you said.
He smiled. “Next week,” he said.
The following Tuesday Daniel was outside your seminar again. This time you saw him before he saw you and you changed direction, took the long way to the exit, added seven minutes to your walk. Small, manageable.
On Thursday he was in the coffee queue behind you. “Coincidence,” he said, and smiled at you, and you smiled back tightly and paid for your coffee and left.
On Friday he messaged. Again.
Daniel: hey saw you in the queue yesterday, why’d you leave so fast?
You didn’t reply. And he messaged again on Saturday.
Daniel: did I do something wrong?
You showed it to Ria over the phone that night. She was quiet for a second. “He’s not taking the hint,” she said.
“I didn’t hint. I said directly I wasn’t interested.”
“Then he’s not taking the direct statement.”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. “Tell Riki.”
“Ria—”
“Y/N I’m serious, tell—”
“It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“I know you can handle it, that’s not the—” She stopped. “Just tell him. You know you want to.” You didn’t answer that.
Wednesday came around, you’d been at the counter for forty minutes. Jay had come and gone twice. Jake had shown Hana something on his phone that made her laugh and Riki had looked at that for approximately one second before very deliberately looking elsewhere.
You were mid-sentence about something — your dissertation, probably, you’d been complaining about your dissertation — when the door opened.
Sunghoon came in from his afternoon off, still in his jacket, unwinding his scarf. He was unfairly attractive and moved through the shop like he knew it, dropping his bag behind the counter and immediately coming over to where you were sitting. “Y/N.” He leaned on the counter beside Riki’s stool, friendly, easy. “How’s the tragus?”
“Good.” You touched it briefly. “Riki’s doing the other side next week.”
“Nice. You should let me draw something for you. Little custom piece, just here—” he touched his own collarbone— “would suit you.”
“Yeah?”
“Hundred percent.” He looked at Riki. “Right?” Riki was looking at his phone. “Riki,” Sunghoon said.
“Hm.” He didn’t look up. Sunghoon looked at you with a small what’s his problem expression. You looked back with a I genuinely don’t know expression.
You talked to Sunghoon for twenty more minutes. He was easy to talk to — funny, straightforward, the kind of person who filled a room without trying. He showed you his portfolio on his phone, talked you through a couple of pieces, asked about your university course with actual interest.
Riki stayed on his stool. He wasn’t on his phone. You could tell because you kept looking over and the screen was dark. He was just sitting there in the specific stillness of something being actively held in place, forearms on the desk, jaw set. When Sunghoon went to the back to change into his work clothes you turned to Riki. “What’s wrong with you?” you said.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve said four words in the last twenty minutes.”
“I’ve been busy.”
You looked at the dark phone screen. Looked at him. “Riki.”
“I’m fine.” He finally looked at you. His face was even, controlled, the expression he wore when he was putting effort into the expression. “You want more coffee?”
“No.” You kept your voice low. Jay and Jake were across the room but still. “Talk to me.”
Something moved behind his eyes. For a second you thought he was going to — actually going to, drop whatever this was and say it. His jaw shifted. His eyes moved over your face and then away. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Forget it.”
You looked at him for a long moment. He looked at the counter. You picked up your bag. “I’m going to head,” you said.
He looked up then. Quick, like he hadn’t expected it. “You don’t have to—”
“I have stuff to do.” You stood up. Your voice was even, you’d made sure of it. “I’ll see you next week for the tragus.”
“Y/N—”
“Bye, Riki.” You said goodbye to Jay on the way out. Waved at Jake. Pushed the door open into the cold.
Behind you, through the glass, you heard Jay say something. Heard Riki’s voice, short and clipped. Didn’t hear the words. You walked to the bus stop and stared at the road and felt something hot and frustrated sitting in your chest that you didn’t have a clean name for.
He texted at nine that night.
Riki: I’m sorry about today
You stared at it.
Riki: I get like that sometimes. I don’t like it.
Another one, a minute later.
Riki: It wasn’t about Sunghoon. It wasn’t about you.
Riki: ok it was about Sunghoon.
You sat on your bed with your phone in your hand and read that three times.
you: do you want to tell me what “getting like that” means??
A pause. Longer than his usual response time.
Riki: Not over text. Wednesday?
you: yeah
you: Riki, Sunghoon was just being friendly
Riki: I know. I know that. It doesn’t always
The message cut off. Like he’d deleted the end of it and sent what was left.
Riki: Wednesday. I’ll explain.
Riki: night Y/N
You got there at three. Jay handed you your coffee without being asked and then found somewhere else to be, which meant Riki had said something to him beforehand, which meant he’d been thinking about this. Riki was at the counter. He looked up when you came in and the usual ease wasn’t fully there — not gone, just quieter, like he’d dialed something back. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” You sat down. Wrapped both hands around the coffee. “So.”
“So.” He exhaled. Looked at the counter for a second, then at you. “I get possessive.” He said it straight. No build up, no softening — just put it on the counter between you like something he’d decided you should see.
“Okay,” you said.
“I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s not — I’m not trying to make it your problem. I know Sunghoon wasn’t doing anything. I know you weren’t doing anything. It just—” He stopped. His jaw shifted. “It sits wrong. Someone else in your space. Being the thing making you laugh.”
You looked at him. His eyes were on the counter, which was unusual — Riki who held eye contact through everything. “Has it always been like that?” you said.
“Yeah.” Simple. “Better than it used to be.”
“What was it like before?”
He looked up. “Worse.” A pause. “I dealt with it badly. I’m not—” He stopped again. “I’m not like that anymore. I don’t act on it. But I feel it and sometimes it makes me go quiet and disappear into my own head and that’s not fair to you.”
You sat with that. “Why are you telling me this?” you said.
He held your gaze. “Because you asked.”
“People don’t always answer when you ask.”
“I know.” Something in his face. “You should know what you’re—” He stopped himself again, and you heard the end of that sentence clearly even without the words. What you’re getting into. What I am.
“Riki,” you said. “If Sunghoon had been doing something—” You held his eyes. “Or anyone. I’d handle it. That’s not— I’m not someone who needs protecting from other people’s attention.”
“I know that.”
“But I’m also not—” You paused. Chose the words. “I’m not interested in other people’s attention. Okay? That’s just—” You shrugged. “That’s just where I’m at.”
The silence that followed had weight to it. Riki looked at you. Really looked — the way he did sometimes, like he was reading something underneath the surface of what you’d said, like he was checking if you meant it.You meant it. “Okay,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” you said.
He exhaled. Something in his shoulders dropped slightly — barely visible, but there. “Tragus,” he said.
“Tragus,” you agreed. He stood up from the stool. And as he passed behind the counter his hand came down briefly on yours where it rested on the surface — just for a second, just his fingers over your knuckles, warm and solid — and then he was moving through to the piercing section and the moment was gone.
You sat there for a second. Then you followed him. Across the room Jay looked at Heeseung in the doorway of his office. Heeseung looked back. Neither of them said anything.
It happened on a Friday. Not a Wednesday. Not planned. You’d come in with Hana at five because she’d finally committed to a small piece on her ankle and wanted moral support, and by the time Jake was finishing up the linework the shop had emptied out — Sunghoon’s last client gone, Jay heading out with his jacket half on, Heeseung locking his office with his keys already in his hand. “You good to close?” Heeseung said to Riki.
“Yeah.” Riki was wiping down the front counter. “Go.” Heeseung looked at you. Brief, unreadable. Looked back at Riki. Said nothing and left. Jay pointed finger guns at you on his way out. You ignored him.
Jake finished Hana’s piece at half past six. She sat up and looked at it in the mirror with the expression of someone who had just made a very good decision, and then she looked at you and at Riki and made a different kind of decision entirely. “I’ll get a cab,” she said.
“I’ll come,” you said.
“You don’t have to.” Serene. Innocent. Absolutely deliberate. “I’m fine on my own.”
“Hana—”
“I’ll text you when I’m home.” She hugged you, said goodbye to Jake, said goodbye to Riki with a smile that communicated volumes, and then she was gone and Jake was heading out behind her and the door swung shut and the shop was quiet.
Just you and Riki. He was at the front counter. You were near the piercing section. The red light was low and the playlist had shifted to something slower, something with bass underneath it, and the flash art on the walls looked different when there was no one else here — more intimate, like the shop had exhaled. “You can head,” Riki said. He wasn’t looking at you. Wiping the counter, routine.
“I know,” you said.
You didn’t move. He stopped wiping. The silence lasted four seconds. You counted. Then he looked up. The expression on his face wasn’t the smirk. Wasn’t the work focus. It was something stripped back — something that had been running underneath everything for weeks and was apparently done waiting. “Y/N,” he said. Low.
“Yeah,” you said. Like you were answering a question he hadn’t asked yet.
He put the cloth down. He came around the counter and crossed the floor and he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up slightly, and his hand came up to your jaw — not grabbing, just his fingers along the side of your face, tilting you toward him — and he looked at you for one more second like he was making absolutely sure.
Whatever he saw made his mind up. He kissed you and it was nothing like the slow build you’d been expecting — it was immediate, certain, his mouth on yours like he’d been thinking about it for weeks because he had been, and you got your hands into his shirt and kissed him back and the sound he made low in his throat did something catastrophic to your ability to think.
His hands moved — jaw, then your waist, pulling you in until there was no space left between you — and you felt the rings on his fingers through the fabric of your top and his body was solid and warm and there, fully there, nothing held back.
You bit his lower lip without planning to. He pulled back half an inch. His eyes were dark, his breathing had changed, and he looked at you with an expression that rearranged something in your chest. “Do that again,” he said quietly, “and we’re not stopping.”
“Good,” you said. And you did it again. He walked you back until your shoulders hit the wall beside the piercing partition — not rough, controlled, one hand flat against the wall beside your head and the other at your waist, and he kissed you deeper this time, slower, like he had you exactly where he wanted and wasn’t in any rush now that he did.
His tongue — god, his tongue, the bar was there and present and you felt it and made a sound into his mouth that you would have been embarrassed about if his hand hadn’t tightened on your waist the second you did it. “There it is,” he said against your mouth.
“Shut up,” you breathed.
“You’ve been thinking about it.” Not a question. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, unhurried. “Since I told you.”
“Riki—”
“Yes,” he said, quoting you back to yourself, and you felt him smile against your throat.
“You’re so—”
“I know.” He pulled back to look at you. His hair was slightly wrecked, his eyes were very dark, and he looked at you with the kind of focus he usually reserved for his work — total, precise, like you were something he intended to get exactly right. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to stop talking,” you said.
“No you don’t.” He was right. You didn’t.
“I want—” You stopped. His thumb had found the hem of your top, tracing the skin at your waist, barely moving, just there. Your brain was doing something unhelpful. “I want you to keep going.”
“Keep going,” he repeated. Like he was logging it. “That’s not very specific.”
“Riki.”
“I want to hear you say it.” His voice had dropped, lower than usual, and there was something in it — not a demand exactly, more like an invitation with weight behind it, like he already knew and wanted you to catch up. “Tell me.”
You looked at him. He looked back, steady, patient, his thumb still tracing that small arc at your waist.
“I’ve wanted you for weeks,” you said. “You know that.”
“I know.” He leaned in, his mouth at your ear. “I wanted to hear you say it.” His hands moved — both of them, finding the hem of your top, sliding underneath to your bare waist, warm palms spreading across your skin — and you exhaled shakily and his mouth came back to yours and the patience dissolved.
Somewhere on the walk from the counter to the wall you got his shirt off and you put your hands on his chest and then his stomach and then lower and found the waistband of his jeans and his breath caught — actually caught, an involuntary thing, the first crack in the steady control — and you looked up at him.
His jaw was tight. His eyes were dark and fixed on your face. “Keep going,” he said. His own words back. Low and rough. You undid his jeans. Your hand found him and he was — there was a Jacob’s ladder — you stopped. He watched your face process it.
“Riki,” you said.
“Yeah.” His voice was rough now, the evenness wearing thin at the edges.
“When were you going to—”
“When it came up.”
“It’s come up.”
“It has,” he agreed, and something in his expression was almost amused except he was too far gone for amused, too focused, his hands gripping your waist with more pressure than before. “Still want to keep going?”
You looked at him. “Are you serious right now.”
He laughed — real, brief, surprised out of him — and then his forehead dropped to yours and you felt him exhale and then his mouth was on yours again and the laughing was done. Your jacket off your shoulders and it hit the floor and his mouth was on your throat before it landed — open, hot, his tongue against your pulse point and the piercing bar cool against your skin and you made a sound that echoed off the black walls. “Riki—”
“I know.” His hands were at the hem of your top, shoving it up, impatient in a way that cracked the usual control wide open. “Off.”
You got it off and his hands were on your tits and his mouth came back to yours.
He walked you back into the wall beside the piercing partition — not slow, not careful, just direct — and pinned you there with his body and his hands were everywhere and yours were too and it was nothing like the slow careful thing you’d half imagined. It was desperate. Both of you. Weeks of it.
“You have no idea,” he said against your jaw, your throat, lower, his mouth on your collarbone, “how long I’ve—” He stopped. His teeth grazed your skin. “Fuck.”
“Tell me,” you breathed.
“Since you walked in here in that dress,” he said into your skin. “Since you leaned on my counter and looked at me like that. I’ve been—” His hands found your jeans, the button, the zip. “Since then.” He shoved your jeans down your hips and you kicked them off and his hand pushed between your thighs and found your pussy through the thin fabric still there and pressed and your hips rolled forward hard.
“There,” he said. Low, rough, satisfied. “There you are.” His fingers moved — slow, deliberate, feeling the heat of you through the fabric — and he looked at your face while he did it. Watching. Taking everything. “Soaked already,” he said. “Were you like this the whole time?”
“Don’t—” you started.
“You were.” He pushed the fabric aside and his fingers touched your folds directly and you choked on a breath. The rings were cold, the contrast of it shocking and good and — “Riki—”
“Good girl,” he said quietly. Like it meant something. Like you’d done something right just by responding to him. His fingers moved through your folds and found your clit and you grabbed his shoulders and held on. “So wet. So fucking — look at you.”
“Please—”
“Please what.” His fingers kept moving, unhurried despite everything, despite the fact that you could feel how much he wanted this — felt it against your hip, hard, his own breathing gone ragged at the edges. “Say it.”
“I need—”
“Say it, Y/N.”
“I need you to fuck me,” you said. “Now, Riki, please—” He made a sound low in his throat and his fingers disappeared and he was shoving his own jeans down, just enough, barely, one hand braced on the wall beside your head — and then he looked at you, dark eyes and wrecked hair and jaw set hard.
“Here?” he said. Rough. “Right here?”
“Yes—”
His hand found your pussy again, two fingers pushing inside, testing, and you made an embarrassing sound and he groaned at the feel of you — “fuck you’re—” — and then his fingers were gone and he was there, the head of his cock at your entrance, and you hooked your leg over his hip. He pushed in. Both of you went still. His forehead dropped to yours. Your nails were in his shoulders. The Jacob’s ladder — you felt every single one and your mouth fell open and you heard him exhale shakily above you. “Riki—”
“I know.” His voice was barely there. “I know, just — fuck — just give me a second—”
“Don’t stop,” you said. “Don’t stop, keep—”
He moved. There was nothing controlled about it. That was the thing — Riki who was steady and certain and always in possession of himself — gone. Completely. He fucked you against the wall with his jeans half down and yours on the floor and his rings cold against your thigh where he’d hooked your leg higher and the bar of his tongue in his teeth when he looked at you and it was overwhelming, the closeness of it, the sound of it in the empty shop.
“Good,” he said, rough and low, his hips rolling into you, setting a pace that had your head dropping back against the wall. “Good girl, just like — yeah, just like that—”
“More—”
“Yeah?” He shifted his angle and you cried out and he did it again, deliberate, watching your face. “There?”
“Yes — yes, don’t stop—”
“I’ve got you.” His mouth found your throat. “I’ve got you, you’re doing so — fuck, Y/N, you feel—” He broke off. His rhythm stuttered and recovered. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”
The praise landed somewhere it had no business landing, warm and devastating, and your hips were moving to meet him and your clit was grinding against him with every thrust and you were already… “Riki I’m going to—”
“Do it,” he said immediately. “Cum for me. Come on.” His hand moved between you and his thumb found your clit and pressed and you shattered — your whole body going taut, his name in your mouth, your nails breaking skin on his shoulders — and he fucked you through it, relentless, not letting up—
“That’s it,” he said against your ear, rough and wrecked. “That’s it, good girl, god you’re—” He followed you over the edge not long after — his rhythm breaking, his breath gone, his forehead hard against the wall beside your head — and the sound he made when he came was low and helpless and you felt it everywhere.
There was silence that followed apart from the playlist over the shop speakers. The red light under the door still illuminated. Both of you still against the wall like butter of you planned to move soon, his weight partly on you and partly on his arm and neither of you in any hurry to fix that.
Your leg slid down from his hip. He pulled back enough to look at your face. His hair was completely wrecked. His mouth was slightly swollen. He looked at you with an expression that had nothing performed in it — just open, just him, something that hadn’t had a name all this time and still didn’t quite yet. “Hi,” he said.
You laughed. Surprised out of you, real. He smiled — the real one, the one that changed his whole face — and pressed it briefly into your hair.
You found the back room couch eventually. His shirt on your shoulders. The rings back on his fingers because he’d put them on out of habit and then looked at his own hands like he hadn’t noticed himself doing it. You lay on your back. He sat with his back against the couch, forearm on his knee, looking at the floor. “So,” you said.
“So,” he said.
“What happens now?” you said.
He was quiet for a moment. “What do you want?”
You thought about the card in your bag. The Wednesdays. The way he’d looked at you across the counter every single time like you were a decision he’d already made. “I don’t know yet,” you said. Honest.
“Okay,” he said. Easy. No pressure in it. His hand found yours in the dark. Didn’t make anything of it. Just held on. You stayed on the couch until the playlist rolled over twice. At some point the I don’t know yet became irrelevant because his mouth found your throat again and his hands were back under his shirt on your skin and the question got buried under something more immediate.
You left at nine. He walked you to the door. Held it open, leaned in the frame. The cold air hit you and you turned back. He looked wrecked and unbothered about it. Shirt on, jeans done up, rings on every finger. Hair a disaster. Looking at you with that expression — the settled one, the certain one. “Wednesday,” he said. You nodded.
Neither of you said anything about what it was. That was the agreement, unspoken, the way most things between you and Riki were unspoken. You came in on Wednesdays. Sometimes other days. Sometimes he texted at ten at night — nothing explicit, just you up or studio’s empty — and you went, and nobody named what that meant. It worked. Mostly.
The sex was — there wasn’t a word for it that didn’t sound inadequate. Compulsive was close. Inevitable was closer. Like once the wall had come down neither of you had any interest in rebuilding it, like your bodies had been having a conversation for months and were now just speaking plainly.
He learned you fast. Faster than anyone had. What made you gasp versus what made you come apart completely. The difference between what you asked for and what you actually wanted. He paid attention the way he paid attention to everything — totally, precisely — and used it with a focus that should have been illegal.
You learned him too. That the control was real but thin in the right circumstances. That his jaw set right before it cracked. That he made sounds he didn’t seem to know he was making. That he said your name differently when he was close — shorter, sharper, like he didn’t have room for the full shape of it. That he always, always pulled you back when you tried to move away after. Not possessive. Just — unwilling to let the warmth go yet. You were trying very hard not to think about what that meant.
Three weeks after the first time, on a Tuesday night, you were in the back room of Studio 13 with Riki’s shirt on the floor and your jeans somewhere near the door and his mouth on your throat and his hand between your thighs and the playlist coming through the walls and everything was fine, everything was exactly what it was, unnamed and manageable —
And then he said I’ve got you in that low rough voice right against your ear and something in your chest did a thing it wasn’t supposed to do. You filed it away. Dealt with it later. Later didn’t come because he did something with his tongue that made later completely irrelevant.
Wednesday afternoon. Counter. Coffee. Normal. Easy. The same as it had always been except for the part where it wasn’t because now you knew exactly what his hands felt like and what sounds he made and what his face looked like when the composure cracked and sitting on the other side of a counter from him in the middle of the afternoon was — a different experience than it used to be.
He was telling you something about a client — complicated custom piece, back and forth for weeks on the design — and you were listening and also watching his hands move when he talked, the rings catching the light, and thinking about those hands on your waist last night and… “Y/N.”
You looked up. He was looking at you with the quiet knowing expression. “I was listening,” you said.
“You weren’t.”
“I was. Custom piece. Back and forth on the design. Client keeps changing their mind.”
He tilted his head slightly. The corner of his mouth. “What were you thinking about?”
“The flash art.”
“Hm.” He leaned on the counter. His forearms right there, the sleeve on full display, and he looked at you with that unhurried certainty. “You were looking at my hands.”
“I was looking at your rings.”
“Y/N.”
“They’re interesting rings.”
He held your gaze for a long moment. Then he looked down at his hands, turned them over slowly, looked back up at you with an expression that was doing something to your ability to function. “Come back tonight,” he said.
“I was here last night.”
“I know.”
“And the night before.”
“I know.” He didn’t look remotely apologetic. “Come back tonight.”
You looked at him. “We should probably — this probably shouldn’t be—”
“Probably,” he agreed, like the word meant nothing.
“Riki.”
“Tonight, Y/N.”
You looked at your coffee. At him. At the rings on his hands that you had been thinking about and were now not admitting to thinking about. “Fine,” you said.
He picked up his own coffee. Satisfied. Like there had never been any other outcome. From across the shop Jay said nothing. He had learned, over the past three weeks, that saying things got him absolutely nowhere and had adapted accordingly. He simply made eye contact with Sunghoon across the room and they had an entire conversation without words.
That night after Studio 13 closed, which had become its own specific thing — the red light, the quiet, the shop breathing differently when it was empty. Riki had barely locked the front door before you were crossing the floor toward him and his expression when he turned around and saw you moving like that— “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” You reached him. Your hands went to his chest, his jaw, pulling him down, and he came without resistance, his hands finding your waist immediately, already knowing where to go.
He kissed you slow this time. Deliberately slow, like he was making a point, like the urgency of the last few weeks had shifted into something that wanted to take its time. That was somehow worse. “Riki,” you said against his mouth.
“Hm.”
“Stop going slow.”
“No.” He kissed your jaw. Your throat. Slow and deliberate, his hands sliding under your top to your bare waist. “I spent all afternoon thinking about this.”
“So did I, that’s why—”
“That’s why we’re taking our time.” His mouth at your collarbone. “I want to—” A pause. His lips against your skin. “I want to take you apart properly. Not fast.”
Your hands tightened in his hair. “That’s not fair,” you said.
“No,” he agreed, and kept going. He got your top off and looked at you in the low light the way he always did — that slow, unapologetic assessment that moved over you like you were worth looking at carefully — and then his mouth found your tits and your head fell back.
His tongue. The bar of it, cool and present, circling your nipple, and you made a sound and his hands tightened on your waist. “Good girl,” he said against your skin. “Just like that.”
“Riki—”
“I’ve got you.” He moved to the other side, same slow attention, his hands holding your waist like you might float away. “I’ve got you, just — yeah, just feel it.” You were going to lose your mind. Your hands found his shirt and he let you get it off and then he was walking you back to the couch in the back room and laying you down and looking at you from above with dark eyes and that expression — the open one, the one that had no performance in it.
He got your jeans off slow. His hands running down your thighs as he pulled them, his mouth following, pressing to your hip, the inside of your knee, and by the time he got back up to your folds you were already soaked. “Riki, please—”
“Please what.” His breath against your inner thigh. Close, not close enough.
“Please—”
“Tell me what you want.” His lips brushed your folds, barely, just the suggestion of pressure. “Tell me.”
“Your mouth,” you said. “Please, your mouth—” He gave it to you. The bar of his tongue against your clit and you grabbed the back of the couch and held on. He ate your pussy like he had nowhere else to be — thorough, focused, the same attention he gave everything — and the sounds he made against you, low and hungry, like he was getting something from it—
“God—” your hips rolled and his hands held them down, firm, keep still, and the loss of control of that made it worse in the best way. “Riki I’m — don’t stop, don’t—”
“Not stopping,” he said against your clit. “Cum for me. Come on.”
You did. He worked you through it until you were pulling at his hair telling him too much, too much and he pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh and came back up your body and looked at your face with an expression that was — satisfied wasn’t the right word. Reverent was closer, which was a thing you were absolutely not processing right now. “Good girl,” he said quietly.
“Stop calling me that,” you said, breathless.
“No,” he said simply, and kissed you.
When he finally pushed inside you both exhaled like something had been solved. Slow, this time. Deep. His forehead against yours, his arms bracketing you, his rings cool against the side of your face where his hand was. “Okay?” he said.
“Yeah.” Your voice wasn’t working right. “Yeah, keep — please keep going.”
He moved. Slow, deep rolls of his hips that had you feeling every ridge of the ladder on every stroke and your mouth kept falling open and he watched it happen. “You feel it,” he said. Low, not a question.
“Yes—”
“Good.” His hips rolled deeper and you gasped. “That’s good, you’re so — fuck, Y/N—” His composure was fraying at the edges, the rhythm getting less controlled. “You take me so well. Every time. Like you were—” He stopped himself.
You looked up at him. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, something moving behind them that he’d just pulled back from saying. “Like I was what,” you said.
He looked at you. For a second — just a second — something was right there on his face, unguarded, something that went past the physical and landed somewhere neither of you had named yet. He kissed you instead of answering.
You let him. Filed it away. Pulled him closer and let the question dissolve into the drag and heat of him moving inside you and his mouth on yours and his hand sliding between you to find your clit— “Riki—”
“I know,” he said. “I know, come on, cum for me again, you can—”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” His thumb on your clit, his cock deep, his voice at your ear. “You can, good girl, come on, let me feel you—” You came with his name in your mouth and your whole body shaking and he followed you with his face pressed into your throat and the sound he made was low and broken and yours.
After his thumb moving slow at your hip. The ceiling. The playlist. You were thinking about like you were— and what came after it. You were thinking about I’ve got you and how he said it every time, always, like a reflex, like something that came from somewhere deeper than the moment.
You were thinking about the fact that you knew what his laugh sounded like — the real one, the surprised one — and that you’d been collecting these things without meaning to and the collection was getting heavy. “Riki,” you said.
“Hm.”
“What are we doing.”
Silence. His thumb stopped moving. Then, carefully: “What do you want to be doing.”
You stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
He was quiet for a long moment. You could feel him thinking — that specific quality of his silences, weighted, considering. “I’m not good at this part,” he said.
“What part.”
“The—” A pause. “Saying things.”
“You say things to me all the time.”
“Not these things.”
You turned your head to look at him. He was looking at the ceiling, jaw slightly tight, the expression of someone navigating something carefully. “What things,” you said quietly.
He turned his head. Your faces close in the dim light. His eyes moved over yours. “I don’t want you going anywhere,” he said. Finally. Quietly. “That’s — that’s what I’ve got right now.”
It wasn’t everything. You both knew it wasn’t everything. But it was Riki, who didn’t say things, saying a thing, and it landed with the weight of something much larger behind it.“Okay,” you said.
“Okay,” he said. His thumb started moving again. You looked back at the ceiling. The unnamed thing stayed unnamed. But it was there, in the room with you, and you both knew it.
The thing about not naming something was that it didn’t stop it from being a thing. It just meant you had no language for it when it started to matter. Four weeks into whatever this was, Ria staged an intervention.
Not a dramatic one — she didn’t have people over or make a presentation, she just showed up at your flat on a Saturday morning with coffee and pastries and sat across from you at your kitchen table with the expression of someone who had been patient for a very long time and was cashing that in now. “Talk,” she said.
“About what.”
“Y/N.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ria.”
“I want you to say what’s happening with Riki.”
You picked up your coffee. “We’re—”
“If you say friends I’m leaving and taking the pastries.”
You put your coffee down. “It’s complicated.”
“Is it? Or is it simple and you’re making it complicated because you’re scared?”
You looked at her. She looked back with the patience of someone who had known you for six years and had seen every version of your avoidance. “We haven’t put a name on it,” you said.
“Why not.”
“Because—” You stopped. Because he’d said I don’t want you going anywhere and you’d said okay and neither of you had pushed past that. Because every Wednesday and every late night felt like building something and neither of you would say what you were building. “It’s working the way it is.”
“Is it.”
“Yes.”
“You like him.”
“Obviously.”
“Like like him.”
“Ria—”
“Y/N.” She leaned forward. “You went back to that shop every week for two months before anything happened. You know his coffee order, his schedule, what makes him laugh. You’ve met his friends. He checks your piercings as an excuse to be close to you.” She paused. “That’s not complicated. That’s you being terrified.”
You stared at the table. “He’s not easy to read,” you said. Finally.
“He gave you his personal card the night he met you,” Ria said. “Heeseung told me he’d never done that before.”
“When did you talk to Heeseung?”
“Jake texts me sometimes.”
“Jake texts you.”
“That’s not the point.” She pushed a pastry toward you. “The point is that boy is absolutely gone for you and you both keep dancing around it and it’s making everyone at Studio 13 insane, apparently.”
“Everyone?”
“Jay’s exact words were if they don’t sort it out soon I’m locking them in the back room.”
You put your face in your hands. “I don’t know how to do this with him,” you said, muffled. “He doesn’t say things. I don’t push. We just—”
“So say something first,” Ria said simply. “You’re not someone who waits, Y/N. That’s not you. You’re doing it because you’re scared he won’t say it back.” You lifted your face. Said nothing. She was right and you both knew it.
You didn’t say anything that Wednesday. You came close — sitting at the counter, coffee in hand, Riki talking about something, his rings on the desk, his eyes finding yours every few sentences the way they always did — and the words were right there, and you looked at his face, and you thought about Ria’s voice saying terrified, and you said nothing. He looked at you at one point like he knew something was moving behind your eyes. “What,” he said.
“Nothing.” You smiled. “Keep going.” He held your gaze for a second. Let it go.
The following Saturday Sunghoon texted you. Not unusual — you’d exchanged numbers for shop-related things, flash piece ideas, scheduling. He was easy to talk to, straightforward, the kind of person whose texts read exactly like his voice.
Sunghoon: hey, you said you were thinking about a collarbone piece right
you: yeah still thinking
Sunghoon: I drew something. wanna see
He sent a photo. Small, delicate, blackwork — something botanical, two thin stems crossing, minimal and precise. It was exactly your taste and you had no idea how he’d known that.
you: sunghoon this is gorgeous
Sunghoon: right? come in monday, I’ll show you the full size version. riki’s off monday so it’ll be quiet
you: sounds good, see you then
You didn’t think anything of it. Sunghoon was your friend. He’d drawn something for you. You were going to look at it. You didn’t mention it to Riki because there was nothing to mention.
Monday the shop was quieter without Riki in it, which was a thing you noticed and filed away as information you didn’t love having. Sunghoon had the drawing laid out on the counter when you arrived — full size, done properly on transfer paper, and it was even better than the photo. You stood over it with him pointing out the details, his hand close to yours on the paper, talking through placement and sizing and whether to add a third stem.
Jay was pretending to do something at the other counter.bHeeseung was in his office with the door open. “Here,” Sunghoon said, and pressed the transfer paper lightly to your collarbone to show you the placement. His hand steadied it against your skin, professional, and you looked in the mirror and thought yes, that was exactly right. Your phone lit up on the counter.
Riki: you at the shop?
You looked at it. Jay looked at it. Sunghoon didn’t see it.
you: yeah, sunghoon drew something for me. just looking at placement
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Riki: k
One letter.
Riki: looks good?
you: really good actually. he’s talented
The dots again. Then nothing. No reply. You put your phone down. Sunghoon was still talking about the third stem. You looked at the transfer in the mirror and tried to pay attention and felt something uneasy settle in your chest.
Riki was at the counter when you arrived Wednesday. You knew within ten seconds that something was wrong. Not visibly wrong — he looked the same, said hey the same, had your coffee ready the same. But his eyes when they met yours were flatter than usual. The warmth was there but dimmed, like something had been turned down. You sat. Picked up your coffee. “How was your day off?” you said.
“Fine.” He was looking at his phone.
“Did you do anything?”
“Not much.” Jay appeared from the back, clocked the atmosphere in approximately two seconds, and disappeared again.
You watched Riki scroll his phone. His jaw was set. Not dramatically — just tight, controlled, the way it got when he was holding something still. “Riki,” you said.
“Hm.”
“Look at me.” He looked up. The flat quality was more visible face to face. Something was moving behind his eyes that he was keeping on a very short leash. “What’s wrong?” you said.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve said twelve words since I got here.”
“I’ve been busy.”
You looked at him. He looked back, and you could see the effort of it — the effort of sitting in whatever this was and keeping it even. “Is this about Monday?” you said.
Something shifted in his jaw. “No.”
“Riki.”
“It’s not about Monday.”
“So it is about Monday.”
He put his phone down. Flat on the counter. He looked at you with an expression that was very controlled and also not controlled at all if you knew what to look for, and you knew what to look for now. “You went in on my day off,” he said.
“Sunghoon drew something for me. I told you.”
“I know what you told me.”
“Then what—”
“His hands were on you.” Quiet. Final. Like he’d been sitting on it for two days and it had compacted into something very small and very dense.
You stared at him. “He was showing me placement. For a tattoo. That’s his job.”
“I know that.”
“Then—”
“I know that, Y/N.” His voice was still even but something was pushing at the edges of it. “I know it doesn’t mean anything. I know Sunghoon wasn’t — I know.” He looked at the counter. “It doesn’t stop it feeling—” He stopped.
“Feeling what,” you said. He was quiet for a long moment.
“Wrong,” he said. “It feels wrong. Someone else’s hands on you feels wrong and I don’t know how to make that—” He stopped again. His thumb pressed against the counter. “I’m trying to be rational about it.”
“You went quiet for two days,” you said.
“I know.”
“That’s not — Riki, you can’t just go quiet every time something—”
“I know.” He looked up. His eyes were direct now, no flatness, just the real thing underneath — something frustrated and raw and tired of itself. “I know it’s not fair. I’m telling you I know that. I just—” A breath. “I don’t know how to feel it and not do that. I’m working on it.”
You looked at him for a long moment. “You went quiet instead of talking to me,” you said.
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me now because I pushed.”
“Yes.” He held your gaze. “I would have told you. I just needed to — I needed it to be smaller before I could say it without it being—” He gestured vaguely. “A lot.”
“Is it smaller now?”
“Somewhat.”
You picked up your coffee. Looked at it. Put it down. “You know that there’s nothing—” you started.
“I know.” Immediately. “Y/N, I know. This isn’t about you. This isn’t about Sunghoon. It’s mine, it’s a me thing, and I’m not trying to make it your problem.”
“It becomes my problem when you disappear.”
“I know.” His jaw shifted. “I’m sorry.”
You looked at him. He looked back, steady, the thing behind his eyes open now in the way it only got when he’d pushed past the control on purpose — when he was giving you something deliberately. “Don’t disappear,” you said. “Whatever it is — just say it. To me. Not in your head for two days.”
“Okay,” he said. His hand moved across the counter and covered yours briefly — the rings cool, the weight of his palm familiar. “Okay, Y/N.”
The touch lasted a few seconds. He didn’t make anything of it. Just let it be there and then pulled back. From the back room, completely audibly, Jay said to someone: “finally.”
“Jay,” Riki said flatly.
“I’m just saying—”
“Jay.”
That night, late. He was in your flat, his idea — he’d texted at nine, not you up or studio’s empty but just your name, which was new. He was on your couch with his legs stretched out and his head back and his eyes on your ceiling and you were beside him close enough to feel the warmth of him and neither of you had moved toward the other yet. Just sitting. Existing in the same space. “Can I ask you something?” you said.
“Yeah.”
“The possessiveness.” You kept your voice even. “Where does it come from.”
A pause. He was quiet long enough that you thought he might not answer. “Control,” he said finally. “Or — fear of losing it. Things I care about.” His thumb moved against his own knee. “I spent a long time in situations where things got taken. People I — things I couldn’t protect.” He stopped. “I don’t talk about it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” A pause. “I want to. I just — not yet.”
Not yet. Not never. Not it’s not your business. Not yet meant there was a timeline. Meant he was thinking about it. Meant you were someone he was moving toward telling.
You leaned your head against his shoulder. He went still for a second — surprised, you thought, by the smallness of it, the casualness — and then his head dropped against yours and you felt him exhale. “The collarbone piece,” he said eventually. “Let me do it.”
You lifted your head. Looked at him. “You do tattoos?”
“Heeseung taught me. I’m not on the books for it but—” He met your eyes. “I want to do it. If you want.”
Sunghoon’s drawing. Riki’s hands. “Yeah,” you said. “Okay.”
Something settled in his face. Quiet and satisfied in a way that had nothing to do with the smirk. “Okay,” he said.
You put your head back on his shoulder. His arm moved — slow, like he was checking it was allowed — and settled around you. The unnamed thing pressed closer. Neither of you named it. But his arm tightened slightly and you let it, and that was something too.
The collarbone piece took two sessions. Riki had been clear about that upfront — small piece, delicate linework, he wanted to do it right and doing it right meant not rushing. You’d sat in the chair in the back room of Studio 13 on a quiet Tuesday morning with his hands on your collarbone and his face close and his full attention on the work and tried very hard to be normal about it. You were not normal about it. “Stop tensing,” he said, without looking up.
“I’m not tensing.”
“Your shoulder is up by your ear.” You lowered your shoulder. He glanced up briefly — dark eyes, the focus in them softening for just a second when they met yours — and then back down. “First line’s the worst,” he said. “Then you’ll settle.”
“I’ve been tattooed before.”
“Not by me.” He said it simply. Like it was just a fact. Which it was. But the way he said it landed like something more — like not by me was its own category, its own distinct experience, and he was right, as it turned out, because when the needle touched your collarbone the small shock of it dissolved almost immediately into the warmth of his hands steadying you and his voice saying good, just like that, breathe — and you settled.
You watched his face while he worked. This version of him — the work version, focused and quiet and completely present — was one of your favorites. All the usual energy went inward. The smirk was gone, the easy confidence was still there but different, channeled into precision. He moved the machine in small careful arcs and his free hand was always on you, always steadying, always aware of exactly how much pressure to use. “You’re staring,” he said.
“You said that to me once before.”
“You were staring then too.”
“Maybe I just have a specific staring problem.”
The corner of his mouth moved. He didn’t look up. “Maybe you do.”
He kissed you after the session. Not immediately — he’d finished, stepped back, examined the work with that quiet critical eye, declared it good. You’d looked in the mirror and felt something warm move through your chest at the sight of it — the two stems, thin and precise, sitting exactly right on your collarbone. “It’s perfect,” you said.
“I know.” He was already at the sink, washing his hands, and you could hear the smile in it even without seeing his face. You got up from the chair. Crossed the small space between you. And when he turned around you were right there and his expression shifted — from satisfied work-focus to something more personal, more immediate — and you put your hand on his jaw and kissed him.
He kissed you back with his damp hands at your waist, careful not to touch the fresh tattoo, and it was slow and unhurried and tasted like coffee and something that was just him and when you pulled back his eyes stayed closed for a second. Opened. Looked at you. “Hi,” he said quietly.
“Hi,” you said. His thumb moved at your waist. The rings. The warmth of his palms through your shirt.
“Come back Thursday for the second session,” he said.
“I know, you told me.”
“Just making sure.” He kissed you again before you could respond — quick, soft, his mouth on yours for just a moment — and then stepped back and handed you the aftercare sheet and was professional again, mostly, except for the way his eyes followed you to the door.
Thursday’s second session was longer. More detail, more shading on the stems, a small shadow that made the whole thing lift off the skin. You sat in the chair and he worked and you talked — properly talked, the way you did at the counter but quieter, more contained, just the two of you in the partitioned space.
He told you about growing up. Small things — not the things he kept locked, but around the edges of them. A younger brother. Moving schools twice. Being good at things with his hands from early on, carving things, taking things apart to see how they worked. “Is that why the piercing?” you said.
“Partly.” He shifted the machine slightly. “Partly because it’s — immediate. You do it right and you see it right away. No waiting to find out.”
“You like knowing things work.”
He glanced up. “Yeah.”
“Control thing.”
A pause. “Yeah,” he said again, quieter. You let that sit. Didn’t push.
“Tell me something else,” he said, after a moment. Deflecting but not — more like redirecting, like he wanted the conversation to keep going just in a different direction.
So you told him things. About your course, your family, the flat you’d moved into two years ago that still didn’t feel completely yours. The way Ria had been your anchor through everything since you were sixteen. How you’d wanted to study abroad and hadn’t and sometimes still thought about it. “Why didn’t you?” he said.
“Felt like running away from something.”
“Were you?”
You thought about it. “Probably.”
He looked up. His eyes on yours, level. “What were you running from.”
“Someone,” you said. “It doesn’t matter now.”
He held your gaze for a moment. You watched something move through his expression — something careful, something that might have been jealousy at its very distant edges but was mostly just — paying attention. Storing it. Like everything you gave him went somewhere it would be kept.
“Their loss,” he said. Simply. Looked back down. You looked at the top of his head and felt the unnamed thing press against your ribs from the inside.
He finished the piece in two hours. You both looked at it in the mirror — his chin near your shoulder, your reflection side by side — and neither of you said anything for a moment. “Well,” you said.
“Yeah,” he said. It was exactly right. Better than right. The kind of thing that looked like it had always been there, like your skin had been waiting for it.
You turned. He was right there, closer than you’d clocked, and you put both hands on his chest and looked up at him and he looked down at you and the moment expanded slightly. “Thank you,” you said.
“Don’t thank me.”
“Riki—”
“It was for me as much as you,” he said. Quiet. Direct. No smirk in it. “I wanted to put something on you. That’s—” He stopped. His jaw shifted. “That’s a me thing. Don’t thank me for it.”
You looked at him. He looked back, steady, and the naked quality of what he’d just said sat between you — I wanted to put something on you — and neither of you moved for a second.
Then you kissed him. Slow, deliberate, your hands spreading on his chest. He made a low sound and his arms came around you — gentle because of the fresh tattoo, careful, his hands at your back instead of your waist — and he kissed you back like he had time, like he wanted to use it.
When you broke apart he kept his forehead against yours. “Stay,” he said. Low. “Tonight. Just—” A pause. “Just stay.”
“Okay,” you said. You ate takeout on the floor of the back room because the couch was small and the floor had more space and Riki sat with his back against the couch and you sat between his legs with your back against his chest and it was so domestically comfortable that it was almost alarming.
He ate with one arm around you. His chin occasionally dropping to your shoulder to look at whatever you were showing him on your phone. His thumb making that small absent arc at your hip that he did when he wasn’t thinking about it.
“Ria thinks we need to define this,” you said, at some point. His arm didn’t tighten. Didn’t loosen. He was quiet for a moment.
“What do you think?” he said.
“I think Ria is right about most things.”
“Hm.” His thumb kept moving. “What would you define it as.”
You turned your head slightly. His face was close — close enough to see the detail of the scar through his eyebrow, the silver of his earring, the way he was looking at you with that careful open expression he only had when there was no one else around. “I don’t know,” you said. “What would you.”
“Mine,” he said. Quiet. Simple. Like it was the most obvious answer.
Your heart did something inconvenient. “That’s very you,” you said.
“Is it wrong?”
You turned back to face forward. His arm around you. The takeout. The red light. “No,” you said. “It’s not wrong.”
You felt him exhale against the back of your head. Slow, like something had released. His lips pressed briefly to your hair. Not a kiss exactly — too soft, too absent, more like a thing he did without deciding to.
You stayed on the floor until midnight. Talked about nothing important. Everything slightly important. He told you Jake was obviously falling for Hana and was handling it terribly, which you already knew, and you told him Ria had started texting Jake directly to speed the process along, which he did not know and which made him laugh — the real one, sudden, surprised. You stored it.
“I should go,” you said eventually. You had a nine AM seminar and the responsible thing—
“Yeah,” he said. Made no move to untangle himself from around you.
“Riki.”
“Five minutes.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago.”
“Five more minutes.” You leaned back into him and gave him the five minutes. He pressed his mouth to the side of your head again — that soft, absent thing, lips in your hair — and you closed your eyes and thought about mine and the way he’d said it like it was just the truth.
When you finally stood up he walked you to the door the way he always did. Unlocked it. Held it open. You turned back. He kissed you in the doorway — unhurried, thorough, one hand cupping your jaw and the other flat against the doorframe — and you kissed him back and it went on longer than a goodbye kiss needed to, longer than was practical, until he pulled back and looked at you with dark eyes and slightly wrecked composure.
“Wednesday,” he said. His thumb traced your jaw once before dropping.
“Wednesday,” you said. You made it to the end of the street. You looked back. He was still in the doorway, leaning on the frame, watching you go. When he saw you look he didn’t pretend he hadn’t been watching. Just held your gaze across the dark street. You turned back around and smiled at the pavement the whole way to the bus stop.
Heeseung had told everyone to come to his flat for dinner on Saturday — no occasion, just food, just all of them in the same place — and you’d arrived with Ria who had told you she’d been waiting for this invitation for weeks, which meant Jake had told her about it before Riki had told you, which meant something.
Heeseung’s flat was calm and dark-walled like the shop, art everywhere, music at a volume that allowed conversation. Jay was already there and immediately pulled Ria into an argument about something. Jake appeared from the kitchen and the way his face changed when he saw Ria was something you were going to tell Riki about later.
Riki was on the couch. He looked up when you came in and the smile that happened was immediate and unguarded — no performance, no build up, just his face doing the thing it did when you appeared, the thing you didn’t think he knew it did. He moved over without being asked. You sat beside him. Close. His arm went across the back of the couch behind you — not around you, but there, present, the rings near your shoulder.
Sunghoon arrived twenty minutes later and dropped onto the armchair across from you and looked at you both with an expression of great satisfaction. “You two sorted?” he said.
“Sunghoon,” Riki said.
“What? Last month you were—“ He stopped. “I’m just asking—”
“We’re sorted,” you said. Sunghoon grinned. Riki’s arm moved from the back of the couch to actually around your shoulders, like Sunghoon asking had given him permission to stop pretending he wasn’t doing it.
Dinner was loud and easy and everyone talked over everyone and Jay told a story about a client that got more elaborate every time he told it and Ria fit in like she’d always been there and Heeseung sat at the head of the table and said little and watched everything with quiet satisfaction.
After dinner you ended up back on the couch. Riki beside you, your legs across his, his hand resting on your ankle. The conversation had split across the room — Jay and Sunghoon, Ria and Jake in what looked like an increasingly interesting exchange, Heeseung in the kitchen. “You good?” Riki said quietly, just to you.
“Yeah.” You looked at the room. “This is nice.”
“They like you.”
“Jay likes everyone.”
“Heeseung doesn’t,” he said. Simple. “He likes you.”
You looked at him. “How can you tell?”
“He invited you.” He said it like it was obvious. “He doesn’t do this for everyone. He did it because—” A pause. His hand moved slightly on your ankle. “Because you’re—” He stopped.
“Because I’m what,” you said softly.
He looked at you. The room was noisy around you but it felt like it had contracted to just this, just his face and yours and the thing he was about to say. “Important,” he said. Quiet. “Because you’re important.”
Your heart did the inconvenient thing again, harder this time. “Riki,” you said.
“Yeah.”
“That word—”
“I know what word I used.” You looked at him. He looked back, steady, not taking it back, not softening it. Just — sitting in it, the way he sat in most things, patient and certain.
Across the room Jay said something loud and everyone laughed and the moment breathed. Riki’s hand moved from your ankle to your calf. Warm. Present. “Stay tonight,” he said. Low enough that it was only for you. “Not at the shop. Mine.”
His. His flat, which you hadn’t been to, which was a different thing than the back room couch. A different kind of staying. “Yeah,” you said.
He nodded. Looked back at the room. But his hand stayed on your leg and his shoulder was warm against yours and you sat in the important and let it settle into something that felt permanent.
Later, when most people had gone and Ria was helping Heeseung with something in the kitchen and it was just you and Riki by the door putting your jacket on he turned you by the shoulders. Kissed you slowly, his hands on your face, thumbs at your jaw. The kind of kiss that had no agenda, no direction, just wanted to exist. When he pulled back he looked at you for a long moment.
The word boyfriend was right there in the room. Neither of you said it. But his hand found yours and held it, and he didn’t let go the whole way to his flat, and somewhere in the space between mine and important and his fingers between yours on a dark street — the unnamed thing finally had a shape. You just hadn’t said it out loud yet.
His flat was on the third floor of a building that had seen better decades, the kind of place that was held together by good bones and someone who actually cared about the space inside it. You didn’t know what you’d expected.
More of the shop, maybe — dark walls, flash art, the deliberate aesthetic. And there was some of that. Dark furniture, a few framed pieces on the walls, one large canvas above the couch that was either very expensive or done by someone he knew and you suspected the latter. But it was also — lived in, in a specific way. Books stacked in an order that made sense only to him. A record player in the corner with a small collection beside it. The kitchen clean in the way of someone who cooked properly and cleaned as they went.
It was a home. Actually a home. That surprised you and you didn’t know why it surprised you and then you thought about what he’d said — I spent a long time in situations where things got taken — and understood it. He’d built this. Deliberately. Piece by piece. “Stop analyzing it,” he said from the kitchen.
“I’m not analyzing it.”
“You have your analyzing face on.”
“I don’t have an analyzing face.”
He appeared in the kitchen doorway with two glasses of water and looked at you standing in his living room in your jacket still on and raised an eyebrow. “Take your jacket off,” he said. “You’re staying.” You took your jacket off.
You fell asleep on his couch. Not intentionally — you’d been talking, the record player on low, and somewhere between one subject and the next the warmth of him beside you and the late hour pulled you under. You were aware of it happening distantly, the conversation getting slower, your eyes getting heavy, and you didn’t fight it.
You woke up in his bed. He’d moved you. At some point while you slept he’d carried you — or walked you, half-conscious — to the bed and put you in it and the duvet was pulled up and his pillow smelled like him and you lay there in the early grey morning and stared at the ceiling and felt something enormous and inconvenient sitting on your chest.
You heard him in the kitchen. The quiet sounds of someone who knew how to exist in the morning without disturbing anyone. You lay there and thought about mine and important and the collarbone tattoo and his hand in yours on the dark street and the back room couch and two months of Wednesdays and the card he’d slid across the counter the first night like he’d already decided.
You thought about Ria’s voice. You’re terrified. You were terrified.
He was at the kitchen counter with his back to you when you came in. Making coffee, unhurried, still in the clothes from last night minus the jacket. Rings on his hands already. You didn’t know if he’d slept. He turned when he heard you. Took in your expression with one look. “Hey,” he said carefully.
“Hey.” You stood in the kitchen doorway. Your heart was doing something loud. “You moved me.”
“You were asleep on my couch.”
“You could have woken me up.”
“You looked tired.” Simple. Like it was nothing. Like carrying you to his bed was just a practical thing he’d done without thinking. “Coffee?”
“Riki.” He looked at you. Really looked — reading whatever was on your face with that careful focus, taking it in.
“What’s going on,” he said.
“Nothing. I just—” You stopped. Started again. “I woke up in your bed and it—” You pressed your fingers to your mouth briefly. “It felt like something.” He was quiet. Waiting.
“I think this is something,” you said. “I think it’s been something for a while and we keep not saying it and I’m—” You exhaled. “I’m tired of not saying it.”
The kitchen was very quiet. Riki leaned back against the counter. Crossed his arms. His expression was the open one — no performance, no control layered over it, just his face and whatever was behind it. “Say it then,” he said quietly.
You looked at him. “I want this to be a thing. A real thing. I want—” You. “I want the name.”
He uncrossed his arms. Crossed the kitchen in three steps and he was right in front of you and his hands came up to your face — both of them, palms at your jaw, tilting your face up — and he looked at you for one long second. “It’s already a thing,” he said. “It’s been a thing.” His thumb moved at your cheekbone. “I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”
“That’s very smug,” you said. Your voice wasn’t fully steady.
“I know.” He wasn’t smiling. His eyes were serious, dark, right there. “Y/N.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not good at the words,” he said. “You know that. But this—” his thumbs traced your face, gentle and deliberate “—this is not nothing. This hasn’t been nothing since you walked into my shop.”
Your hands found his wrists. Held on. “Okay,” you said.
“Okay,” he said. He kissed you. Soft, slow, his hands still on your face like he wanted to hold the moment still. You kissed him back and felt the unnamed thing finally, finally settle into something with a shape and a weight and a name you’d figure out the exact word for later.
When he pulled back he pressed his forehead to yours. “Boyfriend is a weird word,” he said.
You laughed. Surprised out of you, real. “It really is.”
“But yeah.” His mouth curved. “That.”
“That,” you agreed. He kissed you again, brief and warm, and then stepped back and handed you a coffee and the domesticity of it — his flat, his coffee, his hands, the morning — hit you somewhere soft.
“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll make breakfast.”
“You cook?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Riki I’ve known you for months and I’ve never seen you eat anything that wasn’t takeout or coffee.”
“That’s at the shop.” He was already at the fridge. “At home I cook.”
You sat at his kitchen counter on a stool and watched him move around his kitchen with the same ease he brought to everything — competent, unhurried, knowing where things were — and drank your coffee and felt the warmth of the morning settle around you. “What are you making?” you said.
“Eggs.”
“Just eggs?”
“Good eggs.” He glanced back. “Don’t underestimate eggs.”
They were good eggs. You ate at his kitchen counter side by side, your shoulder against his, and the conversation came easy the way it always did — drifting, unhurried, one thing opening into another. He told you about the record player, how he’d found it at a market two years ago and had to carry it up three flights on his own. You told him about the flat you’d wanted that you hadn’t got and ended up in your current one instead and how it had turned out better. “Things usually do,” he said.
“Philosopher.”
“Just paying attention.” His hand found yours on the counter between you. Covered it. Not making anything of it — just there, warm and present. You turned your hand over and his fingers slid between yours. You sat like that until the coffee was cold.
He walked you out two hours later. Down the three flights and out onto the morning street, quiet at this hour, pale winter sun doing its best. He had his jacket on, hands in his pockets, walking beside you in the direction of the bus stop. “You don’t have to walk me,” you said.
“I know.” He walked you anyway. His shoulder bumping yours occasionally. Not holding your hand now — just beside you, present, taking up the right amount of space. At the bus stop he turned to face you. “Wednesday,” he said.
“Wednesday,” you said. Then: “Actually I might come Tuesday. I need to talk to Heeseung about extending the collarbone piece.”
Something moved across his face. Quick, then gone. “You want to extend it?” he said.
“Just the stems, maybe. One more.” You looked at his expression. “What?”
“I’ll do it,” he said. Immediate.
“I know you’ll do it—”
“I mean — the extension. Let me do it.” His jaw was doing the thing. “Not Heeseung.”
You looked at him. Understood. “Okay,” you said.
“Okay.” The jaw relaxed. A short exhale.
You reached up and kissed him — he leaned down to meet you before you’d fully extended, like he’d been waiting for it — and it was brief and warm and tasted like coffee. “Tuesday,” you said against his mouth.
“Tuesday,” he said. The bus appeared at the end of the road. He stepped back. Hands back in his pockets. Watching you with that settled, certain expression. “Text me when you’re home,” he said. New. That was new.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “Okay.”
You texted Ria from the bus.
you: we sorted it
The reply was immediate. She’d been awake, waiting.
Ria: WHAT
you: it’s a thing. officially.
Ria: I KNEW IT I HAVE BEEN SAYING does he even know the word boyfriend???
you: he said it’s a weird word
Ria: oh my god he’s so him
you: he made me eggs
Ria: Y/N!!!
you: they were really good eggs
Ria: I am going to cry. IM SO HAPPY!
You put your phone in your pocket and looked out the bus window at the city going past and felt something settled and warm sitting in your chest where the unnamed thing used to be.
Daniel saw you get off the bus. You didn’t notice him. You were texting Riki — something small, a photo of a dog outside the coffee shop you were passing, the kind of thing you sent now because you could — and you walked past him without looking up.
He watched you go. Watched the way you were smiling at your phone. He knew about the tattoo shop. He’d heard you mention it. He’d put things together — the visits, the name that came up, the way you’d brushed him off every time since October.
He pulled out his own phone. Started looking. It didn’t take long. Public record. The charge, the conviction, the sentence. He read it twice. Read the name again. Looked up Studio 13. He sat with it for a long time. Then he texted Soo.
Daniel: hey, you’re friends with Y/N right. I need to tell you something about someone she’s seeing.
The thing about finally naming something was that it changed the texture of everything. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just — small shifts, accumulating. The way he texted now, more often, nothing significant but there. The way he said my girlfriend to a client who asked about the collarbone piece, casual, not looking at you when he said it, and you’d had to look very hard at the flash wall for a moment. The way his hand found yours in public without him thinking about it first. Small things. Heavy things.
You were catastrophically gone for him and had been for a while and now there was nothing to hide it behind.
The first Tuesday after you came into Studio 13 at noon and Riki was with a client so Jay made you coffee and sat across from you at the counter with the expression of someone who had been waiting to say something. “So,” he said.
“Don’t,” you said.
“I just want to say—”
“Jay.”
“I called it.” He held up both hands. “First week you came in. I said to Sunghoon, I said that girl is going to wreck him, and I was right—”
“I didn’t wreck anyone—”
“In a good way.” He was grinning. “He’s different. He’s — I’ve known Riki for two years and he texted me last Sunday morning just to talk. Riki. Texting. On a Sunday. Because he was in a good mood and wanted to—”
“Jay.” Riki’s voice from the piercing section, flat. He’d finished with his client without you noticing.
“I’m just saying—”
“I heard what you were saying.” Riki came around the partition and looked at you and the expression on his face when it landed on you was the thing Jay had been describing without being able to name it — something unlocked, something that had been held tight for a long time and wasn’t anymore.
He came to the counter. Leaned down and kissed you hello like it was something he’d been doing for years. Brief, warm, his hand on your jaw for just a second. Jay made a noise. Riki sat on his stool without acknowledging him. Picked up his coffee. “How’s the collarbone?” he said.
“Good. I want to talk about an extension.”
“I know what I’ll doing with it.”
“I haven’t told you what I want yet.”
“I know what you want.” He met your eyes. Completely certain. “Trust me.”
You looked at him. Thought about the first piece — how right it had been, how it had looked like it had always been there. “Fine,” you said.
Jay, very quietly, said: “He’s so different.”
The extension happened the following Thursday. One more stem. Slightly longer than the others, curving toward your shoulder, a small bud at the end that he’d added without asking and that was so exactly right you hadn’t been able to speak for a moment when you saw it. “Riki,” you said.
“Hm.” He was examining the placement, focused.
“The bud.”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
“No.” He glanced up. Brief, the focus breaking for just a second. “Do you like it?”
You looked in the mirror. The three stems, the new one curving outward, the small closed bud at its tip. Something that looked like potential. Like something about to open. “Yeah,” you said. “I like it.”
He looked back down. Said nothing. But his free hand, steadying your shoulder, pressed slightly. Small. Deliberate.
Three weeks in and the shape of things had settled. Wednesdays at the shop. Tuesday evenings at his flat, which had become a specific thing — you’d bring food, he’d already have the record player going, and you’d eat on his couch or his kitchen floor and talk until one of you fell asleep. Some Fridays at yours, which he’d come to twice now and moved through with the particular attentiveness of someone learning a space they planned to know well.
His things had started appearing at your flat. A hoodie, first — left behind, not retrieved. Then a phone charger. Then a record he’d brought over to show you something and hadn’t taken back. You didn’t point any of this out. Neither did he.
You had a key to Studio 13. That had happened without discussion — Riki had taken it off his keyring one night when you’d arrived before him and handed it to you and gone back to what he was doing. You’d stared at it for a full ten seconds.
This was how he said things. Not in words. In the key. In the bud on the stem. In text me when you’re home and Sunday morning texts and the way he always, always knew when something was wrong before you’d said anything. You were learning his language. It was quieter than most people’s but it was fluent.
Four weeks in, on a Wednesday night after Studio 13 closed as usual. But tonight the energy was different from the second you’d locked the front door behind you — something in the way he’d looked at you across the shop all evening, something that had been building since you’d arrived and had nowhere to go while there were other people present.
He kissed you against the front counter the second the lock clicked. Not soft. Not the hello-kiss or the goodbye-kiss or the slow deliberate thing from his kitchen. This was four weeks of officially named wanting, his hands in your hair and your hands in his jacket and both of you breathing differently inside ten seconds. He pulled back. Looked at your face. “Hi,” you said.
“Hi.” His voice was rough already. His hands moved from your hair to your waist, sliding under your top to bare skin, and you felt his rings and exhaled. “Been thinking about you all day.”
“I was here all evening.”
“I know.” His mouth found your jaw, your throat. “Worse.”
“Riki—”
“I know.” He pulled your top up and off and looked at you in the low red light the way he always did — that slow, deliberate sweep that moved over you like you were something he was committing to memory. The collarbone piece. His hands on you. “God,” he said quietly. Not performing it. Just — reacting.
“Come here,” you said. He came. He got you onto the front counter. Which was new. Which was — you looked around the shop, the dark windows, the closed door, and then his hands were on your thighs spreading them and he was standing between them and the location became very irrelevant. “Here?” you said.
“Here.” He kissed you again, deep, his tongue against yours and the bar of it doing what it always did to your ability to think. His hands pushed your skirt up your thighs, found your underwear, pushed it aside — and his fingers were there, at your folds, and you grabbed the edge of the counter.
“Riki—”
“Already.” His fingers moved through your folds, slow, feeling you. “Fuck, Y/N, already—”
“Don’t be smug—”
“I’m not.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, your throat. “I’m really not.” His fingers found your clit and circled and your hips rolled forward. “That’s it. That’s—” A breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Tell me,” you breathed.
He pushed two fingers inside you and your head fell back. “This,” he said, low, watching your face. “Every time. Every fucking time you walk in here I want—” His fingers curled and you gasped. “Yeah. That. I want that sound.”
“More—”
“More?” He kept the pace slow. Deliberate. His thumb finding your clit while his fingers moved and the combination was devastating. “You sure? We’re not in a rush.”
“Riki I swear to god—”
He laughed — low, warm, real — and his fingers moved deeper and his thumb pressed harder and you grabbed his shoulder and held on. “Good girl,” he said against your throat. “So good. So wet for me, every time, like you spend all day—”
“I do,” you said, breathless. “I do, okay, is that what you want to hear—”
“Yes,” he said simply, and meant it, and his fingers moved faster. You came with your face pressed into his neck and his name in your mouth, his fingers working you through it, not stopping until you pulled at his hair and told him too much, too much—
He pulled his hand back. Pressed his mouth to your temple. Your cheekbone. The corner of your mouth. “Good girl,” he said again, softer. “You’re so—”
“Don’t you dare say something nice right now,” you said. “I can’t handle it.” He pressed his smile into your hair.
You got his jeans open. Got your hand on his cock and felt him exhale sharply against your neck —that involuntary thing, the crack in the control — and stroked slowly and felt every bar of the ladder and heard him make a sound that was almost pained. “Y/N—”
“Yeah?”
“I need—” His hips pushed forward slightly. “Fuck, I need you to—”
“Need me to what.” You kept the pace slow. His own medicine.
His forehead dropped to your shoulder. “Please.” The please from Riki — rare, wrecked, genuine — landed somewhere it always landed and you let go of him and pulled him forward by his waistband and he understood, got his jeans down, stepped between your thighs.
He pushed inside in one slow stroke and you both went still. His hands braced on the counter either side of you. Your hands on his chest. The shop around you, the red light, the flash art on the walls watching everything. “Okay?” he said. Rough. Always asked.
“Move,” you said. “Please, Riki, move—” He moved.
The front counter was cold under your hands and he was warm everywhere else — his chest against yours, his mouth at your throat, his hips rolling into you in a rhythm that started slow and deliberate and got less controlled as it went. “You feel—” He broke off. His jaw set. “Every time. Like the first time, every—”
“Don’t stop talking,” you said. “I like it when you talk.”
He made a rough sound. “You like it.”
“Yes—”
“Good girl for telling me.” His pace shifted deeper and you choked on a breath. “Good girl for always — fuck — for always telling me what you want—”
“Riki—”
“I’ve got you.” His hand slid between you, found your clit, and you arched. “I’ve got you, come on, cum for me, you can—”
“I just—”
“I know.” His thumb circled. “Do it again. Come on. Let me feel you cum on my cock, Y/N—”
The degradation and the praise all tangled together and his thumb and the ladder on every stroke and his voice at your ear and you shattered again — harder this time, your whole body locking up, his name loud enough that it bounced off the dark walls—
He followed you. His rhythm breaking, his breath gone, his hands gripping the counter so hard you heard his rings knock against it — and the sound he made when he came was the broken one, the helpless one, the one you collected and kept.
After the both of you on the front counter, you sitting, him leaning against it beside you. Still not fully dressed. The playlist had long since ended and the shop was quiet except for both of you getting your breathing back. You looked at the flash art on the walls. “We just did that on the front counter,” you said.
“We did.”
“Where clients sit.”
“I’ll clean it.”
You looked at him. He looked back with the wrecked-and-unbothered expression, his hair completely destroyed, his rings catching the low light. “You’re not even slightly embarrassed,” you said.
“No.” Simple. His hand found your knee. “Are you?”
You thought about it. “No.” He smiled. The real one.
You leaned your head on his shoulder and he turned his face into your hair and you sat on the front counter of Studio 13 at midnight and the warmth of it — the us of it — felt like something you could live inside. “Stay,” he said. Into your hair.
“At yours?”
“Here. Couch in the back.” His hand moved at your knee. “Don’t want you to go yet.”
You lifted your head. Looked at his face. “Riki. I’m not going anywhere,” you said.
His eyes moved over yours. The thing behind them — the possessive, careful, quietly terrified thing that drove the jealousy and the silence and the hand always finding yours — settled. “I know,” he said. Like he was practicing believing it.
“I know you know.” You put your hand on his jaw. “I’m telling you anyway.” He turned his face into your palm. Brief. Eyes closing for just a second.
Then he stood up, pulled you off the counter, kept your hand in his. “Couch,” he said.
“Couch,” you agreed.
You were asleep within minutes with Riki’s jacket over you and his voice low in the background talking to someone on the phone — his brother, you thought, distantly, the conversation too quiet to hear properly — and the red light under the door and the smell of ink and his hoodie under your cheek.
You were asleep and warm and his and the storm was three weeks away. It felt like nothing could touch this.
Daniel texted your friend Soo on a Wednesday night. She didn’t tell you immediately. That was the first thing — she sat on it for four days, turning it over, looking at the record he’d sent her, reading it and rereading it. The charge. The conviction. The length of the sentence. Assault. Grievous bodily harm. Victim: female.
She read those words and thought about you and made a decision she believed was the right one. She texted you on a Sunday.
You were at Riki’s flat. Sunday morning, late, the good kind of late — his record player going, both of you in the kitchen, you on the counter watching him make coffee with the focused competence he brought to everything. His hair was wrecked. He had a bruise on his collarbone that was your fault and he’d looked at it in the mirror that morning with an expression of complete satisfaction that had made you throw a pillow at him. Your phone lit up on the counter beside you.
Soo: hey can we talk today. it’s important.
Soo: it’s about Riki.
You looked at the screen. “What,” Riki said. He’d clocked your face without turning around. He did that.
“Soo wants to talk.” You kept your voice neutral. “About you.”
He turned. Read your expression. His jaw did the thing — the subtle set — but his voice stayed even. “What about me?”
“She didn’t say.”
A pause. He looked at the coffee. Back at you. “When?”
“Today apparently.” He nodded. Said nothing. Turned back to the coffee and you watched his shoulders and thought about the tension in them and didn’t ask.
You met Soo at the coffee place near yours at two. She was already there when you arrived. She had her hands around her cup and her expression was the one she got when she was about to say something she’d rehearsed — careful, prepared, slightly guilty around the edges. You sat down. “Just tell me,” you said.
She put her phone on the table. Turned it to face you. A screenshot. A public record database. The name — Nishimura Riki — and below it the details, dry and legal and devastating in their simplicity. Charge: Assault occasioning grievous bodily harm. Victim: Female, 28. Sentence: 14 months. Probation: 12 months.
you and heeseung had been dating for just over four months and it was about time that you both had started to want to experience in bed with each other. wanting to see how well your bed life would go together, even though you already knew it would do wonders.
and you were right.
heeseung obeyed your wish to start slow, to not actually fuck you yet, but just getting off with one another’s bodies. but you didnt know how desperate just that would make you.
you were laid down on the bed, legs spread open while heeseung was between them, his hard and leaking cock just resting on your pussy. not pushing in, just resting on it. you whined and heeseung only smirked, his hips slowly rolling forward, making his cock rub against your clit, the folds of your cunt desperately trying to wrap around his length.
“fuck..” he groaned, his hands gently resting on your thighs as he continued to slowly roll his hips. not rushing, not overwhelmingly, but calmly. his dick though—was throbbing.
he needed to get inside you as soon as possible, but he knew you wanted to go slow. you havent had much sex experience before him and this being your first time with him, heeseung didnt want to scare you off.
but every fucking second was pushing his buttons, testing his will power. he desperately wanted to ruin you, make you scream his name, fill you up with his seed so much where you feel like you could explode. but he waited.
“mmh, oh god,” you breathed out softly, head fallen back onto the pillows. your lips slightly parted open and every so often ,, small whimpers would leave your mouth—only driving heeseung more insane.
“yeah? how’s it feeling, baby?” heeseung asked, his voice already breathless. his tone wasnt anything but genuine, wondering how good he’s making you feel from just this. begging for you to praise him, need him, crave him.
you blushed softly as heeseung’s right hand went to caress your stomach, watching it suck in from the warm touch before relaxing again. “it’s good, so good,” you moaned quietly, his eyes lighting up as if you just gave him his favorite candy.
“can i go faster?” he asked. the second you nodded your head, his pace quickened. not too fast to be overwhelming, no, he knew better. it picked up slowly but surely. the redden head of his cock brushing so gently over your clit, your legs twitching everytime.
“mm, hee..” you moaned. heeseungs hips jolted forward, earning a gasp from you and a groan from him. his mind was drowning in thoughts of just you and with the sound of you calling out his name in such a sinful manner, oh he was gone.
“yeah, princess?” he replied back, eyes watching your face make all sorts of expressions, showing him how good he is doing. you didnt even say a word when you moved your hand to grab his and brought it up to your chest, allowing his hand to grasp a hold of your breast.
heeseung cupped your tit and gave it a gentle squeeze, his heart pounding when you let out a needy whimper, hips jutting up into his own thrusts. he wasnt sure how much longer he could take in just this, with how good you sound, look, feel.
heeseung must of pulled back a bit too much to you because in just mere moments his tip would be pushing slightly through your entrance, his mouth open as he leaned forward to take your lips into a kiss, his hips fully pushing forward into yours to push his cock all the way inside your cunt. you moaned loud but muffledly against his lips, your back arching off the bed and chest pushing against his own.
you placed your hands onto his chest and pushed him back gently, not rough to make it seem as if you were uncomfortable, but back enough in pleasure and shock that you just had to see what he did. and when you gave it a look, you felt yourself start to leak more.
“fuck, fuck, heeseung—“ you whined, not used to the feeling of being filled up. especially not by someone as big as heeseung. he could only fake a gasp and mumble out apologies.
“fuck—baby—i’m sorry, it slipped in—“ he tried to say, but you saw right through him. though, you didnt even mind anymore, you weren’t angry because how could you be angry at him when he’s now fucking into your pussy softly? making it feel like he’s tearing you apart from doing nothing but soft thrusts.
“oh my god—just—just fuck me,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back against his own, trying to get more from him. and how could heeseung ever resist a request like that? he grabbed onto your hips from both sides and pulled almost all the way out before he pushed back in, doing that over and over again while he slowly picked up the speed with each thrust.
the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked in by his cock echoed through the room, followed by loud moans from him and yourself. heeseung was now pounding into you—fast and rough—you were on fire, your mind was blank and all you could feel was heeseung.
“shit, princess, taking me so well,” he praised. his cock twitching between your walls as he desperately fucked into your heat. your stomach started to twist, your breathing started to stager, chest heaving. you knew you were getting close.
“‘m gunna cum, hee—“ you cry out, thighs trembling from either side of his waist, he didnt slow down. he only went faster, his long thrusts making your body jolt forward with each fuck into you. he needed to see your face when you came, he needed to see how fucking gorgeous you looked.
“cum for me, cmon, make a mess on my cock.” he groaned, nails now starting to dig into your skin as he got rougher, pure desire to make you cum. your back arched off the bed again and your hands flew to his arms, desperately trying to hold onto something as you came onto him. “fuck! fuck! heeseung,,” you moan out.
he didnt stop like you thought he would, he only started to chase his own high, pushing your legs close to your chest so he could fall deeper into your heat, hitting all new places to you. your whines and moans never ending, which only made him harder.
“feels so good, baby, your pussy swallowing my cock up so well,” he moaned lowly. sweat slowly starting to form on his skin, his hair covering his eyes as he only focused on using your cunt. the overwhelming feeling of being used after you came was catching up to you. your body twitching and trying to pull away from his thrusts, but he only fucked into you harder.
“please, hee—can’t take anymore,” you cried, but he only shook his head. watching how your eyes started to form tears but your face didnt show any signs of discomfort, just overwhelming pleasure.
“you can take it, your pussy was made for me, baby.” he praised, his thrusts getting sloppier as he felt his high coming. he watched as you practically screamed out his name when you came for a second time, your body worn out but heeseung needed to fill you up. he needed to claim the insides of your cunt, mark them with his own seed.
“fuck, princess, im gonna cum. gonna fill you up,” he moaned. you nodded quickly, toes curling up as he fucked into you once, twice and three more times before he pushed his cock deep inside and stilled, hips slightly twitching as he released inside your walls.
heeseung let go of your legs and let them fall to the sides of him again as he leaned down to kiss your lips, chest up against your own. you moaned into the kiss and let him fuck out his high into you.
“guess that wasnt starting out so slow,” heeseung laughed, only making you roll your eyes at him lovingly. “says the one who tried to use ‘it slipped’, like really?” you fought back at him, watching his face turn red in blush.
he pulled out slowly and went to grab some clean up clothes, helping you to the bathroom so you both could shower. you got in and he got in after you, allowing the warm water to hit your bodies.
“okay, but it really did just slip in—“
“heeseung.”
“okay, my bad.”
💌 ( wish to be in the permanent taglist? apply here ! )
+“Who’s that guy you just said hi to?” R.Nishimura°
Summary: Don’t run, it’ll only make him chase you.
˗ˋˏ ♡Content warnings- : I’m spelling it out so you all know I mean business. Read carefully. Niki is batshit crazy in this, but I jumped through hoops to make everything as consensual as possible because I do not entertain sexual assault of any kind. strangers to obsessive lovers, mentions of alcohol and clubbing, drinking, unprotected s+x, praise, degradation, overstimulation, oral (f. rec), petnames, biting, rough s+x, gaslighting, descriptions of paranoia, fear, and anxiety, possible abduction?, lots of terrible choices, some comedy, threats, again— Niki is CRAZY, reader puts up a good fight tho, crying, dacryphilia, panty sniffing, squ+rting, possession k+nk, he needs to have you live in his lungs the jealousy is that bad folks, cursing, explicit language, don’t be deceived he’s hot but psycho, Jungwon cameo, surprise! he’s nuts too, your best friend is a real one in this and your relationship is up to interpretation, multiple s+x scenes, biting, kissing, detailed kissing, honestly gross kissing, marking k+nk, mouth spitting, hair pulling, n+pple play, dryh+mping, n+pple sucking, n+pple biting, more p+ssy sniffing, he’d snort you if he could, begging, confused feelings, IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG BUT STAY WITH ME😭💔, pain k+nk, he lovessss biting, dirty talk, my god, scent k+nk, more oral (f.rec), ummmm😭 cl;t biting, cl;t spanking, ch*king, look past the fact his cock is fat—he’s still a red flag and POSSESSIVENESS X 10000000000
‧₊˚ ̳͟͞͞♡—.+.—wc (12K-I’m so ashamed)
꒰ঌeveryone alr knows English is not my first language໒꒱
If you knew then what you know now, you’d have just admired the rare sighting of the attractive man from afar. Now you’re living with the lesson that “seeing is deceiving.”
Such a lesson goes by the name Riki and it started around 2 months ago…
X
O
You were having a night out with your friend, dressed up, feeling good and tipsy as loud music blared through the club. Amu had been trying to get you out for weeks but with your demanding new job and responsibilities, it just wasn’t possible but eventually she wore you down.
“Cmonnnn! Just for tonight—“, you scoffed.
“Yeah, until you wanna go out again.”
“That’s because you never come! Pleaaase??”
Her puppy eyes in full affect as she points to the dress of hers she bought for you to wear laid out on your bed. A deep sigh leaves your chest and that’s when she knows she won, clapping excitedly while you got ready. You couldn’t even be upset with her because you’re actually having fun, all dolled up and giggly as you dance together.
You feel so light— no assignments, tasks, or looming deadlines hanging over your conscious. It’s freeing. Maybe a night out was just what you needed.
Bending you over, Amu rolls her body into yours as you grind back on her when she suddenly gasps. You don’t get to ask her what when she’s snatching you up, spinning you to face her but keeping you pressed tight against her. Chin hooked over her shoulder, her hands drift down to your ass, rolling your body into hers when she whispers,
“There’s a stupidly hot guy watching us— or actually, he’s watching you.”
Your eyes widen, excitement and nerves swirl around in your stomach and you bite your lip.
That’s why she’s putting on a show? Curiosity makes you restless and you know why Amu has you facing the way she is because you’d have looked immediately even if she told you not to.
“How do you know he’s looking at me?”
She doesn’t answer with words, instead she lifts one of your legs around her waist before her hands grip your hips as she dips you. It happens fast, leaving you breathless at how you’re suddenly upside down and confused as to how this answers your question when your eyes trail up and you see him.
Stupidly hot was an understatement and true to Amu’s word, he was indeed looking at you.
His intense gaze burns into you as you watch him take you in. From your tiny dress that’s riding up thanks to how it’s hooked around Amu’s waist as she rolls her body into yours all the way to your tits that are fighting not to spill out the top of said dress.
His eyes lock with yours when he winks.
It takes you so off guard that when Amu slowly lifts you back up, smoothing her hands up your back as you loop your arms around her neck—you’re still breathless.
“Jesus fuck.”
She grins.
“Told you.”
When you turn again, this time she lets you and your eyes immediately find him.
He’s tall, you notice. Dark hair matching his dark eyes with a playful smirk on his plump lips. His jewelry glints in the dim light as he shifts, making your pounding heart drop as he leaves the bar, striding towards you.
“Oh my god!” You whisper shout, torn between making a run for it because attractive people make you nervous and it’s been a while or acting like the slut you want him to turn you into. Amu makes the decision for you, tightening her hands around your waist as he gets closer, whispering in your ear.
“Stop. Go for it— you look so hot I’d fuck you and you smell fantastic. Don’t overthink baby, you’ve got this.”
You listen, taking deep breaths as she adds,
“And fix your face, you look scared.”
Well damn. One deep inhale and light smile on your glossed lips as she reassures you and the next time you turn back around he’s there.
A giddy smile breaks across your face before you can stop it because he’s so much more gorgeous up close. High cheekbones compliment the strong lines of his jaw and long lashes. He smelled so good too— your thighs subconsciously clenching together.
Amu doesn’t leave immediately, staying for introductions at least, grinning with a cheeky wave.
“Hi.”
He smiles back, perfect teeth on display as he nods once at her.
“Hi yourself.”
Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline when you hear how deep his voice is. If you didn’t need that before you would die if you didn’t get it now. He extends a large hand out for you to take, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he raises it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.
“My name’s Riki. Or Ni-Ki works too.”
“Where does the ‘NI” come from?” You hear Amu ask.
“It’s the first two letters of my last name, Nishimura. So that with the two last letters of my first name…”. God, that’s hot.
When you don’t speak, just staring back dazed, that’s when Amu decides to take her leave. Kissing the side of your neck, she announces that she’s going to get you more drinks but you know she’s giving you space to hook you up.
Your eyes don’t catch the way his narrow when she kisses you.
You’re nervous, Riki’s attention is intense even when you know he’s interested. He hasn’t let go of your hand either, instead he holds his free hand out for your other one. When you take it, he smoothly pulls you in, wrapping your arms around his neck as you simultaneously move together.
He’s firm, like he works out and it has you groaning inwardly. Your pulse is thrumming— making you hyper aware of everything. At the same time, you feel good.
Shivers scatter down your spine when you feel his hands smooth slowly down your back, stopping at the top of your ass before gliding back up. You sigh breathily at the feeling as he holds you tighter to the hard planes of his body, murmuring lowly in your ear,
“Gonna tell me your name, pretty girl?”
A flash of arousal shoots through you at the petname and you breathlessly give him your name. He rests his forehead on yours, repeating it back to you while his hands run back down, saying your name when he asks,
“Is this okay?”
Biting your lip, you nod and immediately after he’s gripping your ass, pressing you flush against him as you grind together. You wouldn’t ordinarily be this bold but you’re buzzed and Riki was so attractive— it wouldn’t kill anyone if you were a little irresponsible.
His hard length grinds against you and you nearly choke when you feel how big it is. When he does it again, your head tips back as you moan and it’s like something snaps. Plump lips meet your neck with open mouthed kisses, groaning drunkenly as he inhales.
“Fuck…you’re so sexy, baby—“, he rasps.
“Had me hard the whole time watching you…”
Whining, you feel your wetness soak through your panties when he laps up the column of your throat to slot over your mouth in a dizzying kiss.
It’s consuming off the bat, Riki’s broad tongue greedy and wet as he fills your mouth with it until you’re holding onto the back of his neck for stability. The sound the kiss makes when your tongues meet has his blood running hot, smacking his lips harder against yours as he palms the fat of your ass.
You moan into his mouth and he forces himself off your lips before he makes a scene out of you in the middle of the club.
“Come home with me”, he asks through heavy breaths. “I want you so bad…”
He’s kissing every inch of skin he can reach as he waits for your answer. You want to go but you don’t just want to leave Amu and make her worry. Looking around the room for that familiar pink pixie cut, you spot her at the bar sitting on the lap of a cat eyed boy with dimples as he orders her another drink.
Waving your hand at her from behind Riki’s head, she looks over quickly when you point down at the man licking between your cleavage and the door. She understands immediately, nodding aggressively and shooing you so hard she almost creates a breeze before holding up her phone.
Call me if you need me.
You give a thumbs up when you feel Riki’s mouth close around the side of your throat, audibly wet kisses before lapping up to kiss the underside of your ear. Clit throbbing, you reach up to pull his hair, forcing him to let go when you finally give him permission.
“Take me home?”
X
O
X
If Riki had a nice place you wouldn’t know because as soon as he gets you through the door he’s on you.
Lips, hands, teeth, tongue— all over you. Your body feels like one big nerve as he takes his time licking into your mouth, kissing you sloppy and drenched before marking you up. Sharp teeth border on painful when he buries his face in your neck to bite, soothing the burn with a hot lap over the indent.
“Mmm, I’m gonna fuck you so good…”,
A needy moan falls from your kiss swollen lips when he picks you up, carrying you to his room. You don’t know how it happens but by the time you hit the bed, you’re naked— left only in your drenched panties.
“Spread your legs f’me…”
Your body obeys as if on autopilot, letting Riki see the way the wet fabric hugs your pussylips.
“And so wet too… good girl.”
The praise lights you up, oozing pussy clenching around nothing while you watch him strip until he’s naked. Reaching towards him, he follows when you pull him into a slow, filthy kiss. Tilting your head to kiss him deeper as he slides his tongue in your mouth for you to suck, his hand coming up to curl around your throat when he pulls away with a wet slop.
“Open.” He purrs, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb.
You obey again, letting his thumb pet your tongue before he grips your cheeks, leaning down and spits.
A fresh coat of slick gushes out from your pussy. It should feel disgusting, you’re not usually like this…so why do you swallow it? Moaning for more as you look up into his dark eyes. His cock is dripping precum when he does it again, licking your mouth out only to spit back down your throat and kissing you as a reward when you swallow without him telling you to.
Eventually, your movements turn restless as your pussy throbs.
“Sorry…”, you apologize, like your jitters are an inconvenience and they’re anything but. On the contrary, Riki is loving how sensitive you are— soaking through your cute panties off a little bit of kissing.
“You’re okay, baby. I don’t mind.”
The low timbre of his voice is hypnotic as he suckles hungry kisses down your body, reveling the way your skin jumps beneath his lips when he gets to your cunt. Heat floods your face when you feel his warm breath cool against your skin from how wet you are, both embarrassed and aroused as he coos.
“Fuck, look at her…”, he leans closer, slipping them down off you so he can see her drip for him.
“Pretty, sloppy hole cryin’ for attention, hmm?”
Your mouth drops in a sharp gasp when Riki presses his nose to your cunt, inhaling deep until his eyes roll back, groaning deep in his chest.
“You smell delicious, pretty thing..”
Blood rushes through your ears as your heart pounds at the act. It’s almost too intimate for a one night stand but you like it too much to care. Arousal so thick it weighs you down like a blanket, pliant and warm when he spreads your pussylips to lick a hard stripe up your slit.
A broken moan shoots from your throat when he does it again— sloppily lapping from your hole to your clit, fluttering his tongue against the underside of the twitching nub before closing his mouth around it to suck. Your trembling hand flies to his hair as pleasure ricochets through your body.
Riki hums as your taste blossoms all over his tongue. He had a feeling before when he was watching you earlier with your friend but he’s positive now.
You’re perfect for him.
So sweet and good for him— he’s overwhelming you now but you’ll learn to crave it.
Another piercing cry bursts from you when he curls his tongue, grazing and flicking that hot pulsing spot nestled against your walls as you shake. Tears bud in your eyes from how good you feel, bliss shredding your nerves apart while he kisses your drooling hole— wearing your arousal like gloss before licking you off his lips.
Alternating between heavy laps and mean sucks, you feel your impending orgasm coming on so strongly it makes you sweat; crying out his name like it’s the only prayer you’ve ever bothered to learn. Popping off your swollen clit, Riki watches your face as he lets his tongue hang, teasing it up the length of your pussy when he asks,
“Cumming for me, gorgeous? Gonna make a mess?”
You are— it’s too good and you’re not strong enough to fight it. Even looking at his pretty face doing such an erotic thing brings you that much closer.
Tears fall freely now and in your haze, the hand not in his hair reaches for his hand and when he intertwines them with his, fucking your hole with his tongue as he swirls your clit in firm circles with his thumb, your chest burns as it caves from the force of your sobs— cumming so violently all your other senses check out and the only thing that reminds is Riki.
“Mmhmm”, he takes your cunt out of his mouth to praise you,
“Like that, baby”, another fat lick, “Want her to squirt in my mouth..” and he doesn’t let up until you do.
Treating your poor clit like a pacifier as you scream and cry until your makeup is ruined and your voice goes hoarse but he gets what he wants by your third orgasm. Closing his jaw with your clit between his teeth as he bites down, releasing to suck before the pain becomes too much and that’s what does it. Your entire body convulsing with incoherent warbled moans, pussy tightening like a vice as the building pressure pushes low in your abdomen and you gush— broken and delirious right into his greedy mouth.
The pleasure is brutal, leaving you raw and empty in its wake. You squeeze his hand as you try to brace through it but it’s no use, you’re falling apart too fast to catch even a piece of yourself.
Goosebumps break over Riki at how visceral you sound, completely gone as you go boneless, on the verge of passing out as he licks you clean, coming at the taste of you for the second time while he strokes his cock.
You don’t notice, but you didn’t notice he never let go of your hand either.
Poor thing, he thinks when he gets up to lean over top of you.
Your chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, hazy eyes stare unseeingly into his face as he grips your thighs, folding them to your chest. Riki taps your puffy clit with the fat head of his dick, watching your face as he switches; sliding it between your cum slick lips instead.
Reality returns to you in floaty lights above the head of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, exhausted as he peppers kisses all over your face, rolling his length between your lips, grazing your clit with every thrust. A shuddering moan has him biting his lip, leaning down to give you a kiss that’s less technique and more him licking your tongue.
Pulling away with a wet hiss, he opens his mouth and it’s your turn to spit and his cock jerks when it hits his pallet.He adjusts you one more time, knees almost to your ears when he brings his cock to your entrance and distantly you recall his size.
“You’re not gonna stretch me out first?”
Your voice is soft— slurred. Like your ears are still logged from the blood rushing through them when you came for him.
It’s cute.
Smiling adoringly down at you, Riki brushes your cheek with the back of his knuckles.
“No, baby.”
“But won’t it hurt? You’re big, Ki…”
Closing his eyes, Riki has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check before opening them again.
“Mhmm…but you’ll like it.”
He remembers how you reacted to him biting your clit and knows you can take it. Pushing against your hole, you whine, nodding along with him.
“O-okay”, and he’s about to push in when you remember—
“Condom?”
Riki sighs, nuzzling into you neck as he kisses up to your ear.
“Don’t need it, I’m clean.” That’s not the entire point and he knows it, licking hotly into your ear like he already has what he wants.
“Me too but—“,
Riki pulls away to kiss you deeply, cutting you off as he rocks forward, sliding into your pussy while swallowing your moans from the stretch. He pulls away to watch your face melt in agonized bliss as he pushes in, inch by inch. The thoughts visibly leave you. He’s so big you struggle to accommodate him but you love it, already shaking when he grinds his pelvis against your clit, humming.
“What? Worried I’ll get you pregnant, baby?”
His taunt doesn’t even register, much less the words.
“O-ooh—“, you’re too busy going crazy.
The weight of him has your mouth watering, glossy eyes rolling back when he pulls out to slam back in, moaning with you.
“Fuck, she’s tight—!”
Folding you as deep as he can, Riki slams into you harder, fucking you into the mattress right off the bat. You take it but barely, crying again when he shifts, bullying your sweet spot until your brain drips out your ears. It’s one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen— your beautiful face drunk on his cock while he fucks you dumb.
“So hot, dripping around me…”
Wet to the point where it’s audible, debauched squelches ring in harmony with your moans every time he sinks in. You pray he doesn’t have neighbors because you’re loud— practically shrieking when he reaches down to spank your clit. Your body jolts and Riki watches more of your slick bubble around his cock— oh you liked that. A sick satisfaction washes over him.
“Little pain slut, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer when he strikes the pulsating nub again, harder. White-hot pleasure blinds you, turns you inside out when you sob, wailing his name. There’s no denying it, not when you’re cumming so hard you’re shaking. Eyes rolling back, Riki stuffs himself inside you to the hilt, letting your pretty pussy milk him.
“Fuck, yesss—“, he hisses through gritted teeth. Dropping his weight on you, he rides out your orgasms with another deep kiss, tongue practically down your throat as you gush brainlessly on him.
It’s heaven, you make him feel things he hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s dangerous but you don’t have a clue, letting him flip you on your tummy and raise your hips as he starts again.
You’re so helpless like this— fucked out of your mind, no choice but to let him take you. It makes his teeth ache and he gives into the urge, burying his face in your throat to bite. Riki bites until you’re writhing, begging so sweetly that it hurts even as your creamy pussy drips down his balls anyway.
Almost in a trance, he bites you everywhere. Neck, shoulders, jaw, even your cheek. The pain paired with how overstimulated you were, you felt like you couldn’t so much as breathe without him as he marks you up.
It’s not long before you’re screaming that you can’t take it. It’s a lie; Riki knows you can because—
“You’re mine, baby. Your pussy was made for me.”
Red lights with the letters S T O P should’ve been flashing but when long fingers wind in your hair, pulling your head back enough so he can fit his arm around your throat, you crumble apart. The lack of oxygen and delicious thrusts have hearts swirling in your eyes, nothing but Riki on the brain and it’s perfect— you’re perfect. He doesn’t need you to think, just needs you.
“Tell me you’re mine, sweetheart. C’mon”, your walls spasm as he goes even harder on you, cologne mixing with the scent of sex.
“Tell me who you belong to— be my good girl, baby.”
He bites you again to hasten your answer, forcing his fat cock in you with devastating accuracy to your g spot. It hurts; aches in a way that makes your voice crack through your sobs when you moan out his name.
“Y- you”, Riki’s broad tongue laps behind your ear, a satisfied purr shakes his chest at your submission.
“M’ yours…Niki—“, he groans, releasing you in favor of shoving your face into the pillows, railing you now. You’re his, only for him, you said it.
His strokes are painfully good, rocking your body with the force, moaning deep when you start to squirt around him. Liquid pushes out of you with startling force, walls twitching and throbbing around him as his pace grows erratic.
“Yeah pretty, you’re mine— no one else is can have you”, Red flags don’t matter if you’re colorblind when tipsy.
You’re shaking but he doesn’t stop, using you like a ragdoll, even as the prolonged stimulation has you climaxing again, gripping the sheets as you’re tortured with orgasm after orgasm. Everything’s buzzing, it’s hot, you’re gonna pass out but he doesn’t mind so long as he’s the first thing you see when you wake up.
“Ah! Fuck—“, his hips slap flush to your ass one more time, seating his cock in your guts when he cums, warming you from the inside out from how much he shoots and you reach your limit, falling into unconsciousness as exhaustion claims you.
Nuzzling against your hot cheek, Riki notices the uneven flow of your breathing, pretty eyes that stay closed even when he calls your name.
He doesn’t panic, he knows he was hard on you for your first time together. Post orgasm bliss and affection swell in his chest as he carefully slides out of you. His cum immediately seeps out of your gaping hole and he holds back on licking you clean.
“Later…”
Riki is soft as he gets a warm, wet cloth to clean you with, carefully not to press too hard on sensitive areas before cleaning himself off too. Scooping you up again, your sleepy whine has him pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he grabs your dress off the floor, carrying you to sleep with him in the guest room.
Lying you down, he pulls the comforter down so he can tuck you underneath it, sliding in after you. His lips are gentle on your forehead as he kisses it, eyelids heavy.
“Mine— just for me. I’ll kill whoever before I let them have you.”
O
O
—
You wake up on top of a warm surface.
Blinking in confusion, you groan softly when you shift just the slightest, body sore.
Looking down, you notice you’re completely naked and so is Riki. Your eyes flit up to his face to find him sleeping peacefully. Heat pools up your chest when the events of last night flash through your mind. The biting, the stretch, the way he spoke to you— handled you.
A flustered smile appears on your lips as you silently lean up, brushing his hair off his forehead as you kiss it. Slowly, you stand on shaky legs, looking around the room for your things. You’re careful not to wake him as you slide your dress on, grabbing your phone next to his.
You’d stay but the one time you did only for the guy to less than subtly hint that you’d overstayed your welcome.
“So, you need an Uber or…?”
It was so embarrassing, the cold humiliation like he hadn’t seen you naked merely hours before and you saw him the same. Riki was sweet but you couldn’t say you necessarily trusted him— you only met last night. So, looking back at his handsome sleeping one last time, you go press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering.
“Goodbye, Riki”.
Then you slip on your heels and slip out the door.
X
O
When you got home, Amu couldn’t believe her eyes. Gasping as she took in your wrecked appearance with a delighted squeal.
“Ooh— I knew he fucked!”
You roll your eyes, trying and failing to hide the beaming smile as you headed towards the bathroom, the pink haired girl hot on your heels. In the bathroom, you try to close the door on her but she pushes her way inside, watching with shining eyes as you pee.
“What? I’ve seen it all already”, she sighs dreamily. “I remember your last birthday gift to me oh so fondly…”
Heat blooms in your chest, shooting her a weak glare through wide eyes as you hiss her name. She ignores the warning, smiling prettily as you wipe and close the lid before you flush.
“Damn, is he a vampire?” She pokes your neck until you flinch away. “Look at all those bites—“
You can’t avoid her forever though because she doesn’t move off the sink when you go to wash your hands, forcing your arms around her to operate the sink.
“Come on… tell me yours and I’ll tell you mines”.
Oh yeah— you briefly remember she was with a hot guy herself before you left. You caught a glimpse of dimples and cat like eyes before Riki was ushering you out the door.
“His name is Jungwon, a friend of your guy, he told me….” That makes you look at her.
Drying your hands for you and following you to your room, Amu gets comfortable on your bed as she pats the empty space next to her, smiling at you when you go with a heavy sigh.
It’s silent for a beat.
Then it’s not.
“…my clit is still sore—“,
Amu screams, hands flying to her mouth as you begin tell her about your night.
“Oh! Insane way to start this off!” Fanning herself, she snaps her fingers at you, yelling excitedly. “Let’s get itttt!”
Sitting criscross, her energy is infectious as you smile back. Taking a deep breath before you continue. Keeping in mind you don’t remember everything he said during since you had been drinking prior but what you do remember has her getting louder after every detail and when you get to his…
She nearly faints.
X
O
X
A little over a week goes by and your life goes on.
Work is still annoying but unfortunately too well paying for you to quit. You haven’t been out for another girls night either, simply too busy and Amu whines wit the same as always.
Once she learned that you snuck out after your fling with Riki, she stopped talking to Jungwon too even after you told her she didn’t have to.
“Nonsense— it’s called solidarity.” She said and that was the end of it.
Things don’t get weird until the start of the third week.
First, it’s in passing; when you next see him. You’re at a popular shopping center, looking for something cute to wear for your office’s upcoming meeting. Usually, you wouldn’t care to put in the effort but the new hire had you singing a different tune.
He was good looking, funny, always brought you different coffees and held doors for you— in short, he was sweet. Not at all shy about his attraction to you.
There’s nothing on the current floor that caught your eye, so letting out a huff, you look up the escalator to the second floor when your eyes pass the people on it when they find a familiar face. But it seems that by the time you see him, he’s already looking at you. Dark eyes and plump grinning lips, lifting his hands to wave as if he hadn’t taken you apart and since left you wet every time you woke up.
Dumbstruck, you freeze. Awkwardly waving back as he makes his way over to you. He’s a natural attention grabber, various eyes track his smooth movements. Your nerves are tangible, being put on the spot but he revels in it, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Low voice mumbling,
“I missed you, baby.”
Oh god.
Heat flares through your body, leaving you warm all the way to your toes. You clear your throat, heart pounding in your chest at how familiarly he addresses you. A confused giggle slips from your lips, as you furrow your brows.
“What’s to miss? I was a one night stand.”
Keeping your tone light, you don’t want to hurt his feelings but the truth was that all good things must come to an end. Riki tilts his head, confused while a frown appears on his lips.
“You’re not just some one night stand”,
He sneers the term out like it insults him. It takes you off guard, looking around to make sure you two aren’t making a scene before grabbing his arm to pull him with you. Almost too eagerly, he lets you.
“Riki…”, you trail off, unsure of where to start. The tall man follows you off the escalator onto the second floor, next to you like distance is a cursed notion as you walk into another women’s clothing store—straight to the back to reason with him in privacy.
“You don’t like me—“,
“Yes I do.” He cuts you off, grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it just like he did weeks ago. It has the same effect and you’re not strong enough to pull away because part of you really is attracted to him.
“You don’t know anything about me— you like what we did together, not me as a person.”
Forcing yourself not to flinch away from the hurt look on his face, you stand your ground, reminding yourself that this is necessary. Emotions swirl through you. Guilt, attraction, arousal, need— it’s confusing.
Riki’s silence only puts you further on edge.
Why was he taking this so hard? You two are strangers. And besides, wouldn’t it be hard to have a serious relationship with someone you had sex with within the first hour of meeting them?
“I know I like you.” You groan but he ignores it.
“You think I don’t know anything about you? Try me.”
A huff of disbelief escapes you, thinking he’s bluffing but he remains firm until you ask him something.
“Where do I work?”
Riki doesn’t miss a beat.
“A marketing firm.”
Your eyes widen. There’s no way—
He’s exactly right.
Your world skids to a stop, hearing blood in your ears as your heart plummets cold in your stomach while he grins at you. A lucky guess? No, it’s more than that as he goes on to tell you your favorite food, favorite weather— that you’re not a morning person because you’re more productive at night and even the color your toes are painted right now. But how? You haven’t seen him in weeks. Blinking in confusion as you look at him.
“H-how—?”
“Because I’m exactly right for you.”
His gaze is unwavering, a long finger hooks under your chin so he can look at the face he’s been watching from afar.
“It’s fine if you don’t see it now but soon you will.”
An unsettling shiver runs down your spine. Wide eyes lock on him, fear and something hotter make your stomach turn. You’re both terrified and wanting, scared and intrigued. The pull makes you hesitant, unable to decide on whether he’s a threat or not. Even on the slim chance he isn’t, Riki is still dangerous— you just don’t know how.
Do you want to find out?
Cooing softly, Riki cups your cheek. It’s just as soft as he remembers and you smell just as sweet too. Your heart is in your throat when he leans down, plush lips brushing yours once, twice before pressing them to yours fully. You barely get the chance to kiss him back when he pulls away to whisper against your panting mouth.
“You kissed my forehead and didn’t even stay..”
His words pull a shocked gasp from your lips.
“Y-you were awake?” He shakes him head no, dipping his head to ghost his lips across your mouth.
“But I felt you.”
Then he’s kissing you again— this time like he means it.
You should push him away. There’s too many questions, you two are in public…
Plump lips suck your bottom lip, then your top, warmth flooding your spinning head as you melt, clumsily copying his movements.
Large hands grip your waist, holding you close as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth, a shiver wracking your nerves. Your fingers grip his shirt as he kisses you slow and deep, tongue coaxing against yours before pulling away with a hungry suck. You have to swallow the moan that almost falls out while he buries his face in your neck— gently nipping at your collarbone.
“You’re confused now but you’ll see.” He pulls back to look at you one more time, kissing you softly again.
“Be good for me until then, okay sweets?”
You’re paranoid and aroused watching him go, back down the escalator until he’s out of sight. Letting out a heavy sigh as you remember where you are, you peek out from where you are. Two women with red faces cough in their fists awkwardly before rushing in opposite directions. The third heads to the register, looking awfully busy all of the sudden and you sigh, embarrassment making you bold as you yell out,
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
The girl at the register shares a look with the others.
“Looked the opposite to me…”
“As hot as he is?”
“If I didn’t have a husband, he could be my boyfriend.”
You all look at the older woman who suddenly spoke, 70s with grey hairs and a walker as she laughs jovially.
“What? Tall, good looking men who know what they want are hard to find.”
A startled laugh bubbles from you as you shake your head. The problem wasn’t that Riki knew what he wanted but what he’d be like in order to get it.
In the end, you leave the center with a headache and no dress— unable to shake them image of striking dark eyes following your every move.
X
O
When you tell Amu, she’s uncharacteristically quiet. Listening carefully as you tell her what happened. There’s no jokes, just her watching you pace nervously. Your hands gesturing wildly until she gets up to hold you still. anchoring you before you spiral too bad.
“Hey—breathe, honey.” She guides you closer to her chest so you can copy her steady breathing.
“There we go. Slowly. Need you to calm down for me. I’ve got you.”
Keeping her voice low and soft, Amu talks to you like she would a spooked animal. She reassures you that she didn’t tell Jungwon anything personal about you for him to tell Riki, so there’s no way he’d know all that stuff from earlier off him. That doesn’t help, instead it leaves even more blanks. She doesn’t want to make your anxiety worse so she ends it with a gentle warning.
“Hopefully today was just a coincidence but be careful. I don’t like how he’s so….”,
Clingy? Knowing? Intense? Possessive? Scary?
The silence says all that and more when she pinches her lips in at the tired look you give her.
“Yeah…”
You hope it’s all some really weird fluked coincidence but a nagging feeling creeps in that it’s only the beginning.
Amu takes another deep breath as she holds you, chin resting on the top of your head when she mumbles, “I guess now would be a bad time to tell you Jungwon sent me money and well shot pictures of his dick and new haircut?”
You go silent.
Amu stiffens.
“I’m scared for my life while my best friend—“, she calls your name, letting go so she can back up before you blow as you continue.
“—is being lured over to the dark side by dick and dimples?!”
You’re tired but not enough to keep you from yelling before you chase her, enjoying the normalcy while you can.
X
O
X
It wasn’t the cold terror that got you, it was the paranoia.
You were naturally an overthinker at heart. Running scenarios and possible reactions through your head multiple times was beneficial in that it helped you prepare for the worst. At the same time, it could also be a cage and the stick that slid through the bars to poke you, making sure you stayed on edge.
Which you seemed to be a lot these days.
Jumpy.
Cautious.
Paranoid.
No matter what you did or how you’d try to calm down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. And just when that feeling would built, making you frantically search your surroundings, you’d see him.
Riki.
always staring back at you.
Sometimes he’d come up to you, pet your cheek and tell you he missed you. Like he was more than what he’d been or was supposed to be—a one night stand. Each time, your traitorous heart would flutter looking into his mesmerizing face.
One time, when he approached, you stepped back before he could make any physical contact with you to which he only followed. Standing in between your feet as he stood so close he could feel you breathe, then he held your face, softly asking what was wrong. To outsiders, he looked like a loving boyfriend concerned for his girlfriend but the reality was something much darker.
He was always there. Whether you wanted him or not.
Walking home from work, at the convenience stores, the park, library, on the bus in passing—you saw Riki everywhere. It was driving you crazy. Amu was going through it too, having to change phone numbers because Jungwon wouldn’t stop blowing it up and when she blocked him, he’d just do the same thing from a burner but at least he wasn’t practically living in her shadow.
“Hey”, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder.
Blinking, you look up to see the new hire. Kihyun. Relief washes over you as you smile back at him. His hand is warm and grounding, drifting across your back in soothing motions.
“I’ve been calling you but you were zoned out.” You pause, stiffening before letting out a tired sigh.
“Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping too well…”, and how could you? As soon as you lay down you feel Riki’s hands; hear his voice rasping filthy praise hotly in your ear, see him bite his lip as he tips his head back— sweat beading down the column of his throat before he cums. Even when he’s not there, he haunts you.
Kihyun frowns, looking at you in concern before dropping down next to your desk to offer,
“Wanna talk about it?” You wince.
“Not really.” And Kihyun— sweet, angelic, non-obsessive Kihyun simply nods in understanding. He doesn’t push you, doesn’t ask more questions about it or look at you differently and you’re grateful. His voice is nice as he changes the topic altogether, filling you in on the last office drama and for a second everything is okay.
You sit and gossip, work a little then gossip some more. He touches you sometimes and they linger, as if testing the soft tension between you. Just his presence soothes you so you’re sad when he invites you to drinks afterwards with him and the other office members and you decline.
“I just don’t think I’m in the right headspace right now, maybe later?” He looks a bit dejected and it makes your chest hurt—rushing to add,
“Just the two of us?”
His head snaps up, smiling almost blindingly as he nods. It’s cute.
After a while, you decide you’re done for the day. Shutting down your computer while Kihyun tidies the area and helps you get your things. Walking out the building together, he’s so close your shoulders touch, rambling about places you two should go to. Your heart flutters but it doesn’t pound and maybe that’s for the best.
The others come out a few minutes later but going the opposite direction and you two share a look.
“Looks like that’s your cue. You wouldn’t hold your liver back on my account, right?” His smile is heart stopping as he looks at you, shaking his head.
“Never.”
Then he does the pleasantly unsuspected. Leaning towards you, you get a whiff of his cologne when he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. Warmth blooms from your chest up to your cheeks, ears burning while your heartbeat quickens. A soft gasp spills from your lips and his breath tickles your ear when he huffs a gentle laugh.
“I hope we’ll go out soon.”
Pulling away, he watches you nod, pleased at how he’s visibly flustered you before heading off with the others as the sun begins to set. You have no idea how long you stand there. Jittery nerves, racing heart, and the crushing realization that you don’t know what to do.
So, you do the only thing you can do for now.
Go home.
The air is warm and it’s peacefully quiet, none of the cold terror that’s been following you day and night. Your thoughts drift as you walk, humming softly when your cheek still tingles. It’s so ridiculous, being this brightened by a kiss on the cheek from a guy you’re fond of but it feels so nice you can’t bring yourself to care, giggling quietly to yourself.
“Is he funnier than me?”
Before you can turn, a hand claps over your mouth, dragging you into the narrow alleyway, off the street. Your heart falls to your ass as you struggle, feeling a hard body press tight to yours, keeping you against the wall. Blood pounds in your ear drums while the worse scenarios run through your mind.
Each more terrifying than the last— you slam your eyes closed to block out the images, tears starting to flow. That’s then the hand leaves your mouth to cup your cheek, the one Kihyun kissed, softly shushing you until you force yourself to quiet.
“Shhh, you’re okay baby…”, your eyes snap open at the sound of his voice.”
“It’s just me.” If anything, the panic comes back with a vengeance, making your voice shake when you say his name.
“Niki?”
He hums, looking at your tear streaked face with an expression you can’t name. It terrifies you all the same. He looks good because of course he does and for a second you wished he was normal because you’d like him then. If he wasn’t fucking crazy he’d have a guarantee of being your boyfriend instead of the one night stand from hell.
When Riki finally speaks, his voice is deceptively soft.
“Who was that?”
The blood drains from your body so fast it leaves you weak as you start to tremble. He means Kihyun. For some reason, you don’t want to tell him his name. It could be you being paranoid but you know if you do, you’d be putting him in danger. Taking a deep breath, you ask who.
“That guy. He was all over you— like you belonged to him and not me.”
He sneers before leaning in to trace your jaw with his lips, tongue falling out to lap at your racing pulse. Your heart skips a beat and against every instinct you know, your cunt throbs. It’s humiliating and more frightening than you can stand but you stay quiet and that just won’t do.
Letting go of your face, his hand lowers to wrap around your throat. Fear seizes you as you go completely still. His hand is so big it spans your neck completely, fingers tightening slightly.
“Say it.”
You hesitate.
“I-I—“, Riki’s expression hardens, pushing you more against the wall.
“You said it then—screamed it too. I want you to say it again now”, his tone leaves no room for argument, discussion or sane thinking, overwhelming you.
“Tell me you’re mine, baby.”
What if you say it just to get him off your case? You stop yourself because he’s the type to take an inch out of a mile and he’ll follow you till the ends of the earth to do it. Riki’s chest is firm under your trembling hands and before you can even think of pushing him away—
“Don’t run, you’ll only make me chase you.”
It’s both a threat and a promise, one you can’t break ever. A sob breaks from your chest, devastated and hopeless. Riki comforts you, kissing your face and whispering gently like he’s not the cause of your misery but at the same time your heart swells at how sweetly he consoles you.
“Just need to hear it, sweets, then I’ll make it better.”
He lets you cry it out, patiently and soothingly. Truth be told, he’s hard right now because the only other time he remembers you crying was in his bed, covered in his marks. You were so lovely but especially when you cried.
The hug tightens, comforting and suffocating.
“W-what”, you want to ask what he wants from you but you already know. Asking would only make him think you’re giving it to him. But how long could you realistically hold out? You can’t avoid him forever— can’t avoid the things you push out when you see him forever either. It’s late, you’re tired.
This round will just have to go to him.
“I-“, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I want you to stop following me everywhere.”
It goes silent before he pulls back to look at you. A dark smile creeps across his face.
“No. I want to be wherever you are.” Frustration bubbles up inside you and you snap, all your emotions explode at their breaking point.
“Why?! It was one night— what don’t you get!”
He doesn’t yell back, simply shakes his head like you’re the one who doesn’t get it, before murmuring.
“It’s not my fault”,
“You are mine. You’re the reason I’m like this—the way you make me feel I don’t want any guy feeling like that about you and you aren’t allowed to feel that way about them either.”
You scoff in disbelief. Not allowed? He really is nuts.
“Today is proof. I leave you alone for a second —“, bullshit because you know he never left. “And they all come running to try and take you away from me, like that guy.”
Kihyun— but you won’t dare say another man’s name now.
Riki huffs, dropping his head to where your neck meets your shoulder, inhaling deeply as he calms down. It’s like your scent soothes him, grip loosening as he messily starts to suckle the skin there and a switch flips.
“I missed you.”
His kisses move across your neck after fingers wind in to pull your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth, tongue licking up the expanse until he reaches your lips. Your head spins, confused, scared, guilty too because underneath the fact that you know you need to be as far away from Riki as possible— you want him.
A shiver licks up your spine at his tongue in your mouth, wet lips sliding together, cunt giving a painful throb when he groans in your throat. You tried so hard not to think about that night but she remembered, craving him ever since. So maybe that’s why when he pulls away, licking the string of spit away, your mouth moves before you can stop it.
“I missed you too…”
Riki’s eyes light up, this is the first time you said it back.
Your eyes are red and glossy, pretty face tired and miserable but you mean it. He’s always around but it paled to the attention he gave you when he was close. It’s dangerous this way, letting him pull you in just so you push deep and fall back into him anyways.
What’s worse is that you can’t even explain it. The pull. Yes, he’s attractive and you like his voice and the way he laughs and his single minded affection for you but what else. Why is it so hard for you not to give in?
Your head already hurts, just think about it later.
Hands find your waist as lifts you against the wall, your fingers running through his hair as he kisses you until his air becomes yours. Body temperatures rising, Riki moves his lips harder against yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, growling when he feels your tongue swipe across his teeth.
He pulls away panting, forehead to yours when he pleads,
“Please, baby…”, your resolve shatters at the soft kiss to the swell of your cheek.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
And you do.
Riki swarms you seconds after, high off of how you give in.
His hands and lips are everywhere, kissing your face and hands, neck all the way down your stomach as he drops to his knees. Heat plummets to your core when he pushes your skirt up to bury his face in your pussy, huffing your scent like an addict, a heady moan spills through his lips.
“Fuck, you smell so good...”
Biting your lip to hold back your noises, acutely aware that even though it’s dark out now, you’re still in public.
“Niki—what if s-someone sees?”
He shakes his head, ripping your pantyhose right at the middle so he can do the same to your underwear. Mouth watering when he sees your pussy again, wasting no time as he drags the flat of his tongue through your wet folds. Oh, how he missed your taste.
“If anyone sees, I’ll kill them.”
You freeze but he keeps going, sucking and biting, he whines when you try to push him back, nipping your clit in retaliation.
The pleasure is debilitating as he laps into you again, his tongue dipping shallowly into your soaked hole before flicking the underside of your clit. You gasp, chest tipping forward at his mouth suctioning over the nub, grinding his tongue against it as he sucks hard making you scream, high and desperate.
Wet smacks and slurps with pussydrunk groans from Riki vibrate your cunt—bringing you even closer as you shake, pulling his hair while he palms his dick through his pants before pulling it out altogether.
It’s debased— the way he goes at it. Sucking you off on his knees while messily stroking his fat cock all because you told him you’re his and that you missed him. At the same time, it’s also kinda poetic; how only you can make him this pathetic.
Broken moans burst from your chest when you’re cumming, grinding your pussy back and forth on his tongue. It’s bright and consuming, washing away everything but bliss and the man who dies to have you.
Riki’s mouth down to his neck are soaked in your cum as he sloppily licks you clean, jaw working hypnotically as he cums seconds later off your taste and you’re just as bad because you watch. Even after he’s done, resting his head on your leg, you don’t leave him— no you let him stay on his knees at your feet like you’re the only thing worth breathing for.
You’re scared but for a different reason entirely this time when you ask so softly the wind almost catches it,
“Would you seriously kill over me?”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
The monster before is nothing compared the monster you’ve created now.
X
O
X
O
From then on, things began to spiral.
You only leave the house when you absolutely have to and you keep your relationships close as possible starting with Amu. After what happened between you and Riki the last time you ran into him, you can’t put it past him to not harm people he felt would take you away.
When you got home that night, she practically flew into your arms, worried out of her mind as she cried. The sound of her sobs broke your heart as you held her.
“And it just got later and later and you weren’t picking up the phone and your office hadn’t seen you either and I thought—“,
You know. She knows.
All the times you called her losing your mind when you’d see him and she’d come speeding to get you, witnessing firsthand the unnerving compulsion Riki had towards you. It’s also when you make the decision to not tell her everything that happened or your conversation, telling her some but not all since you were still coming to grips with it yourself.
That as much as you want Riki gone, you need him close which is dangerous; even more than him.
In short, you become a ghost. Work, home and that’s it. You leave before anyone else at work especially before Kihyun.
You don’t hit the club or go shopping, if you need something, you have it delivered and frequent check ins with Amu when she’s not home. For the sake of both your sanities, the humongous bouquets of flowers Jungwon regularly sends stay outside until someone takes them and absolutely no picking up calls from anyone not in the contacts.
Anytime you even think of the name starting with R or a face with too full lips, you run to the shower. Standing under an ice cold spray and physically washing him off you. You don’t care if it’s crazy, it’ll never be as insane as him so it’ll have to do.
Today you’re at work but half the usual office is gone since today marks the first day of the internship program they do.
Only a handful of workers who have been longer than a year are allowed to stay and work with them which you qualify for. They’re nice, shaking hands and speaking carefully, overly polite in the way you are when you’re new somewhere.
It’s a nice change of pace, calm even.
They have lunch together, nerves and smiles as you decide to pull in for the day, knowing your other senior peers can handle it. You’re walking out the building when another intern is just now walking back in.
He’s unfortunately, ridiculously cute. Your mouth drops for a second before you remember to be professional. His hair is the kind of blond that’s almost white, ta pretty nose, not just tall but broad too and when he smiles you could swoon. The tag on his shirt that’s given to interns reads, ‘H. Kai’. He smiles and you’re smiling too as you pass, greeting him sweetly.
“Hi.”
A soft pink blushes his cheeks when he nods at you, saying it back softly as you go.
When you turn the corner, you freeze. It’s Riki and he doesn’t look happy.
A cold, still rage darkens his face and you have to tackle the urge to run.
“Ni—“,
“Who’s that guy you just said hi to?”
Your mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out, heart beginning to race as he stares you down.
“Why were you smiling at him like that?”
Backing up, you try to create at least a little distance but he’s right there, gaze endless and seething. Of all the times he’s accosted you, you’ve only seen him angry when it comes to other men. You don’t know why it took you so long to connect the dots.
“You’re jealous.”
The look he gives you could chill hell into an ice age, grabbing you by your wrist as he pulls you with him. Panic burns through your chest as he stays silent and no matter how hard you pull or claw at his fingers, you can’t break free. Riki doesn’t stop until you’re somewhere he deems secluded enough, grabbing your face to pull you into a rough kiss.
When you try to move your head away, he just follows you, moving to hold the back of your head so you have no other choice but to accept his kiss. Between the initial burst of fear and anxiety paired with your thrumming heart, you run out of air fast. Lungs burning while Riki kisses you even deeper.
Opening your mouth to try and breathe, Riki covers it with his before sliding his tongue in, petting the roof of your mouth as your ears begin to ring— heart hammering. You can’t breathe. Not when he’s blocking it like this. Dizziness starts to overtake you as a minute goes by then another and another.
You’re limp against him, black spots dancing in your darkening vision. He supports you, holds your body up while you start to lose consciousness, licking into your open mouth like he’s trying to get the last bits of honey out of a jar.
Only after does he pull away, licking his lips contently.
Now, you come with him.
X
O
X
O
The first thing that comes to you is that you have terrible taste in men.
If you picked the safer choice instead of the hotter one, you wouldn’t be waking up in the bed of your one night stand who turned out to be a complete psychopath but here you are. Riki watches you come to consciousness laying next to you, eyes soft as you blink drowsily. Has he been watching you sleep this whole time?
“W-what—“ your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton when you talk. “What’s going on? We’re…?”
He gets up to pass you a drink off the bedside table, holding the straw between your lips as you start to drink a bit but stop as you look at him.
“It’s okay, I didnt do anything weird to it.” To prove it, he takes a few sips before bringing it back to your lips. It’s unsettling, the way he watches you drink the chilled liquid with utter adoration in his eyes. When you’ve had enough, you pull away and he puts it back on the nightstand as you slowly sit up as you remember.
“You made me pass out.”
Sensing the distance you’re trying to put between you, Riki gently guides you back down on the bed, staying on top of you to keep you where he wants you. He doesn’t deny it, merely nodding as if it’s something that’s okay to do.
“I did”, nosing along your jaw, you shiver when you feel his breath.
“But it’s not my fault”, you have to close your eyes as his tongue curl around your pulse, smacking a wet kiss to it.
“It’s because of you.”
Heat begins to lap at your skin and you try to push him away. It doesn’t do anything but make him grab your hands, moving them to the nape of his neck when he brings his head under your shirt.
This was the worst possible day to go without a bra because the first lick has you saying fuck it as you throw caution to the wind. Riki can feel the pounding of your heart as he kisses over your breasts, first your left then your right. Your body begins to tingle as his kisses grow wetter around your nipples, moaning breathily. You watch his head move beneath your shirt, grinding down against your pussy whenever you jolt at a particularly hard bite.
Licking the flat of his tongue against the swollen buds, Riki goes nice and slow so you can really feel it before his teeth close over it, sending electricity up your spine as you cry out—fingers digging into his neck. The leftover ache stings, blooming pain that makes you so wet when he slides your nipples from between his teeth to soothe them with generous wet laps of tongue.
Your eyes glaze over as he repeats the ministrations, moaning his name and it’s euphoric to him. Capturing a nipple between his teeth, he tugs, making you scream before releasing it, watching it jiggle back into place as he laps at it in apology. Large hands under your lower back push your body up flush to his so when he rolls his hips into you, you feel everything.
It’s impossible to get over how big he is, you think. Your head is all floaty, high off the intoxicating mix of pain with pleasure. Starry eyes flutter back because it feels like you’re being eaten alive in the best ways possible. Riki’s mouth is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as watery cries spill from your throat.
You hips twitch up, clothes adding friction as his cock catches on your clit. The reaction is instantaneous— your back arches while your thighs tremble, squeezing his hips.
“Riki—!”
His rhythm doesn’t falter at your out of pace hips, rocking with you until your voice pitches, lapping and biting your chest as your orgasm slams through you. Mouth dropping in a shrill moan, your nipples burning even as he licks them, the buds puffy and stiff from his overwhelming attention.
He reappears from under your shirt to watch your face as you cum because of him. Sweat beading along your hairline, eyes glossy and unfocused while you cry so so prettily for him. Almost feral, Riki rips your shirt open.
The air is cool against your stinging oversensitive nipples, pussy throbbing in the aftershock. It’s hot and his shirt is the next to go, whipping it off to reveal his toned torso before dropping down to kiss you.
Unlike his other kisses, this one screams possession—that you’re his and his alone.
No saying hi to any guys that aren’t him.
No smiling at any guys that aren’t him.
He’ll kill them and keep you.
Your skirt is next, followed by your wet panties. Sliding the fabric off, he doesn’t toss them, instead he holds them to his face as your cheeks burn when he inhales— groaning rough and ruined in his chest. A shaky breath pushes from your lungs, eyes wide as he strips out of his pants and boxers to stand in front of you naked.
Everything suddenly feels more real.
The fact that you shouldn’t be here with him like this because he’s obsessed, Amu is probably blowing your phone up, but most importantly he’s dangerous. Nothing good can possibly come from a relationship with him, right?
Fingers wrap around your ankles while you’re lost in thought, letting out a startled shriek when he yanks you to him. You open your mouth to protest but Riki cuts you off with another melty kiss, toned arms trapping you in. He pulls away rub the tips of your noses together, the way he almost stares into you shakes everything about the way you thought you felt.
“Don’t say no…”
You can’t.
Not when you feel the way you do, pulling him down for a kiss instead, whining into his mouth as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. The head of his cock meets your entrance but he doesn’t push in immediately.
“I like you so much, pretty…”, you feel your eyes start to water as you nod, emotions swirling.
“I’ve never been this out of my mind until I met you”, he kisses you again, sweetly as he rocks his hips forward. The pressure pops, leaving just the tip inside as you moan in unison, holding onto him through the burn of the stretch.
You shiver, that sweltering heat back with a new kind of force, making your walls pulsate around him as if begging him for more. Riki doesn’t yet, holding back as he tells you again,
“I like you.”
Sniffling wetly, you nod at him, dazed and so torn as you stare into his face.
“I know.”
He pushes in more, hissing at how your soaked pussy hugs tight around him. This might be the worst decision of your life but you can’t take it anymore. The running, the hiding, the constant fear of looking over your shoulder and pretending like your heart doesn’t flutter even before it drops when you see him.
Everything’s so overwhelming, you feel full and empty at the same time as you cling to him. Riki is big so he has to force himself in a bit, moaning when you flutter around him. The sound is pained and wrecked by how badly he’d been needing this—needing you and now you’re here, right where you should be.
“Like me back”, he whines, pelvis flush to yours before he pulls out to slam his hips forward, hitting that spot that makes you sob and the sound makes him lose it.
You’re so fucking wet, strings of your slick drip off his cock every time he pulls out, wetting him up as he fucks you with deep, smooth strokes. The drag of his cock is intense, turning your brain to mush when it pulls against your snug walls in dizzying fullness.
“So tight— nobody else, baby?”
Gritting out the question through tight teeth as he bullies his cock in, making it fit with every brutal thrust. You’re completely delirious, already on the brink of another soul ending orgasm but much to his delight you shake your head, panting.
“N- ngh! No…jus’ you—!” Or better translated, you haven’t let anyone touch you since the night you spent with him and his eyes flash.
“Ohhh, good girl”, he breaths, eyes rolling when your pussy spurts more slick at the petname. “My good fuckin’ girl, yeah?” You sob, overwhelmed with pleasure.
“Ah!—uh huh!”
His smile is too angelic for the devilish way he manipulates your body. Angling your hips up, he settles into a pace that has him knocking into that tender spot nestled inside you with ease. Struggling to even breathe, your warbled moans turn shrill when his pelvis slams against your clit more.
A vulgar, almost inhuman sound forces it’s way from your throat and it makes Riki’s spine tingle. Bending down to catch you in a kiss full of spit and tongue, your eyes roll straight into the back of your head while your stuffed cunt sensitively flutters around him as you cum.
Your orgasm takes you in a way that wipes you clean, turning you into a blank slate— stars dancing in your vision as you drool, falling limp on the sheets.
Riki watches you die and come back alive in real time, a bottomless hunger in his blown pupils as he’s consumed with the need to have you until you’re in his bones, holding back his orgasm off sheer will alone.
You’re a mess— sobbing, screaming, squirting and begging when he starts back up. The steady push and pull of his heavy cock in your pulpy cunt drives you off the cliffs of your sanity as you claw at him. Pain lights across your nervous system when you feel him bite, the same as last time, marking you so viciously you almost bleed before he’s licking the indents.
“You are mine”, he rumbles, voice low and distant. “You belong only to me…”
He fucks you like he’s trying to prove it to you, like there’s no other way of life for him without you in it.
The steady thrusts turn rattling as your greedy cunt swallows him whole. There won’t be anymore confusion after this, you’ll stay his this time but what scares you is that you want it, cumming at just the thought of being kept like this all the time. His and his alone while his rhythm becomes frantic, fueled by desperation as he begs.
“Please”, Riki kisses his marks before kissing your lips, gasping as he fights how he’s unraveling.
“Please like me back”, When he kisses you again, you kiss back just as fervently, lapping at each others tongues between hot moans as you rasp his name and finally stop fighting yourself.
“I do like you—“, a guttural groan shreds his chest apart when he cums, burrowing himself into you as deep as he can when you’re suddenly flooding with warmth.
He’s already too big but now he’s too deep, sending your cunt into a pulsating episode, squeezing down on his cock so violently your screams make your own ears ring. Riki refuses to stop, pumping his hips to ride out the mind-numbing waves of ecstasy as your pussy erupts, spraying his abs in your cum.
Blindly, you smack his arm, trying to make him realize that he needs to pull the fuck out because the pressure on your guts is too much when he rocks forward—sending you into another squirting fit as you become pure static.
“I love you”, he coos, making you take it with hearts in his eyes. “My pretty girl…”
By the time he decides you’re done, the bed is beyond saving and you’re a puff of air away from being comatose while your soul enjoys a round trip out of your body.
Riki is extra soft then, feeling a bit guilty for overdoing it again after you admitted that you like him. You’re so still it makes him nervous but you’re breathing and that’s what counts. Kissing your cheeks, then forehead, down the bridge of your nose to your lips, he nuzzles you one last time.
“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna draw a bath for us.”
He watches your breathing even out before he goes, steps light.
X
O
Warm water and gentle lights greet you when you wake up, blinking blearily as you look around the space.
“Feel okay, baby?”
Riki whispers against the back of your shoulder, kissing the skin softly. Strangely, there’s no rush to get away from him, leaning back into his arms among the sweet scented bubbles as you nod.
“Never better.”
Before you can relax too much, you remember something important,
“My phone?”
Riki hums, pressing you closer to enjoy the silky feel of your softness against him before responding.
“Check it after we get out”, you kiss him back when he captures your mouth with a sweltering devotion. Affection strikes through your chest as he moves his lips with yours like he plans for you two to be a while….
An hour later, finally in the bedroom and somewhat clothed, Riki lays his head in your lap as you check your messages—clicking on Amu’s thread.
The latest message was not sent by you but by the man practically purring up a storm in your lap. It’s a picture of him smiling brightly next to your naked sleeping form followed by a flurry of threats from her swearing hell unto the galaxy if you weren’t safe.
heyy could u make some smut about jake having a new piercing on his tongue?
tongue tied. | sim jake
pairing: tutor!jake x shyyounger!reader
synopsis: your mom really took the university entrance exam seriously, even more then you since she was paying the top student to tutor you for it. jake is a sweetheart. smart, cute and responsible — but how did he get you like this?
genre: smut
contains: age gap (jake is 22, reader is 18), unethical behavior
smut warnings: oral (f. receiving), spit play, clit stimulation, risky sex, dumbification, pet names, dirty talk, risky sex, fingering, edging
a/n: im just a sucker for older, oral fixated jake sorry
NOT PROOFREAD!
MDNI!
"A-aa..."
You shut your mouth right away, lips presing into a tight line as Jake kept on sucking your swollen clit.
Your legs shook, hole spasming with each flick of his pierced tongue against your throbbing bud. He was moaning against you, plump lips slick and messy with your arousal and his saliva, eyes lidded as he felt you shiver.
Your back dug into the bedside, hips shifting more against his hungry mouth. Rug under you now only rubbing uncomfortablly against your skin. Jake thrusted against the floor, painful bulge rubbing against the fluffy carpet. His cock throbbed, leaking an enormous amount of fluid inside of his boxers and sweats.
"Aaah—"
You couldn't contain the low moan that escaped you, onyl praying it reached him and his ears only.
Hoping that people downstairs didn't. That your parents were too busy doing something. Watching TV, talking about some unimportant trivia. Anything. Just anything except hearing what you two were up to instead of going over one of the final lessons for the big acceptance exam.
Jake was not stopping anytime soon. Simply pulling away when he felt you were too close. Edging you into oblivion.
You were already sore. Pussy ached, clit throbbed violently at each one of his tugs. But it still felt too good.
Too good when his piercing pressed directly to your swollen bud, carresed the dripping folds before dipping into them.
"Do you like it more now?"
Jake's voice vibrated against your heat, lips swollen and slick as he looked up at you. You nodded back, gulping down a glob of saliva at an attempt to regain your composure back. But it's not helping. Jake smirked, tongue out again as he tenderly poked your clit, again and again.
You gripped the carpet, biting your lip as you tried to keep quiet.
Never did you think one simple comment would lead to this.
Never ever did it cross your mind.
But a simple conversation about his tongue piercing as you both skimmed over the last lesson somehow ended up like this. A simple and careful "It's interesting. The piercing. I like it." felt like a switch had flipped between you two as the eye contact that took place after it prolonged more than it should have.
Now, with his head between your shaky thighs — you did like it more.
Your thighs convulsed unstoppablly, Jake's brows raised as he detached himself from your pussy again, licking the mess that stuck to his lips. The arms that circled your thighs rested on your hips as he scanned your red intimate flesh. You were so sore, swollen and leaking, begging for more.
"You're shaking so much."
Sweat clung to your exhausted body, eyes stuck and not moving away from his face. He laughed humorlesly, eyes flicking to meet yours again. Before you could utter anything, his mouth engulfed your slit whole, tongue exploring the sensitive folds more the nth time already. He didnt break the eye contact, simply devouring you, making out with your pussy mercilessly as you gasped, trying to move away from him but still helplessly bucking against the savage action.
He sucked your clit, hard.
Your toes curled, fingers griping the fluffy carpet under you as you tried to conceal the desperate moans that clawed their way up your throat. They were breathy, low — almost a whisper that you hoped only he could hear and register. Because right now, you were hanging onto that thin string of control you fought so hard to even still exist.
He finally released your poor bud, but not for long before he kept on teasing it with his tongue, the tip of it flicking right over it. Your lips opened soundlessly, head leaning back against the bed as your lidded eyes stayed locked onto ceiling.
He was so good at this. Fuck.
A coil formed fast at the pit of your abdomen, threatening to snap any second as he kept on playing with your clit, tip of his tongue not letting it reast for a second.
Jake made a mess of you. Wetness was all over your inner thighs, sticking the your skin so tackily. It dripped down your ass cheeks, damping the poor rug more and more. Your hips stuttered against his tongue, grinding into the overwhelming stimulation.
A choked sound left you as the knot was the verge of bursting.
But then he pulled away.
You groaned in protest, hips stilling as your muscles relaxed after the continuous torture. Jake left a kiss on your inner thighs, unhooking one of his arms from under your thigh and letting his fingers come over to your folds.
His middle finger dipped into the hot mess, sliding up and down the ruined pussy as he pecked your thigh again and again.
"Just a little more baby. Just a little more and I will let you cum on it."
He sweet talked to you, finger stopping on your clit as he delivered tight circles. The new sensation made you cry out, face contorting in a newly found pleasure before your eyes blinked away the haze. You looked down at him again. Jake had his eyes glued to your slick slit, sucking in the way you swallowed the tip of his finger as he rubbed your clit so precisely.
"Fuck, it's so fucking wet." He shook his head as his eyes narrowed in pure ecstasy at the way your pussy was so filthy and embarrassingly throbbing. His lips were back onto your inner thigh, tongue flicking out as he left a torturous slow lick onto your sweaty flesh. His silver ball glided against it with shallow pressure, letting you feel it.
His eyes were locked onto yours again, tongue licking your salty skin, the piercing rolling against it as your pussy clenched at the simple feel of it. A whimper left you when his finger stopped, instead moving downwards and pressing the tip right against the tight entrance.
And he pushed it slowly.
"Jake—"
You tensed, muscles getting used to the feeling of his finger as he glided against your walls.
"Mmm..." He moaned, eyes closing in delight as he felt you take him, clenching and squeezing his digit tenderly as he was all the way in. He started shallowly moving, cheek pressed against your thigh before his mouth hovered over your clit.
His eyes flicked up to yours.
He blew against it.
You twitched.
And he attached his plump lips against it again. Slick mouth sucking greedily as his finger all of a sudden sped up. Your lips parted in shock. You wanted to scream, to cry. To trash against his lips. But you stayed quiet, harsh breaths leaving your nose as he kept assaulting your pussy.
"So sweet baby."
The filthy sound that resonated the room made you close your eyes tightly, head thrown back as the pit of your stomach ached for the release. His piercing ball teased your bud, rolling against it so smoothly. He pressed, than released. Then pressed again.
It had your head spinning.
The way his finger glided against your walls made you clech around it. But it was all he needed to curl it inside, adding one more carelessly as he kept on curling them repeatedly. The motion made you gasp, your throat already dry and face burning up.
"Can't even speak, hm?"
You looked down at him, his tongue already flicking against you again. A smirk painted on his face as he felt you grind your hips towards him. You whimpered, a needy desperation behind your eyes as your lips parted soundlessly. He chuckled.
"Such a dumb little girl. Dumb because of my tongue..."
You moaned lowly with a nod, making sure it was not too loud as you let your body lead you. Jake mouth losed again around the bud, suckling so hard it had your toes curling and your orgasm approaching again. Your body arched against his fingers that tickled your insides. The way he curved them building up to something so overwhelming and new. You never felt this level of pleasure.
His fingers.
His tongue.
You really couldn't speak. Even if you wanted to.
Jake knew you were close. The way you fucked his fingers back was enough of a sign. So when he finally detached his lips again from your clit, he spat filthily on it. He let his tongue out, on full display and right against you, but not doing anything. Just waiting.
"Come on. Make yourself cum."
And you didn't need anything else.
Your hips sped up, grinding against his tongue as he positioned it right over your clit. The silver ball getting caught onto the swollen bud with each desperate move of your hips. But his fingers too. God. The way they teased you inside, curling and gliding just right as he devoured you.
You released desperate whines, eyes locked to the way your fucked his tongue. Hard and fast. Chasing your own release. Jake grinded his hips against the floor, pressing his pelvis hard as he watched you lose control on his tongue. Your spread your thighs more, needily grinding against his pierced tongue.
And finally, as his piercing caught one last time, scraping your swollen clit harshly and his fingers curled harder then ever inside of you.
You came.
A sudden bliss overflowed your system. You shook and trembled, teeth digging into your lip as low moans left your throat, eyes closing tightly. Jake's fingers didn't stop, only helping you ride it out, prolonging the high pleasure as your walls clenched around him, spasming uncontrollably.
Pants left your throat as the pleasure lowered, leaving your limbs and body slowly. Sweat covered your whole body, bare bottom feeling overstimulated and ruined.
Jake's fingers slowed down, gradually coming to a stop, tongue still stayinv out for your last bits of grinds.
Your hips finally came to a slow stop, chest heaving as he pulled back. His fingers left your throbbing hole, tongue savoring the felt over taste of you.
You tried to catch your breath, mind hazy and lost.
You swallowed as you watched him lift himself up on his knees, wiping the remmants of you with the back of his hand before he sucked off the rest from his fingers.
Just as Jake opened his mouth to say something a creak of the door made you both snap your heads in the direction. Horror shot through you, eyes wide as your oblivious mother stood there.
"Hey Y/N when— WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Jake's eyes went slightly wide, the scene so obvious and filthy. His boner prominent and damp, your bare bottom on full display as your sweaty and disheveled state were speaking volumes.
He is so not getting paid for this session.
—————
! this is all work of fiction. in no way this is a representation of enhypen members nor do I believe this is how they behave in real life or condone these actions!
order notes: was supposed to be working on a request but i got distracted with this idea and couldn’t sleep without writing it
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who you met night one night at a party after you had an argument with your boyfriend. you both hit it off immediately—so well that the night ended with you straddling him in his car outside your boyfriend’s dorm, grinding down against niki until he came.
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who never cared about getting caught. you could tell him your boyfriend was almost home from work or class and it’d only make him fuck you harder.
“yeah? let him see his pretty girlfriend spread out for me,” he grunts, voice steady. and you can hear the smirk on his face when you clench around him at the words.
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who always records whenever you’re on your knees, pretty lips wrapped around his cock, tears staining your cheeks. he’d never send the videos to your boyfriend but it doesn’t stop him from teasing you with the idea of doing it.
“so fucking pretty like this…” he breathes, lifting his hips in shallow thrusts, zooming in on the way you were swallowing every inch. “are you this needy of a slut for your boyfriend?”
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who loves bullying your cervix. he'd have your back pressed against the mattress, gripping the sheets like they were your only anchor as his hips slammed into you relentlessly.
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who hates whenever you stop answering his messages. you’d go ghost when you and your boyfriend made up. he knew you’d be back and when you do, he makes sure to remind you to never do that shit again.
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who swears what’s between you and him is purely transactional but fucks you like he loves you.
“fuck— god, I love you—love this pussy…” he pants, his body pressed against your chest, one hand gripping your waist while the other holds your hand as he pounds into you.
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who is definitely territorial. he’d leave hickeys and marks all over your body, not caring the struggle you’d have trying to cover all of them.
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who would make you pick up the phone whenever he was rearranging your guts. he’d see your boyfriend calling and answer it, forcing you to speak while trying to hide what you were really doing.
꒰ྀི toxic fwb!niki ꒱ྀ who came to your dorm in the middle of the night, drunk and soaked from the rain. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the way he felt with you—or the fact you weren’t fully his.
“I love you—i really do,” he hiccups, voice slurred to the point every word is bunched together, but you understand everything. “just please… l-leave him… I’ll be better—i am better.”
taglist: @cuteyjjwonnnn @nota10butadefinite8 @sstrawbxrry @kristynaaah (ignore how I haven’t done my taglist in a while heh.. I forgot until now)
⊹ . ˙ ܀ Last night, made a list of my top five: Your lips, your style, your kiss, your smile. And number one, how you make me feel like. ﹙ ♡︎ ﹚request
TOP 5 by ZB1 🎧
1:25 ━━━━━━●─────── 2:27
Pairings: Boyfriend!Riki x Girlfriend!reader - dom!riki x sub!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fluff, established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you idiot), creampie, multiple orgasms , rough sex, spanking, pets names, reader is a little insecure, Riki´s VERY cutie and lovely, idk what more.
wc: 1,4k
note: English isn't my first language, so if you find any mistakes I apologize, hehe, and I also welcome any corrections or tips from you.
If by some chance you're here and you speak Spanish, let me tell you that I do too, hehe, and that the Spanish version is available here.
She wasn't an insecure girl at all. It wasn't common for her to have negative thoughts about herself, especially about her appearance. At least, not until that day.
Riki had asked her to go with him to a dinner with his old school friends, and of course, she had accepted. Everything was going well until, while she was in the bathroom, she overheard the other girls talking.
The conversation was filled with disparaging remarks about her, from her looks and her clothes to the way she behaved. They even went so far as to suggest that maybe Riki was only with her out of pity.
Normally, she would never have believed them. Riki reminded her every single day how much he loved her, but right then, her mood completely plummeted.
The rest of the night passed in an uncomfortable blur. Riki immediately noticed his girlfriend's sad expression, and they headed straight home. Once inside, he gently asked.
"What's wrong, my love?"
"It's nothing, Ki..."
"Come on, you can't fool me. You've been sad for a while now..."
That was all it took for the tears to start falling. Riki pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair, letting her cry and vent as much as she needed.
"I need to know what's wrong, princess..."
"I'm hideous, Ki! That's what's wrong!"
Riki pulled back slightly, looking at her with a completely puzzled expression.
"Where on earth did you get that idea, princess?"
"It doesn't matter. I just feel ugly, and... and maybe you don't want to love me anymore."
Riki shook his head, his expression shifting into a gentle scold.
"For God's sake, my love, who put those stupid ideas in your head? You're the only woman in the world for me, and I love you more than anyone else. There is no one more beautiful than you. Damn it, there isn't a single thing about you I don't love. I could make an endless list of my favorite things in the world, and you'd be every single entry on it."
Riki wiped the tears from her cheeks, kissing her lips tenderly before gently tapping the tip of her nose. She looked up at him with a tiny pout, still not entirely convinced.
Riki kissed her again, his hands resting on her waist and applying a warm, gentle pressure, pulling their bodies flush together as he deepened the kiss.
"Damn, I really don't understand how you can think that about yourself, my princess" he murmured against her lips. "Look at me. I'm literally hard right now."
"How can you get turned on at a time like this, Riki?" she whispered, a small, breathless laugh finally breaking through her tears.
"Because it's you"
He brought their lips together again, his hand sliding firmly to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair to tilt her head a little further. The grip wasn't painful, but possessive, eliminating any remaining space between them. She let out a stifled gasp that Riki quickly devoured. The kiss changed completely, their mouths parted, seeking more, demanding more. The touch of their tongues was wet, slow, and deliberate, a silent plea that quickened both their pulses in an instant.
Her hands instinctively rose to Riki's shoulders, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded, while the heat of their bodies began to meld through the kiss.
Desire swept them away with such force that she completely lost track of time. She couldn't remember when everything had shifted. All she knew was that, right now, she was completely naked, her hands tied securely above her head by Riki's leather belt, and he was penetrating her roughly and relentlessly.
"Mgh… Ki…"
"Tell me, princess"
"It's too much… I can't…"
Riki pressed her thighs against her chest, bending her in half to find a deeper angle. He slammed his hips against her with a sharp, decisive motion, thrusting in and out of her again and again, eliciting breathless screams that were impossible for her to stifle.
"Of course you can, princess… I'm only this hard because of you. Be a good girl for me and take it all"
Tears streamed down her cheeks. The burning friction of the belt on her wrists, combined with the overwhelming pleasure of him driving into her, created the perfect storm for her orgasm. A jolt of electricity shot down her spine straight to her clitoris. Her legs trembled violently, wrapping tightly around his waist. She begged him to stop, but he didn't. He continued his relentless pace as her walls milked him, until a sudden, warm gush bathed them both. She cried out, undone.
"Shit, do you like how I'm making you feel, princess?"
She nodded, her vision blurred by the aftershocks of her climax.
"Words, baby. Answer me"
"Y-yes, Ki... I love it, God!"
With a swift, powerful movement, Riki grabbed her hips and flipped her over on the mattress, leaving her face buried in the pillow, her knees tucked under her, and her hips raised toward him. He penetrated her again without warning, making her gasp. Her legs buckled, giving way under the sudden impact, but he gave her ass a hard, resounding slap.
"You can take it, baby..."
He gripped her hips, his firm hand resting on her lower back to tilt her ass up toward him. He thrust deep and hard, sweat dripping from his forehead, finding a dark pleasure each time she collapsed and weakly whimpered "Riki, I can't take any more."
Refusing to let her rest, he continued to fuck deep inside her in that same position. As he thrust, he gently pressed her head against the pillow. Her walls tightened desperately around him, heralding yet another climax.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he teased, driving her over the edge until she could no longer hold back.
He thrust relentlessly one last time, spilling his cum deep inside her, filling her completely. His release was immediately followed by her second climax, her muscles clenched, her body tensed, and her eyes filled with tears, soaking the sheets beneath them.
Riki finally released her wrists, freeing her. He withdrew slightly and lay on his side, pressing his chest flush against her back. He kissed and nibbled her shoulder, inhaling her scent and caressing her thighs as she slowly caught her breath.
"I love you, my beautiful princess…" he whispered in her ear. Reaching up to her cheek, he wiped away the traces of her tears and kissed her shoulder. With his other hand, he gently lifted her thigh, positioning himself at her pussy once again.
"You must remember that I love everything about you… your lips… shit, even you style…" he murmured, slowly slipping back inside her. She let out a soft moan at the intrusion into her sensitive pussy, aching warmth.
"Your kiss... I'm truly addicted to your kisses..."
The intensity of his movements had completely changed; there was no trace of the rough Riki anymore. He was now a gentler, sweeter, and deeply protective version of himself.
"...and your smile… it fills my soul with joy"
Their movements were slow and tender now. Riki gently caressed her waist, decorating her shoulder with tiny, sweet kisses, constantly reminding her of how beautiful she was in his eyes.
"Ki… please…"
"I know, princess... just take it all, I’ll finish soon…"
She stirred against the sheets, letting out a soft moan that sounded almost like a whimper.
"Don’t cry, princess. If you cry, I’ll have to go harder"
Riki continued to move slowly inside her for a few more minutes, until he couldn't hold back much longer. He let himself go, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pressing his palm flat against her stomach as he thrust deep one last time, releasing his cum inside her.
"Above all else, my absolute favorite thing is… how you make me feel… I always feel so alive and happy when you’re by my side."
Once their breathing had slowed, he withdrew from her. He watched as his warm release slowly began to slip from her entrance, then gently slid two fingers inside to push it back in.
"So… are you still having those stupid ideas?"
She shook her head.
"Words, princess..."
"N-no… I think I forgot…"
"You think so? Does my lovely little princess need to be reminded again?"
She smiled.
"Maybe…"
Riki smiled back, biting his lower lip as he closed his eyes.
"Holy shit I'm hard again. I love you so fucking much princess. Never forget that… and if you do, I'll just have to remind you."
if u wanna be part of my permanent tag list, coment here, ily ❤️
🫧´s note 💭:: This one's for my Spain followers (if I have any) because Riki was cheering for Spain in the final. I'm a little disappointed because I'm Argentinian, but their team played excellently nonetheless. Congratulations! 💞
V𓄧 i wrote this after seeing this... happy 1800 followers!! ily xx
Your best-friends cock size wasn't something that ever scared you.. why would it?
If anything, it was something you both often joked about, "wonder who else you're gonna scare off with that thing." and the second those words leave your mouth a chain reaction of complaints follow.
"It's not my fault--"
"I warned her."
"You probably couldn't handle it anyway."
Pause. You looked up from your phone, one eyebrow shooting straight up at your best-friend Sunghoon. He sat with that annoying ass smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing, he did.
"Me? you must be joking." you said, less sure with the way his eyes were darkened, running all over your person.
He tilted his head, leaning back in his chair "You think you can?"
And that's how you got here, face smushed into his pillow, forearms pinned down by his large hands—with little effort, and Sunghoon's flushed cock buried so so deep into your pussy you can barely breathe.
By now your brain is on the verge of turning into mush, back arching against him, tiny incoherent whines ripping from your throat as he stretches you so wide around him.
"You said you can handle it." he says voice low. His grip on your wrists tightens slightly as he maintains that deep pressure. A barely audible grunt escapes him as you pulse around him.
"Mmmph I-I can." you manage, he presses his chest to your back. holding you there as you try inch forward, for just a little freedom from being impaled by your best-friend's cock.
"Ah-ah stay still." he purrs. Sunghoon releases your arms, pulling your hair over your shoulders to your back, for a second you thought he was doing it for your comfort. But his large palms immediately find home on your shoulders—pushing you further down onto him.
Your head tips back with a drawn out whine, "Fuucckkk!!—you're so-so-so deep nnggh."
"I know I know." his lips brush against your ear as he speaks, breathing slightly heavier than usual.
He still doesn't move, watching down as your hands try finding anything to latch onto as you writhe beneath him. You smack his thigh, his hands on your shoulders, the pillow—anything. Trying to find any kind of friction to sedate the pressure.
He tugs your hair back, "I said stay still." he releases your shoulders, "On your hands."
You breathe in sharply, immediately falling forward onto your hands, "H-hoon," you whimper as he presses down on your lower back arching you even fucking further.
"Shh just feel it, feel how I fill you up." he coaxes as your body convulses against him. His hands trail up from your back to the bottom of the tank top neither of you bothered to take off, rolling it up to stroke those painfully hard nipples down to your stomach.
He keeps going with his hands, just watching as you attempt to fuck yourself on his cock, still whining and sobbing.
"You're fucking dripping down my balls." he smirks, observing the milky slick between you, but you can barely hear him with the way you're shaking and spluttering nonsense.
He even fucking laughs. He laughs watching as you struggle and fall forward onto your elbows.
"Awwe you said you can take it, what's wrong baby?"
But you don't respond. Can't respond because he's followed you down, hovering above you and leaning down driving that curved cock into any space he can. One of your hands flail finding the hand holding him up, gripping it as he keeps going. Even as sweat drops from his forehead to your back, even as he finds himself fighting his own release just to torture your poor cunt.
Your tears stain the pillow and your throat hurts, and for a second you thought he was taking mercy on you. Sunghoon hooks your legs with his own, pushing them in-between his so your legs are straight.
"Oh baby," His arm threads under your neck stroking your hair as he kisses your fucked out lips despite the drool seeping. He's got you completely caged beneath him, and then he feels you relaxing, just a little.
He shifts, balancing himself on one arm, the free one pushing finding your pretty tits, trailing down to your belly. You don't see it but a corner of his lips lift. He presses down, right where his cock is buried inside you, making you feel the bulge.
"You feel that?"
"F-fuuck—nghh!" your eyes roll back as you instinctively arch back into him.
"No? you don't?" he taunts against your ear, keeping you down, he presses harder, thrusting just to make you feel it. His hips stutter as you pulse harshly, a sharp breath ripping from his throat.
Your vision blurs, you scream as a coil snaps, white and hot and you collapse as you gush around him, soaking his thighs and cock.
"Good fucking girl." Sunghoon fucks you through it, chasing his own release—his hips jerk as he pants through pumps. He shivers as he releases thick ropes of his cum, still buried.
You're still panting into his arm, your eyes are wet, body still shaking. Sunghoon's also panting, trying his hardest not to wince at the way your pussy is still clenching and pulsing.
৻ꪆ SUMMARY : Riki spends all day driving you insane just to see how long you can hold out, and he’s more than ready to collect his reward the second you break.
Riki had been testing your patience since the second your alarm went off, treating your busy, high stress day like his own personal playground.
It wasn't even big things, it was the quiet, deliberate way he completely ignored basic requests just to see your jaw clench. When you asked him to move his stuff so you could actually work, he just gave you a low, lazy “make me” without looking up.
When you were on a deadline, running around trying to get shit done, he was right there in the way, stealing the exact spot you needed to sit, casually changing the speaker volume when you were trying to concentrate, or giving you a blank, amused stare when you specifically asked him to do one simple thing.
To him, it was all a game. To you, with your stress already hitting the ceiling, it was suffocating.
And whenever he was close enough to reach out, it was purely to throw off your focus—a sudden, heavy hand resting on the nape of your neck while you were pacing, or grabbing your wrist just long enough to pull you back against his chest before letting you go with that infuriating, knowing smirk. He knew you were at your limit, and instead of giving you space, he leaned right into the chaos.
You had spent the entire day biting your tongue, swallowing every sharp retort, and fighting a losing battle against the heat and frustration rising under your skin. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of losing your cool. Because the second you snapped, you knew you’d be playing right into his hands.
He was starving you out, patiently waiting for the exact second your resolve crumbled.
By the time the sun’s gone down and the apartment is quiet, you’re in the bedroom, arms crossed, scrolling on your phone like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Riki’s stretched out on the bed behind you, shirtless, grey sweats slung low. You can feel his stare burning into your back.
“Baby,” he drawls, voice low and lazy. “You still mad?”
You don’t answer. Your thumb keeps scrolling even though the words on the screen stopped registering minutes ago. He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through the quiet room.
“Cute. Keep pouting then. See how long that lasts.”
You bite the inside of your cheek hard. You want to give in so bad. God, it’s embarrassing how close you are to snapping. Hours of his little touches—fingers brushing your waist, breath against your neck, that stupid smirk—have left you throbbing. But you refuse to break. Not after the shit he pulled today.
Minutes tick by. The bed creaks. Then his long fingers wrap around your ankle and tug.
“Come here.”
You yank your leg back. “No.”
He moves faster than you expect. One second you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the next he’s got you flipped onto your back, wrists pinned above your head in one hand. Riki looms over you, his eyes gleaming with that predatory patience he’s been holding all day.
“You’ve been wet for hours, haven’t you?” he murmurs, knee sliding between your thighs to press right against your core. “Fighting so hard not to crawl to me. So fucking stubborn.”
You glare up at him, cheeks burning. “You were being an ass.”
“Yeah?” He grinds his knee slowly, deliberately. “And now you’re soaked through your shorts because I was an ass. Cute.”
You try to twist free. He’s too strong. His body covers yours completely, broad shoulders and long limbs trapping you beneath him. He leans down, lips brushing your ear.
“You held out longer than I thought you would,” he murmurs. “But you’re done now.”
He kisses you hard, tongue pushing in like he owns you. You whimper into his mouth, hips jerking against his thigh despite yourself. When he pulls back, you’re panting.
“On your knees.”
You hesitate, clinging to the last scrap of defiance. His eyes darken. In a flash he flips you onto your stomach, yanks your shorts and panties down your legs, and brings his palm down sharply on your ass. The smack echoes. Heat blooms across your skin.
You yelp.
“I said on your knees.”
This time you obey, sliding off the bed to kneel between his spread legs. He pushes his sweats down just enough, freeing his cock. It’s thick and heavy, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. Your mouth waters.
He tucks two fingers under your chin, tilting your face up. “You’re gonna suck me nice and slow. Show me how much you missed me while you were ignoring me all day.”
You lean forward and lick a long stripe up the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. Riki groans.
You take him deeper, working your tongue along his length while your hand strokes what you can’t fit. He’s big enough that your jaw aches in the best way after only a few moments, but you keep going—hollowing your cheeks, sucking harder, letting saliva drip down your chin.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses, head tipping back. “Look at you. So mad but still choking on my cock like a good little slut.”
You moan around him, the vibration making his hips twitch. He guides you a little faster, hitting the back of your throat until your eyes water. Just when his thighs start to tense, he pulls you off with a wet pop and wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb.
“Not yet. Get on the bed.”
He lies back fully and tugs you up the bed until you’re hovering over his face. Your thighs tremble.
“Riki—”
He smacks your ass again, harder. “Sit.”
Your face heats, but the look in his eyes tells you there’s no arguing with him. You lower yourself slowly. The first swipe of his tongue drags a broken moan from your throat. He grips your hips with both hands and pulls you down harder, licking broad and hungry over your folds before focusing on your clit. His tongue circles, flicks, then pushes inside you, relentless. You brace your hands on the headboard, hips rocking as pleasure coils tighter and tighter.
He doesn’t let you ease up. Every time you try to hover he yanks you back down, devouring you until your legs shake violently. You cum hard, crying out as waves crash over you. He keeps licking, drawing out a second, shakier orgasm that leaves you whimpering and oversensitive.
Only then does he lift you off, flipping you onto your back again. His face is shiny with your slick, lips swollen. He looks feral.
“Still mad?” he asks, lining himself up at your entrance.
You shake your head frantically. “No—Riki, please—”
He pushes in with one long, steady thrust. The stretch is intense. You feel every inch as he fills you completely, pressing against places that make your toes curl.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groans, bottoming out.
He starts moving—deep, punishing strokes that make the bed creak. Every thrust punches the air out of your lungs. You claw at his back, legs wrapped around his waist.
When your moans get too loud he flips you onto all fours, one hand fisting in your hair while the other delivers a series of sharp, stinging spanks to your ass. The burn mixes perfectly with the pleasure, making you push back onto him desperately.
“Look at you,” he rasps, slamming in harder. “So fucking needy after pretending to hate me all day.”
He reaches around to rub tight circles on your clit and you shatter again, clenching around his cock. He doesn’t slow down. He fucks you through it, dragging out the high until tears slip down your cheeks and every thrust borders on too much.
“Riki—too much—”
“You can take it.” He grabs your hips, slamming in harder. “You’re gonna take every fucking inch until I fill you up.”
You do—shaking and sobbing as another orgasm rips through you. His pace turns erratic, hips snapping against your reddened ass.
“Tell me you want it,” he demands, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
You nod desperately, clutching at the sheets. “Please—yes, please—”
With a low moan, he buries himself deep and cums. You feel every pulse, every hot spurt as he fills you. When he finally stills, he doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays there, grinding lazily, pushing himself deeper.
You collapse onto the bed, trembling. Riki follows, careful not to crush you, and gently pulls out. The loss makes you whimper.
“Shh, I got you,” he murmurs, his tone instantly softening. He gathers you against his chest, hands stroking down your back, kissing your damp forehead.
“You okay, baby?”
You nod, too exhausted to form actual words. “Mhm.”
He chuckles softly, carefully easing himself away from you and slipping out of bed. You hear the soft hum of the bathroom sink before he returns a moment later with a warm, damp cloth. His touch is gentle now, wiping between your legs, kissing every mark he left on your ass and hips.
“I’m sorry for being an ass today,” he whispers against your hair, his voice quiet and genuine. “I missed you.”
You huff, though you can’t hide the small smile creeping up against his chest as you wrap an arm over his waist. “You’re still an asshole. But I missed you too.”
“And you’re still my brat,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head. “Get some sleep. I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow to make it up to you. Deal?”
You smile despite yourself, already drifting off in his arms, sore, full, and completely satisfied.
˗ˋˏ ♡CW- : explicit language, dirty talk, my obsession with his lips manifested itself into this, petnames, dryhvmping, dirty talk, downbad Riki, spit and tongue stuff, and a whole lot of makeouts<333
! ˚ ༘ ❄︎ ⋆｡ can be read as part of the bestfriend! au or as a stand-alone :)
˚ ༘ ❄︎ ⋆｡˚wordcount— 2.6K
꒰ঌevery 1 already knows English is not my first language໒꒱
Riki has always loved your lips— you know that.
The fullness, the shape, all those yummy smelling chapsticks and pretty glosses you wore constantly made his heart pump faster, stare a little longer. Riki is considerate enough not to go out of his way to accost you…at first. Everything changes after something you’ve since dubbed ‘the incident’.
You were spending what had to be night 7265913 at Riki’s, cuddling while some YouTuber drama droned on from the tv in the background. He was trying to listen— yes, he knows you don’t like Jackie Aina or Patrick Ta and he doesn’t either in solidarity but the point is quickly lost the more he focuses on your bare leg that’s thrown over his waist, soft skin warm and smelling like fresh cream from your shower not even an hour ago.
His thumb is circling the exposed skin of your waist, lidded eyes watching your lips move. You don’t notice at first, only that his hands are gradually moving more— squeezing, caressing, fingertips fluttering near the hem of your shorts. Blood is already traveling south just from being so close to you and honestly it just slips out.
“What’s your favorite part of my body?”
You pause mid sentence to look down at him. Confused because it’s so random but you decide to indulge him. What’s the harm?
If only you trusted your instincts that you know your boyfriend to be a menace and that no amount of soft lighting from the television would change that; you would’ve answered that question over text where it was safe. Instead you study him and the lovely points of his own face. Beauty marks scattered across the perfect expanse of his high cheekbones, sharp jawline, intense eyes and…
“Your lips.”
Riki was attractive through and through but the one thing about him that always stood out to you was his lips.
“So full and soft..”, you lean down to give him a firm kiss, voice low and hypnotic. “All pink and pretty…”.
You don’t get to say much else because after that you immediately find yourself on your back with him on top of you.
The tv noise becomes fuzz in your head when he slots his mouth over yours, kissing you like it’s something he’d been holding back all day and you had no clue what you just set free. Thick lips move hungrily against your gasping mouth, one hand tightening around your waist while the other clasps around your throat. The sudden onslaught of fire that courses through you is so molten it leaves you breathless as you let out a weak whine.
Riki’s broad tongue laps the sound up as he slides his tongue in your mouth. You let him take you over, stroking the muscle with your own tongue and he feels his eyes flutter behind closed lids.
He’ll never get tired of this.
There’s something about the wet push and pull of your swollen lips, your heady, sweet taste against his pallet with the delicious pressure of how hard he is as you start to grind together— it’s heaven. You’re so warm too, so tender beneath him that it makes him ravenous.
Ripping his mouth off yours, you struggle in a deep breath while Riki sucks your bottom lip, holding you closer, purring low in his chest before surging his mouth back over yours.
The kiss is wetter now, his hand tightening around your neck as he kisses you with open mouth. You sound so good, taste so good, feel so fucking good he’s getting goosebumps and you’re lightheaded. Each heavy roll of his hips grinds his engorged length harder between your pussy lips; through your clothes and right over your throbbing clit.
Hotly, the swollen plushness of his lips give under the pressure he’s on yours with as your hearts race. It’s too much— twisting your head away to breathe, not even that stops him because the second you open your mouth to pant out his name so he can wait, he’s already sucking your tongue with a shameless desperation.
Liquid heat bowls down to your gut and your hips jerk up, the wet fabric of your panties catching so perfectly on your clit while Niki kisses you blind. He can’t stop— doesn’t want to either and it gets so much better when your fingers rake through his scalp, leaving a hail of shivers down his spine when they tighten along the sensitive hair on the nape of his neck. The air in the room has gone from warm to sweat-inducing— his heavy kisses growing drenched and sticky, lips smacking together as you flood his system.
Gasping for air, Niki pulls back no further than he absolutely has to but he’s still unable to withstand the borderline fever taking over him, resting his forehead back on yours. The proximity doesn’t help—he’s so turned on he can’t even think straight.
“All pink and pretty…”, your voice rings in his head.
Fuck.
It’s too strong—too hot, scorching a trickling trail below his bellybutton. He needs more. The way you writhe against him; shared saliva coating your lips and palette only sharpens the edges of his lust when he whispers against your wet lips,
“Open your mouth, baby. Gimme your tongue.”
Your heart skips. Squeezing your thighs around his middle, you look—really look— at him. His chest is heaving like he’s run a marathon and gearing up to run 10 more, his pupils completely span his iris with his skin flushed to all hell with a wet mouth and puffy lips. You must take too long to answer because he thrusts his hips down into yours like he’s fucking you, whining needily at your lips.
“Open— please—need it, pretty..”. Fuck.
If you were better at heeding warnings, you’d have pushed him off of you then and there but because you’re a dumbass who likes the stupid prizes you get from playing stupid games— you open your mouth and let your tongue fall out.
Groaning raw in his throat, the sight sends a pang straight to his dick making it throb where it’s pressed against you. Warm breaths coast into your mouth when he coos against the sensitive wetness on your spit-slick tastebuds and you’re so aroused even your cunt seems to have her own heartbeat.
“Look at it twitch…so sensitive”, he whispers, eyes dazed and blown. “Just like your pussy, yeah?”
His answer is a wrecked little moan when he presses his lips to your drenched tongue in a filthy wet smooch— letting his own tongue fall out to lap hotly up the length of yours, eyes lidded in the filthy bliss of it all. The constricting of your oxygen tips your body into oversensitivity as Riki sucks the wriggling muscle into his mouth.
Hes being gross, he knows but your mouth. A low groan vibrates his chest.
You can’t think anymore— blood thrumming while moans spill from your throat, ears burning with every slurp followed by a messy grind into your cunt. The sounds of your sloppy kissing ring out utterly depraved, completely debauched as you both go on like that. Right up until that restless jittery heat crashes over and he drags you into its searing depths with him— shaking from the intensity.
For a second, you think you blackout until you feel a heavy weight on top of you paired with puffy lips suckling and biting at your cheeks and jaw. He shudders at the sound you make when he drags his teeth down, scraping them down your pulse with fluttering teases of tongue.
Riki swears he’s losing his mind. Despite what just happened he’s still rock hard like he didn’t just cum all in his boxers and he doesn’t know what to do with himself with you looking up at him so dazed and pretty— lips shining with spit.
While it ended up being a long night for you, his kissy streak didn’t end there.
It starts to become an obsession.
Whenever he remembers that you not only find him attractive but that his lips are your favorite the same way your lips are his and suddenly he’s tugging you away with excuses of there being some emergency only to find out the ‘emergency’ is his need to have you flat to the nearest surface with his annoyingly juicy lips on yours.
“Just a little bit, babydoll— please?”
And you’re just as bad because even when you know Riki likes to take a mile out of an inch, leaving you with slick dripping down the inside of your leg while his mouth sucks away at yours; you still say yes every time.
You’re playing with fire and he takes full advantage of it. After all, your friends still don’t know you two are way past friendship and dating now but Riki truly can’t help it. He just wants to touch, wants to discover all the nasty things you’d let him to you— devilish eyes and that smart mouth moaning that you’re his. He’d do anything you wanted just to have you sweet and dripping— pliant as you are now.
“Niki…”, he watches your spit slick lips gasp his name with hazy eyes; crowding you on top of the sink inside the lavish bathroom.
Part of him feels guilty because this certainly isn’t the place or the time. You’re his plus one for his sisters wedding yet as the laughing, music and dancing go on outside; drunk guests stumbling about— he’s got you in here.
It’s really not his fault.
You look good enough to eat but the same sentiment also more than applies to him. His suit jacket is long abandoned, sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled to his elbows with a couple buttons undone to fight the heat pumping through him as his tie hangs off his neck and oh god his haircut.
Sliding the soft satin of your dress up, he takes your calf in hand, keeping his eyes locked on yours while he kisses down to the inside of your knee before wrapping it around his waist and doing the same to your other leg. Biting his lip when he rasps out a groan, voice honey slick.
“I can’t wait until this is us one day,”
The nagging feeling of the cold sink beneath your ass with your back plastered to the mirror evaporates under his mouth. He kisses you slow this time but no less consuming— letting you really feel those flames licking up your body making you melt for him. Your head dips back and he follows, sloppily lapping into the wet cavern with a mean suck to your lips, growling at the throaty moan that shoots from you.
“After I put a pretty ring on your finger and ruin you just like you’ve ruined me.”
Riki won’t deny the pleasure that pulses in his chest when you choke at his words, staring at him with wide eyes before he’s kissing you again.
As he swallows your whimpers, tongue slotting against yours, he swears that each match you’ve struck with him has been soaked in gasoline because this need to breathe the oxygen from your very lungs can’t be normal.
He’s messily feeding off the wet, pleasured moans from your mouth but he’s still starving. His cheeks hallow from the suction he’s using on your tongue, spit leaving a messy trail on your chins. Pretty nails drag up the expanse of his wide shoulders, trying to hold on so you don’t get carried away but Riki is determined.
The kiss becomes sweltering; heady and sappy like melted molasses. His full lips smack tackily against yours thanks to the gloss he’s already half licked off you as his tongue flicks to taste, laving against the roof of your mouth, back molars—even the inside of your cheeks. Your hitching breath is just as sweet, just as longing; sugar in the endless depths of his want and oh—
You dissolve like fresh cotton candy.
When he finally lets you push him off, the warmed air has a tangible current as you stare each other down, chests heaving.
He’s a mess.
Your lip stain painted across his mouth like a condemning verdict, pressed shirt undone and wrinkled now. Reception be damned, you just want him to take you home because you have a feeling—
“M’sorry baby, got a little carried away but how about this? One more kiss and I swear I’ll be good”— is a total lie.
You’ll give him one more and it’ll give to a second one that’ll be heavier, then the third—wetter, the fourth even sloppier. Anything after that he’ll be between your legs dry-humping you to a screeching orgasm then using the mess as lube to fuck you senseless all while kissing you like he’ll run out of air if he doesn’t.
Blood is already pooling in his groin, solidifying his hunger as he kisses you again, swollen length rutting against you harder. Your hands fist tight in his hair and Riki moans, lapping at you filthier. A large hand braces along your back to feel it arch and curve; ready to keep your mouth flush to his puffy lips as he flips your dress up and—
“Aah! W-wait”, you throw your head in the opposite direction, pleading before you end up giving in.
“Home, let’s go home— not here…”, you trail off while he’s no longer trying to actively consume you; taking the opening and running with it while you have his attention.
“I don’t think your sister would appreciate us ruining the sanctity of her very expensive wedding venue bathroom..”
Goddamnit.
He lets out a heavy sigh into your cleavage because you’re right. If he was trying to get Konon to never speak to him again— being caught like this with you on one of the most significant occasions in her life would certainly do the job.
Then again, he’s fucking hard.
The throbbing of his dick is incessant, visibly stiff through his slacks. It’s borderline painful when he captures your mouth in one final bruising kiss. Enjoying the wetness of your equally swollen lips before pulling away with a feverish lick to the inside of your cheek. You’re left gasping while Riki looks at you like he didn’t do that on purpose, flinging your body into lava with his mouth alone.
Riki helps you down and you two make yourselves as presentable as you can. It’s a feat that you manage to ignore his hands on your waist when you bend over, facing the mirror to touch up your makeup and redo your lip combo. He’s shameless then too—grinding his erection between your asscheeks as he watches you line and gloss your lips through dark molten eyes, biting his lip until you’re done.
Opening the door for you, hungry eyes stare you down as you stroll through, flicking him a look of your own.
“You okay? You look a little winded, baby.”
The smirk is audible, his teasing voice laced with amusement. Of course the correct thing to do would be to ignore him. Again, if you liked living without an ice pack to your mouth and back pain later— you wouldn’t provoke him.
Oh well.
“Cute. You pitch a tent like that for all campers or just me?”
He swears, the curse hissed lowly into your ear as you make your way towards his family, smiling at the beautiful bride as you get closer to the long table with every step.
“Mhmm, keep playing with me.”
You’re snickering now but he couldn’t be more serious as that little voice warning you about playing stupid games gets louder. Riki lets out a strained breath, his hand pressing into your lower back, more than a little pent up and you’re only making it worse when you quickly turn to look at him.
“Go suck it.”
You mouth, drawing dangerously closer to their table and you’ll live to regret that later as he leans down over your shoulder to whisper in your ear.
“Baby, that’s the tamest thing I’m gonna do to you.”
˚₊┊͙ warning : heeseung x reader f ! , roommates trope , complicated!?, unprotected, 18+ ,Explicit Sexual Content, Smut / Rough Sex , Overstimulationz, Friends-to-Lovers tensionz Strong Language,Unexpected desire, sexual tension between roommates. ( rqsted by anonymous :))
★ : After accidentally using her cold and hardworking roommate Heeseung’s computer, y/n finds herself trapped in an awkward, intimate situation. What starts as a simple mistake quickly escalates when built-up tension, and a bold confession lead to a passionate encounter on the office desk. As clothes come off and bodies collide, both realize this might be more than just sex.
word count : 7.6k
_ _ ➸ . TAGLIST♩ ₊
@svtenfate @human169
listen to me while reading
Heeseung, your cold and hardworking roommate, had just gotten home from work. Without even taking a proper break, he settled into the apartment’s small office room and turned on his computer. He was dressed in his usual sleepwear—black sweatpants, a plain white t-shirt, and his white Birkenstocks.
As soon as the screen lit up, he frowned. Multiple unfamiliar browser tabs and Word documents were open—none of which belonged to him. His jaw tightened.
“Y/N?” he called out.
You didn’t hear him the first time, too focused on stirring the pot in the kitchen. A few seconds later, his voice rang out again, this time urgent.
“Y/N. Were you using my computer for your work project?”
You froze for a second before hurrying over, wiping your hands nervously on your clothes. You entered the office shyly, cheeks already burning with embarrassment.
“Sorry… yeah, I was. I’ll delete everything right now,” you mumbled.
Heeseung sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair as you stepped in front of him. Your back faced him while you leaned slightly over the desk to reach the monitor. The satin nightdress you were wearing rode up your thighs as you moved, the soft fabric brushing against his leg. You were practically hovering over his lap at this point.
You quickly tried to save the files and email them to yourself, fingers flying across the mouse. Heeseung rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted.
“Am I going to wait all day?” he asked, voice low and irritated.
“Sorry, I’m almost done,” you replied, heart racing as you hurried.
“Y/N, I have work to do,” he said, watching you struggle with the upload.
“I know, I know—just give me a sec,” you muttered, still bent over the desk. As you reached for the final file, your hips brushed against his thigh again. Without looking back, you added, “Hold up, Heeseung. Don’t worry, you’ll have your laptop back in a minute. Just let me finish.”
You bit your bottom lip in relief as you finally finished saving the last file. “All good,” you said softly, eyes still fixed on the monitor.
You released your hands from the keyboard and started to straighten up—except your palm accidentally brushed against the keyboard again. A loud error sound chimed from the speakers, and several windows suddenly popped up and then vanished.
“Eh… wait, what happened?” you panicked, quickly leaning forward again.
Thankfully, you were able to resolve it right away. After a few frantic clicks, everything went back to normal.
“Ah, okay… now it’s good. Sorry about that,” you mumbled, voice small.
You didn’t turn around. Instead, you stepped forward slightly, trying to put some distance between you and Heeseung. But because you were still standing right in front of his chair, the movement only made your satin nightdress shift higher up your thighs. Your hips brushed against him one last time before you managed to create a tiny bit of space.
The room felt unbearably awkward. Heeseung stayed silent for a moment, his body still tense beneath you. You could feel the heat of his stare on your back.
“…Are you done?” he finally asked, his voice low and edged with exhaustion. He didn’t sound angry exactly—just extremely done with the entire situation.
You awkwardly scratched the back of your head, forcing a nervous smile even though he couldn’t see your face.
“Yup, thanks… Again, next time I’ll make sure to delete everything when I’m done so I don’t have to bother you,” you said, voice trailing off awkwardly. “Yeah…”
The silence that followed was heavy. You could practically feel Heeseung’s tired stare burning into your back. He let out a slow breath, clearly trying to keep his patience.
“…Just get off my lap, Y/N,” he muttered.
Your cheeks burned instantly. Only then did you realize how close you still were—practically perched between his legs the entire time.
You quickly got off him and turned around, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Right… shit, sorry,” you stammered, unable to meet his eyes.
Heeseung just stared at you for a second, his expression unreadable. He was still seated in the chair, legs slightly spread from where you had been standing between them. The silence made the moment feel ten times more awkward.
He rubbed his temple again, letting out a long sigh.
“You’re really something else,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. His gaze flicked down to your short satin nightdress for a brief moment before he looked back at the monitor, clearly trying to move on.
You stood there fidgeting, the air thick with tension.
You finally looked at him, your face full of embarrassment. “Sorry about that,” you mumbled one last time.
Not knowing what else to say, you turned around and started walking out of the office, the hem of your satin nightdress swaying against your thighs with every step. You could still feel his gaze on your back as you left the room.
Just as you reached the doorway, Heeseung’s low voice stopped you.
“y/n.”
Though you had just turned away, you spun around right away.
“Yeah?” you answered, voice soft and hesitant.
Heeseung leaned back in the chair, one arm resting on the desk as he looked at you. His eyes slowly trailed over your figure for a moment before returning to your face.
“Next time you need to use the computer,” he said, tone flat but firm, “just ask me first. Don’t go through my stuff.”
Geez, I thought it was something else…*The thought flashed through your mind. For a split second you had hoped he would say something more—something that acknowledged the tension between you two. You couldn’t completely deny that you felt something every time you got this close to him, even if you didn’t want to name it. But of course he didn’t notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
You forced a small smile and nodded.
“Yeah… of course,” you replied.
You turned around again, but your feet didn’t move right away. You stayed there for a few long seconds, frozen in the doorway, Heeseung didn’t say anything else though.
Finally, you turned back one more time, letting out a heavy sigh. A small part of you hoped Heeseung would call your name again. But he stayed silent.
Never mind… it’s just the body talking, you thought, trying to brush it off. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just physical. That’s all.
You continued walking out of the office slowly, one hand rubbing the back of your head as you tried to shake off the lingering embarrassment and weird flutter in your chest. Your bare feet padded softly against the floor as the satin nightdress swayed with each step.
Behind you, the quiet click of Heeseung’s keyboard finally resumed.
Before you fully disappeared down the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. Heeseung was already focused on his screen, the soft glow lighting up his sharp features. Something about the way his shoulders looked in that plain t-shirt made your stomach twist.
You knew you should just go back to the kitchen, but out of nowhere, you called his name.
“Heeseung?”
He paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, and slowly turned his head toward you. His dark eyes met yours with a mix of mild annoyance and confusion.
“…What?” he asked, voice low.
You froze. What am I even doing? You had no idea what to say. Maybe it was the memory of those accidental touches—your hips brushing against his thigh, the warmth of his body so close—that made you act without thinking.
“I… uh…” you stammered, brain suddenly blank. “Never mind. Sorry.”
But then, out of nowhere, boldness surged through you and the words just slipped out.
“…Do you ever get tired of pretending nothing’s there?” you asked softly.
The moment the words left your mouth, your heart slammed against your ribs. Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard. The silence between you stretched uncomfortably.
Before he could even respond, the sound of heavy rain suddenly started pouring outside. It drummed loudly against the windows, filling the quiet apartment with a steady, rhythmic noise.
Heeseung stared at you for a long second, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the office. The rain only made the tension in the room feel heavier.
“Ah—shit! I mean—nothing! Never mind!” you blurted out, voice cracking with panic. “I’ll just finish what I have left in the kitchen!”
You felt like an absolute idiot. Your face burned as you realized your body was clearly craving something else—something you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about with your cold, hardworking roommate.
You turned to escape as fast as possible, but Heeseung’s voice stopped you again.
“Wait.”
His tone was dangerously calm. The rain continued pouring hard outside, thunder rumbling faintly in the distance.
Heeseung slowly pushed his chair back and stood up. He was taller than you remembered in that moment. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at you, like he was trying to read your face.
“What did you just say?” he asked, taking one step closer. His gaze was intense, no longer just tired. “Don’t start something and then run away, y/n.”
You closed your eyes tightly, your fists clenched at your sides. Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely think straight. Then, the words just tumbled out before you could stop them.
“I… I feel horny and shit so sudden,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper.
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the rain outside seemed louder. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Your cheeks burned with mortification as you realized what you had just admitted.
Heeseung didn’t speak right away. He just stared at you, eyes darkening as he processed your words. The air between you suddenly felt electric.
After a long moment, his voice came out low and rough.
“…You’re serious right now?”
“I’m dead serious,” you whispered, though you couldn’t look him in the eyes. The embarrassment was overwhelming. Your gaze stayed glued to the floor, cheeks burning hot as you stood there in your short satin nightdress, fists still clenched.
Heeseung took another slow step toward you. The sound of his Birkenstocks against the floor felt louder than it should have. He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
When you hesitated, he gently tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his. His expression had changed — the tiredness was still there, but now it was mixed with something darker, something hungry.
“You’re really standing here telling me you’re horny… after rubbing your ass on me for the past ten minutes?” His voice dropped even lower. “You have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”
You blinked rapidly, heart racing out of control.
“Sh-shit… I-I just want to feel something,” you stammered, voice shaky. “I know it’s weird to ask for something like this… I know you’re working and—”
You couldn’t even finish the sentence. The embarrassment was eating you alive, but the ache between your thighs and the way your body was reacting to his closeness made it impossible to take it back.
Heeseung stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. The rain kept pouring outside, filling the silence between your shaky breaths.
Then, he let out a slow, frustrated breath.
“Fuck it,” he muttered.
Before you could process what was happening, his hand slid to the back of your neck and he pulled you into a rough kiss. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the thin satin of your nightdress as he pressed your body against his.
Before you could process what was happening, his hand slid to the back of your neck and he pulled you into a rough kiss. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the thin satin of your nightdress as he pressed your body against his.
You held onto his forearm tightly and kissed him back, pouring all the sudden desperation into it. The kiss was messy, hungry, and heated. Maybe this moment was just physical. Maybe it had no deeper meaning. But right now, you really wanted it — and it didn’t seem to bother him either.
Heeseung groaned softly against your lips, the sound low and rough. He pushed you back until your back gently hit the wall beside the doorway, his body pinning yours as the rain continued pouring hard outside.
His hand slid down from your waist to your thigh, slowly pushing the hem of your short satin nightdress higher up. He broke the kiss for a second, breathing heavily against your mouth.
“You sure about this?” he asked, His forehead rested against yours, eyes dark with want.
You whispered against his lips, voice trembling with need.
“Yes… please, I want it, Heeseung.”
You looked up at him, eyes hazy, as your fingers held tightly onto his wrist. That was all it took.
Everything escalated quickly.
Heeseung kissed you again, deeper and more urgent this time. His hands moved fast, sliding under your satin nightdress and pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you bare in front of him. You did the same, tugging at his t-shirt until he helped you pull it off, revealing his toned upper body.
Your hands roamed over his chest as he pushed his sweatpants down, stepping out of them.The two of you barely made it a few steps before clothes were scattered across the office floor.
He lifted you effortlessly, your back pressing against the wall again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The rain outside grew louder, almost matching the frantic beating of your heart.
Heeseung’s lips moved down to your neck, sucking and biting lightly as he pressed his hard length against you, teasing.
“Fuck… you’re really driving me crazy,” he growled against your skin.
You looked at him, eyes heavy with desire, silently encouraging him to go for it. You bit your lower lip hard as he finally pushed into you in one slow, deep thrust.
A gasp escaped your lips. You held tightly onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming — intense and exactly what your body had been craving.
Heeseung let out a low groan, forehead pressed against yours as he gave you a moment to adjust. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, holding you up against the wall.
“Shit… you feel too good,” he breathed, voice strained.
Then he started moving — deep, steady thrusts that made your back arch against the wall with every roll of his hips. The sound of rain pouring outside mixed with your soft moans and his heavy breathing, filling the small office.
Your fingers dug deeper into his shoulders as the pleasure built quickly, your body trembling against his.
You moaned loudly, the sound breaking into shaky words as another deep thrust rocked through you. “I— ah! I want this,” you gasped, nodding frantically with every roll of his hips, your head bumping lightly against the wall. Your legs tightened around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him even closer. “Heeseung— fuck, I want this so bad…”
He cursed under his breath, his grip on your thighs turning almost bruising as he picked up the pace. Each powerful thrust made your body jolt, your breasts brushing against his bare chest with every movement. all that existed now was the slick heat of him moving inside you, the way your walls clenched around his thick length.
“Shit… you’re so fucking tight,” he growled against your ear, voice rough and wrecked. He angled his hips slightly, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. You cried out, nodding desperately again as another thrust drove into you. “Yeah? This what you needed?” His lips crashed back onto yours in a messy kiss, swallowing your moans while his hips kept that relentless rhythm.
You could only whimper and nod against his mouth, fingers clawing at his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter in your core. Every thrust dragged a broken I want this or a needy moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively—hips trying to meet his as best you could while pinned to the wall.
Heeseung’s breathing grew harsher, forehead pressed to yours as sweat started to slick his skin. One hand slid up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple while he kept fucking you deep and steady, watching your face the entire time with those dark, hungry eyes.
“Don’t hold back,” he muttered, voice low and commanding between thrusts. “Let me hear how much you want it.”
Your head fell back against the wall as another wave of pleasure hit you,Heeseung groaned your name like a curse, slamming into you harder as the storm outside raged on.
Heeseung was mid-thrust, buried deep inside you, when your voice broke through the haze of pleasure.
“Wa—wait…” you gasped, your other hand quickly moving to cover his on your breast, fingers pressing over his. Your chest heaved against his palm as you tried to catch your breath. “Can you pull out… I want to lead, please.”
Your voice came out breathy and desperate, almost a beg.
Heeseung stilled instantly, hips pressed flush against yours. His dark eyes searched your face for a second, breathing hard through parted lips. The rain continued pouring heavily outside, drumming against the windows as thunder rumbled low.
He let out a shaky exhale, clearly fighting the urge to keep moving. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment before he slowly pulled out of you with a low groan. The sudden emptiness made you whimper.
“Fuck… alright,” he muttered, voice rough and low, a hint of surprise mixed with arousal. He carefully lowered you back down onto your feet, his hands steady on your waist to keep you from stumbling. His hard cock brushed against your stomach, slick and throbbing, as he stepped back just enough to give you space.
Heeseung’s gaze never left you — intense, hooded, and burning with barely contained hunger. He rubbed his thumb over your nipple one last time before letting his hand fall away, giving you control like you asked.
“Go on then,” he said quietly, voice edged with challenge and want. He leaned back slightly against the desk behind him, toned chest rising and falling. His eyes raked over your naked body. “Show me how you want it, Y/N.”
You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped the edge of the desk like he was holding himself back from taking over again.
Your heart raced as you stepped closer, the power shift making your thighs press together with fresh need. Heeseung waited, watching you with that unreadable but clearly affected expression, ready for you to take the lead.
You turned around slowly, your back now facing him. Still breathing heavily, you bent forward slightly at the waist, placing your hands on the desk for support as you arched your back. The position pushed your ass out toward Heeseung, the cool office air brushing against your soaked core.
Heeseung’s breath hitched audibly behind you. “Shit…” he muttered, voice low and strained.
You reached back with one hand, wrapping your fingers around his thick, throbbing length. It was hot and slick from being inside you earlier. You stroked him slowly, teasingly, feeling him twitch hard in your grip as you guided the tip toward your entrance.
With a soft, needy whimper, you slowly pushed back, sliding him inside you inch by inch. The angle made him feel even deeper. Your walls stretched around his cock as you took him in, a broken moan spilling from your lips.
“Ahh… fuck,” you gasped, nodding to yourself as you sank down further until your ass pressed flush against his hips. Heeseung groaned deeply, his hands instinctively moving to grip your waist, but he didn’t thrust — he was letting you lead like you wanted.
You started moving, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles at first, then gradually bouncing back onto him. Each time you pushed back, taking him fully, The wet sounds of your bodies.
Heeseung’s fingers dug into your hips, his breathing ragged. “That’s it… just like that,” he growled, voice rough with restraint. His grip tightened but he stayed still, letting you control the pace even though you could feel how badly he wanted to pound into you.
You bent lower over the desk, changing the angle so he hit even deeper, and started moving faster, fucking yourself on his cock with needy, desperate rolls of your hips.
You kept moving on him for a few more moments, rolling your hips in deep, sensual waves, before you slowly leaned back against his chest. Your back pressed flush to his front, your head tilting to rest against his shoulder as your bodies stayed connected.
“Push it more deeper…” you whispered breathlessly, voice trembling with need. “Please, Heeseung… I want you deeper.”
Heeseung’s breath caught in his throat. One of his hands slid up your stomach and wrapped around your chest, pulling you tighter against him, while the other gripped your hip firmly.
“Fuck… you’re going to kill me,” he groaned lowly against your ear, the sound rough and hungry.
He didn’t hesitate. Holding you securely, he thrust up into you hard and deep, burying himself completely with a powerful snap of his hips. The new angle made him reach even further inside, pressing against that sensitive spot with every thrust.
You moaned loudly, your body jolting forward slightly with the force, but his strong arm around you kept you pinned back against him. He started fucking you deeper just like you asked — long, heavy strokes that made your toes curl and your walls clench around him.
“That deep enough for you?” he rasped against your neck, biting down lightly as he drove into you again and again, harder now that you’d given him permission. His hand on your breast squeezed, fingers rolling your nipple while the wet, filthy sounds of him pounding into your soaked pussy filled the small office.
The rain outside was relentless, almost drowning out your broken moans and his low grunts. Every deep thrust made your body tremble against his as you leaned back into him, completely lost in the feeling.
Heeseung’s free hand slid down between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
“Tell me if you want it harder,” he growled, voice dark and strained near your ear.
You weren’t able to answer him.
The moment his fingers found your clit and started rubbing those tight, relentless circles, your whole body jerked violently. The pleasure slammed into you too hard, too fast.
“It’s too much— wa-wait, ahh!” you moaned, voice pitching higher as you squirmed against him. Your hand flew down, desperately trying to pull his wrist away, fingers wrapping around his forearm and tugging weakly.
But Heeseung didn’t stop.
He kept thrusting deep into you from behind, hips snapping up with steady, powerful strokes while his fingers continued working your swollen clit. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, the overwhelming sensation making your legs shake.
“Hee—!” you cried out, half moan, half whimper. Your back arched hard against his chest, hips still instinctively pushing back to meet every deep thrust even as you tried to squirm away from his hand.
“Too much… ahh— Heeseung!”
Heeseung’s grip on you only tightened. His arm around your chest held you firmly in place while his lips brushed against your ear, voice low and husky.
“You’re soaking my hand,” he growled, not slowing down at all. “You say it’s too much but your pussy keeps sucking me in deeper.”
He rubbed your clit faster, pressing harder as he buried himself to the hilt with every thrust. Your body trembled uncontrollably, torn between trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure and desperately chasing more.
Tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as you moaned brokenly, still weakly tugging at his wrist while your hips rolled back to meet him again and again.
Heeseung’s breathing was ragged against your neck. “You want me to stop?” he asked, voice dark, though his fingers and cock never slowed. “Tell me properly, Y/N.”
But the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him made it very clear how close you already were.
You could barely form the words, but they spilled out desperately between broken moans.
“No… no… don’t stop… even if I tell you— ahh!”
Your voice cracked as another powerful thrust punched the air out of your lungs. Your hand was still weakly gripping his wrist, trying to pull him away from your overstimulated clit, but your hips kept pushing back greedily to meet every deep stroke of his cock.
Heeseung let out a low, dark chuckle against your ear, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
“Yeah?” His voice was rough, dripping with lust. “You want me to keep going even when you’re begging me to stop?”
Without waiting for another answer, he pressed his fingers harder against your clit, rubbing in fast, messy circles while his hips snapped up into you with renewed intensity. The wet, filthy sound of him fucking you filled the room, louder than the pouring rain outside.
You cried out sharply, body jerking and squirming in his hold as the overwhelming pleasure bordered on too much. Tears slipped down your cheeks, but your walls clenched tightly around him, pulling him even deeper.
“Heeseung— fuck—!” you moaned, head falling back against his shoulder. Your legs trembled violently, barely able to hold you up anymore.
Heeseung’s arm around your chest kept you pinned firmly against him, his other hand never leaving your clit as he drove into you harder, deeper, faster. His lips brushed your ear again, voice low and commanding.
“Then take it,” he growled, biting down on your shoulder. “I won’t stop until you cum all over my cock.”
Every brutal thrust and relentless stroke on your clit pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans turned into high-pitched, broken whimpers as your body tensed, the pressure inside you building unbearably fast.
You were shaking, sobbing with pleasure, still weakly tugging at his wrist even as you begged him not to stop.
You finally gave up fighting it.
Your hand slipped weakly from his wrist, falling limp as your knees buckled completely. A broken, high-pitched cry tore from your throat as the orgasm crashed over you violently.
“Ahh—! Heeseung—!”
Your whole body seized up, thighs shaking uncontrollably as intense waves of pleasure ripped through you. You came hard around his cock, walls pulsing and fluttering wildly, soaking him as your juices dripped down your thighs. Your back arched sharply against his chest, head thrown back as you moaned and trembled through the release.
Heeseung didn’t stop.
He kept thrusting deep into your clenching heat, fucking you through your orgasm while his fingers kept rubbing your oversensitive clit in tight circles. The overstimulation made your climax drag on endlessly, turning your moans into desperate, sobbing whimpers.
“That’s it… cum for me,” he groaned hotly against your ear, voice strained. His arm around your chest was the only thing keeping you upright as your knees completely gave out.
He held you tightly against him, pounding into you a little slower but still so deep, drawing out every last pulse of your orgasm. Your vision blurred with tears of pleasure, body twitching and jerking in his strong hold as the rain continued pouring heavily outside.
Only when your moans started turning into weak, overwhelmed little cries did Heeseung finally slow his fingers on your clit, though he kept himself buried deep inside you, letting you feel every throb of his still-hard cock.
He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and neck while you trembled in his arms, breathing heavily, completely spent.
“…You okay?” he murmured, voice low and rough, but with a hint of concern beneath the lust. His hips gave one last slow, deep roll inside you as he held you close.
You nodded weakly, still trembling in his arms as you slowly turned your head to look at him. Your eyes were glassy and wet with tears. With a shaky hand, you wiped at your cheeks, trying to catch your breath.
“Fuck…” you whispered breathlessly, voice hoarse.
Heeseung was still buried deep inside you, his cock twitching occasionally against your sensitive walls. You glanced down between your legs, cheeks burning as you saw the mess — your thighs glistening, drops of your arousal steadily dripping onto the floor beneath you.
The sight made you clench around him involuntarily, earning a low groan from Heeseung.
He kept one arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you up since your legs were still too weak to stand properly. His other hand gently brushed some hair away from your flushed face as he looked down at you, eyes dark but softer now.
“Look at the mess you made,” he murmured, voice low and teasing against your ear. He gave a slow, shallow thrust, pushing his cock a little deeper just to make you feel it again. “All that just from cumming on me…”
You shivered, another soft whimper escaping your lips. Heeseung pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, then gently pulled out of you. A thick trickle of your cum followed, running down your inner thighs as you let out a small, embarrassed sound.
He turned you around to face him, his hands steady on your hips. His cock was still rock hard, glistening with your wetness, pressing against your stomach as he pulled you close.
“You came so hard,” he said quietly, studying your face. One of his thumbs gently wiped away another stray tear from your cheek. “Can you keep going?”
His voice was calm, but the heat in his eyes told you he was far from done with you. The rain continued pouring outside, filling the heavy silence between you two.
You blinked, eyes widening at his question. The surprise lasted only a second before you nodded right away, almost eagerly.
Your cheeks were still flushed, tears drying on your lashes, but the heat in your belly hadn’t faded at all. You wanted more.
Heeseung’s lips curved into a small, dark smirk at your quick nod. He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your ass, pulling you flush against his still-hard cock.
“Good girl,” he murmured against your mouth, voice low and rough.
Without breaking the kiss, he suddenly lifted you up again. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively as he carried you the few steps to the desk and sat you on the edge. Papers and the keyboard got pushed aside carelessly.
Heeseung stood between your spread thighs, looking down at you with that intense gaze. His cock rested heavy and slick against your soaked folds, teasingly rubbing up and down your slit.
“You sure?” he asked once more, even as he slowly pushed the tip back inside you, stretching you open again.
You nodded again, biting your lip as you felt him sink in deeper.
Heeseung groaned softly, gripping your thighs as he bottomed out in one smooth thrust. This time he didn’t hold back — he started fucking you with deep, steady strokes, the desk creaking beneath you with every thrust.
“Fuck… you feel even wetter now,” he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. His hips rolled perfectly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you over and over while the rain kept pouring hard outside.
You moaned loudly, arms wrapping around his neck as you held onto him, letting him take control again. Every thrust drew fresh, needy sounds from your throat as your body quickly started building toward another peak.
You kept moaning softly with every deep thrust, your eyes locked onto Heeseung’s face the entire time. Your gaze occasionally dropped down between your bodies, watching intently as his thick cock pulled out glistening with your wetness, only to push back inside you slowly and fully. The sight made you tremble harder.
Your legs tightened around his waist as another moan slipped out.
“This… this is only sex, right?” you managed to say between shaky breaths, voice trembling and barely coherent. “It feels so good…”
The words came out broken, struggling past your lips as pleasure clouded your mind. Heeseung’s hips stuttered for a moment, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. He stayed buried deep inside you, rolling his hips in slow, grinding circles instead of thrusting hard.
Heeseung’s hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he stared at you intently.
“…Yeah,” he breathed, voice low and rough. “Just sex.”
But even as he said it, his thrusts grew deeper, more possessive, like the words didn’t quite match the way he was fucking you. He leaned in closer, forehead pressed to yours, breathing heavily against your lips.
“You feel too fucking good to stop now,” he growled, picking up the pace again. The desk creaked louder under you as he drove into you with long, powerful strokes.
You moaned louder, nails digging into his shoulders while your body trembled with every thrust. Deep down, a small part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the only time. The thought of doing this again — feeling him like this, so deep and intense — made your walls clench tightly around him.
Heeseung noticed, letting out a low groan as he felt you squeeze him.
“Keep looking at me,” he ordered softly, eyes never leaving yours. “I want to see your face when you cum again.”
His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers returning to your sensitive clit as he fucked you harder, chasing both of your pleasures while the storm raged on outside.
You kept your eyes locked on his, even as the pleasure became almost unbearable again.
Heeseung’s fingers worked your clit relentlessly while his cock drove into you with deep, steady thrusts. Your body betrayed you completely — hips jerking and thighs trembling uncontrollably around his waist as you tried to handle the overwhelming sensation.
“Hee— please… ahh!” you moaned desperately, voice pitching higher.
You squirmed hard against him, hips moving on their own, trying to both escape and chase the pleasure at the same time. Your thighs shook violently around him, clenching and unclenching as another powerful orgasm threatened to crash over you.
But you tried to hold back.
You bit your lip hard, eyes still glued to his face, breathing in short, desperate gasps. Your walls fluttered and squeezed tightly around his thick length, making him groan deeply. Heeseung’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes burning into yours as he watched you struggle.
“Don’t hold back,” he rasped, voice strained. He pressed his fingers harder against your clit, rubbing faster while slamming into you deeper. “Let me feel you cum again.”
You shook your head weakly, trying so hard to hold on just a little longer, but it was useless. Your body was already tipping over the edge. Every thrust and every circle of his fingers pushed you closer until you couldn’t fight it anymore.
Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Your entire body convulsed, thighs clamping tightly around him as you came hard, soaking his cock and the desk beneath you. Your eyes stayed on his the whole time, tears slipping down your cheeks again from the intensity.
Heeseung cursed under his breath, fucking you through it with slower, deeper strokes, savoring every pulse and flutter of your pussy around him.
“Fuck… that’s it, baby,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you messily as you trembled and moaned through your climax.
He didn’t stop moving, still buried deep inside your spasming heat, clearly not finished with you yet.
You were still catching your breath, chest heaving as you slowly came down from your second orgasm. Your body felt boneless, trembling with aftershocks.
Your gaze drifted downward, locking onto the sight where your bodies were joined. You watched, almost hypnotized, as Heeseung’s thick cock slowly pulled out of you — glistening with your cum — before sliding back inside with a wet, obscene sound. Every thrust made your puffy, sensitive folds stretch around him, and more of your arousal leaked out with each movement, dripping down onto the desk.
The sight was so lewd it made your stomach flutter.
Heeseung noticed where your eyes were focused. He let out a low, breathy groan and slowed his pace deliberately, making each stroke long and deep so you could watch every inch of him disappear inside you.
“Like what you see?” he murmured, voice husky. One of his hands gripped your thigh, spreading you wider so the view was even clearer.
You could only nod weakly, lips parted in a soft, dazed moan as he continued fucking you slowly. The wet sounds of him sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room, mixing with the heavy rain still pouring outside.
Even though you had just cum twice, the sight of him moving inside you was making heat pool in your belly again. Your walls fluttered around him with every thrust, still incredibly sensitive.
Heeseung leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours as he kept that slow, deep rhythm.
“You’re dripping everywhere,” he whispered hotly against your lips, eyes also flicking down to watch himself disappear inside you. “So fucking messy for me…”
He rolled his hips a little harder, making sure you felt every inch as you continued staring, mesmerized by the sight. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, breathing still shaky as pleasure started building again.
You kept watching the way his cock slid in and out of you, mesmerized, before the words slipped out in a soft, breathless moan.
“You’re so good, Heeseung…”
Heeseung’s hips stuttered for a moment, a low groan rumbling in his chest at your praise. His grip on your thighs tightened as he pushed back in deeper, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you slowly.
“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes darkening even more. “Say that again.”
He pulled out almost all the way, letting you see how soaked and shiny his length was, before sliding back in with one long, smooth thrust. You moaned softly, still trying to catch your breath as you repeated.
“You’re so good… Heeseung…”
Heeseung cursed under his breath and leaned down to kiss you hungrily, swallowing your moans as he started moving a little faster. His strokes were still deep and deliberate, but now carried more urgency.
The praise seemed to affect him more than you expected. His breathing grew heavier, forehead pressed against yours as he fucked you steadily on the desk, the wet sounds between your bodies growing louder.
“Yeah?” he rasped against your lips, voice rough with arousal. “Then take it. Take all of me.”
He angled his hips and hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, making your eyes flutter. One of his hands moved back between your legs, fingers gently circling your oversensitive clit again while he kept fucking you, clearly determined to pull even more sounds and praises from your lips.
You were still trembling, body overly sensitive, but the way he moved inside you felt too good to want him to stop.
You were still staring down at where your bodies connected when the pressure started building again, fast and overwhelming.
“Heeseung…” you moaned shakily, voice breaking.
He kept thrusting deep and steady, his cock dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every move. Your body jolted.
“Heeseung— it’s too much…” you whimpered after a few more powerful thrusts, your thighs shaking hard around his waist.
But he didn’t slow down. If anything, your words seemed to spur him on. He leaned over you, one hand braced on the desk beside your head as he fucked you harder, deeper, the desk creaking loudly beneath you.
“Heeseung—!” you cried out again, feeling the familiar coil tightening rapidly in your core. You were so close already, dangerously close.
Your walls clenched tightly around him as you looked up at him with teary, desperate eyes.
“Come… come with me…” you begged breathlessly, voice trembling. “Please— Heeseung, cum with me…”
Heeseung groaned deeply, his rhythm turning rough and urgent. His hand moved back to your clit, rubbing fast circles as he pounded into you.
“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, eyes locked on your face. “Cum for me again. Let me feel you.”
His thrusts became erratic, harder, chasing his own release while pushing you right over the edge with him. The wet, filthy sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the office as the rain continued pouring outside.
You were right there — trembling violently, nails digging into his back as you felt yourself about to come undone once more.
You cried out sharply as the third orgasm crashed over you without mercy.
“Heeseung—!”
Your back arched hard off the desk, body convulsing violently as intense pleasure ripped through you. Your walls clenched and pulsed wildly around his cock, gushing around him as you came even harder than before. Tears streamed down your cheeks while broken, high-pitched moans spilled from your lips.
Heeseung groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you.
“Fuck— Y/N…!”
He came hard right after you, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your spasming pussy. His cock throbbed with every pulse, filling you up as he pressed his hips flush against yours, grinding slowly to ride out both of your orgasms.
You trembled uncontrollably beneath him, sobbing softly from the overwhelming pleasure as wave after wave washed over you. Heeseung’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against his chest while he stayed buried to the hilt, letting you feel every twitch of his cock as he emptied himself inside you.
The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the never-ending rain outside.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. Heeseung stayed leaning over you, both of you trying to catch your breath. His cum slowly leaked out around his cock, mixing with your own mess on the desk.
He finally pressed a slow, tired kiss to your lips, voice low and hoarse.
“…You okay?” he whispered, gently brushing damp strands of hair away from your flushed face. His body was still pressed against yours, still deep inside you.
You nodded weakly, still trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell rapidly against his as you slowly came down from the overwhelming high.
Without thinking, you leaned up and kissed him softly, your lips lingering on his. The kiss was gentler this time — tired, but full of warmth and lingering desire. Heeseung hummed against your mouth, kissing you back slowly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other stayed on your waist, holding you close.
You stayed like that for a while, his cock still buried deep inside you, soft and warm. The kiss gradually slowed until your lips barely brushed together, sharing the same breath.
Heeseung pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again, eyes half-lidded and tired, but still looking at you intently.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered quietly, voice rough and low. A small, rare smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he gently brushed his thumb across your cheek.
He stayed inside you a little longer, enjoying the warmth and closeness while both of you caught your breath. The rain outside had eased up slightly, now a steady, soothing rhythm against the windows.
After a moment, he finally pulled out of you slowly, a thick mix of both your releases dripping down your thighs. Heeseung glanced down at the messy sight, then back up at your face with a dark, satisfied look in his eyes.
“Think you can stand?” he asked softly, his hands still supporting your waist.
You shook your head weakly, a tired smile on your lips.
“Ah… no,” you admitted, voice soft and hoarse. Your legs were still trembling too much to support your own weight.
Heeseung let out a quiet chuckle, the sound surprisingly warm. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the desk effortlessly, carrying you bridal-style out of the small office.
You rested your head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as he walked down the hallway toward the living room.
“After everything… I feel hungry,” you mumbled sleepily against his skin. “I think I just wish we could eat…”
Heeseung glanced down at you, one eyebrow slightly raised, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.
“Yeah?” he said, voice low. “You work up quite an appetite, huh?”
He gently set you down on the couch, grabbing a soft blanket and draping it over your naked body before disappearing into the kitchen for a moment. A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses of water and some leftover snacks he found in the fridge.
He sat beside you, pulling you into his side without a word. You leaned against him, munching quietly while the rain continued falling softly outside.
Heeseung eventually glanced at you, his hand resting lazily on your thigh under the blanket.
“…Next time you need the computer,” he said quietly, almost casually, “just tell me. I’ll help.”
You looked up at him with a small, shy smile, heart fluttering at the subtle promise hidden in his words.
⋮ ⌗ ┆概要⨾ pearl bite restores the smiles of vampires and humans alike, folks travelling nationwide to attain results from the man and myth himself, park sunghoon. running a successful dental practice isn't easy, long hours invested and feeding schedules sidelined. luckily for him, you've never been one to forget.
朴成训 𝔁 𝒻 .ᐟ读者 ── 5.6k
explicit content ⋆ smut (mdni)、heavy mentions of blood & biting/feeding (sunghoon feeds from the reader during sex)、condescending dom!sunghoon、sub!reader、established relationship、hints of brat & brat tamer dynamics、degradation/humiliation、vaginal fingering、handjob、semi public sex、exhibitionism、breath play、unprotected sex (don't do this)、creampie、hints of pain kink、hung!hoon、size & bulge kink、slight praise & crying、reference to marking/beard burn、an attempt at some fluff and angst..petnames used: perfect/sweet girl、princess.⌇ℳ.list
⋮ ⌗ ┆便条⨾ so...how about them vampire brand drops? 😁 the teasers released so far feel really fun but are so polished and align so well wih enha's vampire concept! their creative team always has my heart. they definitely have my heart for this concept alone, which...i wrote because my other wips were mocking me 😭 perhaps imposter syndrome will give me a break the next time i visit them, but for now, enjoy this corner of my brain :3 haven't written about vampires before, so a lot of creative freedom is taken here! let your imagination run free and as always, much loveeee! <333
Downtown is abuzz, springtime bringing out lifeforms in their fullest, humans on a leisurely stroll and vampires in their element, nightfall cast to upheave the sluggishness of day, canines bared and timeless beauty arresting. On the way to your destination, a concrete jungle of scaffolding and pets on leashes, you stop at an intersection. Cars zoom, traffic lights ticking down until they turn green again. The road, a blur of cars would usually have your attention, if not for the huge billboard plastered above the pizzeria and jazz bar just ahead.
Pearl Bite: A bloodless white, a perfect smile.
Your own faux canines show, tongue run beneath their point as your eyes dazzle at the advert. Specifically, the creator and model for Pearl Bite ─ your one and only boyfriend.
College sweethearts, Sunghoon describes your romance as a sneaky attack on your behalf, nothing but his passion on his mind, only to be derailed. The brilliance of your smile, the heartiness of your laugh, your endless glow he couldn't shy away from. The next century is meant to build upon his newly-found interest in dentistry, open his own practice with amassed generational wealth and give back to his community. His initial plan only accounts for vampires, at the mercy of many cycled conversations of blood-stained fangs and how there's no vampire-equivalent for teeth-whitening. Then he meets you, unknowingly opens himself up more to the human experience, recognizes how they can differ vastly from his own, yet share so many similarities.
You're the most selfless person he knows, a long-line of people served before you're last in line. Amongst the juggle of others' needs and aspirations, yours kind of included somewhere, he learns you're a product of everything you've ever loved and suffered from too. In the months passing too quick for his liking - still toeing the line of friendship(ish) - you bare yourself to him in the late night diner you work at.
The one he walks you home from, drinks the shitty coffee because you've brewed it. The things vampires do for love.
In a dim corner booth, your chin perches on your folded arms, fingers drumming against a table you're yet to clean and are honestly too tired to at this point. It's been non-stop shifts packed into a never-ending semester, and whilst your job's meant to supplement your means of living, it also serves another purpose.
"I owe my mom everything," you start, the bat of your lashes turning Sunghoon into a statue, knowing what's to come yet unsure. Uncertain how to proceed. "No matter how little we had to our name, she always made sure I was taken care of. That if one of us was happy, it was always me,"
Your nose twitches, eyes glossy with a sigh coming from trembling lips. A vague crack sounds in his chest.
He wishes his hand had the kind of warmth you'd lean into.
"Losing her best friend, and in a way, losing me ─ has brought her to her knees," your fingers drum, pupils shaking as you will your tears to only exist before your waterline. "I'm doing as much as I can, but there's only so much to do from across the country. I can't check in on her and the house between lectures, I can't pay for anything medical other than some lousy insurance, I can't transfer that weight to myself,"
"Because at least then, it wouldn't be her burden to bear."
The welled emotions in your chest demand you to straighten, more space for lungs to expand and when stray tears fall, you can only exhale, elbows propped to the table to wipe them away. Your hand falls to the surface in perfect timing, searing skin meeting a cool, steady palm. You're just as still as him, the thump of your heart felt in Sunghoon's fingertips, all the way through to his ears ringing with its race. Only empathy occupies him, remnants of a life before immortality tethering you two together by more than held hands, the quiet compassion he delivers sticking with you forever.
Time has since passed, that corner booth a bittersweet memory. In spite of long-carried pain, you and your mom see brighter days ─ graduation, your first adult job, the return of her smile. Depression has a way of mystifying the future ahead of you, the present clouded in miserable, inescapable grey clouds. To push on takes all the more effort, so things start to give ─ sleep, appetite and the wither of everything else. While she's managed to pick herself up by the aid of you and others, your mom still holds a keepsake she'd rather do without. A dimmed smile you're doing your best to help restore. But in a household where annual doctor's trips are rare, the luxury doesn't come easy. And by the time you're examining what other expenses to cut back on, Sunghoon pitches his latest project.
Pearl Bite, for humans and vampires alike.
Endless trials, modifications, moulds that have bitten the dust and brave participants that bring his dream into fruition. Only now, his dream accounts for not only you, but your mother. Additional modules and clinicals to fit in the study of human teeth, revitalizing the last part of a past your mother is moving forward from. And when everything's said and done, your mother instinctively cowers from the mirror before she weeps, holding onto Sunghoon with a life force as gratitude soaks into his white coat. In the corner, his eyes find you, the water-lined tears in your eyes like then, now reflecting the kind of appreciation and love he knows is priceless.
Pearl Bite takes off, his humble practice fighting to accommodate for the onslaught of patients he tries helping. People come from far and wide, all with a story that picks at their nails and prompts reluctance when it comes time for Sunghoon's inspection. Overbites, plaque, shaven-down fangs, blood stains ─ the list goes on. However, their reluctance is all but forgotten once he commits himself to their well-being, a sigh of relief filling his mask before he hands over what feels like a magic mirror, sorrow turning into happiness. One practice isn't enough, not for endless clients, or aspiring dentists with the same aspirations. Multiple dot themselves across the country, his time split between sights he flies to (your stomach still drops whenever both your feet leave the ground). He has a line of products, an alternative solution for those he cannot meet and to no surprise, it takes off. You climb your own career ladder, finding something just as meaningful and building your life together with the man who saved yours and your mother's smile.
His practice bustles as it always does, a mixture of clients flipping through magazines or sharing stories in the waiting room. To his assistance, you wave, your presence always welcome when your schedules align. In the hall leading to his office, your head nods at more waiting patients, smile brimmed in manner with a glance at the clock.
It's feeding time.
A flutter in your chest disturbs the peace you've maintained for the day's majority, current sparked as your palm meets the door handle of his office, shallowly pulled to the side only to let yourself in. No one occupies the dental unit, spotlight tucked away with the space sterilised and clean, its sleek hues of white, grey and muted baby blue burrowing comfort in your chest. Attempts to slow the rabbit Sunghoon hears, a heartbeat so attuned to he forgoes his inventory count and goes to filter back into the main room, surprise alight in his eyes as he's urged back.
"I didn't know you were coming," his voice carries the sentiment, the half-hearted draw of his inventory's door schemed behind you.
Innocence brims in your smile nonetheless, arms strung around him as his hands fall to your waist, steady and firm.
"You forgot your dinner."
"Dinner?" a lone eyebrow raises, the slope of his nose in full view as his head turns to the mini fridge metres away. "I should have enough blood bags for─"
Your nails rake through his nape hairs once and for all, stepping back before you haul yourself on the counter space he'd been working so diligently on, showcasing the dinner he's seemingly left behind.
You.
No one would bat an eyelash at the length of your skirt, a conservative length if not for an extra long stride ─ the cross of your legs ─ where skin reveals itself, blemishing with incessant teeth marks, beard burn and a mouth pulling into a disbelieving smile as you reveal yourself to him, making sure to crane your neck enough to hint at the location of his last feed.
"So," mischief lives in the lines of your smirk, your own canines peeking through in an ask. "Will you finish what you started?"
With centuries spent living amongst vampires and humans, you'd think Sunghoon would have some know-how. Predict the patterns humans have made of themselves, ingrained in wired DNA passed down from generation to generation. Yet, you always seem to surprise him. Bring the disbelieving and amused laughter out his huffing chest, his proximity drawn closer as his hands staple on either side of your thighs, skirt material bunched in your lap, goosebump-riddled from the arctic temperature of his office.
His eyes burn with a dial of lust, iris colouring into a wine hue before his pupils swallows the field whole, gaze flickered between your eyes and lips.
"This is risky," he notes, nosing along your jaw. The instinct to give your neck away wears him down more than you'll know. "Anyone could come in and see us. Hear us,"
He deserts the raised skin trail he's created from slight grazes alone, satisfaction on his lips as he creates space to marvel at the mess you're boiling down to.
"But that's what gets you off, right?" his fangs show, his grin too amused and cocky to shield them, his head tilted to only emphasis his point. "Just can't keep your pretty moans to yourself."
Air fills your lungs through a nasal inhale, chest slumping with a gulp audible to your own ears. You'd waltzed in here first, you can't lose control just yet.
You bring yourself closer to the counter's edge, skirt riding up further to expose hints of lace, knowing it'll do nothing but torment him. Taunt him as his canine and lower teeth toy with an inner piece of his check, restraint tested.
"Come on, you haven't fed in days," he's standing straighter, hands off the counter. He's close enough though, the perfect distance for your leg to hook at his lower back and draw him in, your hand waiting before his length eventually throbs in your palm, your grin a work of sin as you peer up at him with dark magic eyes. "I know you're hungry."
Control is commanded, and to some extent, Sunghoon submits. Lets you carry out your charade, allows the concept of power to exist in your frame of mind. However, deep down, you both know. Undeterred, Sunghoon lets you palm his growing erection, smirking like it doesn't turn him on. Like he doesn't give your hand one grind, starved for friction.
His hand raises to outline the shell of your ear with his fingertip, pleased with the shiver erupting down your spine.
"Funny how blood and sex are so intertwined," he leads, voice husky as his eyes fall to yours again, standing their ground. "For you, especially."
It's meant to be a call out. In some measure, you suffer from its consequences, prickly skin and heated cheeks. However, you've been with Sunghoon long enough to quit playing shy. You plan to spend eternity with him too, it's only natural you reward him with your honesty.
"It's another layer of intimacy," the sweetness of your words juxtapose your actions, palm firm against his shaft as your thumb glides over his tip in sweet, torturous motions, smile stretching at the waver of his breath. You cock your head, a call for attention. "Wouldn't you agree?"
He's close like this now, shuffled to you in a tighter circle of your hooked legs, the column of his throat licked. The grain of stubble against your tongue hums your pleasure into his skin, his own mirrored sound coming when your teeth nibble on the teased skin.
"Hmph," he groans, losing focus. Losing to you. "I do, but my mind can't help but wonder,"
Further words peaks your interest, Sunghoon's hand settling across your neck, face further away as he handles you for his viewing pleasure. His other set of knuckles push his glasses up his nose bridge, chin lifted as he looks at you through low eyes, the quiet but hard thump of your pulse meeting the pad of his thumb.
"If it's the euphoric high you're starved for," Sunghoon's thumb moves over the tender skin, thump gaining traction as you attempt withstanding his complete read of you. "Or maybe it's the slight pain,"
Through the time you've known Sunghoon, you've only ever known him to be humble. No matter what feat he reaches, trait or skill he posses and displays, he'll pretend as if it's not his own. Won't gloat, won't brag ─ except for times like these.
When he's got you right where he wants, his fangs pinpoint on your skin between the fan of his thumb, your heartbeat the equivalent of being chased.
You hear his smirk first before you see it, space created again as his eyes cannot be without your sight for too long.
"Which one is it?"
The hand that'd been palming him arrests the counter's edge, knuckles burning white in an act of self-restraint. Control you're being frayed to abandon, a harsh run of your tongue on the back of your teeth as your other leg hooks behind him, nowhere to hide as your hip roll to meet his, a grind you see chipping away at him.
Pressure adds to the grasp on your neck ─ a test to you too.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Again, that almost incredulous yet amused chuckle meets your ears, this time more mocking as Sunghoon's tongue pokes his inner cheek, his eyes bleeding over with an intensity you've only been anticipating.
"I'll find out either way," one corner of his lip lifts, small but all-knowing. "Spread your legs."
The last thing you'll do is indulge him, even if your body aches for him in the worst way ─ bone deep, lust sinking in your body like an anchor. You're already pressed against him, the friction of few layers a blessing in disguise for someone as insatiable as you are. This, you can do with. The same can't be said for Sunghoon, who in the questioning look he gives you, your smile extends ─ a slice of heaven and a lot of hell.
"What's with the attitude?" he chuckles, one last squeeze against the sides of your neck to make you squeak. The departures paves the way for his impatience, enough strength to pry your crossed ankles apart. "Didn't you want this all along? Treated the way you are in my office because you couldn't wait?"
You can't compete against an immortal, his strength bending your body to his will, thighs braced against the arctic counter top. Spread to his liking.
"Ah, that's why," it's the second time in such little time you've heard him smirk, a more evil moon crescent shape to his eyes as he marvels between your legs. Specifically, the wetness that's soaked through the flimsy fabric. "It's okay, I want you just as much."
A gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead, because your ego has its' moments, bruising like a peach. You could huff, turn away from the supposed affection he gives you, but he's quicker. A peck to the tip of your nose and happiness in the light chuckle he does afterwards.
Then, when you're looking at him again, albeit reluctantly, he smiles regardless. Cups your cheeks, holding you as if porcelain and kisses you. Soft and pillowy, lingering to savour the simple press of flesh, a slow and sweet swirl back into desire. Melting in his cold grasp, you move in patterns known to each other, the audacity to start pulling away breathing a snicker between your lips, his smile against your lips after he's chased them, your own introduced moments later.
He picks you apart in the most delicate way, undoing you with adoring kisses and assured hands, consuming you with every breath he steals, hands of desperation hinging themselves against his arms. Sunghoon kisses you as if it's your last, with deeper meaning coming from the lifetimes he's lived, your bottom lip between his teeth as he tugs gently.
A move applicable to everyone. Doing its worst to you.
While other teeth tease, his fangs threaten, a harsher skim against the flesh your breath hitches at, a swipe of his tongue meant to soothe, only to fuel the fire burning in you.
While his hands no longer cradle your face, he kisses you without fault. Pouring affection into the tender overlap of lips, the only thing you manage to do is lift your hips as his hands tug your panties down your legs, tucked away in his back pocket as a souvenir. If you weren't so dazed, you'd make fun of him, like when you'd felt his cock kick when you'd started kissing, the venture of your tongue making him sigh a stuttered breath.
Smacked lips and laboured breaths no longer only occupy the office/closet space, abundance of slick lapped up on the span of two fingers, the most piled on Sunghoon's fingertips as they tease your entrance, thumb doing slow circles against your clit.
Fingers carding through his hair, your breath stutters in his mouth. Whines and huffed whimpers bleed into his kiss-stained lips as his fingers push in with no resistance, welcomed as your walls conform to their shape. He stretches you with the scissors of his fingers, the stretch simmering with a touch of discomfort, grinding down to blooming pleasure as you yield, his fingers 'curl pushed into the spot making you see stars.
"Think I'll give your thighs a break," Sunghoon whispers, your tongue dipped into the curve of his lips. "All those hickeys and beard burn can't be good for you ─ too much friction,"
"N-not enough," you wail, running feverishly hot and without any care, bucking your hips helplessly. "Want ─ more."
"I've made you such a greedy thing, haven't I?" he murmurs, humming at all the sounds you reward him with ─ vulnerable moans, sloppy kisses you try giving but it's no use. You're gone, in too deep to realise the moment you'd walked into his office, your fate had been sealed.
Other points deserve attention, is Sunghoon's thought process as he leaves your lips with one last slow kiss, saliva strung between your quivering lips before he peppers his way down your chin, up the curve of your jaw and stops right below your earlobe. You know where he'll go next and it sends a buzz through your every cell, makes you tremble and shake. And before your brain can catch up to the signs, Sunghoon knows too.
Hears the chaos of your heart, the disarray of your pulse and plays along.
"Haven't even got to your neck and you're leaking all over my fingers," he muses, a peck smacked onto the dipped skin before his teeth catch onto the fleshy part, a fang punctured close to where your lone piercing is. An automatic response is relayed by your body. "Squeezing my fingers for all their worth, huh?"
Lolled to the side, a partial part in purpose but the other because your head's swarmed in haziness, twice its weight from Sunghoon consuming you, his non-beating heart having the decency to not prolong your long-awaited ask. He descends, inches but makes his way with the tread of his teeth down your neck column.
"What happened to that little attitude of yours, sweet girl?" he asks, the squelch and twitch of your body unearthing a rarity in condescending nature. "Did I fingerfuck it out of you, hm? You wanna be my good girl now?"
You nod hard enough to feel the jumble of your brain, cut up into pieces and free-floating in your zero-gravity headspace.
"You know nods won't do," he's there. The exact spot he feeds from, and it's maddening. The release of adrenaline, the rabbit chase your heart does, nails scraping into marble.
He noses along the mark, a momentary pause noting how gone he is for you too, intoxicated at the mere scent of your blood before everything crumbles, his willpower the only thing standing as he pries away, looking you in your eyes as he says,
"Let me hear you say it, princess."
"I'll─I'll be good," the words slosh in your mouth, lips pressed to muffle your desperate squeaks. "I just─just let me come please?"
"I'm no animal," dark laughter licks up your spine, stuck in its slouch as Sunghoon's rhythm picks up, fingertips knocking deepest in you, your jaw pried open in silent surprise. "I couldn't deprive you if I tried."
"Come on, sweet girl," he comes closer, fresh linen scent engulfing you as a kiss lays upon your temple. "The quicker you let go, the faster you get my cock."
The quicker he'll feed.
The mere thought is almost like magic, contracting your walls in an impossible squeeze as the coil in your stomach sizzles at the tips of your toes, shooting up to burst through every avenue ─ every pore ─ of your body. Detonating right in the palm of his hand, he kisses your wails away until they subside, fingers working you until you're twitchy and overly sensitive, glossy eyed yet itching to unbutton his slacks.
"Impatience will get you hurt," is his later comment, letting you mess with the buckle of his belt, metallic clashes resonating through the room. Dripping more slick onto his office counter. "So rushed when you'll struggle taking me."
The last notch of his zipper sounds louder than the rest, your head snapped in his direction. "Now, that you can't mock me for,"
Your eyes drop down to the heavy bulge imprinting through his briefs and slacks, hoping his eyes follow along.
"I take your literal monster cock like a champ, thank you."
"Give or take."
You kiss your teeth, knowing better but still cursing at him in your head.
"Whatever," your eyes roll, pushing enough of his waistband down to get your hand around his cock. Barely, but it's not of the essence. What is is the need his tip heats with, generous precome beaded in his slit your thumbs runs over. A hiss releases in spite of his efforts, met with the cockiness of your grin. "You're the one who needs me here,"
"Blood bags only taste so good," you drawl, pulling him out to get a better handle of his length. Head ducked to dribble spit on his skin as makeshift lube, enveloped by your palm in a mixture with precome as your hand comes up and twists up his veined shaft. Now it's his turn for braced hands on the counter's edge, his grip strong enough to snap the marble in two. The thought ignites lightning in your stomach.
Your mouth gets the chance for payback ─ hovering over the shell of his pointed one, a lapsed breath released in the anticipation of your words. The slow, tight jerk of your hand. "And none can get you off, so…"
A huff of defeat ─ still humoured ─ sounds past your shoulder, Sunghoon's back muscles flexing through the white coat ruffling as he pushes off the table, hair slicked back back as his fingers run through dark strands, his pale features accented with a pretty rosy tint.
Lips swollen with kisses. Skin glittering in the low light.
"You're annoying," his hands swats away yours, his focal point you as your figure reflects in the honey sweet hue of his eyes. "I love you."
"Love you t─ah!"
Sunghoon had knocked your knees further apart, lined himself with your entrance and now, starts to slide his length in. Ever since your last orgasm, you'd hinged on his counter for the moment his cock would stretch you out, but even if your eyes blindly followed his shifts, you'd got lost in his confession. The sheer honesty and sincerity brimming in his eyes as he said so, his last words to you before you reconnect again as one.
A frantic hand jumps to secure yourself on one plane of his shoulder, a sharp inhale sucking in all frigid air of his office into your shaken lungs, the bitten back moan he lets slip flooding the glide of his length, inches sparingly used. Yet the thought of being split open remains alive and well.
"You're good, you can take it."
It's one of his sentences that doesn't reek of condescension, the kind of sugary encouragement you can't help but want to do your best for, relying on your practiced methods of breathing and trying to relax. Except to accommodate to his size, you're gripping and adjusting, depleting his ability to be gentle with you. In the adjustments you make, one sentence lurks in the misty halls of his mind as he only gives as much as you can take, a hand and grazed-thumb on your hip to ground you.
"What I'd do to stuff your hole full of me right now…"
Luckily, he doesn't have to do anything. Living up to your words, the inches continue to disappear, the sorest sight for his centuries-vision filled eyes, shoulders coming down in relief with a mouth ajar. Your hand's over the lower half of your stomach, not exposed by your shirt, but Sunghoon knows.
You feel him there.
"Remind me," he huffs, stalling for your adjustment, the stretch as delicious as it is a dance around torture. "You take what like a champ?"
Sunghoon gets a kick out of it, this you already know. Somehow, it still makes your jaw tick, the weight cramped in you, making friends with your lower stomach is colossal, enough for an eye twitch and a sharp head turn in his direction.
"Your cock," every word spoken has a letter with a centre part, the disapproving head shake you do continued as your hips shift, leaking tip grinding up into the spongy spot you keen at. "Now move, before I fuck you."
Sunghoon's sorely mistaken. Painfully hard, yet he still continues ─ cat and mouse game too good to give up.
"All bark, no bite," he muses, eyes in false moon crescent, hips pulling back to offload the fill of your entrance. "Leave that to the real vampire, huh?"
Of course he'd leave you with that. Provide you some relief before he eases back into you again, grin shit-eating but eyes attentive, making sure this is pleasurable for you, to which it becomes. Accommodation is never easy, no matter how frequently you fuck, but he makes every grit of your teeth worth it. Falls into slow deep breaths you unknowingly follow and unwind with, moves his cock in and out at any pace you're comfortable with kisses you through it all, praises seared into the skin his lips meet.
A tempo builds, meek whimpers whispered into the hollow of his neck now barely contained moans. Your arms form a loose circle around his shoulders, the groans and whines he saves for your ears swirling a sickening pit of lust in your stomach.
"If only─hmph," you struggle, nails pressing into the fabric of his coat. "You put your mouth to better, fuck ─ use."
Past your ear, his laugh is bright. "You're bewitched,"
The smack of his pelvis against the back of your thighs teases your own teeth into his shoulder, whimpers releasing instead.
"Are my fangs all I'm good for?"
Turns out, you have your own timing. Comedic timing, it seems, because when you pry from him, mourning the loss of his cool skin, your eyes peer down between your legs. At the cock he uses with you as priority, a simmered sensation you unwind to, wetness drenching his length as the faint bulge of his tip makes itself known.
"You're good for other things too."
"Unbelievable," you hear your partner laugh, light and breathy because he's so fine-tuned to the human experience, large hands setting themselves up firm against your hips. "Now, if you will, let me do for what I'm good for."
Like you've always known him to be, he prides himself on his craft, making good of his word as he starts pistoning into you, the grind of his pelvis notching against your clit to make you squeal, his shoulders fastened to as the back of your thighs echo with your indecency. You're choking on moans, trying to keep noise to a minimal, but how can you when your vampire boyfriend knows you best? Knows what angle generates current in your body, what pace has you doubling over, holding him because the building pleasure is too immense for how contained your body feels? Knows when to flip the switch with you, the grounding presence you need or the kind that presses you into the ground.
"My perfect girl," he murmurs, a soothing hand cascading down the back of your head. "I'll never get over how good you feel."
He isn't the former for long, sheep's skin shed when your eyes start glossing over, legs hooked round his waist with your toes curled, tears of ecstasy saturating his coat's shoulder. How can he when you're basically offering yourself to him, enough distance created for your hands to support you from behind, neck craned for his taking.
"Is this what you're into?" he asks, the outline of his body unfair under layers of clothing as his cock stuffs you full. "Do you fantasize about being feed on because you feed off the pleasure and pain?"
You could consider his question, answer truthfully wherever it lies. However, you're a bit preoccupied. The one or two things he's good for working against you, reducing you to a worthless pile of mush, the same matter made of your brain, melted and spilling out your ears, hearing stifled.
"Answer me."
Your throat works, suddenly so dry with a swallow for saliva to quench some thirst, vision fuzzy as you fight off the impending doom.
Not now, not yet.
"Yes," you respond. "I'm into it because─"
He notches himself with a particular force, one you do a withered whimper at, pupils shaking as they blow over your iris' ring.
"Because it's with you," your hand's on his jaw, holding him firm as you add on. "I have a you fetish."
"Fuck," there's a hitch in Sunghoon's thrusts, a slight hiccup when he disintegrates at your words, head hung only to come back up with the brightest smile on his face. The one you could spend eternity looking at. "You're such a tease."
"A pretty, sloppy, needy─" emphasis in his stupidly seductive tone matches with the brute of his thrusts, concentrated and attuned to what'll make you break. "─tease."
Against your forehead, his own falls, a kiss shared as his low body temperature attempts to dial back yours, the coil in your stomach too hot for you to function.
"Good thing you're close because I am too," he nods, one last kiss before he asks. "Do I have the honours?"
It's one of the easiest yes' you'll utter.
"Always."
What you could compare the initial seconds of Sunghoon feeding from you to is a piercing. The clamminess of your palms, an escalated heart rate even if you'd mentally prepared for the moment and eyes incapable of focusing. To gain it back, your only function boils down to managing your breaths as anticipation itches beneath your skin.
Then, it happens.
A momentary flicker of pain, sharpened enamel piercing through skin and sinking, nestling where no vitals are endangered. It's minor, so minor it's forgotten the second after it's felt, the burst of euphoria incomprehensible. Words fail to explain the phenomenon, amounting to a standard you're on a constant chase for, bewitched as Sunghoon so lovingly puts it, him just the same ─ if not worse off ─ as he shamelessly moans at the taste, the vague waft of blood's metallic scent replaced with the blanket of his linen scent.
Blood and sex are so intertwined, mentioned previously by Sunghoon. And while he'd said this in response to you, the words ring truest for him, a broken moan vibrating into your skin as his hips start rutting, erratic as he surges towards his orgasm. His priority forever and always, he wedges his hand between your bodies, your clit played with to bring you to a similar pace, something like come coating your walls as you squeeze his cock one last time, a cry from your lips before you come undone.
Eventually, he relents, having had his fill with a pry he holds your body up for, still dazed from the aphrodisiac-like remedy in his venom to seal your skin together. When the world stops moving in separate circles, you catch sight of his fangs, coated in the rich crimson of your blood, only having the energy for a lazy smile before he sorts you two out. An eventual knock echoes at his door, Sunghoon spitting the last of Pearl Bite toothpaste out his mouth, fangs like brand new as you two feign normalcy.
Like he hadn't fed from you, or how his vampire-equivalent to come isn't leaking between your crossed thighs.
Just another day at Sunghoon's practice.
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where heeseung has to hold your hand whenever he’s gonna cum. it’s non-negotiable!! the feeling is just so overwhelming and he needs you to keep him grounded. and don’t even get him started on cumming inside you.
he finds himself subconsciously holding his breath, eyes screwed shut, and hands clenching onto the sheets beside your head. you notice and tap his wrist, signaling him to loosen up. interlocking hands, you remind him to breathe and let himself feel.
he’s already got you in missionary but he needs you closer. he can’t help it, the way you’re being so gentle and loving with him has him so so turned on :( this is all he’s ever wanted and he wants to give you everything, make you feel everything.
your grip on his hand tightens when he leans down, pushing some hair out of your face and kissing you sweetly. at least, this is what he considers sweet in his fucked out state. the kiss is wet and sloppy as he helplessly laps at your mouth, leaving you struggling to keep up.
his desperation grows, hiking your leg up and doubling down on his thrusts, plunging into you. he’s so deep but he’s whining that it’s “s’not enough” :( you’re not sure how to help such a lost cause, so you just lay there, letting him use you while you praise him.
“oh fuck, gonna cum..” he groans, squeezing your hand and pressing his forehead to yours. his face slips to squish his cheek up against the side of your face with a whine. “please say you’re close, too. can’t hold it”
you nod and squeeze his hand thrice in response, a silent ‘i love you’ that causes his hips to stutter as he spills inside you. your orgasm follows not long after, coating him in your sticky arousal. he’s practically spent as he continues to ride out his high, filling you up with ropes of his cum ^_^
can u tell i love his lil macbook photoshoot? ugh he’s too cute
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : college AU, smut (MDNI), exes-to-lovers, fast paced
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : swearing, jealousy, possessive behavior, ni-ki is the annoying ex, mention of cheating, mention of alcohol, smoking/vaping, hickeys, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, orgasm denial, light degradation, condescending praise
𝐰𝐜 : 6.5k {6.509}
❗️ None of the characters are meant to represent their real-life selves. Everything in this story is fictional and created purely for entertainment.
INSPIRED BY : Ur All Mine - Westwood
You sit across from Danielle at a small café table, your sketchbook open but ignored. She stirs her drink and leans in. “Maki’s birthday party is this weekend. You should just make it official with him already. You’ve been flirting for weeks.”
You nod once, eyes on the foam in your cup. Official sounds simple when she says it. In practice, it means another text from Ni-ki, obviously. He coincidentally always finds out about your dating history after him. Last month it was some guy from your art history class. The month before, a barista. Each time the message arrives at odd hours and it's always a question or a rude observation, never asking to get back together nor admitting jealousy. He only wants to remind you he knows.
You set your cup down. “I’ll think about it.”
Danielle raises an eyebrow. “That’s it? Come on. Maki’s pretty fun. You two click.”
You shrug. The real reason sounds so stupid that if you tell her what it really is, she will never let it go. Ni-ki works his underground gigs, tags walls at night, within the fact that he's disgustingly rich. He stays out of your classes and your schedule. You study late in the studio, mix paints, build installations. Neither of you reaches out first anymore and it’s great like that. But your dating life? That pulls him back every time, like clockwork.
The party is two days away. You already know how it will go.
You lean back in your chair and tap your fingers on the edge of the table while thinking. “Yeah, maybe.”
Danielle snorts. “Maybe? Be fucking for real. He’s been texting you every day. What’s the hold up?”
You pick up your cup and take a sip. “It’s not that deep. I’ll see how the party goes.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don't make it a big deal, anyway. You can't let men get to your head.”
You nod once and change the topic to her upcoming exam. Inside your head, you could already picture the message that will come after the party. Ni-ki, jealous as always, pretending he doesn’t care. And of course he will never miss an opportunity to make a mean comment on the guys you talk to, or even try to ruin the beginning of a flirt. Even if he’s the one who fucked all this up and made you who you are now. All of that, without holding an entire conversation with you.
You push open the door to your apartment and drop your bag on the couch. Your phone rings when you’re about to sit down. It’s written Maki on the screen.
“Hey, are you coming to my party Saturday?” he asks right away.
“Of course, I’ll be there.”
“Cool. Do you wanna match outfits? Wear white. We’ll look good together.”
You chuckle. “Damn, bossy as hell. What if I wear black just to fuck with you?”
“Hmm, then I’ll find you and make you change. Or take it off. Your call.”
“Keep dreaming.” you say, smiling despite yourself. The back and forth stays light for another minute and you bring yourself to tell him you need to finish some sketches.
“See you Saturday then, white outfit. Don’t you dare flake.”
You hang up and toss the phone on the bed. A few minutes later you open Instagram. One of your classmate’s stories pops up first. You scroll through it and freeze. In the background, clear as day, Ni-ki stands close to some girl, his hand near her waist while she laughs at one of his stupid joke he probably said. Of course it’s confusing when your ex ; who did you dirty ; exposes himself without an ounce of shame with another girl, and has the nerve to make a single comment on your situationship.
“Fuck.” you mutter under your breath. You close the app, set your phone face down, and turn off the light to drift into sleep.
───
You wake up. It’s Thursday morning and you text Danielle to meet for shopping. By ten you both walk through the mall, racks of clothes between you. You pull out a short plain white dress and hold it up.
“This one?”
Danielle nods. “Try it. Maki said white, right? I think it’ll work.”
You change in the fitting room, step out, and turn to look at the overall. You subtly notice that it bunches up behind your butt when you walk, but it’s not going to be a big of a problem, is it?. Who cares anyway? The dress fits so you obviously buy it. After that you head to the food court and split a large order of fries and two sandwiches at a table by the window.
Halfway through your food you look at her. “Do you think I’ve changed since the breakup?”
Danielle chews and swallows. “Yeah, I do. After Ni-ki you actually moved on. You stopped sitting around waiting for whatever that was. Now you flirt back when guys like Maki show interest. It’s good. You seem so much more lighter.”
You nod and eat another fry. You continue chewing on food while talking about a new series she started watching. You finish eating, pay, and walk out together. By late afternoon you split up at the parking lot. She heads to her car for a study group and you walk the other way toward the row of ATMs on the street corner.
You stand in line behind an older woman counting her cash. Not so long after, a black car pulls up across the street. You could recognize this car model amongst every other one’s. You glance over and see Ni-ki leaning against the hood. A girl stands in front of him and they kiss. You can’t help but gaze back and forth two times, since their kiss was disgustingly agonizingly long. She pulls away to say something close to his ear, and walks off down the block, disappearing. He watches her go before he gets back in the car.
“Ew.” you mutter under your breath. Were our kisses that repulsing to watch?
The car starts and drives straight toward the ATM lane. It stops right behind where you stand. You keep your eyes on the machine ahead, trying to act like you weren’t hoping anticipating for his arrival. The woman finishes and leaves. Ni-ki gets out and stands next to you, so close that you can smell the trace of his signature cologne mingled with cigarette smoke. You’ve had so much memories attached to that scent that it made you slightly squint your eyebrows together.
He stands there and waits. “You saw that earlier?”
You really don’t want to look at him right now. Or you’d rather not see any trace of lipgloss on his lips. “Yes. It was disgusting.”
He lets out a short breath, a laugh disguised in a scoff. You step up to the ATM, punch in your code, and request twenty dollars. The whole time he stays there, hands in his jacket pockets, watching the screen.
“Jealous now?” he asks after a beat.
“No. I was just stating what I saw.”
While he stays still you turn slightly to see him planted beside the machine, eyes on you like he has more to say. It’s only you and him now.
You grab your twenty dollars and the receipt from the slot. Ni-ki steps closer, blocking the easy path back to the sidewalk.
“You don’t care anyway,” he says. “You’re probably flirting with a bunch of guys right now. That’s your thing these days.”
“Fuck off.” you tell him flat. You turn to walk away but he stays at the machine, inserts his card, and selects an amount. The machine whirs and starts dispensing a thick stack of bills that could choke a horse. You pause a few steps away and watch in curiosity.
“Are you planning on buying the whole block?” you ask sarcastically.
He counts the bills quickly and stuffs them into his wallet. “It’s for Maki’s party. We’re tight, so I’m handling the alcohol and the rest of the shit. Bottles don’t come cheap.”
You shake your head. He shuts the wallet and walks past you to his car. The door opens with a loud click. Before he gets in he looks back at you, mouth tilted in that unnerving half-smirk.
“See you at the party. Bring your guys. I’ll be there too.”
‘Bring your guys’ You couldn’t expect much from him. He slides into the driver seat, starts the engine, and pulls away. You stand there a moment longer, cash still in your hand, then head back toward your apartment.
───
On Saturday, you sit on the edge of your bed with your phone pressed to your ear. Maki’s voice comes through clear while you fold the white dress you bought. “That girl from my econ class is definitely showing up even though no one invited her,” he says. “And that dude Anderson? He’s bringing his speaker setup again. Last time it blew out halfway through the night.”
You laugh. “Tell him to keep the volume normal this time. I don’t want another noise complaint.”
The conversation bounces around. Maki updates you on the food he ordered and the playlist he’s making. When you compare him to Ni-ki, you’d obviously think that he was the right guy for you and that your ex wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Nonetheless, you can’t deny the fact that your heart always chases after a particular thing. A thing that maybe Maki doesn’t have that someone else do. After that, he pauses.
“You got a ride? My villa’s pretty far out and I can’t leave to pick you up. I’m stuck setting everything up here.”
You look at the clock. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Ni-ki’s coming from your side of town. It’s basically on his way. I’ll text him to grab you.”
You freeze for half a second. Maki has no clue about your history and that’s weird considering how close he is to Ni-ki. You think about the choices you might have. There’s no bus going that far, and cabs would cost too much.
“Alright,” you say. “Tell him.”
“Cool. He’s reliable for this stuff.”
You both keep talking for a bit and you check the time again and tell him you need to start getting ready.
“See you tonight. Don’t forget. White.” he says before you hang up.
You set the phone down, stand up, and pull the dress from the hanger. You lay it out on the bed and start with your hair. You finish getting ready and check your reflection one more time. Your phone lights up on the dresser. A text from Ni-ki.
Ni-ki [8:07 PM]
Outside in 10.
You read it, set the phone back down without typing anything back. A few minutes later you hear the low rumble of his car pulling up in front of your building. You grab your bag, lock the door, and head downstairs.
He waits by the passenger side, engine still running. You walk over and he opens the door for you out of habit. You slide in. He gets behind the wheel and pulls away from the curb before glancing over. “You don’t usually wear white.” he says.
“It was Maki’s idea. He wanted us to match.”
He makes a small sound in the back of his throat. “Cute. Matching outfits like some high school shit. Really original.”
You buckle your seatbelt and stare straight ahead. “It’s just a color. Drop it.”
He taps his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. “Didn’t say it wasn’t. It’s just funny how you’re suddenly into whatever he suggests. Remember when I joked about bringing another girl around? You lost your shit for weeks.”
The words hit exactly where he meant them to. You remember that night clearly. He had laughed it off as a joke after you found out he actually did bring someone else to one of his gigs while you were still together. Always a joke with him, always something he could walk back. That was the top 1 of the reasons why you should’ve left you listed in your note apps before breaking up with him.
“That wasn’t a joke and you know it,” you say. “You cheated and acted like it was nothing.”
He changes lanes, eyes on the road. “We weren’t even exclusive by then. Or did you rewrite the timeline again?”
“We were.” you answer. “You just didn’t want to admit it when it got inconvenient.”
The car fills with silence for two blocks. He speaks again, voice low.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now you’re playing dress-up for Maki.”
You turn your head toward the window. “At least he doesn’t hide behind ‘it was just a joke’ every time he fucks up.”
That was enough to shut him up.
The villa is still twenty minutes away and the road stretches out in front of you. You watch the passing streetlights without saying anything else. Ni-ki keeps his eyes on the road until the villa comes into view, lights already spilling out from the windows and music thumping low. He parks along the long driveway behind a line of other cars.
He cuts the engine. You unbuckle and open your door at the same time he does. He steps out first, pulls a cigarette from his pack, and lights it. The flame catches quick. As you stand up and close the door, he moves around the front of the car. His hand brushes your side and tugs the hem of your dress down toward your thighs quickly.
“Try not to do anything stupid tonight.” he says around the cigarette, voice so low you almost missed what he said. He takes a drag, exhales smoke to the side, and walks off toward the house without waiting.
You adjust the strap of your bag and head inside on your own. The living room is already filling up and you usually hated crowds. You try to sneak upon people and finally spot Danielle near the kitchen island talking to two other girls from your program. You walk over and join them.
“Y/N,” Danielle says, pulling you into a quick side hug. “You made it. The dress looks so good on you.”
One of the girls, Eunchae, smiles. “We were just talking about who’s already drunk. Anderson started shots twenty minutes ago.”
You smile and lean against the counter. “Sounds about right. Anyone see Maki yet?”
The talk picks up from there. You greet the others, exchange small talk about classes, letting the party noise settle around you.
You leave the group with Danielle and weave through the growing crowd toward the back patio where most of the main action is. Maki stands near the sliding doors talking to a couple of guys holding red cups. He spots you and breaks into a grin.
“I’m so freaking glad you came.” he says.
“Happy birthday again. In person this time.” You step closer and press a quick kiss to his cheek. He turns his head just enough that your lips catch the corner of his mouth for a second. His hand rests lightly on your waist.
“Thanks. You look good in white. That’s exactly what I pictured, even though you look good in any color.”
You pull back but stay close to keep the conversation easy. He introduces you to the guys he’s with, and you chat for a few minutes about the setup and the music. You can already smell the grilled meat from the barbecue and an overwhelming “party” scent. Maki gets pulled into another conversation, so you tell him you’ll catch him later and step away.
Your eyes scan the patio. In the far corner, past the pool lights, sits the designated smoking section. Ni-ki leans against the railing there with a couple of other guys. He’s switched to vaping now. The device glows faintly as he takes a long pull. You watch as he does a slow ghost inhale, holding the vapor in before letting it drift out slowly through his nose and mouth at the same time.
His gaze lifts and locks on you across the distance. His gaze remaining on yours forcefully. The corner of his mouth lifts into a tiny smirk right as the rest of the smoke leaves his lips in a controlled cloud. The light from the string bulbs catches the side of his sharp features. You feel it low in your stomach, that unwanted pull. It looks hot, you have to admit it. How he controls the vapor, and when he watches you while doing it, the smirk signaling he knows exactly what he’s doing.
You turn back toward the house before the moment stretches too long. Danielle waves you over to a new group forming near the drinks table. You join them and focus on the conversation, although the image of Ni-ki in the corner stays at the edge of your mind. The party noise rises around you as more people arrive. You take a cup someone offers and listen to the stories being swapped, forcing yourself to stay present.
You stand with Danielle and the others near the drinks table. Maki walks over a few minutes later carrying a bottle of something stronger. He pours shots for the group and hands you one.
“To another year of making bad decisions,” he says, clinking his cup against yours.
You drink it down and the burn hits quick. You talk about nothing important, laugh at old stories, and pour another round. Danielle refills her cup and gestures toward the patio. “At least Ni-ki’s not causing drama tonight. You two good now?”
Is she serious right now? Maki pauses mid-sip and looks between you and her.
“Wait. Ni-ki is your ex?”
You set your cup down. “Yeah. It was a while ago.”
He blinks once, processing. He looks thrown off rather than mad. “Huh. I didn’t know that. Small world, I guess.”
He finishes his drink and shrugs it off with a half-smile. “I’m gonna go check on people. I’ll be back.” He squeezes your shoulder once and walks off toward the other side of the house.
You shoot Danielle a look. She mouths “sorry” and changes the subject fast. The group keeps drinking, but you can feel the shift. After another ten minutes you excuse yourself and head toward the patio again to get some air.
Maki ends up near the smoking section. He spots Ni-ki leaning against the railing with his vape and walks over. “Hey man, thanks for coming,” Maki says. “And for picking up Y/N earlier.”
Ni-ki exhales a cloud of vapor and nods. “No problem.”
Maki chuckles. “I didn’t know you two had history. Exes, right?”
Ni-ki’s mouth curves. “Yeah. Ancient history. She still acts like I owe her something though.”
Maki laughs lightly. “She’s cool. We’ve been talking a lot lately.”
“That so?” Ni-ki takes another pull from the vape, does a French inhale, and blows the smoke out slow. “She’s not with me anymore. But she’s still my ex. You know how it is.”
The cockiness in his voice could be heard from a mile away. Maki raises an eyebrow, still joking. “Possessive much? She’s her own person last time I checked.”
Ni-ki smirks wider. “Tell yourself that. Just don’t come crying when she ghosts your ass for no reason. She’s good at that.”
They both laugh, a back and forth that stays surface level yet carries tension underneath. Maki claps him on the shoulder once and moves on to talk to someone else. Ni-ki stays where he is, eyes scanning the party again.
You head back inside after the conversation dies down. The party has picked up. Music thumps louder through the speakers and people crowd onto the cleared dance floor in the main room. Danielle pulls you into the group with a few other girls. You move with them, bodies shifting to the beat, hands in the air for the chorus.
Maki finds his way over after a couple of songs. You dance facing him, then turn and press back against him for a few beats, grinding lightly against him. His hands rest on your hips. The alcohol makes everything feel loose. You stay like that for another track before you peel off and tell the girls you need air.
You step out onto the patio again. The night feels cooler now. Fewer people linger outside. Ni-ki still sits on the wide railing in the smoking corner, vape in one hand, a half-empty cup in the other. Two guys talk to him but soon head back inside, leaving him mostly alone.
You walk closer and stop a few feet away. “You’re still smoking that thing. You really can’t go one night without it?”
He looks up, takes a pull, and exhales. “It keeps me from doing worse shit. What about you? Grinding on the birthday boy like that. That’s new.”
You roll your eyes and lean against the railing nearby. The alcohol turns noticeably in your stomach. You breathe deeper, trying to clear your head, eyes focused on the dark yard beyond the lights. Ni-ki notices your light unsteadiness. He stands up and moves beside you, closer than he ever was in your life.
He lifts the vape to his mouth, inhales, and blows a thick cloud of smoke from the corner of his lips so it drifts past your face. His free hand drops to the hem of your dress again and tugs it down from your ass to your thighs with a firm pull.
“Come with me,” he says. “Let’s get you some water before you puke on Maki’s shoes.”
The dizziness lingers. He starts walking toward the side door that leads to the kitchen and you follow him. Most people are still on the dance floor so they’re not going to pay attention if something happens. You lean against the counter near the sink, with your head a little fuzzy from the shots. Ni-ki opens the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water, and hands it to you without a word.
You twist the cap off and take a long drink. He stops vaping, sets the device on the island, and leans back against it directly in front of you. His arms rest on the edge of the counter behind him.
“You’re being nice tonight,” he says. “Even drunk. Not like the old days when you’d tell me to fuck off for less.”
You lower the bottle and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Don’t start acting like you know me. You lost that right a long time ago.”
He watches you take another sip. You set the bottle down with force. “Mind your own business.” you tell him. “Stop trying to ruin my love life every time I talk to someone else.”
Ni-ki pushes off the island and steps forward. He places one hand on the counter beside your hip, the other on the other side, bracketing you in. Without touching you, the space between you shrinks. You can smell the scent of his vape and the subtle alcohol on his breath. He’s not drunk, but neither does he seems sober.
“I don’t give a shit if you choose Maki,” he declares lowly. “I don’t even want you back like that. We both know that. I just don’t like that you’re not mine anymore.”
You stay pressed against the counter, looking up at him. “Then why the fuck can you kiss other girls whenever you want,” you say, “and I don’t have the right to do anything? You get to move on but I can’t even dance with someone without you pulling this shit?”
His eyes stay on yours without moving an inch.
“Because I don’t pretend it’s something bigger,” he answers. “I kiss who I want and it ends there. You start something and suddenly it’s this whole production with matching outfits and rides and everyone knowing your business. It pisses me off that you’re out here acting like you’re free when you used to be mine. That’s all.”
You push against his chest lightly with one hand. He gives an inch but stays close.
“What the fuck am I to you? An object? You don’t own me,” you tell him. “We broke up. Get over it.”
He lets out a short laugh. “I am over it. That doesn’t mean I have to like watching it. Especially not with Maki acting like he’s got a chance at something real.”
Music pulses from the other rooms and it feels distant. He waits for your next words, hands still planted on the counter.
You push past him and walk out of the kitchen. The alcohol still clouds your steps as you head toward the stairs. You start climbing without looking back.
“Stop,” Ni-ki calls after you. “You’re gonna trip like that.”
You ignore him and keep going. Your dress rides up a little with each step, bunching higher on your thighs. A couple of guys standing at the bottom of the stairs turn their heads, eyes dropping to your ass.
“Eyes up, assholes.” Ni-ki snaps at them as he moves quickly behind you.
He follows close on your heels the rest of the way up, his body blocking the view from below. You reach the second floor hallway and stop near an open window for air. He stops right behind you, you feel the heat from him.
You push away from the windowsill, head spinning more than before. The dizziness hits harder. You walk down the hall and open the nearest bedroom door. It’s empty with just a big bed and some jackets thrown over a chair. You go straight to the bed and lie down on your back, eyes closed.
Ni-ki follows you in. “Slow down. You’re drunk.”
“Fuck you.” you mutter, arm over your eyes. “Always acting like you can tell me what to do or like you still have a say. Go find another girl to kiss and leave me alone.”
You hear his footsteps cross the room. The door clicks shut behind him, closing out most of the party noise. He stays near the door for a moment, and then he moves closer to the bed.
“I’m not leaving you up here like this,” he says. “You’ll feel worse if you pass out alone. Drink more water when you can sit up.”
You keep your eyes covered, the room tilting even while lying down. “I hate how you do this. You show up and act like you care only when it suits you.”
He pulls the chair closer to the bed and sits.
You stay on the bed, arm still draped over your eyes. The dizziness refuses to calm down. Ni-ki shifts in the chair beside you. “I know I’m an asshole,” he says after a long pause. “But Maki’s too drunk to take care of you properly. He’s downstairs doing shots and barely standing straight. You think he’s coming up here to hold your hair if you throw up?”
You move your arm and look at him. The room lights feel too bright. “And you think you’re any better? You followed me up here like I need a babysitter.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Someone has to. You drank too much and came upstairs alone. I’m not trying to fuck with you right now. So stay here until it passes a bit.”
You try to move your head on the pillow. The bed feels still under you compared to the floor earlier. Ni-ki gets up from the chair. The mattress dips as he sits down on the edge next to you. His hand lands on the mattress right behind your head, his fingers brushing the pillow.
“You need anything?” he asks. “More water? Something to eat?”
“Fuck off,” you say without opening your eyes. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Come on. Stop being stubborn.”
“Fuck you, Ni-ki. Seriously. Go downstairs and vape or kiss whoever the hell you want. Leave me the fuck alone.”
You turn your face further into the pillow. He stays seated there, hand still planted behind your head on the bed.
“Do you love Maki?” he asks suddenly.
Why would he ask that all of a sudden? When you try to consider it, you don’t love Maki. You really don’t. Love is a strong word to describe what you’re feeling for him. And when you think about it, you don’t even have a definition for love, since the ‘real’ love you’ve ever experienced was absolutely fucked and toxic. You remain silent and let the question float, unanswered.
He leans in a bit closer. “Have you ever kissed him?”
“Yes,” you confess. “Once on the mouth. And please, it’s really none of your business.”
After your declaration, he softly abruptly kisses you. And weirdly enough, you can’t push him away. The shape of his lips, the curve of his mouth, they all are familiar to you. You’ve kissed him a hundred times and only God knows why it always feels surreal when you do. You stay still under it for a few seconds. When he finally pulls back you wipe your lips with the back of your hand. He laughs low and kisses you again right away. You try to turn your head but he follows, kissing you so you can’t wipe anything off. You manage to get your hand between you for a moment.
“Stop.” you mutter against his mouth. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He kisses you once more, quick and sure. “You told me to go kiss a girl. I’m listening to you.”
You push at his shoulder, a tentative move to use your strength that isn’t even there because of the alcohol. “That’s not what I meant. Can you stop being such an asshole?”
He laughs again, close to you. “You said it. Now you’re mad when I do it. Make up your mind.”
You wipe your mouth again and he’s automatically already leaning in. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I aware of that.” He kisses you anyway and you let him once again. You bicker between kisses, words half-formed and cut off. He keeps the pace just fast enough that you can’t keep wiping your lips clean. Your thoughts spin slower by now, caught between telling him to leave and not wanting him to. You can’t decide.
Ni-ki shifts and towers over you on the bed, one knee beside your leg. Your hands find his shoulders and stay there to anchor yourself. The making out gets more heated, mouths open, breaths mixing, just like the good old days. His hand slides down to the side of your hip. He grips it and whispers against your lips, “I can finally slide this dress up.”
If anything scandalous could possibly happen, you can’t allow that to be known by anyone. Not Maki nor Danielle. And knowing how Ni-ki could just spill that in Maki’s face just to fuck with him. It couldn’t be worse than what this is. You pull back to speak, your face a few inches away from his. “If we do anything right now, you forget it tomorrow. You shut your damn mouth.”
He nods once. “Agreed.”
You tilt your head back as he moves to your neck. “Maki’s downstairs waiting for me.”
He makes an irritated sound low in his throat. “Don’t bring him up while I’m doing this.” He kisses your neck harder and sucks stingily on the skin. You feel the pull as he leaves a noticeable hickey. He moves lower, mouth working along your collarbone, leaving more marks. One after another.
You breathe through it, fingers in his hair. He shifts to the other side of your neck and does the same, sucking until the skin blooms under his mouth. Your thoughts keep circling back to how bad an idea this is, but you don’t want to can’t stop him. He covers your neck and collarbones, alternating between kisses and harder pulls that you know will show tomorrow.
“Fuck,” you mutter when he hits a sensitive spot. He keeps going, hand still firm on your hip under the bunched fabric of the dress. The party noise stays far away and for now the room holds only this.
You feel his hand move under the dress. He slides your panties down your legs easily and tosses them aside. His fingers return between your thighs and caress your folds, slow and patient, waiting for you to get wet.
You find it funny, this power you still have over him, and how easily he would react to a mention on the guys you’re talking to. You smile against his mouth and start talking. “Maki kissed me better last time. His hands didn’t shake like yours do when you’re trying to act cool.”
Ni-ki’s fingers keep moving, teasing your entrance but not pushing in yet. “Stop.”
You ignore him and keep going. “He texts me every day. He says he misses me when I don’t reply. You never did that.”
“Y/N, what are you doing?” he says again, voice tighter. His fingers circle your clit once, then back to your folds, spreading the wetness that starts to build.
You chuckle low. “You’re so easy to annoy. Look at you. Already hard and I haven’t even touched you back.”
He leans down closer, mouth near your ear while his hand works between your legs. “And would you look at yourself? Such a needy little slut, getting wet for your ex while your new boy is downstairs waiting. Can’t even stay loyal for one night, don’t you?”
You breathe sharper at his words, body reacting even as your mind pushes back. His fingers stay teasing, patient, drawing it out. You shift your hips but he doesn’t speed up. The marks on your neck throb in time with your pulse, as he sucked on your skin like a vampire. You know you should tell him to stop but the words don’t come out of your mouth. Anyone who would even just see their ex from afar would run away or ignore them. And mostly after them cheating on you and being an asshole. You feel dumb right now. You let him keep touching you, the mingle of annoyance and heat keeping you there under him.
You feel his hands on your waist. He lifts you without much effort and shifts you onto his lap so you straddle him. Your dress bunches up around your hips. He unbuckles his jeans, pushes them down and leaves his boxers on for a minute, and pulls you closer. He grinds up against you, his hard cock sliding along your wetness through the thin fabric.
You reach down between you and wrap your hand around him. You stroke slowly, spreading the precum from the tip down his length. He exhales sharply, like when he exhales smoke. You position yourself and sink down onto him, taking him in inch by inch until you sit fully on his dick.
“I fucking hate you.” you whisper.
He grips your hips tighter. You start to move, slow at first. The feeling of him inside you brings back too many memories. You rock your hips, hands on his shoulders for balance. He meets your movements from below, thrusting up into you.
“You say that but you’re soaking my cock right now,” he mutters.
Even like this, he finds a way to talk back. You keep riding him, the heat raising in the room. Your thighs press against his sides which makes the bed creaks quietly under you both. You hate how right it feels in the moment, how your body responds to him without hesitation, because you’ll always have this weird connection together. He fills you completely and you let yourself chase that feeling, even while the words “I hate you” echo in your head.
You keep moving on him, hips rolling steadily. Ni-ki’s hands slide down to your ass. He fondles it, squeezing the flesh as you ride him.
“That’s it,” he says, voice low and condescending. “You’re taking my cock so well. Such a good little slut for your ex even after all that talking shit.”
He slaps your ass once, the sound sharp below the muffled music. The sting mixes with the pleasure as you clench around him involuntarily. He does it again on the other cheek, harder this time, then rubs the spot right after.
“Fuck, you feel so tight,” he continues, fondling and kneading your cheeks while you move. “Maki doesn’t know how to handle you like this, does he? But here you are, bouncing on me like you never left.”
You bite your lip to hold back a moan. His words irritate you but they also push you closer. He slaps your ass a third time, grips both cheeks and pulls you down harder onto him with each thrust. His hands stay on your ass, fondling, slapping, controlling the pace as you ride him. Your thoughts scatter between the anger and the building heat and you don’t if anything feels right. You hate how much you like his hands on you right now, the way he praises you like he owns the moment. You keep going anyway, letting the cadence take over.
You press down harder, sitting fully on him and stirring your hips in tight circles so his dick moves deep inside you. Ni-ki groans and grips your ass tighter, hips jerking up. You feel him throbbing, right on the edge.
You lift off him suddenly, his cock slipping out wet and You press down harder, sitting fully on him and stirring your hips in tight circles so his dick moves deep inside you. Ni-ki groans and grips your ass tighter, hips jerking up. You feel him throbbing, right on the edge.
You lift off him suddenly, his cock slipping out wet and hard. You grab your panties from the floor and pull them back on quick. He stares at you, breathing heavy.
“What the fuck?” he says.
You smooth your dress down over your hips. “We said forget it tomorrow. I’m done.”
A knock sounds on the door. Maki’s voice comes through. “Y/N? You in there?”
You glance at Ni-ki once before walking to the door. Your legs feel unsteady but you keep moving. The hickeys on your neck burn under the fabric. You open the door just enough to slip out, leaving Ni-ki on the bed behind you. Maki stands in the hallway, looking concerned.
“Hey, I was looking for you,” he says. “You okay?”
You nod and close the door behind you. “Yeah. I needed to lie down for a bit. Let’s go back downstairs.”
Your mind races as you walk with him, getting occasional stares from him on your neck and collarbones. The wetness between your legs a reminder of what just happened. But everything will be forgotten the day after, right?
in which: you had an argument with your boyfriend and stormed out.
warnings: bratty(?) / mean reader , kissing , soft riki , lowercase intended , not proofread - pls lmk if i missed anything.
a/n: this isn’t what i usually write however i kinda like it… i also got a little lazy towards the end but i hope you enjoy anyways! all likes & reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶
you slammed your bedroom door shut and huffed out a breath before crawling beneath the soft covers of your cold bed.
you and Riki hardly ever fight. the same as any other little argument, this one was incredibly stupid. you did feel bad… but you were stubborn.
you’d storm out after arguments and wait until he comes to you first. this time, it didn’t take him long.
you were laying with your back to Riki’s side of the bed when you heard the bedroom door creek open.
the mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he climbed into bed behind you. the room was quite for a moment, apart from the soft rustle of the duvet as he pulled it up over himself.
you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he shuffled closer. he cautiously draped an arm over your waist, resting his warm hand gently over your stomach.
you didn’t say anything at first; you just sniffle and exhale a shaky breath. “move.”
he freezes instantly. his hand hovers over your stomach for a second longer before he reluctantly pulls it back.
the mattress shifts again beneath him as he rolls away, creating a respectful distance between the two of you.
the silence stretches for a moment before he exhales a frustrated sigh.
“baby, come on.” he starts, his tone low and cautious. “don’t be like that.”
you ignore him and close your eyes.
you feel the mattress shifts again, thinking he’s retreating further. however, he shifts closer. close enough that his chest presses firmly against your back and his breath ghosts over your neck. one arm snakes under your pillow while the other finds your hip, pulling you flush against him.
“i said i’m sorry,” he mumbles against your hair. “like… five times.”
when he realises you’re going to continue ignoring him, he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “i’m an idiot, okay? i don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”
his fingers squeeze your hip gently before he continues. “i’d rather fight and make up than suffer while you ignore me.”
“i’m not mad.” you lie and he knows it’s a lie.
“you are,” he mutters against your shoulder. “and you’re right to be mad. i messed up.”
he sighs. “but can i please just hold you, baby? even if you’re mad?”
he pauses, waiting for permission.
then you nod and he takes it as silent acceptance. he settles back against you and possessively wraps his arm around your waist fully. he pulls you so close that there’s absolutely no space between your bodies before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
you exhale deeply, finally comfortable and relaxed despite still being mad at him.
he recognises your soft exhale and presses a soft kiss on the spot just below your ear while he rubs small circles on your stomach with his fingertips in a smooth pattern.
“there she is,” he smiles agains your neck. “my girl.”
“no.” you mutter stubbornly.
“yes you are.” he counters. “and you’re pretending you’re still mad even when you’re melting in my arms.”
he squeezes you tighter and there’s a long pause.
then: “tell me what you want me to do, baby. i’ll do anything.”
you’re quiet for a moment before whispering, “kiss.”
he wastes no time gently turning your head towards him with his fingers under your chin. you blink and his lips capture yours in a soft, tender kiss. the kind of kiss that’s meant to comfort and apologise all at once. he hums against your mouth and his lip slides smoothly along your bottom lip, silently seeking enterance.
your hands slide from his shoulders up his neck and into his hair and he instantly melts, letting you pull him closer.
the kiss quickly turns softer and wetter, effectively drowning out the remaining anger from your earlier argument. it’s thorough as he swallows your little sounds and slides his hand from your stomach to your waist, holding you.
it’s sweet and messy, completely claiming your mouth as his. “there she is…” he smiles against your lips. “my pretty girl.”
“shut up.” you smile and bury your face in his chest.
“yes, ma’am.” he chuckles but the affection is unmistakable in his tone.
you eventually end up halfway on top of him and his arms wrap around you, one hand cradling the back of your head and one rubbing smoothly up and down your back.
“better now?” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
you nod and he just presses another kiss to your forehead as he begins rocking you slowly, side to side. the way you always liked when you were stressed. “how ya feelin’ now? better?”
“yeah.” you whisper.
“good.” his fingers thread through your hair softly, gently massaging your scalp. “i hate it when we’re fighting… and i’m sorry again. for real.”
“it’s okay, Ki.”
he lets out a short, satisfied sigh against your hair and tangles his legs comfortably with yours so you’re fully cocooned in his warmth.
The heavy, throbbing ache in your muscles is the only thing anchoring you to reality as you unlock the door to the shared apartment. The air inside is cool, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off your skin after such a brutal workout session. Every step feels like a chore, your gym clothes sticking to you like a second, suffocating skin.
You drop your bag by the entryway with a dull thud. All you can think about is the shower, the thought of hot water washing away the sweat and exhaustion is the only motivation you have left.
You head straight for the bathroom, already peeling off your damp clothes. The quiet of the apartment surrounds you, making you think you’re completely alone. You turn the handle, letting the water run until the room begins to cloud with thick, heavy steam, blurring the edges of the mirror.
Stepping into the glass enclosure, you close your eyes and let the spray hit your face, sighing as the tension begins to melt from your shoulders.
But the click of the bathroom door cutting through the sound of rushing water tells you that you aren't alone anymore. Through the fogged glass, a tall, familiar silhouette moves closer.
The heavy glass door slides open, letting a draft of cool air slice through the thick steam. Riki stands in there, still in his damp gym gear, his dark eyes locked onto you through the fog. The contrast between the cool air and the heat of the bathroom makes you shiver.
"Why didn't you wait for me?" he asks, his voice low, cutting easily through the roar of the rushing water.
"Sorry... I just felt so disgusting," you murmur, wiping the water from your eyes as you look back at him.
"Yeah, yeah..." he mutters, a slow, knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
He doesn't step into the water right away. Instead, he reaches down to grab the hem of his soaked workout shirt. You watch his muscles tense as he pulls the damp fabric up and over his head, tossing it onto the bathroom floor outside.
Next comes the waistband of his shorts. He slides them down his legs, peeling away the last barrier of his clothes until he's completely bare, the cool bathroom air raising goosebumps on his skin.
He finally steps over the ledge and into the tight enclosure with you. The heavy glass door slides shut behind him with a definitive click.
The shower feels instantly smaller. The air grows thick and suffocatingly hot as he steps directly into your space, crowding you beneath the spray. The water immediately drenches his hair, sending slick tracks running down his chest as he corners you against the wet tile.
The heat radiating off his bare skin is intense, you can feel the adrenaline from his workout rolling off him in waves.
"Riki," you breathe out. You place your hands against his chest, feeling the steady, rapid thud of his heart beneath your palms. "Let's just... let's wait until after we shower. We just got back. I want to actually get clean."
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrates in his chest. He doesn't step back. Instead, his hands come up to rest on the tiled wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you between the cold stone and his burning body.
He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and damp. "What's the point of waiting? We're just going to get all sweaty again anyway."
The confidence in his voice sends a sudden prickle of heat straight down your spine. Before you can even formulate a protest, his right hand leaves the wall, his fingers tracking a slow, deliberate path down the side of your neck, over your collarbone, and down to your waist. His grip is firm, and his fingers are digging into your hip with a possessive pressure that leaves no room for argument.
"Besides," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to watch the water track lines down your skin, "you look too good right now to make me wait."
He crowds you further, his thigh sliding between yours, forcing your legs slightly apart. The friction of his wet skin against yours is dizzying. You try to draw a deep breath, but the air is thick with steam and his familiar, intoxicating scent. Your hands shift from his chest to grip his shoulders for balance as your knees already feel a fraction weaker.
"Riki, seriously, my legs are already like jelly from the workout," you try to reason, though the breathiness of your own voice betrays you.
"Good," he whispers against your lips, his thumb stroking a slow circle into your hip bone. "Then you won't mind letting me hold you up."
He doesn't give you another chance to speak. His mouth comes down on yours, hot and demanding, effectively silencing any remaining logic. It’s not a gentle kiss, it’s a direct continuation of the intensity he brought home from the gym. He tastes like the clean rain of the shower water mixed with a fierce, burning hunger that immediately sets your pulse racing.
As the kiss deepens, his hand slips lower, his fingers slick with water and heat as they find the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You gasp into his mouth, a sudden jolt of electricity shooting through you as his touch grows bolder, migrating firmly toward your core.
"Riki—" you whimper against his lips, your fingers tightening into the muscles of his shoulders as he begins to tease you with a slow, agonizingly deliberate rhythm.
"Shh," he breaks the kiss just enough to mutter against your skin, his jaw tight as his fingers work with a devastating precision. "Just take it."
He uses his other hand to grip your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look into his eyes. They are dark, blown out, and entirely focused on your reactions.
Every slide of his fingers makes your breath hitch, the water pouring over both of you only heightening the slick sensation of his touch. He knows exactly where to press, his thumb finding your clit and applying just enough pressure to make your hips twitch involuntarily.
"You're already so wet," he rasps softly, a dark smirk playing on his lips as he watches your expression fracture. "See? I told you there was no point in waiting."
You try to hold yourself steady, but the combination of your exhausted muscles and the relentless, expert movement of his fingers is too much. He accelerates the pace, his fingers deeply inside you while his thumb relentlessly drives you toward a peak.
"Please," you gasp out, your head dropping back against the wet tile as your hips helplessly chase his hand.
"Please what?" he says, his voice a low and commanding. He doesn't slow down. If anything, his movements become more aggressive, his fingers fucking you ruthlessly until your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably.
Your knees buckle completely, your weight giving out, but Riki’s grip on your hip instantly tightens. He hoists you up, pinning you flat against the shower wall, refusing to let you drop, refusing to let you escape the building storm. You are completely at his mercy, caught in a dizzying spiral of overstimulation as he continues to drive into you until you are entirely broken open under his touch, crying out his name into the foggy, echoing room.
He watches your orgasm wreck you, his own breathing ragged now, his chest heaving against yours. But he doesn't let you rest. Before you can even recover from the aftershocks, he reaches down, gripping your thigh and lifting it over his hip.
The heat of his cock presses firmly against your drenched, aching cunt.
"I told you this before," he pants, his eyes locking onto yours with an absolute, unyielding dominance. "We're not done until I say so."
With one powerful motion, he drives himself completely inside you, stretching you so deeply that the breath is knocked entirely from your lungs. The shower walls literally vibrate with the force of his movement as he begins to fuck you, the rhythm fast, heavy, and completely relentless.
The steam continues to fog the glass, completely trapping you in a wild, breathless haze where the only thing that exists is the roaring water and the undeniable, overwhelming power of Riki breaking you down, piece by piece.
The force of his first few thrusts pins you helplessly against the wet tile, the slick stone offering no traction as Riki takes complete control of your body. Every time he slams into you, your breath hitches.
The water pelts down from above, blinding you, but Riki’s gaze remains locked onto your face, tracking every twitch of your features, every desperate gasp that leaves your parted lips.
"Riki, wait—" you try to cry out, your hands clawing weakly at his wet shoulders. The sensory overload is staggering, the roaring water, the thick, heavy steam choking the air, and the sheer size of him tearing you completely open. It’s too much, too fast after your muscles were already pushed to their limit at the gym.
"I'm not waiting," he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a hot, bruising kiss to your collarbone as he thrusts deep, shifting his angle to hit that exact spot inside you that makes your entire body go rigid.
You let out a broken sound, your fingers digging into his back. Your legs feel entirely useless now, trembling violently as he sets a punishing, relentless rhythm. He handles your weight effortlessly, one massive hand hooked under your thigh, holding you aloft while his other hand presses flat against the wall right beside your head, the shower structure subtly vibrating under the force of his movements.
"Look at me," he rasps, his voice a low rumble that vibrates straight through your chest.
You force your eyes open, your vision blurred by tears and spray. Riki’s jaw is clenched tight, a vein pulsing at his temple as he fucks you with a fierce, possessive hunger.
He looks entirely lethal in the dim, foggy light of the bathroom, a dominant force that refuses to let you slip away into the numbness of exhaustion.
"You're so tight," he pants, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he accelerates, his cock driving relentlessly against your aching pussy. "Am I too much for you? Tell me."
"Yes—please, Riki, I'm going to—"
You can't even finish the sentence before another wave of intense pleasure threatens to fracture your mind. Your body is already so raw, so completely undone from the way he fingered you moments ago, that every single friction of his skin against yours feels like an electric shock.
"Nah, don't drop yet," he warns, catching your lips in a harsh, bruising kiss that drowns out your whimpers.
He intentionally slows his pace for a split second, drawing almost completely out of you until you moan at the sudden emptiness, only for him to slam back inside you all the way to the hilt, burying his length so deeply that your hips twitch automatically against him.
The steam has turned the bathroom into a complete blur, sealing the two of you into a private, hot cocoon. The scent of soap is entirely overwhelmed by the musk of your shared sweat and the unmistakable heat of raw, unfiltered desire.
He shifts his grip, suddenly turning you around so your front is pressed flat against the cold tile wall. The sudden contrast of the chilly stone against your flushed chest makes you gasp, but before you can adjust, Riki crowds his entire body against your back. He pulls your hips back, aligning you perfectly before he slams back into you from behind.
This angle is even deeper, hitting you with a brutal, direct force that causes the shower walls to shake. Your hands slide against the wet tile, unable to find a grip, leaving you entirely dependent on the way his heavy hands clamp onto your hip bones, anchoring you to his rhythmic, devastating pounding.
"Riki, please—I can't—" you sob out, your head dropping against the tile wall as the fogged surface smears with your movement.
"You can," he mutters, his breath scorching the back of your neck as his teeth lightly graze your shoulder blade. He refuses to finish, refuses to let himself give in, holding back his own release with a terrifying amount of control just to keep you right on the edge of breaking.
The relentless pace shifts, the air in the small enclosure settling as Riki seems to feel the slight tension in your posture. The punishing, frantic energy of the moment softens, grounding itself back into something thick, heavy, and intensely connected.
He doesn't pull away, but the aggressive drive of his movements slows down to a deep, deliberate drag that lets both of you catch your breath.
He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breathing a heavy, ragged heat against your skin as he lets the hot water pour over both of your shoulders, letting the silence settle between you.
When he pushes forward again, the movement is a slow, rolling thrust that fills you completely. The friction turns from a sharp, overwhelming spike into a deep, agonizingly sweet ache that pulls a soft, long breath from your lips.
"Hey," he murmurs, his voice a low, and vibrating against your ear, the earlier edge entirely melting away. "Look at me."
He gently guides you to turn back around to face him, his hands supporting your weight with an easy familiarity so your exhausted legs don't have to bear the burden. When your eyes meet his through the cascade of water and steam, the intense focus in his dark gaze hasn't changed, but it's smoothed over by a heavy, protective warmth. He reaches up, his thumb gently wiping the moisture from your cheek.
"Too much?" he asks softly, his chest heaving against yours as his length shifts deeply inside you.
You shake your head slightly, your hands sliding up to wrap securely around his neck, finally finding your rhythm with him.
"Just... tired. Everything is so sensitive."
Riki lets out a soft, breathy laugh, his forehead leaning against yours as the water blankets you both. "I've got you," he promises, his voice dropping to a gentle, reassuring purr. "I'll hold you. Just relax against me."
He begins to move again, but the cadence is completely altered, with measured, and incredibly deep strokes that stretch the pleasure out rather than rushing toward the edge.
It’s an intense, heavy sensation that makes your core ache with a quiet warmth, each tilt of his hips designed to make you melt rather than fracture. His hands stay anchored on your hips, no longer locking you down, but smoothly guiding you against his body to ensure every single point of contact is pure, unhurried heat.
The bathroom feels entirely peaceful now, the steady, soothing roar of the shower swallowing up everything else as the steam wraps around you like a heavy blanket. Riki sways with you under the water, drawing out the moment until you're completely soft and pliable in his arms.
The steady, rhythmic drumming of the water continues to echo off the tiles, creating a private cocoon around the two of you as the steam grows thicker.
The slow, deep thrusts of his hips stretch out the sensation, allowing your body to fully adjust to the thick, heavy warmth filling you.
Every single slide of his length is deliberate now, no longer punishing, but incredibly intense in its consistency. Your hands tighten around his neck, your fingers knotting into his wet hair as your hips begin to subtly shift on their own, finding a quiet, natural harmony with his pace.
"Riki..." you breathe out, the sound vibrating right against his chest.
"Yeah," he says softly, his voice thick, a low rumble of pure satisfaction. He pulls you just a fraction closer, his large hands anchoring firmly on the underside of your thighs to take every ounce of your weight. "I got you. Just stay right here."
The gentle, rolling rhythm begins to naturally tighten, the pleasure shifting from a soft, radiating ache into a concentrated, burning heat low in your belly.
The friction of his wet skin against yours under the cascading water becomes hypnotic. Even without the frantic speed from before, the sheer depth of him fucking you is pulling you right back up to the edge, your internal walls contracting tightly around him with every movement.
Riki’s breathing hitches, his jaw clenching tightly as he feels your body begin to tremble again. The gentle warmth in his eyes darkens with a sudden, heavy spike of desire as your tightness threatens to break his immense control.
"Fuck y/n," he pants against your ear, his pace naturally quickening just a bit, the deep strokes turning firmer, harder, as the heat becomes too much for either of you to contain. "You’re squeezing me too tight... you're ready, aren't you?"
You can only nod against his shoulder, a broken whimper escaping your lips as your hips helplessly chase his steady, powerful thrusts. The build up is thick and intoxicating, completely consuming the last of your strength.
"Go ahead," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a raw, command as he drives deep, hitting that exact spot inside you with a sudden, unyielding precision. "Come for me."
With a final, deep thrust, the tension snaps. A loud gasp is knocked from your lungs as a shattering climax ripples through your entire body, your muscles clenching around him in violent, desperate waves. Your head falls back against the wet tile wall, your vision blurring into complete white.
As you unravel completely in his arms, the tight, relentless pressure of your body pushes Riki entirely over the edge. His control snaps completely. He lets out a sharp, ragged gasp that echoes off the shaking walls, his hips slamming forward one last time to bury his cock to the absolute hilt. He freezes right there, his entire body going completely rigid as he cums deeply inside you.
The heavy, breathless sounds of his release mix with the roar of the water as he spills his burning heat completely, filling you to the brink while holding you tightly against his chest.
The frantic motion completely stops, leaving only the loud, heavy sound of your synchronized, ragged breathing cutting through the steam. He stays buried deep inside you, his heart hammering wildly against your ribs, simply holding you up as the aftershocks slowly fade and the water continues to pour over your shared skin.
For a long, quiet minute, neither of you moves. Riki keeps his arms securely wrapped around you, his hands resting gently on your lower back to keep you anchored against him as the last of the tremors fade from your legs.
Slowly, carefully, he draws back just an inch, his cock slipping out of you with a soft, slick sound. Instead of stepping away, he turns his body to shield you from the direct spray, letting the hot water hit his back while he reaches down to adjust the handle, turning the flow into a gentle, warm mist.
He reaches for the bottle of body wash on the small corner shelf, pouring a generous amount into his palms until a thick, fragrant lather builds.
"Turn around," he murmurs softly, his voice deep and rough from exhaustion as his fingers gently coax your shoulders.
You comply, pressing your hands lightly against the tile wall for support as your muscles continue to feel like jelly. Riki steps up close behind you, his warm, soapy hands coming down onto your shoulders.
He begins to wash you, his movements slow and deliberate, a complete contrast to the power trip from earlier. His palms glide over the aching muscles of your back, working out the tension from both the workout and the shower, before tracing down the line of your spine.
His touch is incredibly tender as he cleans the sweat and the remnants of your intimacy from your thighs, his fingers moving with a quiet care that makes you melt completely against him. Once you’re completely clean, he pulls you back under the warm mist, using his hands to gently rinse the soap from your skin.
He takes a quick moment to soap himself down and rinse off, the water washing away the last of the exhaustion. When the soap is completely gone, he turns off the valve, the sudden silence in the enclosure heavy and peaceful.
He slides the glass door open, immediately reaching out to grab two large, plush towels from the rack before the cool bathroom air can hit your skin. He wraps one carefully around you, tucking the edges in to trap the remaining warmth of the shower, before wrapping the second one around his own waist.
Even with the towel shielding you, a small shiver runs through your body, your exhausted muscles still trembling slightly from the sheer intensity of the last hour. Riki notices instantly.
Without a word, he steps close, hooking one arm securely under your knees and the other behind your back, effortlessly lifting you into his arms.
"Riki, I can walk," you murmur weakly, your voice small and raspy against his neck, though your arms automatically loop around his shoulders for balance.
"Yeah right," he mutters, a soft, breathy chuckle vibrating in his chest as he carries you out of the damp, steam fogged bathroom. "Your legs were shaking just standing there. Just let me hold you."
He carries you into the quiet comfort of the bedroom. He deposits you gently onto the center of the mattress, taking a moment to use the edges of the towel to gently pat away any lingering droplets of water from your skin.
Once you’re dry, he pulls the heavy, thick duvet all the way up to your shoulders, tucking you in tightly like a cocoon to make sure you're warm. He slides his own towel off and tosses it toward a chair before slipping into the bed right beside you.
The mattress dips under his weight as he slides beneath the covers, immediately pulling you close until your back is pressed flat against his bare chest. He loops one heavy arm around your waist, pulling you tightly into his frame, his body heat radiating through you like a furnace.
For a long time, the room is completely silent, save for the hum of the apartment's air conditioning and the steady rhythm of your breathing. He rests his chin lightly against the crown of your head, his fingers tracking slow, lazy circles over the bare skin of your shoulder.
"Hey," he murmurs softly into the quiet room, his voice dropping to a low, vulnerable register that you only ever hear when it's just the two of you like this.
"Yeah?" you breathe out, your eyes already growing heavy as the warmth of the bed and the comforting weight of his arm soothe your exhausted mind.
His hand stops its movement for a second, his fingers gently gripping your waist a bit tighter, pulling you just a fraction closer against him.
"Sorry if I went too hard on you," he whispers, the rough edge completely gone from his tone, replaced by a genuine, quiet tenderness. "I know you were already tired from the gym. I just... lost my head a bit when I saw you in there."
Hearing the slight hint of worry in his voice makes you smile weakly in the dark. You shift slightly, turning your head just enough to press a soft kiss against the smooth skin of his forearm wrapped around you.
"It's okay," you murmur softly, your hand coming up to rest over his, intertwining your fingers together. "It felt good. I just really don't think I can move my legs until tomorrow."
A soft, genuinely happy laugh huffs out of his nose, his lips pressing a lingering, warm kiss into your hair. "Good. You don't have to move at all. I got you."
He resumes the slow, rhythmic tracing of his fingers against your skin. The fierce, unyielding force from the shower feels like a distant memory now, replaced entirely by the safe, protective bubble he’s built around you in the dark.
Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier with every breath he takes against your neck, your body completely melting into his solid frame. Riki adjusts the blanket one last time, pulling it securely over your shoulders and holding you tight against his chest, content to watch you slowly drift off to sleep in the quiet safety of his arms.
I kicked off my heels the second the apartment door clicked shut behind me. My feet throbbed, soles burning from the long walk home.
The straps had dug in so deep I could already see angry red lines across my skin. Normally Riki would have been there to scoop me up, carry me the rest of the way when my feet gave out, but we were broken up again, so I had to hobble the whole way by myself. I wobbled straight to the bathroom, already tugging at my clothes.
Underneath I wore a full lingerie. Black with lace with garter belt and stockings. Not for the guy i went on the date with; no. Just for me. I wanted to feel pretty again after the fiftieth stupid breakup with Riki. The date had just been an excuse for free wine and a reason to leave the house.
I was halfway through peeling off my clothes when three loud knocks rattled the front door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Open this door!”
I froze; standing in nothing but the lingerie. My stomach dropped. I knew that voice too well.
Another hard knock. “Aria. Open the damn door.”
I rolled my eyes, yanked an oversized shirt from the hook, and pulled it on fast. It barely covered the panties. I walked to the front door without unlocking it. “Go away, Riki!” I shouted through the door.
“I know you just got back!” My stomach flipped. I hadn’t posted anything. “Who told you?” “It doesn’t matter. Open this—”
“It does matter, Nishimura!”
“I said open this damn door, Choi.” He was already jiggling the handle.
“Go away!”
“So you really went on a date?” Another heavy knock. “One date!” I yelled back. “So that’s it, huh? We break up for a week and you’re already letting guys take you out?!”
“We’re broken up, Riki!”
“WE ALWAYS BREAK UP ARIA!”
“It’s late. Go.”
Silence again. Then his voice dropped, softer. “Just… open the door, Ariana. Please. I’ll get on my knees.”
I sighed, unlocked the door, and there he was, on his knees in the hallway. I crossed my arms. “Get up, Nishimura.”
He stood, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him. I leaned against the kitchen island, watching him scan the apartment like he was looking for someone else. Then his eyes finally landed on me, traveling from my bare feet up to my face.
I reached up and pulled my loose hair into a messy ponytail. The motion lifted the shirt just enough to flash the black lace panties.
“You have to be kidding me?!” Riki said, staring at them. “What?” I asked not fully understanding.
“You fucked that date in the lingerie I got you for my birthday?” He stepped closer, grabbed the hem of the shirt, and yanked it up. “And the bra?! This is the set I bought you.”
“First of all, I didn’t fuck him—”
“Then why were you wobbling when you walked in? Huh?” He let the shirt drop and stepped back.
“God, Riki! I wore heels. We only ate something. I just got home and had to walk the whole way. Shut up.” I was getting irritated again. “I don’t even know why I let you in. Go!” I grabbed his wrist and tried to drag him toward the door.
“Stop yelling.” he hissed.
“I hate you, Riki! We’re broken up, remember? Go!” I kept pulling but he didn’t budge. “I’m not going.” “Yes you are!”
“You know what I think? You did this on purpose to piss me off. Went on a date, wore the lingerie I bought you, opened the door in my shirt, put your hair in that messy ponytail you know I love to pull while I fuck you—”
“Shut up.” I hissed.
“No. You know what I think.” He walked toward me, cornering me against the front door until my back hit the wood. “I think you want me to fuck you right now. Fuck this whole attitude out of you.”
His face hovered inches from mine. “Go.” I said, voice shaking with anger.
His hand slid slowly down my side and settled on my waist. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to my neck, finding the exact spot that always made my knees weak. I let out a small, annoyed moan before I could stop it.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“Oh we will definitely fuck, princess.”
He kissed me hard, tongue pushing past my lips. My hands fisted in his shirt even while I tried to shove him away. He pressed his body flush against mine, grinding his already hard cock against my stomach through his jeans. I could feel the thick outline of him and hated how fast my body reacted.
Riki’s hand slipped under the oversized shirt, fingers tracing the lace edge of the panties he had bought me. He hooked a finger under the waistband and snapped it against my skin. “You wore this for yourself, huh? Bullshit. You knew I’d find out.”
“I didn’t.” I gasped as his teeth grazed my collarbone.
He spun me around so my front was against the door. One hand stayed on my hip while the other yanked the shirt up and over my head in one rough motion. Cool air hit my bare back. He pressed his chest to me, lips at my ear.
“Hands on the door.” he ordered.
I hesitated. He slapped my ass, the sound sharp in the quiet apartment. I slapped my palms against the wood.
“Good girl.”
He dropped to his knees behind me. His fingers hooked into the lace panties and dragged them down my thighs slowly, letting the fabric catch on my skin. Once they were around my ankles I stepped out of them. Riki spread my legs wider with his knees and leaned in, tongue dragging a long, slow stripe from my clit all the way back to my ass. I jerked forward, forehead hitting the door.
“Riki—Fuck—”
He didn’t answer. He just buried his face between my cheeks, licking and sucking at my pussy like he was starving. His tongue pushed inside me, fucking me shallowly. One hand reached around to rub tight circles on my clit. My thighs started shaking almost immediately.
I came hard against his mouth, legs buckling. He held me up by my hips, licking me through it until I was whimpering and trying to pull away. When he finally stood, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and spun me to face him again.
He unbuckled his belt, shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It was already leaking at the tip, thick and flushed dark. He grabbed my thigh, hooked it over his hip, and lined himself up.
“Look at me.” he said.
I met his eyes right as he thrust in deep. One smooth, hard stroke that buried him to the hilt. I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He started fucking me right there against the door, hips snapping forward, the wet sound of my pussy taking him filling the apartment.
Every thrust knocked the breath out of me. His hand stayed on my thigh, keeping me spread open. He pulled my head back and kissed me messy, teeth clacking, tongues sliding together.
“You feel that?” he growled against my mouth. “This pussy is mine. Always has been.”
I couldn’t answer. All I could do was moan and take it. My second orgasm built fast, heat coiling low in my belly. Riki angled his hips and started hitting that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I came again, clenching around him so tight he groaned and buried his face in my neck.
Before I could catch my breath he scooped me up, carried me to the bedroom, and threw me onto the mattress. I landed on my back, legs spread. Riki climbed over me, grabbed my thighs, and pushed them wide apart. He lined his cock up again and thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke.
“Shit—Riki—” I moaned, nails digging into his back.
He started fucking me in missionary, hips snapping forward, the wet slap of our bodies filling the room. “This pussy is mine.” he growled, pounding deep. “Say it.”
“It’s yours-” I gasped, legs wrapping around his waist. “You know I still fucking hate you.” I said while he slammed himself in me.
“Sure you do. That’s why you’re letting your ex fuck you after you had a date.” Riki leaned down, biting at my neck as he fucked me harder. “You wore my lingerie for that loser? Pathetic. You knew I’d come find you.”
I clawed at his shoulders, meeting every thrust.
“Fuck you—”
“Already doing that, princess.”
He reached between us and rubbed my clit fast. I came again, walls clenching around his cock, vision going white.
Riki pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and yanked my hips up. He shoved back inside from behind, doggystyle, one hand gripping my ponytail tight exactly the way he said he would. He pulled my head back and started pounding into me, the force making the bed creak. His other hand came down hard on my ass, the slap loud and sharp.
“Fuck—Riki—harder—” I moaned, pushing back against him.
“Take it.” he growled, slapping my ass again. “This ass is mine too. Say it.”
“It’s yours—Fuck.” I cried out as he yanked my ponytail harder, forcing my back to arch. “My pussy, my ass—everything.”
He fucked me relentlessly, the head of his cock hitting deep with every thrust. Another orgasm built fast. I came screaming into the sheets, body shaking. Riki followed right after, burying himself deep and filling me again with hot cum.
He stayed inside me for a long moment, breathing hard, hand still tangled in my hair. When he finally pulled out, he turned me onto my back and kissed me slow, tongue sliding against mine. Cum leaked down my thighs. I pulled him closer, legs wrapping around him again.
As I dozed off, Riki pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
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