kly𓍯𓂃

"Hm, smells good!"

Over the stark midnight induction stovetop, steam dances under the sunset stove hood light, bubbles crackling in the pot of pasta you brew, competing with the soft sounds of your playlist ─ your picture of serenity. Tossed over your shoulder, your lips line into a smile at your incoming roommate, Sunoo, sauntering through the living room with his arms braced against the back of a kitchen stool, whiskered smile on full display. 

"I haven't even gotten to the sauce yet," you dash a wink, slightly turned to whisk your tortellini in its pot. "I'll save you some though."

"You're a godsend," his palms clasps together, joy plentiful. "That'll save me making hashbrowns when I get back."

"You mean those hockey pucks?" Laughter bubbles out of you two, fondness painting over the amusing memory. "They were frozen in the middle and you had the audacity to say,"

"Your hashbrowns have been served!" 

He collapses in a fit of giggles, you halfway there as you back away from the stove, clutching your stomach at the resurfaced memory, Sunoo so happy to serve you frozen hashbrowns after a night out. While thoughtful, it did prompt ready-made food to be stored away for such occasions. 

"You know I'm no good in the kitchen, how much more drunk," he comments, index finger dabbing away acute tears. 

"Yeah, that actually might have been my bad," offering a sidelong glance, your teeth bite back your mirthed grin. "It made for a good memory, though. That I can't complain about,"

"Even if you threw up whole hasbrowns the next day?"

Eyes clamped shut, your shoulders shake with amusement, the boil of pasta subduing poor attempts to backtrack muffled snickers. 

"Even so." you decide on, looking back at him with the kind of fondness your friendship thrives on, the same mirrored back at you. 

On the stool's back, his elbow balances on its edge, palm holding his chin as his back extends, lips settled into a small pout. "Did you make cocktails too?"

"I would have but," a flush gnaws at your neck's nape, a sudden flash of heat blowing towards your face. "I didn't have any time."

"Too busy with other cock…"

"You know what!"

His body collapses under the weight of familiar laughter, eyes moon crescents as your spatula's raised, accusingly pointed in his direction as timidity keeps your smile downturned, flush alive and well in your bunched cheeks. 

"I've had just enough of you!”

His arms shape into a W, eyes flared with a knowing smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Eyes rolling, you revert your attention back to your pasta, shaking your head along with your stirs. "Insufferable."

"Your moans were insufferable, I'll tell you that." 

A near gasp attempts an offended launch, embarrassment heavy in your furiously burned cheeks ultimately falling with the closure of your mouth, displeased groans having to suffice. 

"Where's your boy toy anyways? When did he leave?"

Absently, you answer. "He's napping in mine."

"He's still here?!" you can hear his eyes bulge out his skull, eyes cutting to the ticking kitchen clock, speaking of the late hour. "It's like, 7 in the evening. He's been here this whole time?" 

"Don't ask how." Cause you're better off not thinking about it.

"You fixing him a plate too?" 

Your lack of a response is answer enough.

"Holy fuck, I'm losing my best veteran!"

Past the point of ridiculousness, your head swivels back to him, an accusatory spaculta raised. "Don't you have a pres to go to?" 

In your view, Sunoo plays up his scowl, retreating into himself as he strings a zip-up hoodie across his arm. "I'm going, I'm going."

With his back turned, making a start for the door, you think you'll regain some semblance of peace if not for his last remarks. 

"Shame you didn't get to those cocktails," he starts. "Well, tails I should say."

"Goodbye, Sunoo!" 

He hollers his goodbye back, door unlocking and locking behind him, the slam of the door your signal for peace and quiet. Despite the heavy exhale out your chest, your lips can't help settle into one hinting at leftover laughter, your conversation re-run as you dwindle the heat down on the stove. 

Regardless of his dramatics, Sunoo's reaction is well warranted because he knows anything about you, it's that your casual hook-ups never extend to this. In your bed past daybreak, a hot plate of food waiting for them hours later. They're not even allowed in your bedroom period, their poor excuse of a bedroom settled for because if they don't take up space in your room, there's less chance of mind-real estate taken up once they're onto the next shiny toy. 

Somehow, Sunghoon separates himself from the rest. Meant to be a one-time fling you could have bragging rights over, only for him to become a constant. A chanced at outreach turning into a preference, the gamble of an orgasm not considered when it's guaranteed with him. He's never made things complicated too, toeing the arm's length you've kept him at without any complaints. It should make you happy ─ it does ─ but somehow, in the frequent trips over to his (that don't feel like camping), you've gotten lax.

In no rush to leave his cloud-like mattress, eating and mingling with his roommates when you've would've dodged them otherwise, inviting him into your room ─ your space ─ and well, now that he's spent a near 24 hours over at yours, you're not sure what to make of things. If this still constitutes as casual or if you'll have to complicate things for yourself weighing out pros and cons of his loss. 

As you're about to stop your impending spiral, turning off the stove, warmth envelopes the expanse of your back, swaddled arms wrapping around your waist with tenderness. Fresh linen and sandalwood makes its way into your senses, unwinding your shoulders into the embrace you subconsciously slump into, the grain of Sunghoon's chin settling against your shoulder. 

Your hand overlaps his before you stop yourself. "You're awake."

"Yeah," he muses, voice coarse with afternoon's slumber, taken with permission after how ever manage rounds you'd managed to fit in between a late-night text. "I heard you were cooking, so I came out to help."

The aimless pats over his crossed over hands still mid-air, brain pinpointing to the obvious. "You heard us?"

His beat of silence doesn't inspire much confidence. "Partially,"

The groan you do is immediate, laughed over as your body sags with the half-hearted dread, unsure of what's worse ─ Sunghoon hearing your conversation or the lack of apprehension in having those two parts of your life start intersecting.

"It was funny ─ hush," he surmises, the kiss placed to your cheek starting something funny in your chest. "You're making tortellini?" 

"Yeah," you confirm, the sudden lump in your throat cueing the clear of your throat as your body grows rigid. "Did you want some?" 

Again, he plagues you with a pause, a thoughtful hum given vibrating against your skin, aligning the fragments of your spine. "I could have a bite."

He chooses then to sink his teeth into your earlobe, a surprised yelp pried out your throat as you tug your head the other direction, only amplifying the dull stretch.

"You're sick," is your harmless retort, his hands canvasing the perimeters of your waist, underneath your tank top's flimsy material where hairs stand to attention. "You'll have to wait. Gotta drain this and make the sauce first."

You swear you hear the sound of his smirk, his lips stretching far and wide as they hover over your ear's shell, a crane into him at the proximity. 

"I've got something else you can drain."

His embraces grows tighter, pulling you into the firmness of his chest which isn't the sole thing firm about him. Against the curve of your ass, through the thin layers of shared clothing, the outline of his cock makes itself known, hitching the breath lodged in your throat, a rush of adrenaline coursing through you. 

As if he didn't put you through the mattress only hours before. 

Perhaps that's why you're so well-suited for each other. You can't stop fucking like rabbits. 

"Do you want me to get knocked up?" You joke, an act of incredulous performed as your neck cranes to meet his gaze. "My birth control's working overtime here."

He gives a laugh too, a hum resonating in the fabric of your skin as his hands continue to roam, intimacy dialled tenfold as his fingertips tease with possession, a middle finger drawn above the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

"I want you filled," he says, voice doused in the desire rife in your bodies, the languid graze of his fingertip unearthing a mewl from your quickly crumbling body. "Don't you want it too? Or have you forgotten how much you've begged for it?"

Nails sink into his hands, bucked hips following in hot pursuit as you will yourself a sliver of self-restraint. "Hoon," 

"Come on, princess," all he does is entice, nosing along the column of your neck, phantom bites eliciting the muffle of your moans, willpower waning. "I've got something better to fill your mouth with anyways." 

Gentle hands manoeuvre you in his direction, as if you weren't on your way down to your knees already, the same mischievous glint matched in your eyes as you're face to face. While your descent to your knees is already predestined, what you don't anticipate is the kiss he pulls you into, possessive hand clasped in the curve of your nape to eat at the distance. 

Searing with claim is how his kiss feels, committed to memorizing every line and hump of your lips, your nails dragging down the sides of his torso, a desperate plunge over clothes before your fingers hook into his sweatpants' waistband, pulling him flush against you. The impact with its friction breathes relieved sighs in between, an over-extension of your greed earning the subtle reminder of your place, sharpened canines settling into the ghost of previous markings, the melted moan you do making him smile against you. In his last brush of demise, his tongue glosses over the vague dents, saliva edging over into your mouth that you hum at, parting from him with the lick of your lips.

Usually, you'd make a show of what lies ahead ─ graze fingertips short of his waistband like he did, trail slow-moving hands down his thighs, nose along his print before you kiss into the twitch of his cock, chest fluttering as your teeth puncture into the waistband, going for a pull coupled with your helping hands. But you're impatient, pressed to swallow him whole, like you are most times as seen when your hands hook into his sweatpants and underwear, nails scraping with the tug you do thereafter. 

His cock stands tall, filled in and flushed, tip beaded with precome pooling saliva in your mouth at the sight. The plane of his stomach is almost unfair in the dimmed light, warmth emphasising the shadows of the abs your finger helplessly drag down between, loving the shiver he does as the motion ripples through him, precome pooling to the point of overflow.

You're quick to catch its fall, a hand wrapped around his base as the flat of your tongue swirls slowly around his tip, saving the best for last as his come reunites with your taste buds, the salt and musk of him prompting lightheadedness in your muddled mind. Above you, you hear a groan, chest-harboured but evident enough, fingers carding into your hair to make you look up.

"See how hard you make me, hm princess?" his head is tilted, an overcast in his eyes as his hips jut forward to paint precome to your lips, canines shown when your lips run over the trail. "You want it, don't you?"

You clench at nothing, nodding with the brush of your lips against his tip. His lip catches between his teeth, firmness in his fingers, a tug at your scalp as he says,

"Then get to it."

Diving in, you greed pushes you to accept him all at once, mouth closing around his length, trimmed pelvis hair trickled against the tip of your nose, huffed out of as a hissed inhale sounds from above. Keeping yourself there, you let the weight of him hang on your tongue, savouring the taste and feel before a shallow thrust tickles near the back of your throat, throat constricting around his tip. On your tongue, his length twitches again, a shaken sigh escaping him as precome beads back into your throat, closing to capture every drop. 

The saliva collecting around him lends itself as your hand's compensation, head dragging yourself back to his tip to accommodate for the fist folding over his cock, clutching with the pressure he loves, tongue grazed over engorged veins on your way back. Coldness creeps into the knees braced against arctic kitchen floor, paid no mind in the face of the thrill of this, letting your mouth and hand do sloppy work of Sunghoon's cock in a place anyone could chance upon. The same thought seems to occur to the man above, a weathered moan coming with the involuntary buck of his hips, the hardness around your mouth throbbing like the situation pains him, leniency given to him as your hand swirls up to meet your lips, tunnel kissed before moving in tandem.

The twisting motion is chased after the warmth of your mouth, eager to please and be filled as you feed him down to your throat, unearthed moan blending into his skin. The sensation earns a tug of your locks, smiled to as your head bobs, filthy slick sounds filling the dimmed room.

"Right where you belong, hm sweet girl?" Sunghoon muses, a dark lick to his words swirling the pool of arousal in your belly, the hum you do around him slowly picking at his crumbling composure. "You're sin on your knees."

Brushed out your face, he gets a better view of your work, kicking in your mouth at the pleasure bloomed over features he's been obsessed with. 

"Bet you've soaked through those pretty panties you've got on," he smirks. "You know they're no use when I'm round." 

Your hips seek him, bucked forward with no gratification except the closer draw of your thighs, rubbed together to ease the ache between them. Your tongue swirls over his tip, flat and unhurried as your hand squeezes around him, coaxing more precome into the mess of saliva coating him, the shadow of his labouring chest peeking into your vision.

"I'd take you anywhere, wouldn't care who sees because I know─" he chokes on a pant, fingers taut within your hair. "I know you'd want it too."

"Don't you, princess?" he asks, already knowing the answer but making you beg for it, adding fuel to the fire conjured in your stomach, pathetic mewl closing your throat around him. "Don't you wanna be fucked wherever? Used like the slut you are?"

You're useless in the face of your own desires, pushing yourself for more as your mouth ventures further down his generous length, lips brushed against the bunch of your hand at his pelvis, forcing breaths through your nose. There's an impossible squeeze of your thighs, so desperate for friction, pressure will have to suffice, slick echoed as your hole goes for clenches met with nothing but slick. 

"Hm, that's it princess. Take my cock," he coos, tenderness in the palm of his hand as he marvels down at you, head thrown back with a throaty groan. "Know how much you love choking on it." 

The whine strung out of you hovers on the border of pathetic, ending in a broken sob as you force more of him into you, pushing through the gags his breath hitches at. 

Despite the fact, he's sweet as can be, fingers coming up for oxygen as a lone palm is soothed over your sculp, a sliver of comfort contrasting the raging fire consuming your body. 

"There you go, all the way down. Nice and easy," his deep timber has you mewling through tears, gathered in the clump of your lashes as your chest sizzles, nagging for the shallow breaths taken through your nose. Your senses overflow with him, drunk on the heady scent enveloping you, arousal strong enough to taste as a few more gags give to accommodate his size. "Look so pretty choking around my cock like that. Look up for me, pretty."

Too far gone, his voice sings to you like a siren, luring the uplift of your head, cock pushed back further at the angle that makes you choke, eyes forced shut then pried open. Even in subtle darkness, light illuminates him, his figure haloed as every piece of your filthy imagination constructs in a picture of him, rosiness hinted beneath the porcelain of his skin, a lone drop of sweat beading down his temple down to the angular cut of his jaw. His chest's heaved but his smile sickening, the high keen you do nothing but a mere consequence of your compliance. 

"There she is," syrup drowns the onslaught of his words, sugary sweetness held in the honey of his eyes as they focus on nothing but you, stuffed full like you always beg him to be. "All teary-eyed too. Is it too much for you, baby? My cock's too big for your little mouth?"

Body restless, you squirm in skin constricting three sizes too small, nails scrapping at whatever expanse available, claw marks carved into the skin of his hip bones. His tongue pokes into the interior of his cheek, scarred but enjoying every minute of your idea of heaven, no attempt made to move your head ─ simply indulging in the comfort of him in your mouth, tip edged further down than your poor throat can take. 

"Hm, too bad, baby. You wanted this," Sunghoon only affirms, the condescending dip of his words only making you clench harder, high strung on nothing but walls caught in your grasp. "Because that's what you love most ─ nothing but my cock swarming that pretty head of yours."

You make a sound that's meant to be confirmation, or a plea ─ whatever it is, it's gargled mess against him, spit bypassing the plush of your lips, mini bubbles forming at the breath you attempt, lungs scorched, desperate for more oxygen. 

Relentless, your hands don't seek a tap on Sunghoon's thighs for refuge, his fingers moving into your hair to grasp on the sides of your head, a hint for actions leaving you leaking down your thighs. 

"Lemme bruise your throat a bit, lemme fuck you," and you let him, rigid in place as he teases you with a few shallow thrusts, only rewarded with the makeshift nod given. Hands stapled at his hips, he drags himself the long way back, leaving only his tip kissed by your lips before thrusting in again, quick to build speed, generating the curses he heaves. "Shit," 

He starts to build a rhythm, punishing and deep just how you prefer, tears clouding your vision as you keep your mouth firm despite the moans it begs to release, tongue catching the underside of his cock, picking away at the pieces of your restraint. Saliva pools at their feel, further encouraged by the angry throb of his cock, veins coursed over as Sunghoon's laboured pants compete with the gags amplified by his reach at the back of your throat. 

"You sound so fucking filthy, princess," he swears, halfway torn apart as a gasp wrestles out his own throat. "Gonna make me come sounding like that. That's what you want, right? Me filling you?"

The friction of your feverish gargles and his incessant pistons come alongside your shared pained moans, a near growl liberated from his chest as his hips gather more speed, held onto in desperation as he works at making your wishes come true. 

"So good for me, pretty. I'll give it to you, I'll give you what you want," his words come out in a muddled rush, his release hinging you on the edge of delirium, the slump of your body only prevented by his steady grip. "And after this, I'm filling you properly."

His promise squeaks you against the lathered skin of his cock, his broken moan your satisfaction as your body shivers and shakes, his length removed with a wet pop, echoing far and wide. 

Immediately, his hands fold over the mess your mouth's made, fisting his cock with the presence of a madman as his world narrows down to you and your mouth. 

"Open. Up." 

The command hits you deep in your core, the low graft of his voice expelling more mess into your soiled panties and down your thighs, jaw unhinging with a creak as you follow through. 

The yield to his command pushes him over the edge, tip weighted down on your tongue as spurts of come shoot down the tunnel of your mouth, some askew and straying around the perimeters around your lips. It works out better for Sunghoon, the borderline-gone groan he gives brewed from the depths of his toned stomach as he watches his masterpiece unfold, it's final piece being the sack of bones you fold into after he gives you his last, inflamed throat gulping down his hot stream of come.

Fatigue submerges your figures in an endless wave, the tide only pulled back long after your pasta is forgotten, the fog cleared when your fawn-enabled body is hauled up in strength Sunghoon reserves for you. 

His hand clasps around the back of your head, your chin tucked into his shoulder as your feet scramble for the floor, arms swaddled around him for safety.

"I'm fucking you. You'll get those sorry excuse underwear off and spread yourself on the bed for me," his command grates into your eardrums, spine straightening in the possessive hold his other hand kneads into the the flesh of your ass. "I'm eating you for dinner." 

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You'd been on the guest list before, your brand had collaborated with half the houses present tonight alone, but this year felt different. 

This year, you weren't just a designer in attendance. You were the fiancée of one of Prada's youngest ambassadors, and the whole world knew it.

You'd spent the entire morning preparing. Not because you needed the time, you could throw together a look in twenty minutes flat, a skill honed from years of running your own label, but because the outfit required precision. 

Every detail was deliberate, every accessory a statement, and if there was one thing you refused to do, it was to show up to a Prada event looking anything less than editorial.

The fuzzy grey high-neck winter jacket was your own design, a prototype from your upcoming fall-winter collection that you'd finished stitching at two in the morning the night before. 

The thick scarf wrapped around your neck was a mix of blue, white, grey, and brown plaid patterns, hand-woven by a small atelier that was run by the sister of your online friend in Scotland that you'd been supporting since your brand first turned a profit. 

The black mini-skirt was deceptively simple, a high-waisted silhouette that hugged your hips just right, the hem hitting mid-thigh. 

Your brown winter boots were lined with shearling, practical but polished, the kind of footwear that said you understood the assignment: fashion first, frostbite second.

But the highlight, the pièce de résistance, was the tights.

Black polka dot tights. 

Tiny white dots scattered across the sheer black fabric, close enough together to form a pattern but far enough apart that you could still see skin underneath. The dots caught the light differently depending on the angle, shifting from stark white to almost pearlescent when you crossed your legs. You'd spent an embarrassing amount of time deliberating over them, holding up pair after pair in front of your full-length mirror until Riki had finally wandered into your studio, chin resting on your shoulder, arms looping around your waist, and murmured, "The polka dots. Obviously."

You were also wearing a pair of black-framed glasses, rounded, slightly oversized, with thin metal arms, that Riki had gifted you on your six-month anniversary. He'd picked them up from a vintage shop in Harajuku during a tour stop, tucked them into his carry-on between his passport and a half-eaten pack of melon bread, and presented them to you in the back of a van with his manager yelling at him to hurry up. 

The frames suited you in a way that made his chest tight every time you put them on, which was precisely why he'd bought them. Your hair was curled at the ends, soft waves framing your face, and your bangs were clipped back with two small silver clips, half-moon shaped, another one of your designs. White fuzzy earmuffs sat over your ears, the kind that looked like they belonged on a snow bunny in a 1960s ski film.

When you finally emerged from the bedroom, Riki was leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone with a glass of water in his other hand. He glanced up, did a full double-take, and then just — stopped.

His phone slipped. Not all the way, not dramatically, but enough that he fumbled to catch it, his fingers closing around it a second too late, and it clattered against the marble countertop with a sound that made you wince.

"Riki—"

"Don't move."

"Huh?"

"I said don't move." He set his glass down carefully, deliberately, like he was afraid any sudden movement would shatter the image in front of him. His eyes dragged over you slowly, from the earmuffs perched on your head to the glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose, down the column of your neck wrapped in plaid, the grey jacket, the mini-skirt, the polka dot tights, the boots, and something in his expression shifted. His lips parted. His throat worked. He looked, for a moment, like a man who had just realised he was thoroughly, devastatingly out of his depth.

"You look," he started, and then stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. "You look unreal."

"You already said that when I tried on the jacket last week."

"I meant it then and I mean it now." He pushed off the counter and crossed the kitchen in three long strides, his hands finding your waist like they were magnetised to the spot. He dipped his head, pressing his forehead to yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips. "The tights," he said, voice low. His fingers skimmed down your side, over your hip, settling at the bare strip of thigh between your skirt hem and the top of your boots. "The tights are going to be a problem."

"Ow, you don't like them?"

"I like them too much." He kissed you then, soft and slow, his thumb tracing circles on the outside of your thigh where the polka dots pressed against your skin. When he pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded and there was a faint smudge of your lip gloss on his bottom lip. "We're going to be late."

"You started it."

"I'm aware." He smiled, the smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and showed the slight overlap of his front teeth. "Come on, baby. Car's waiting."

Riki's outfit was, by his own admission, "an attempt at restraint." A black puffer jacket with a fur-trimmed hood that made him look like he'd stepped out of a streetwear lookbook, a white sweater peeking out from underneath the hem and collar, baggy denim jeans that sat low on his hips in that effortlessly cool way that only he could pull off, and his trusty pair of winter boots, the same ones he'd worn to three different fashion weeks and refused to replace because, in his words, "they're broken in perfectly." Around his neck was a striped blue scarf that you were eighty percent sure he'd stolen from your dad's closet last Christmas, but you didn't have the heart to call him out on it because he looked so damn cozy wearing it.

The estate was beautiful in the way that only places with old money could be, ivory walls and wrought-iron gates, gravel paths that crunched underfoot, and a sprawling garden that had been transformed for the event. 

Heaters stood at intervals along the walkways, glowing orange against the early evening dark, and sheer tents had been erected over the main areas, their fabric catching the golden light of the chandeliers suspended within. 

The air smelled like pine and expensive perfume, and everywhere you looked, someone was wearing something that cost more than a semester of tuition.

You and Riki entered together, his hand resting on the small of your back, and the cameras erupted. Flash after flash after flash, a wall of white light that made your glasses reflect like mirrors, and Riki's grip on you tightened, not out of possessiveness, but out of practice. He'd learned to guide you through crowds like this, his body angling to shield you from the worst of the surge, his hand a steady anchor against the chaos.

"Over here, Mr. Nishimura!"

"Miss! Miss, over here! The tights—who designed them?"

"Are those your own brand? Can you confirm—"

You smiled, tilted your chin, let the cameras capture the outfit from every angle. Riki did the same beside you, effortless, practiced, the product of years in an industry that demanded you be both accessible and untouchable. But just before you stepped past the photo wall and into the venue proper, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple, and the resulting shutter sound was deafening.

"You're killing me," he muttered against your hair.

"Behave."

"No."

The event was the kind of thing that looked effortless but required an exhausting amount of social choreography. You and Riki had been seated at different tables, his as Prada's ambassador, yours as the founder of your label, and while the tables were only about twenty feet apart, the distance felt insurmountable in a room where every conversation was a negotiation and every smile was a calculated move.

You handled your end with the ease of someone who'd been doing this since she was nineteen, when your grandmother's old sewing machine had been your only investment and your kitchen table had been your cutting room. 

You shook hands with buyers, charmed editors, laughed at jokes that weren't funny, and somehow managed to compliment someone's shoes without lying. 

Your grandmother had raised you to be warm, to hug people when you met them, to touch their arm when you laughed, to lean in close when they spoke so they knew you were listening. It was second nature to you, as automatic as breathing, and in the fashion industry, where everyone was accustomed to a certain degree of frostiness, your affection was disarming.

Which was how you found yourself in conversation with a man whose name you hadn't quite caught, something French, maybe, or Belgian, who had apparently designed the installation's centrepiece and was very keen to tell you about it.

"Your work is extraordinary," he was saying, his accent rounding out the consonants in a way that made everything sound like a compliment. "The way you construct silhouettes—it's architectural. Structural. I see a lot of myself in it."

"Oh, thank you!" You beamed at him, genuine and bright, because you appreciated any kind of comparison to architecture. Your grandmother had been a seamstress, yes, but she'd also been the daughter of a carpenter, and she'd always told you that building a garment was no different from building a house, you needed a strong frame, good materials, and a steady hand. "That means a lot coming from you. The centrepiece is incredible, by the way. The use of negative space—"

He stepped closer. You didn't notice. You were too busy gesturing at the installation, your hands painting shapes in the air the way they always did when you were excited about something. He reached up and adjusted the clip in your bangs, his fingers brushing against your hairline, and said, "This was falling. I fixed it."

"Oh! Thank you," you said, smiling. "These clips are tricky, they slip sometimes—"

"Your glasses too. May I?" And before you could respond, he was sliding them further up the bridge of your nose, his fingertips grazing your cheek, and you blinked at the proximity but didn't pull away because why would you? He was being helpful. He was being nice. That was a thing people did — they helped each other. Your grandmother had always said that kindness was free and should be given freely, and you'd lived your whole life by that philosophy.

Across the venue, Riki was in the middle of a conversation with a Prada executive about an upcoming campaign, and he was doing an admirable job of appearing engaged. 

He was nodding at the right moments, asking the right follow-up questions, even managing a convincing laugh when the executive made a joke about a rival house. But his attention was divided. It had been divided since the moment you'd separated, his eyes tracking you across the room like a compass needle finding north, and right now, that needle was spinning wildly.

He saw it all.

He saw the man lean in too close — close enough that his breath was probably visible in the cold air between your faces. He saw the hand that reached up to fix your clip, fingers lingering a beat too long against your hair. He saw the way the man adjusted your glasses, his touch drifting from the frame to your cheek like it belonged there. He saw the way you smiled up at the man, bright and completely, heartbreakingly oblivious, because you were you, and you assumed the best in everyone, and it had never once occurred to you that someone might be using the excuse of helpfulness to touch you in ways that made Riki's blood pressure spike.

His grip on his champagne flute tightened. The glass was sturdy, Prada didn't skimp on glassware, but he could feel the tension in his knuckles, the fine tremor of restraint running through his forearm.

"Nishimura?" The executive's voice cut through. "You had thoughts on the Milan venue?"

"Sorry, yeah." He dragged his gaze back to the conversation, forced his expression into something neutral. "The Milan venue is great. The lighting is the main thing—we need to make sure the—"

The man had his hand on your shoulder now. Your shoulder. He was leaning down to say something near your ear, his thumb rubbing small circles against the wool of your jacket, and you were nodding along, completely unaware of the way his eyes were tracing the line of your jaw, the curve of your neck, the dip of your collarbone visible above the high neck of your jacket.

Riki smiled through it. He smiled through the next conversation too, and the one after that, and the one after that. He smiled when a photographer asked for a solo shot, and he smiled when a stylist complimented his scarf, and he smiled when a fellow ambassador asked about the ring on your finger, visible now that you'd taken your gloves off to accept a drink, because what the hell could he say? That he wanted to cross the room, slide his arm around your waist, and tell every man within a ten-foot radius to back the fuck off? That he wanted to bite the spot where that stranger's thumb had touched your shoulder? That he was actively restraining himself from doing something that would end up on every gossip account by midnight?

He could practically see the tweets already. 

Oh my god.

PRADA’S NISHIMURA RIKI CAUSES SCENE AT PRADA EVENT—JEALOUS BOYFRIEND OR JUST BAD TEMPER? followed by a thread of clips taken from unflattering angles and captioned with takes so hot they could melt the ice on the garden paths. 

He could see the think pieces, the psychoanalysis, the stan Twitter wars between people who thought he was justified and people who thought he was toxic, and neither side would be right because neither side knew the truth — they didn't know that you were the most oblivious person on the planet, that you thought everyone was just being friendly, that if someone flirted with you using the subtlety of a sledgehammer you'd probably just think they had great posture.

So Riki stayed where he was. He smiled. He networked. He kept his grip on his champagne flute tight enough that the tendons in his hand stood out like cords, and he watched, and he waited, and every time the man touched your shoulder, three times, he counted them, three goddamn times, he filed the number away like a brand seared into his memory.

By the time the event wound down, Riki had shaken approximately forty hands, smiled through approximately sixty conversations, and consumed approximately four glasses of champagne on an empty stomach. 

He was tipsy, not sloppy, not sloppy enough for anyone to notice, but just enough that the edges of things had gone soft and warm and his tongue felt loose behind his teeth. The buzz was pleasant, distracting, a buffer between his brain and the image of that man's hand on your shoulder that he kept replaying like a scene he couldn't stop watching.

You found him near the exit, adjusting his scarf with one hand and his phone with the other, and you slipped your arm through his like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Ready to go, baby?"

"Yeah." His voice came out rougher than intended. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, let's go."

The car was waiting — a sleek black sedan with tinted windows, booked privately through the service Riki always used when he didn't want the company van's driver to overhear whatever half-coherent conversation would inevitably happen on the ride home. You climbed in first, pulling your earmuffs off and shaking out your hair, and Riki followed, immediately reaching for the partition button to close off the driver's compartment.

Then you were on him.

Not in a sexual way, not consciously, but in the way you always were when you'd been apart from him for more than an hour. You pressed yourself against his side, your cheek finding the curve of his shoulder, your fingers walking up the front of his puffer jacket to fiddle with the zipper pull. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, then another to the spot just below his ear, and you could feel the way his pulse jumped under your lips even though his posture remained carefully, deliberately relaxed.

"I missed you," you murmured against his skin. "The event was so, so long, baby. I kept looking over at you."

"Did you?" His arm came up around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against the curve of your arm. The gesture was affectionate, automatic, but there was something in the rhythm of it that felt… off. Like a metronome that was slightly out of time. "I was watching you too."

"Were you?" You smiled against his neck, your nose brushing the collar of his sweater. "Did you like how I handled the Barneys buyer? I think I got them to commit to the spring line—"

"You seemed pretty busy." The words were casual. Too casual. The kind of casual that was constructed, deliberate, a mask placed over something sharper. "With that guy."

"What guy?" You pulled back just enough to look at him, your brow furrowed. Your glasses had slipped down your nose again, and you pushed them up absently. "Oh—you mean the installation designer? He was super sweet, Ki! He helped me fix my clip, and he had really interesting things to say about textile architecture. Did you know he studied under—"

"He was flirting with you."

The car took a turn, and the glow of a streetlight swept across Riki's face, illuminating the hard set of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows, the way his eyes were fixed on the window instead of on you. You stared at him, blinking.

"He was what?"

"Flirting. With you." Each word was clipped, precise, like he was biting them in half before they could escape. "He touched your hair. Your face. Your shoulder—three times. He was leaning in so close I could practically see his dental work."

"Oh." You sat back slightly, processing this information the way you processed most social cues with a delay long enough to be endearing and a little bit tragic. "He was... flirting? With me? But he was just being nice. He fixed my glasses, Riki. Who fixes someone's glasses if they're not being nice?"

"Someone who wants an excuse to touch your face," Riki said flatly. "Someone who sees an opening and takes it because you're too sweet to notice that he's not being nice, he's being interested, and there's a difference, and you—"

He stopped himself. Exhaled through his nose. His jaw worked, the muscle there jumping, and you watched the tension ride through his frame like a current, shoulders rigid, fingers flexing against your arm, the tendons in his neck taut. He looked like he was physically holding something back, and the realisation hit you like cold water.

"Baby," you said softly, reaching up to touch his face. "Hey. Look at me."

He did. His eyes were dark in the low light of the car, the amber of the passing streetlamps catching in them intermittently, and there was something raw there, something unguarded that made your chest ache. You'd seen Riki walk for ten thousand people. You'd seen him navigate boardrooms and red carpets and interviews with the ease of someone who'd been trained to be likable since he was fourteen. 

But this — this was different. 

This was your Riki, the one who got sulky when you ate the last mochi, the one who practiced his confession in the mirror for three days before actually saying it, the one who was sitting in the back of a black sedan with champagne-warmth in his veins and jealousy sitting heavy and obvious in his chest.

"I'm sorry," you said, and you meant it. You were sorry — not for being friendly, because that was who you were and he'd never ask you to change, but for not noticing, for making him sit through that, for being the kind of person who could have a man practically draw her a map to his intentions and still think he was just being polite. "I didn't realize. I would've—I should have—"

"It's not your fault." He said it quietly, firmly, and his hand came up to cover yours on his cheek, pressing your palm against his skin like he needed the warmth. "I know that's just how you are. I know you don't see it. That's not—you're not the problem, okay? That bitch is the problem. I just—" He exhaled again, sharper this time, and his eyes fluttered shut. "It drove me insane. Standing there, watching him touch you like that, and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't just walk over there without it being a whole thing, and I knew if I said something it'd be everywhere, and—"

"Ki."

"—and he just kept touching you, and you were smiling at him, fuck, and I know you didn't mean anything by it, but you're mine, and—"

"Riki."

He stopped. Opened his eyes. Looked at you with that expression you'd only ever seen in the privacy of your shared spaces, hungry and soft and a little bit desperate, like he was standing at the edge of something and needed permission to fall.

"I'm yours," you said simply. "You know that."

"I know." His voice was rough. The champagne had loosened something in him, stripped away the careful composure, and what was left was raw and wanting. "I know. I just—need to remind myself."

The rest of the drive was quiet, but it wasn't the comfortable kind. 

It was the kind of quiet that hummed with tension, that filled the space between your bodies like static electricity, that made every point of contact, his hand on your thigh, your head on his shoulder, his thumb tracing absent patterns on the inside of your wrist, feel charged and significant. 

You pressed more kisses to his cheek, leaving faint traces of lipstick like signatures, and he let you, his eyes half-closed and his jaw still tight, and the offness you'd sensed earlier crystallised into something you could finally name.

He was jealous. He was jealous, and he was tipsy, and he was holding himself together with the kind of restraint that was fraying at the edges.

The house was warm when you walked in, you'd left the smart thermostat on before you left, and the heat had been cranking for the past four hours, turning the space into a cocoon against the winter chill outside. 

You kicked off your boots in the entryway, your feet finding the hardwood in just your tights, and you were reaching for the zipper of your jacket when Riki's hands found you.

Not your jacket. 

You. 

His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his face pressing into the curve of your neck, and his entire body folded into yours like a building collapsing in slow motion. 

He was heavy, taller than you by nearly a head, broader across the shoulders, all long limbs and lean muscle, and when he let go, he let go, his weight sagging against your back until you staggered slightly under the pressure.

"Whoa, hey—"

"You're mine." The words were muffled against your neck, damp and warm, and his arms tightened around your waist like he was trying to press you into himself, eliminate any space between your bodies. "You're mine, and he was touching you, and I couldn't—I wanted to—"

"I know, baby. I know." You turned in his arms, your hands coming up to cradle his face, and he looked at you with eyes that were glassy and dark and so painfully honest that it made your heart crack open. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've noticed, I should've—"

"Don't apologize." He shook his head, his hair falling across his forehead in that way that always made you want to push it back. "Don't. It's not—it's not your fault. You're too good. You're too good and people take advantage of it and it makes me—"

He broke off, his throat working, and something shifted in his expression. 

The whine was still there, the babyish, I-need-complaint pout that he wore when he was feeling small and wanted to be coddled, but underneath it, something else was surfacing. 

Something harder. Hotter. The jealousy that had been simmering all evening was reaching its boiling point, and the warmth from the champagne was fanning the flames.

"Enough." His voice dropped. Not angry, never angry with you, but firm, decided, the kind of firm that brokered no argument. "I've been patient all night. I've been good. I've smiled and shaken hands and let that man put his hands on what's mine without saying a word, and I'm done being patient."

Your breath caught. "Riki—"

"I need to mark you." He said it like a confession, like something he'd been holding behind his teeth all evening and could finally release. "I need to mark you, doll. I need to see my marks on you so that the next time someone thinks they can touch you, they'll see them and know."

He kissed you then, not the soft, reverent kisses from the car but something deeper, harder, his teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging until you gasped into his mouth. 

His hands were everywhere: cupping your jaw, tangling in your hair, sliding down your back to grip your hips and pull you flush against him. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of your jacket and his puffer, the hard line of his body pressing against yours, and the champagne on his tongue was sweet and sharp and made your head spin.

"Up," he muttered against your lips, and then his hands were under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck and held on as he carried you down the hallway to your bedroom.

He kicked the door open, not hard enough to damage it, but hard enough that it bounced off the wall, and laid you down on the bed with a care that contradicted the urgency of his movements. You sank into the duvet, your hair fanning out across the pillows, and he stood over you for a moment, chest heaving, eyes dragging down your body like he was committing every detail to memory.

"Keep the tights on," he said, and his voice was hoarse.

You blinked up at him. "What?"

"The tights." He sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, his hands finding your ankles and sliding up reverently over the smooth fabric dotted with tiny white polka dots. "Keep them on, baby. I have... plans."

His fingers traced the pattern, pressing gently into the sheer fabric, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath. The polka dots were like Braille under his fingertips, tiny raised dots that he read like a language only he knew. 

He pushed your mini-skirt up, baring the expanse of your thighs, and the sound he made, low, guttural, somewhere between a groan and a growl, sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"God, these tights." He pressed his lips to your knee, then to the soft skin above it, the fabric of the tights a whisper-thin barrier between his mouth and your skin. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me tonight? Walking around in these—looking like that—and then letting some other man put his hands on you—"

"I didn't know—"

"I know you didn't, doll. That's what makes it worse." He kissed the inside of your thigh, open-mouthed and hot, and your breath hitched. "You're so trusting. So sweet. You think everyone's just being nice, and meanwhile I'm standing across the room watching some guy memorize the shape of your body through these—" He bit down. Not hard enough to hurt, not yet, but hard enough that you felt the pressure of his teeth through the thin fabric, and you let out a startled, breathy sound that was half gasp and half moan.

"Riki—"

"He touched your shoulder three times." He bit down again, harder this time, and this time there was no mistaking it, he was leaving a mark, his teeth indenting the skin of your inner thigh through the polka dot tights, and the contrast was devastating: the delicate pattern of dots, the dark fabric, and the red bloom of a bruise rising underneath. "Three times. I counted. I counted every single time his hand made contact with your body, and each time I wanted to break his fingers."

"Baby—"

"Three." He bit down again, higher up on your thigh, and you arched off the bed with a cry that you muffled against the back of your hand. The pain was sharp and bright, but it faded almost immediately into something warm and throbbing, and when you looked down, you could see the mark already forming, a dark, mouth-shaped bruise against the polka dot fabric, the white dots like witnesses to the claim.

"Two." Another bite, on the other thigh now, and his tongue swept over the mark after, soothing and wet and obscenely hot through the tights. You were trembling, your fingers twisted in the duvet, your glasses askew on your face, and he hadn't even taken off a single piece of your clothing.

"One." The last bite was the hardest, placed high on your inner thigh where the skin was softest and the tights were stretched thin, and you felt the sting of it all the way down to your toes. He pulled back to admire his work, and the sound he made, low, satisfied, almost predatory, made heat pool in your stomach. Three marks. Three whole ass bites. One for each time that man had touched you, each one a brand that would darken over the next few days into deep, mottled purple.

"Perfect," he breathed. His fingers traced the marks, pressing lightly, watching the way your breath stuttered. "You look so pretty with my marks on you, angel. So pretty. And everyone's gonna know. Not that they'd see these—" He dragged his thumb over the bruise on your inner thigh, and you whimpered. "But I'll know. And you'll know. And every time you move your legs tomorrow, you're going to feel them and remember that you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whispered, and you meant it with every cell in your body.

He smiled at that, not the sharp, possessive smile from before, but something softer, something that cracked through the jealousy like sunlight through clouds. "Yeah," he said, and his voice was gentle even though his hands were still pressing bruises into your thighs. "Yeah, you are."

He reached for the waistband of your tights then, hooking his fingers under the elastic and dragging them down your hips slowly, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of newly exposed skin. The tights peeled off like a second skin, the polka dots sliding away from the bruises he'd left, and he tossed them somewhere over his shoulder without looking. 

Your underwear followed, a scrap of black lace that he pulled down with his teeth, and the visual of it, Riki on his knees, his eyes dark and fixed on your face, his mouth dragging lace down your thighs, was enough to make your breath come in shallow, desperate pants.

"Ki, please—"

"Please what?" He settled between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs, his lips ghosting over the marks he'd left. "Tell me what you want, doll. You have a mouth for a reason."

"Your mouth. Please—I need—"

"What do you mean by please?" He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you needed him, and his tongue darted out to taste the mark he'd left. 

The sensation was electric, warm and not nearly enough, and you squirmed beneath him, your hips lifting off the bed in silent pleading.

"I need your mouth on me. Please, Ki. Please, baby."

"Good girl." The words vibrated against your skin, and then his mouth was on you, and you stopped thinking entirely.

He was thorough. 

He was always thorough, Riki had never done anything half-heartedly in his life, and that included this, but tonight there was an edge to it, a hunger that bordered on desperation. His tongue was hot and precise, mapping every fold and curve with the focus of a cartographer charting new territory, and when he found the spot that made your back arch off the mattress, he stayed there, circling and pressing and sucking until you were making sounds you didn't recognise.

"Riki—oh god—Ki—"

He groaned against you, the vibration of it shooting through your body like a shockwave, and his hands gripped your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises alongside the bite marks. 

He was making noises too, low and guttural sounds that were half-moan and half-growl, the kind of sounds that came from a man who was losing himself in the taste of you, who couldn't stop even if he wanted to, who was drunk on champagne and jealousy and the sweetness of your body on his tongue.

"You taste so good," he murmured against you, his voice wrecked. "So fucking good, angel. My doll. Mine."

"Yours—ah—yours, baby, I'm—"

He didn't let you finish the sentence. His tongue flattened against you, broad and wet and relentless, and he licked into you with a determination that made your vision blur. Your glasses were completely fogged now, the lenses clouded with heat and moisture, and you reached up blindly to pull them off, tossing them somewhere on the nightstand, and the world went soft and dark at the edges. Not that you needed to see. You could feel every stroke of his tongue, every press of his lips, every sharp inhale he took between your legs like he was breathing you in.

The orgasm built slowly, a tightening coil in your lower belly that wound tighter with every stroke of his tongue. You could feel it approaching, cresting, your thighs shaking around his head, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer even though closer was physically impossible—

And then he stopped.

You made a sound of protest that was embarrassingly close to a sob, your hips chasing his mouth, but he pulled back just out of reach, his hands pressing your thighs down against the mattress. "Not yet," he said, and his voice was steady even though his lips were swollen and glistening and his chest was heaving. "You don't get to come yet."

"What—why—"

"Three." He said it simply, and the meaning crashed over you like cold water. Three. Three edges. Three denials. One for each time that man had touched your shoulder, one for each moment Riki had watched from across the room and done nothing. This was the reckoning.

"Riki, I can't—"

"You can." He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, gentle and reassuring. "You can, and you will. Because I asked you to. Because you're mine, and you're going to take what I give you, and you're going to be good for me. Can you do that, doll?"

Your eyes were stinging. Your body was thrumming with unresolved tension, every nerve ending screaming for release, and he was asking you to hold on, to wait, to endure. But the way he was looking at you, soft and dark and so full of love that it made your chest ache, made it impossible to say no.

"Yes," you whispered. "Yes, I can be good for you."

"My good girl." He smiled, and then he was moving, shedding his puffer jacket and pulling his sweater over his head, revealing the lean lines of his torso, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and the faint definition of his abs. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, but like this, dishevelled and hungry and looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, he was absolutely devastating.

"Come here," you whispered, reaching for him, and he went.

He kissed you as he settled over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, sweet and strange. His hands worked at the remaining pieces of your outfit, the jacket, the scarf, the mini-skirt, until you were bare beneath him, your skin flushed and dotted with the marks he'd already left, and he pulled back to look at you again.

"You're so beautiful," he said, and his voice cracked on the last word. "So fucking beautiful, and you're mine. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Ki."

"Again."

"I'm yours. Only yours. Always yours."

He kissed you harder, his hands roaming your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips, the dip of your collarbone, his touch feather-light and burning. "This body," he murmured against your jaw. "This body is mine. Every inch of it. Every curve. Every mark." 

His lips found your breast, his tongue circling your nipple, and you arched into the wet heat with a broken moan. "He can look all he wants. He can fix your glasses and adjust your clips and touch your shoulder until his fingers fall off. But at the end of the night, this—" He bit down gently on the swell of your breast, and you keened. "—this comes home to me."

"Yes—yes, baby, always—"

"Open your mouth for me, doll."

You did, without hesitation, without question, because you trusted him with every fibre of your being and because the look in his eyes right now, the raw and naked need, made it impossible to do anything but surrender. 

He shifted, his knees bracketing your shoulders, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he freed himself from his jeans, the hard length of him bobbing heavily against his stomach.

He was big. 

You'd never gotten used to it — the first time you'd been together, you'd actually laughed, because what else were you supposed to do when confronted with something that looked like it belonged in a textbook? He'd been mortified until you'd explained, and then he'd been insufferably smug about it for approximately five weeks. Now, though, there was no laughter — only hunger, only want, only the desperate need to feel him in whatever way he'd give you.

"Tap my thigh if it's too much," he said, and his voice was gentle even though his hand was shaking where it gripped the headboard. "Okay?"

"Okay."

He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, and you opened wider, your tongue darting out to taste the salt of him, and the sound he made, a sharp, bitten-off groan that he tried to swallow and failed, sent a pulse of heat straight to your core. 

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust, and you felt the stretch of him, the weight, the girth, the way he filled your mouth until your jaw ached with the effort of accommodating him.

"Fuck," he breathed. His head fell back, the long line of his throat exposed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Fuck, doll, your mouth—"

You hummed around him, and his hips jerked forward, pushing himself deeper, and you fought your gag reflex bravely, your throat fluttering around the intrusion. He noticed, he always noticed, and his hand came down to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek in a gesture that was so tender it made your eyes water.

"You're doing so good," he said, and the praise washed over you like warm honey. "So good for me, angel. Taking me so well. My perfect girl."

He started to move then, shallow thrusts at first, letting you set the pace, but gradually deeper, faster, his hips rocking into your mouth with a rhythm that was steadily losing its restraint. 

The sounds he was making were obscene: low, rumbling moans that came from somewhere deep in his chest, punctuated by breathless curses and fragments of your name. He was vocal always, had been since the very beginning, the first time you'd been together he'd been so loud that his neighbour had pounded on the wall and he'd just laughed, breathless and unashamed, but tonight, with the champagne stripping away his inhibitions, he was practically singing.

"Ah—fuck, yes—just like that, doll—your mouth feels so—god—"

His hand fisted in your hair, not pulling, just holding, and his thrusts grew more erratic, his breathing more ragged, and you could feel him getting close, the way his muscles tensed, the way his moans pitched higher, the way his thighs trembled against your shoulders. 

But he pulled back before he could finish, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet sound that made you both groan, and he was breathing hard, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut like he was physically holding himself together.

"Not yet," he said, more to himself than to you. "Not like that. I need—I need to be inside you when I come. Need to feel you."

He moved down your body, settling between your legs again, and this time when he kissed you, it was slow and deep and tasted like the two of you mixed together. 

You could feel him hot and hard against your stomach, the slick of him smearing across your skin, and you reached down to wrap your hand around him, but he caught your wrist and pinned it above your head.

"Patience," he murmured against your lips, and you whimpered because patience was the absolute last thing you had right now.

"I've been patient," you protested, and your voice came out wrecked, raw and hoarse from his cock in your throat and the moans you couldn't stop making. "Please, Ki—I've been so good—"

"You have," he agreed, and his free hand was sliding down your body, over the curve of your hip, between your legs, and his fingers found you dripping and swollen and so achingly sensitive that even the lightest touch made you jerk. "You've been so good for me, baby. My perfect, perfect girl. You deserve a reward, don't you?"

"Yes—please—"

He entered you in one long, slow thrust, and the sound you both made was identical, a broken, desperate moan that harmonised in the quiet of the bedroom. 

He filled you completely, the stretch of him bordering on too much and then settling into something that made your eyes roll back in your head, and he held himself there, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in ragged pants.

"Feel that?" He rolled his hips, a slow grind that pressed against every sensitive spot inside you, and you sobbed. "That's mine. You're mine. Say it."

"I'm yours—fuck—I'm yours, Ki—"

He started to move then, really move, and the pace he set was punishing. Deep, hard thrusts that drove you up the mattress, each one punctuated by the slap of skin against skin and the wet sound of your bodies moving together. He was relentless, his hips snapping forward with a precision that spoke of barely contained control, and each thrust hit something inside you that made your vision go blank.

"This is mine," he gritted out, his hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "This body—this pussy—all of it. Mine. Not his. Not anyone else's. Mine."

"Yours—only yours—baby, please—"

"Please what?" He shifted the angle, hitching your leg up over his hip, and the new position let him sink even deeper, and you heard yourself make a sound that was barely human, high and thin and desperate. "Please let you come? Is that what you want, doll?"

"Yes—yes, please, I need—"

"You need to wait." He thrust into you hard, and you screamed, and he swallowed the sound with his mouth, his tongue sweeping past your lips in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. "Three, remember? You've had one. You need two more."

"I can't—I can't take it—"

"You can. You will." He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes dark and molten, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "You're so strong, doll. So perfect. So beautiful. You can take anything I give you, and you'll thank me for it. Won't you?"

"Yes—yes, I'll thank you—thank you, Ki—"

"Good girl."

He kept moving, and you kept climbing, and just as the coil in your belly was about to snap for the second time, he pulled out. Stopped out of nowhere. 

The emptiness was unbearable, your body clenching around nothing, your hips chasing the friction that had been so cruelly denied, and the sound you made was a full-bodied sob that echoed off the walls.

"I know," he said, and his voice was gentle even though his hands were shaking. "I know, baby. I know it's hard. You're doing so well. Just one more."

"One more," you repeated, like a prayer. "One more. I can do one more."

"My good girl."

He pushed back in, and this time the thrusts were slower, not gentler, not by a long shot, but more deliberate, more controlled, each one a calculated assault on your senses. His hand found the spot between your legs, his thumb pressing in tight circles, and the sensation of him inside you and his fingers on you was too much. You were shaking, tears streaming down your temples into your hair, your hands fisted in the sheets so tightly that your knuckles were white.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said, and his voice was reverent, worshipful, like he was looking at something holy. "All teary and desperate and mine. Nobody else gets to see you like this. Nobody. Not the designers, not the buyers, not the men who think they can put their hands on you at events. This—" He thrust deep, grinding against you, and you keened. "—this shit is mine."

"Yours—only yours—Ki, please—"

"Please what?"

"Please let me come—I can't—I'm going to—I need—"

"Not yet." But his voice was strained, his own control fraying, and you could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, the way his moans were pitching higher and more desperate. 

He was close too, you could feel it in the tension of his body, the way he was fighting his own release alongside yours, and the realization that he was denying himself as much as he was denying you made something hot and tight twist in your chest.

"Ki—"

"One more, doll. Give me one more. You can do it. I know you can."

He changed the angle again, deeper now, impossibly deep, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix with each thrust, and the pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain. You were beyond words now, beyond coherent thought, reduced to a creature of pure sensation, every nerve ending firing, every muscle trembling, your entire being focused on the point where his body met yours.

He pulled out again.

The third denial was the worst. Or the best. You couldn't tell anymore. You were sobbing openly, your body wracked with tremors, your thighs shaking around his hips, and when you reached for him, your hands were so weak that you could barely grip his shoulders. The orgasm that had been building for what felt like hours was hovering just out of reach, a wave that had crested but hadn't yet broken, and the frustration was so acute it was almost its own kind of pleasure.

"I can't—" you wept. "Ki, baby, please—I can't take another one—please, I need to come—I need—"

"I know," he said, and this time his voice broke on the words. "I know, doll. You've been so good. So perfect. So patient. You took all three so beautifully. My good girl. My perfect, perfect girl."

He thrust back in, and this time there was no stopping. No pulling out. No denial. Just the relentless, punishing rhythm of his hips and the pressure of his thumb on your clit and the sound of his voice in your ear, low and rough and so full of love that it made your chest hurt.

"Come for me," he said, and it was a command and a plea and a prayer all at once. "Come for me, doll. Let go. I've got you. I've always got you."

You came.

It hit you like a wall of light, blinding, all-consuming, every muscle in your body seizing at once as the orgasm that had been denied three times finally, finally crashed over you. 

You were aware of screaming his name, of your nails raking down his back, of your body arching off the bed so violently that he had to pin you down with his weight, and the pleasure was so intense that for a long, terrifying moment, you couldn't see or hear or think, you could only feel, every cell in your body exploding and reforming and exploding again.

He followed you over the edge a moment later, his hips stuttering, his breath catching, and then he was spilling into you with a groan that seemed to come from the very marrow of his bones. 

You felt the warmth of it, the pulse of him inside you, the way his body shuddered with each wave, the raw, animal sound of his release, and it triggered another smaller orgasm in you, your walls clenching around him in aftershocks that made you both gasp.

He didn't pull out. He couldn't. His body had given out the moment the orgasm hit, and he collapsed on top of you with his full weight, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps that you could feel against your sweat-damp skin. 

You held him, your arms wrapping around his back, your fingers tracing the scratch marks you'd left, thin red lines that would be visible tomorrow if he took his shirt off, and you pressed kisses to whatever part of him you could reach: his temple, his hairline, the shell of his ear.

"I love you," you whispered, and your voice was wrecked—raw and hoarse and barely audible. "I love you so much, Ki."

"I love you too." His voice was muffled against your neck, thick and slow and sleepy, the champagne and the orgasm hitting him all at once. "I love you more than anything. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"Good." He pressed a lazy kiss to your pulse point, and you felt him smile against your skin. "Mine."

"Yours."

The silence that followed was warm and comfortable, the kind of silence that could only exist between two people who had just dismantled each other completely and were now lying in the wreckage, too spent to move but too content to care. The heater hummed in the corner. The snow was falling outside the window, visible in the glow of the streetlight, and somewhere in the distance, a car alarm went off and was ignored.

Eventually, Riki shifted, just enough to lift his head and look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and soft and so full of affection that it made your heart do something embarrassing in your chest. 

"Hey," he said.

"Hello to you too."

"Are you okay?"

"Mm." You stretched, wincing at the soreness that was already settling into your muscles, and you shifted your legs experimentally, and that was when you saw them.

The marks.

What the fuck.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at your body, and the sight that greeted you made your breath catch. 

Your inner thighs were a patchwork of bruises, the bite marks from earlier, already darkening into deep purple and blue, overlapping and intersecting like some kind of abstract painting. 

Your hips were fingerprinted, ten small crescents where his hands had gripped you. 

Your breasts bore the faint impression of his teeth, and your collarbone — well. It looked like you'd been attacked by a very determined vampire.

"Oh my god," you breathed.

Riki followed your gaze, and the satisfied smile that spread across his face was entirely unapologetic. "Oh my god?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

"Riki, there are—there are marks everywhere."

"That was kind of the point, doll."

"I know, but—" You shifted again, wincing as the bruises on your thighs pressed against the mattress, and then a thought struck you that was equal parts mortified and relieved. "Oh, thank god it's winter."

Riki raised an eyebrow. "Thank god it's winter?"

"So I don't have to head out in shorts twenty-four-seven," you explained, gesturing at the constellation of bruises decorating your thighs. "I mean, can you imagine? I'd walk into the office and my team would think I'd been attacked by a wild animal."

"A very handsome wild animal," Riki corrected, and you laughed.

"A very handsome wild animal who can't control his teeth," you amended.

"I control them just fine. I placed every single one of those marks with intent." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another to the mark on your collarbone, his lips warm and lingering. "And besides, baby, you won't need to worry about shorts. I just washed and prepared your maxi skirts, especially the denim one your mom reworked, so thank me later."

You stared at him. "You did what?"

"Washed your maxi skirts." He said it casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world, like he hadn't just confessed to doing your laundry — which he never did, not because he was unwilling but because you were particular about the way your garments were handled and he'd once shrunk a cashmere sweater and you'd made a face so tragic that he'd sworn off laundry duty entirely. "The denim one is hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I air-dried it like you showed me. And the grey wool one is in the closet, third hanger from the left."

"You, Nishimura Riki, washed my skirts. By hand. And air-dried them."

"Yes." He blinked at you, all innocent and earnest, like he wasn't lying there with love bites covering his throat and your lipstick still smudged on his jaw. "Is that... is that weird?"

"No." Your voice came out thick, and you realised with a start that you were getting emotional, over laundry, of all things, but it wasn't really about the laundry, was it? 

It was about the fact that this man, the same man who had marked you like a territorial wolf not fifteen minutes ago, had also spent time carefully hand-washing your skirts because he knew, somehow, that you'd need them. That he'd thought ahead. That he'd taken care of you in ways that were quiet and domestic and so fundamentally him that it made your eyes sting again. 

"It's not weird," you said again, softer this time, and you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, slow and deep and full of a love so enormous that you couldn't possibly contain it. "It's the opposite of weird. It's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Now who's being dramatic," he murmured against your lips, but he was smiling, and you could feel the way his chest expanded with the kind of quiet pride that he'd never admit to out loud.

"Thank you, Ki."

"You're welcome, baby." He shifted, pulling out of you with a wince that matched yours, and the absence of him left you feeling empty and cold and aching in ways that were both physical and emotional. 

He reached for the duvet, pulling it over both of you, and gathered you against his chest like you were something precious and breakable and infinitely worth protecting.

"Hey," you said, your voice muffled against his skin.

"Hm?"

"Next time someone flirts with me at an event and I don't notice, you have my full permission to come over and be insane about it."

He laughed, the kind that shook his whole body and made the bed creak. "You're going to regret saying that."

"Probably." You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. "But at least I'll have the maxi skirts to cover the evidence."

"The denim one especially," he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "Your mom did a great job on it. The hem is perfect."

"You’re so weird."

"You love it."

"Yeah." You pressed a kiss to the centre of his chest, right over his heart, and felt it beat steady and strong against your lips. "Yeah, I really do."

Outside, the snow kept falling, blanketing the city in white, and inside, under the warmth of the duvet and the weight of each other, you fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and the knowledge that tomorrow, when you pulled on that reworked denim maxi skirt, the marks on your thighs would press against the fabric like a secret — yours and his and nobody else's.

When Riki handed you your glasses from the nightstand the next morning, his fingers lingering on the frames just a moment too long, you thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd put them on the night before, like you were the only person in the room, in the city, in the world, and you smiled, and you didn't bother wondering whether the man from the event would reach out, because it didn't matter. 

None of it mattered. 

The only hands that would ever touch you like that, the only hands that had the right, were the ones currently reaching for the coffee maker, still clumsy with sleep, still wearing the scratch marks on his back like a badge of honour.

"Hey, baby?" Riki called from the kitchen, his voice rough with morning and fondness.

"Yes?"

"The tights—are they hand-wash only? Because I may have like… thrown them on the floor last night, and I want to make sure I don't ruin them when I pick them up."

You laughed, bright and so full of love it hurt, and you padded barefoot into the kitchen, your bruises hidden under the oversized sweater you'd stolen from his closet, and you kissed him until the coffee went cold and the snow outside melted into slush and the whole world narrowed down to this: his mouth on yours, his hands on your waist, his heart beating against your palms.

"Hand-wash only," you murmured. "Cold water. Lay flat to dry."

"I'll add it to the list," he said, and he smiled, the one that was just for you, and you thought, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that you were the luckiest woman alive.

And the polka dot tights, when you finally retrieved them from the bedroom floor, were perfectly fine, ready for the next event, the next outfit, the next time Riki would look at you across a crowded room and know, with absolute certainty, that you were his.

Just as he was yours.

⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . moonlight by kali uchis

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

⊹

Everything about today had been advertised as fun. A “production day,” your lecturer had called it all week with way too much enthusiasm, promising creative freedom and relaxed schedules and exciting group work.

Instead, it had been six straight hours of irritation, passive aggressive comments, and carrying an entire project on your back while the rest of your group stared blankly at their laptops pretending to work.

By two in the afternoon, your social battery was dead.

Your group presentation was supposed to start in less than ten minutes, yet you were hiding in a bathroom stall with your phone pressed to your ear. Your knee bounced restlessly.

“Come on,” you muttered under your breath when it rings again.

Then finally—

“Hey baby—”

“Can you pick me up?”

You cut straight through his greeting, voice exhausted enough to make him pause on the other end.

“…What?”

You sigh, leaning your head back against the cold metal wall behind you. “Can you come get me?”

Riki exhales softly through his nose.

“When?”

“Right now.”

“Right now?” he repeats. “Baby, I can’t right now.”

You frown instantly.

“Why not?”

“I’m working.”

You roll your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. Working. So selling weed to junks.

“And didn’t you say you had class till four?” he adds. “What happened?”

“Yea? I don’t wanna go.”

A small laugh escapes him. “That’s not really how it works.”

“Oh my god,” you groan dramatically, rubbing your forehead. “You cannot be serious.”

“What?”

“You telling me not to skip class?” Your voice sharpened with disbelief. “Riki, you’ve attended like three classes this entire year.”

“Yeah. Don’t be like me.” Riki says.

“Please just come get me,” you try again, softer this time. “I’m so done with today.”

You heard muffled voices in the background on his side of the phone. A car door shutting. Someone calling his name.

Riki clicks his tongue quietly.

“Baby, I really can’t right now. I’ve got like 6 more clients today.”

Your face drops immediately.

“I hate everyone here.”

“I know.”

“No, like actually fucking hate them.”

“I know,” he repeats. “Just come over when your classes are finished, okay?”

You let out the most miserable whine imaginable, dragging the sound out on purpose just to irritate him.

“Rikiiii.”

“That’s not changing my answer.”

Another long sigh left you before you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Whatever.”

“Don’t be mad—”

But you already hung up.

The call ends with a sharp tap of your thumb.

You sit there for another second in irritated silence, glaring at the picture of you and Riki on your lockscreen before shoving the phone into your bag aggressively.

Then you stand up, grab your things, and push the stall door open way harder than necessary. The loud slam echoes through the bathroom.

A girl by the mirror startles and looks over.

“Jeez.” The girl mutters to herself.

You ignore her completely, storming toward the exit, already rehearsing in your head how badly you’re going to guilt trip Riki later for abandoning his poor girlfriend.

— 

By the time you arrive at Riki’s house around four thirty, your irritation hasn’t faded even a little. You text him the second you reach the driveway.

You: im here

Riki: door’s open. mom’s downstairs

You shove your phone into your pocket and push the front door open without knocking.

At this point, you’re over here so much it feels like your second home. The house smells faintly like laundry detergent and food. You hear the TV playing softly somewhere in the living room before his mom notices you walking in.

“Oh, hi sweetheart.”

You look over with a smile. “Hi miss Nishimura.”

“How was your day?”

You let out a dramatic sigh immediately. “Horrible.”

She laughs knowingly from the couch. “That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well,” she says, shaking her head with amusement, “Riki’s upstairs. And tell him to clean that room before it starts growing mold.”

You snort. “I’ll try.”

You laugh softly before heading upstairs, already hearing faint music through the slightly open bedroom door.

The second you push it open wider, you catch Riki mid-motion. He’s shoving an overflowing laundry basket under his bed with his foot fast.

The room still looks messy anyway. Black hoodie tossed over his desk chair. Empty water bottles near the nightstand. Chains and rings scattered around like decoration.

And him.

Black joggers hanging low on his hips, white tank top stretched over his frame, black zip-up hoodie hanging open. Silver rings glinting against his fingers. Cross necklace resting against his chest.

Your mood somehow gets worse instantly.

“There's she is,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just panic-cleaned the second he heard you coming upstairs.

You don’t even answer. You just walk over and let yourself collapse face first onto his bed dramatically, burying your face into his pillow.

It smells exactly like him. Detergent, smoke and cologne.

Riki chuckles quietly behind you.

“Aww,” he teases. “You’re having a hard life today?”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm.”

The mattress dips as he climbs beside you, one arm immediately sliding across your lower back, pulling you closer against him lazily.

“What’s up?” he asks, voice lower now.

Your response comes muffled into the pillow.

“I just wanna graduate already.”

He laughs softly at that.

You finally roll onto your back with a long sigh, staring at the ceiling dramatically. Riki looks down at you with obvious amusement before leaning down and kissing your cheek once.

Then again. Then your forehead and hen the corner of your mouth.

“Talk to me,” he says.

You narrow your eyes at him while he shifts onto his back beside you, opening one arm, inviting you. You stare at him for a second before groaning loudly.

“What?”

“You look good,” you complain miserably. “It’s pissing me off more.”

You move anyway, immediately curling into his side. One leg thrown over his while his arm settles around your waist automatically. He grins.

“That’s your problem?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

You sigh dramatically again before starting your rant properly.

You tell him about the presentation disaster. About your group members barely helping. About one dude showing up completely unprepared and still acting cocky anyway. About having to fix everything yourself while everybody else stood around being useless.

Riki mostly listens quietly, fingers tracing along your waist beneath your t-shirt.

Sometimes he hums. Sometimes he laughs when you mock someone. Sometimes he drops a quiet “that’s crazy” just to keep you talking.

“And then,” you continue, growing more irritated again just remembering it, “they’re all panicking asking me what to say during the presentation like I’m their fucking mother.”

“I’m jealous of you.” You say.

Riki frowns. “Why?”

“You literally just do whatever you want.”

Riki’s expression shifts slightly at that. His hand moves slowly up your back.

“That’s not really a good thing, baby.”

You shrug against him. “Still.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head lightly. “You say that now, but you’re actually doing something with your life.”

You snort. “Barely.”

“I mean it. You’re gonna graduate, get your degree, all that shit.” His fingers squeeze your side lightly. “That matters.”

You look up at him. “You sound like a dad.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“You’re lecturing me.”

“I’m trying to be a good influence.”

You stare at him for a second before sighing loudly and burying your face against his chest again.

“I still hate everybody.”

“That’s okay,” he says easily, pressing a kiss into your hair.

You’re half sprawled on top of him now, your cheek pressed against his chest while his hand keeps moving up and down your back. The late afternoon light coming through his curtains makes the room feel warm and sleepy.

Until the thought hits you.

“I wanna smoke.”

Riki reacts immediately. Like genuinely immediately.

“Okay.”

You snort softly at how fast he says it.

He shifts underneath you, rolling onto his side to reach into his nightstand drawer. You hear the cluttering sound of him moving random things around, lighter, charger, loose receipts, wrappers probably. But then it goes quiet.

“The fuck?”

You lift your head slightly.

Riki’s brows furrow as he digs around harder. “Wait.”

You watch him pull the drawer out further.

Empty.

His whole expression changes instantly. Not fully panicked yet, but close enough that it makes you start smiling already.

“No way,” he mutters.

Without warning, he slips out from underneath you and gets off the bed fast enough to make it bounce. He opens his underwear drawer next, shoving things around aggressively before pulling out a small box hidden beneath his boxers.

Empty too.

“Oh my god,” he says under his breath.

You’re fully entertained now, just laying there watching him spiral.

He checks his backpack next. Nothing.

“What the fuck?” he says again, louder this time. “Nah nah nah.”

You’re trying not to laugh.

Riki turns to look at you with genuine concern in his eyes now.

“I think my mom took my stash.”

That makes you snort. But he doesn’t laugh at all.

His jaw tightens while he runs both hands through his hair, already stressed.

“Riki,” you say between laughs, “are you serious—”

“This isn’t funny.”

“It kinda is.”

“No, it’s really not.”

He’s already leaving the room before you can answer, and he leaves the door wide open behind him. You hear his footsteps down the stairs before his voice carries faintly through the house.

“Mom?”

“In the kitchen!”

You sit up slightly on the bed, immediately listening.

Riki walks into the kitchen trying to sound casual.

“Mom… were you in my room earlier?”

“Yes,” his mom answers easily. “Why?”

“Did you… take something?”

“Your drugs?”

Riki clicks his tongue. “It’s just weed.”

“And weed is still drugs. And it still makes the entire house smell.”

“Mom.”

“No, seriously,” she continues. “I’m tired of the smell. And I don’t want you doing that stuff all day.”

“You can’t just take my stuff.”

“I absolutely can if it’s in my house.”

“It’s my money you threw away, good quality shit,” he argues back, frustration slipping into his voice now. “Do you know how much was in there?”

“Maybe if you went to school instead of selling weed—”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re twenty years old, Riki.”

“And paying for my own stuff.”

“With drug money.”

He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose, clearly realizing the conversation is going nowhere.

“This is crazy,” he mutters.

Then you hear his footsteps coming back upstairs.

The second he walks back into the room, he looks miserable. You’re already grinning.

“She threw it away,” he complains immediately, throwing himself dramatically onto the bed beside you. “Everything.”

“I heard.”

“This is fucked up.”

You laugh softly while he lays there staring at the ceiling like his life is over.

“My own mother robbing me.”

“She’s probably trying to save your future.”

“She threw away like—” He cuts himself off with another annoyed groan. “I don’t even know— a lot of fucking money.”

Still smiling, you move closer again, half laying over him comfortably while he keeps muttering complaints under his breath.

Your hand slides across his side. Then pauses. There’s something in the pocket of his hoodie.

You feel the slight crinkle of plastic underneath the fabric. Riki notices your expression immediately.

“…What?”

Instead of answering, you slip your hand into his hoodie pocket.

“Oh shit.”

You pull out the tiny plastic bag slowly between two fingers. Then your grin spreads immediately.

“Oh my god, thank—”

“We’re not smoking that.”

He snatches it from your hand before you can even finish.

You stare at him.

“Riki.”

“It’s for a client.”

You let out an actual laugh. “Be forreal.”

“I am forreal.”

“Fuck your client.”

“My client is how I make money.”

“Your client can survive one night without weed.”

“He already paid.”

You roll your eyes dramatically before settling between on top of his legs while he keeps the bag out of reach.

“So refund him.”

“Refund him?” He laughs under his breath. “That’s not how that works.”

Your fingers start moving absentmindedly over his stomach through the thin tank top while you speak, nails lightly scratching against the fabric.

“You’re acting like it’s ten kilos.”

“I’m being responsible.”

You snort loudly at that word.

“Responsible.”

“Yes.”

“You skipped like an entire month of school.”

“I’m still enrolled.”

Your hand slides lower against his waist slowly.

“C’monnnn.” you murmur. “I had the worst day.”

“You say that every day.”

“Because people test me every day.”

“Mhm.”

“And now you’re sitting here gatekeeping weed from me.”

“I’m not gatekeeping.”

“You are, though.”

His hand settles on your thigh automatically, fingers squeezing once while he watches you with narrowed eyes.

“You’re manipulative as hell, i hope you know that.”

You tilt your head innocently. “What? I’m just talking.”

“Yeah?” he says. “That’s why your hands are all over me.”

“Maybe because you look good.”

You lean closer while talking, fingers trailing underneath the hem of his tank top just slightly, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath.

Riki exhales slowly through his nose.

“Manipulative”

“And you’re still not giving me the weed.”

He shakes his head, but he’s already losing. You can tell.

“Imagine,” you continue casually, “choosing some random stoner over your sexy girlfriend after she suffered through six hours hell.”

“Hell?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“And sober,” you remind him. “Which is your fault.”

That finally makes him laugh. You immediately take advantage of it, reaching for the bag again. He pulls it away last second.

“Riki,” you groan.

“No.”

“Why are you acting like this is life or death?”

“Because my mom already murdered my business today.”

You roll your eyes before shifting even closer into his lap until your face is right near his. Your hands slide up his chest while you talk softly, your lips hovering above his.

“You like me more than your client, right?”

Then he squints at you. “You’re so full of shit.”

“But am I wrong?”

His hand tightens on your thigh again while he stares at your lips for a second too long.

You already know you won.

“If this dude starts blowing up my phone later, I’m blaming you.”

You smile slowly. “So we’re smoking?”

“Pleaseeee. I know you want it too.” 

He exhales slowly, staring at the tiny bag in his hand like he’s mourning it already.

“Fine.”

“Yesssss.”

You grin immediately and kiss his cheek fast before he can change his mind.

“Love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” he mutters. “You love my weed.”

Riki keeps muttering under his breath about loss while he rolls onto his side toward the nightstand.

You grin to yourself, while he pulls open the drawer again and starts gathering everything he needs. Grinder. Papers. Lighter.

You laugh softly and sit up against the headboard while he settles beside you cross-legged, focused now.

His rings glint under the golden sunlight while he breaks the weed apart between his fingers. You watch him quietly while he works, music humming softly in the background from his speaker.

There’s something stupidly attractive about watching him roll.

Maybe it’s the concentration on his face. The silver chain resting against his throat. The way his hoodie slips down slightly off one shoulder while he leans forward.

He finishes rolling the blunt with a small nod to himself before licking the edge closed carefully. Then he grabs the lighter, sparks it once, twice, before the tip finally glows orange.

The smell fills the room almost instantly.

Riki takes the first hit automatically, checking the burn, then passes it over to you.

You take it from him slowly, inhaling deep while he gets off the bed.

The smoke settles warm in your lungs while you watch him move around the room. He cracks the window open first, then turns the music up slightly louder.

You exhale toward the ceiling with a long satisfied sigh before letting yourself fall backward onto his bed dramatically.

“Oh my god.”

Riki laughs quietly while climbing back onto the mattress.

“That good?”

“Mhm.”

He takes the blunt back from your fingers and leans against the headboard beside you. You watch him inhale slowly before he tilts his head back slightly, doing a french inhale.

You narrow your eyes.

“Okay show off.”

He grins lazily. “You wish you could do that.”

“I literally can.”

“You can’t.”

You grab at the blunt immediately. “Give it.”

He laughs again but hands it over.

Riki’s eyes are getting red, eyelids hanging lower, his movements slower. And you can feel yourself melting into the mattress more every second.

You move closer without really thinking about it, thigh pressing against his while you take another hit.

“Does your mom know I smoke with you?” You ask quietly.

Riki immediately lets out a short laugh.

“No.”

“Why’d you laugh like that?”

“Because she’d actually kill me.”

You grin slightly. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He takes the blunt back. “She already hates that I smoke. If she found out I got you smoking too?” He shakes his head. “I’d never survive.”

“You didn’t get me smoking.”

“You met me because I sold to you.”

“Okay.”

He points at you with the blunt. “Exactly.”

You laugh quietly while laying your head against his shoulder.

“She thinks I’m a bad influence already,” he says.

“You are a bad influence.”

“Maybe.”

Riki takes another hit before continuing, words slower now.

“One time she caught me smoking in the garage and made me deep clean the whole house for like two days.”

“No way.”

“I’m serious.” He looks genuinely offended remembering it. “She took my car keys too.”

You start laughing harder.

“She said if I wanted to ‘act grown’ then I could start doing grown people chores.”

He rolls his eyes lazily before nudging your leg with his knee.

“What about your parents? They know?”

You think for a second.

“I don’t think so.”

“Not even about me?”

“They know you’re my boyfriend,” you say vaguely.

You grin.

“I just don’t think they know you deal.”

“And the smoking?”

You shrug lightly. “My mom definitely suspects something sometimes.”

“She ever ask?”

“Once.”

“What’d you say?”

“That my eyes were red because I was tired.”

Riki immediately starts laughing.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“She believed me.”

“No she didn’t.”

“She did.”

“She chose to believe you,” he corrects.

You smile a little at that because honestly, he’s probably right.

The conversation slowly drifts after that. Neither of you talking much anymore.

The weed settles heavier into your body until everything feels warm and slow and comfortable. The music sounds better. His room feels warmer and you get clingy.

Your hands keep finding him without even thinking about it.

Resting on his chest. Sliding under his hoodie. Fingers tracing over the rings on his hands. Playing with the chain around his neck. Touching his arm, his stomach, his jaw.

Riki notices eventually.

“You’re attached to me right now.”

“Mhm.”

He smiles lazily, eyes half closed now while you curl fully against him.

“So cute.”

One of your legs thrown over his again. Your face pressed into the side of his neck.

His hand drifts slowly up and down your back while the room stays quiet except for the music and your soft occasional laughter at literally nothing.

Your entire horrible day feels far away now.

The blunt is almost done by now. Just one hit left. You take the last hit slowly, inhaling deep.

“Baby,” Riki says quietly.

You look at him. He just tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking toward your mouth.

Oh. A small grin pulls at your lips immediately.

Without a word, you shift up, swinging one leg over his lap so you’re sitting on top of him properly. His back presses against the bedframe while his hands settle automatically on your hips.

You lean down close. Then slowly exhale the smoke into his mouth.

Riki inhales instantly, eyes fixed on your lips the entire time.

You stay close after, barely pulling away.

His gaze drags over your face lazily before he turns his head slightly to the side to exhale the smoke away from you. One hand reaches toward the nightstand blindly, dropping the finished blunt into the glass of water beside the bed with a quiet sizzle.

Then he looks back at you and kisses you immediately.

His lips warm against yours while your arms slide around his neck automatically. The kiss tastes faintly like smoke, his hand moving up your side underneath your hoodie while he pulls you closer against him.

Your fingers slip into the hair at the back of his neck.

His hand is sliding up your throat gently, thumb brushing your jaw while he deepens the kiss.

You breathe out softly against his mouth when his other hand moves lower, dragging down your waist before settling on your ass with a firm squeeze.

His tongue pushes into your mouth while his grip tightens slightly, guiding your hips forward instinctively. Then back, then forward again, while softly humming into the kiss.

The movement makes heat curl low in your stomach instantly.

He has his hands all over you like he can’t decide where he wants them most.

One hand squeezing your thigh now. The other still holding your waist, moving you against him in a way that has your head getting fuzzier by the second.

Then—

A knock.

“Riki.”

You both freeze instantly. 

You practically launch yourself off his lap while Riki looks down at his crotch and quickly adjusts his joggers to hide something.

You drop back onto the bed casually, grabbing your phone like you’ve been doing absolutely nothing suspicious.

Riki starts aggressively waving his hand through the air trying to clear the smoke, muttering a quiet “shit” under his breath.

“Yeah?” he calls out.

His mom opens the door. The second she steps inside, her face twists immediately.

“Oh my god.”

Riki sighs dramatically already.

“It smells disgusting in here.”

Riki shrugs. You bite the inside of your cheek hard to stop yourself from laughing.

His mom looks around the room with visible disappointment before glaring at him again.

“I just told you about this earlier.”

Riki scoffs quietly, slouching further against the headboard. “Okay.”

“Don’t ‘okay’ me.”

He stays quiet this time. Probably because arguing more would make her stay longer.

Thankfully, she moves on with another sigh.

“Anyway, I’m going out to dinner with a friend later, so you two need to figure out food yourselves.”

“Okay.”

“And clean this room.”

Riki looks around lazily at the disaster surrounding him.

“It is clean, mom.”

His mom stares at him in disbelief. She shakes her head like she’s exhausted with him. Then she turns and walks out. Leaving the door completely open behind her.

“Mom!” Riki calls after her immediately. “Close the door.”

She ignores him completely and keeps walking downstairs.

He drops his head back against the wall with an annoyed groan.

“You see how nobody respects me in this house?”

He rolls his eyes while you crawl closer again, reaching up to grab his face with both hands. You squish his cheeks together dramatically, lips pursed in fake pity.

“Awww,” you say mockingly. “Poor baby. Mommy yelled at you again?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles through squished cheeks.

“This,” he says while pulling your hands away, “is why I smoke. My mom stresses me out.”

“She just told you to clean your room.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s normal.”

“It’s already clean.”

You slowly turn your head to look around the room. Then back at him.

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

The disbelief on your face makes him scoff instantly.

“It is.”

“Riki.”

“What?”

You narrow your eyes at him before suddenly leaning over the side of the bed.

Riki reacts immediately. He grabs your waist trying to pull you back before you can look underneath, but he’s too slow.

You already see everything. The laundry basket tipped completely over, half the clothes spilled out across the floor underneath the bed. Empty water bottles. A pizza box. Random chargers. One sock hanging off something.

And… you slowly reach down with two fingers.

You hold up a pair of grey Calvin Klein boxers delicately like they’re contaminated.

“You’re disgusting.”

He clicks his tongue and snatches them from your fingers fast and throws them back underneath the bed aggressively.

“Stop looking under there.”

You ignore him completely.

Still bent over the side of the bed, you keep inspecting his mess pile while Riki flops back dramatically behind you.

“Leave my room alone.” he says, laughing under his breath.

“There’s enough water bottles under here to survive an apocalypse.”

“I was gonna throw them away.”

“When? Next year?”

He grabs your ankle, trying to drag you back up onto the bed.

“Come here.”

“No, I’m investigating.”

Your eyes catch on something small shoved further back underneath the bed.

You pull it out quietly.

A pair of pink panties. You recognize them instantly because you’ve been wondering where they disappeared to weeks ago.

But instead of saying that, you just stare at them for a second.

Then slowly sit back up onto the bed.

Riki’s still relaxed at first, watching you casually.

Until you look at him.

“Riki,” you say slowly.

“Hm?”

“Are you cheating on me?”

The change in his expression is immediate.

“What?”

You hold up the panties silently, keeping your face completely serious.

Riki stares at them for one second before scoffing.

“Baby, those are yours.”

You don’t answer. Just keep staring at him.

“You literally left those here.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

“I’ve never seen those in my life.”

He snorts. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re lying.”

You shrug lightly. “Am I?”

Riki still looks entertained at first, completely unconcerned while he reaches for his phone beside him.

“They’re yours y/n.”

“I think I’d remember my own underwear.”

He glances over at you again.

You’re still staring at him with the exact same serious expression. No smile, no laugh.Nothing.

The amusement slowly starts fading from his face. Riki sits up a little straighter now.

“Are you being serious right now?”

You look down at the panties in your hands dramatically before looking back at him.

“I don’t know, Riki. Should I be?”

“Baby,” he says immediately, now fully paying attention. “That is literally yours.”

“But what if it’s not?”

He stares at you for another second, trying to figure out if you’re joking.

Then his phone gets tossed aside completely.

“Baby— what?.” He moves closer fast, hands immediately finding your face. “Why would I cheat on you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek trying not to laugh.

“You think I’d do that?”

You shrug again.

Riki looks genuinely stressed now.

“No, seriously.” His thumbs brush against your cheeks while he searches your face. “I would never do that to you.”

Your expression almost breaks right there.

“I promise you that.” he says softer now. 

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“You’re the only girl that’s ever in my room.”

That one nearly makes you lose it. Especially because he sounds so sincere.

His brows are pulled together now, eyes low and worried while he keeps holding your face close.

“I’d never cheat on you,” he says again quietly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You can’t hold it anymore.

“Hahaaaaa— gotcha.”

Riki freezes. Then realization slowly washes over his face.

“I knew it.”

You’re laughing so hard now you almost fall sideways off the bed.

“Oh my god, your face—”

“Get out of here with your fuckass pranks.”

“I got you so stressed.” you wheeze. “You got all serious—”

You keep laughing while mocking his voice.

“Baby, I’d never cheat on you.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the only girl in my room.”

Riki shoves you hard enough to make you flop backward onto the mattress while he falls back beside you dramatically.

“You’re annoying as fuck.”

You’re still laughing.

“You looked so scared.”

“You kept staring at me like you were about to cry.”

You roll on top of him immediately, still grinning while he tries to stay annoyed.

It doesn’t work very well. Especially not when you start kissing his face repeatedly. One on his cheek. Another near his jaw. Then the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” you laugh against his skin.

“No you’re not.”

“I’m kinda sorry.”

“Mhm.”

You kiss him again anyway, arms wrapping around his neck. He’s still shaking his head.

“Actually can’t stand you,” he mutters.

But he’s smiling when he says it.

You’re still laughing when you lean down to kiss him again. And again and again.

Riki tries to stay annoyed, but you can literally feel him fighting a smile underneath your mouth every time you kiss the corner of his lips.

“Don’t be mad,” you mumble against his cheek.

You poke his face.

“Riki.”

He grabs your wrist immediately. “Stop poking me.”

“I’ve never seen you that stressed in my life.” you continue, grinning down at him.

“I could tell you were joking.”

“Aww,” you tease again, lightly squishing his face. “Did you?’

“I don’t like you.”

“You do.”

You kiss him again before squishing his cheek one more time.

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m warning you right now.”

You ignore him completely.

Another poke.

“Baby—”

Another kiss.

“Don’t be—”

Suddenly his hands grab your waist hard.

You barely have time to yelp before he flips you over completely, throwing you onto the mattress with a laugh.

“Riki!”

“There,” he says while climbing over you fast. “Got you.”

You’re still laughing when he pins both your wrists above your head with one hand.

He leans down and bites lightly at your neck with a playful growl that makes you yell immediately.

Riki grins against your skin before suddenly attacking your sides with his free hand.

“You were asking for it.”

You scream instantly.

“RIKI—”

“You thought you were funny?”

“STOP—”

He keeps tickling you, fingers everywhere now while you twist underneath him laughing so hard you can barely breathe. Your legs kick against the bed uselessly while he keeps your wrists pinned easily.

“Talking all that shit,” he says through his own laughter. “Now look at you.”

“STOP—”

“No.”

“PLEASE—”

“Say sorry.”

“I— I DID!”

“Say it properly.”

You can barely get words out between laughing.

He keeps going. Tickling your stomach now, your sides, under your arms, everywhere he knows makes you lose your mind.

You’re literally crying laughing at this point.

“Okay okay— sorry!”

“What was that?”

“Sorry!!”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry Riki!”

Finally he stops.Both of you breathing hard now.

Riki looks down at you smugly while still pinning your wrists above your head. Then he leans down and kisses the side of your jaw once before letting go completely.

“That’s what I thought. Good girl.”

You glare at him and immediately kick his leg one last time.

He laughs while rolling off you.

You just lay there dramatically trying to recover, chest rising and falling while your face hurts from laughing.

“Oh my god,” you groan.

“You started it.”

“You almost killed me.”

You stare at the ceiling for another few quiet seconds before your stomach growls loudly.

Riki immediately snorts.

“…I’m hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

He stretches lazily before sitting up, hoodie riding up slightly, giving you a peek of the tattoo on his side.

“Get up then.” He says while reaching over to tap your thigh.

You follow him downstairs.

You hop up onto the kitchen counter while Riki starts checking for food. The fridge first. 

He stares inside for a few seconds. “Why do we only have ingredients?”

He starts pulling random things out dramatically.

Spinach. Eggs. Sauce. Half a cucumber.

“You could cook.”

“I’m not cooking.”

You roll your eyes.

Next he checks the cabinets. Same problem. Pasta. Rice. Random canned stuff.

“What even is this.”

You laugh softly from the counter while swinging your legs.

Then he opens the freezer.

“Oh wait.”

You sit up slightly.

“What?”

“I found some pizza.”

“Oh my god.”

Riki pulls it outThen flips it over.

His face immediately drops.

“Nevermind.”

“What?”

“This shit expired two years ago?! Jezus Christ, mom.”

You burst out laughing.

“This house has no food and no weed,” he complains dramatically while walking toward the trash. “Unbelievable.”

“You’re so spoiled.”

He opens the trash bin to throw away the pizza. Then freezes.

“…No fucking way.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Baby.”

The tone of his voice makes you hop off the counter immediately.

“What?”

Riki slowly turns the trash bin toward you.

Your eyes widen instantly.

His stash. All of it. Still sealed up in bags, sitting right there untouched because apparently his mom had just thrown it out without opening anything.

“Oh shit.”

Riki genuinely looks emotional.

“She didn’t throw it out.”

You start laughing immediately while he grabs the bags out of the trash like he’s rescuing lost treasure.

“No way,” he keeps saying in disbelief. “No fucking way.”

Riki suddenly grabs your waist and lifts you right off the floor effortlessly, making you laugh louder while he kisses you hard.

“You don’t understand,” he says against your lips, grinning like an idiot now. “We’re about to have a goood time.”

You’re still smiling when you hop back up onto the kitchen counter, watching Riki reorganize his recovered stash on the counter.

“I want sushi.”

Riki looks over immediately.

“You want sushi?” he repeats, stepping closer until he’s standing between your legs.

“Mhm.”

You hook your ankles loosely behind him while he leans in just enough to kiss you once.

“Then we’re getting sushi.”

“Exactly.”

He pulls his phone out with one hand while the other settles around your lower back automatically, keeping you close against him while he opens a delivery app.

“What rolls do you want?”

You lean forward immediately to watch.

“That one.”

“Ooo wait,” you say, pointing at the screen. “Get California rolls.”

Riki adds it without argument.

“And spicy salmon.”

Tap.

“And those fried ones.”

“The crunchy ones?”

“Yeah.”

Still, he scrolls until you nod.

“Those.”

He adds them too.

One of your hands drifts into his hair while he orders, fingers scratching lightly at the back of his neck.  You keep commenting on random things while he adds literally everything you mention without complaint.

“Get gyoza too.”

“Okay.”

“And mochi.”

“You don’t even like mochi that much.”

“Yes I do.”

“You eat like two bites.”

“I like mochi. Riki.” You say, not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

Riki laughs quietly under his breath and adds it anyway, he glances at the total and finally looks up at you.

“I think we got enough.”

You immediately shake your head.

“No.”

“Baby.”

“We get hungry when we’re high.”

“That’s already enough food for a family of four.”

“And?”

He stares at you for a second.

Then sighs dramatically and adds another roll anyway.

“There. Happy?”

“Very.”

“You use me financially.”

“Correct.”

He snorts softly before finally placing the order.

The second the confirmation screen pops up he tosses his phone onto the counter beside you.

“There,” he says, reaching for the weed beside you, “you ready to get faded or what?”

He dangles one of the little bags of weed in front of you teasingly.

You glance at it, then shake your head.

“Not yet.”

Riki raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I don’t want it to wear off before the food gets here.”

That makes him laugh immediately.

You’re still sitting on the counter while he steps even closer between your legs again, his hands settle on either side of your thighs.

“Baby,” he says amused, “you do not gotta worry about that.”

You smile slightly at his tone already.

He leans in closer.

“This shit’s strong,” he murmurs near your lips. “It’ll have you stoned for hours.”

The way he says it makes warmth spread through you instantly.

You smile against his mouth before kissing him softly just for a few seconds. When you pull back, you’re still smiling a little.

“The other one worked pretty fast though.”

Riki chuckles quietly.

“Yeah baby, that was like less than half a blunt.”

“Mhm.”

“And my mom interrupted us halfway through.”

You laugh softly and lightly push his shoulder.

“Stop talking shit about your mom.”

By the time you both end up outside in the backyard, the sky is starting to darken just slightly.

You curl one leg underneath yourself on the gray lounge sofa in the cornerwhile Riki sits beside you, immediately pulling out the recovered stash again.

The second he opens the bag, the smell hits instantly.

“Jeez,” you say, wrinkling your nose slightly.

Riki just nods while breaking it apart between his fingers.

“Told you,” he says proudly. “This the good stuff.”

You eye the weed suspiciously.

“I don’t wanna green out again.”

That makes him laugh under his breath.

“You’re not gonna green out.”

“You said that last time too.”

“And you were fine.”

“I thought my heart stopped.”

Riki grins and reaches over to pat your head.

“You’ll be fine, baby. I promise.”

He ignores that, focused on rolling now.

His rings click softly against the lighter beside him while he works. You watch him carefully pack the joint before sealing it shut.

“Oh, by the way.”

“Mhm?”

“When the food gets here, you gotta open the door.”

You blink. “Why?”

You stare at him for a second.

“Riki.”

He just grins to himself while lighting the tip.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“…Okay?”

You shake your head at him while he hands you the finished joint.

You bring it to your lips automatically, cupping your hand around the end while you light it carefully against the slight evening breeze.

The orange glow flickers against your face for a second.

Riki watches you.

“You look sexy when you do that.”

You smile at him while inhaling. He laughs softly and lights his own.

You take another long hit confidently this time. Immediate mistake.

The smoke hits the back of your throat so harshly you start coughing instantly.

“Fuck—”

“I told you it’s strong.”

You cough harder.

His hand lands on your back, rubbing slowly between your shoulders.

“You good?”

“Mhm,” you manage weakly between coughs.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He still keeps rubbing your back though, grinning to himself while you recover.

The joints burn slowly while the conversation drifts lazily from topic to topic. Sometimes one of you talks. Sometimes neither of you does.

Your body starts feeling heavier against the couch cushions while Riki’s eyes get visibly lower every time he looks over at you.

Then the doorbell rings faintly inside the house.

Neither of you reacts.

A few seconds later it rings again. Still nothing.

By the third ring, your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh shit.”

You quickly lean forward to put your joint in the ashtray, but you just kind of drop it sideways carelessly.

Riki immediately hisses under his breath.

“Baby—”

“What?”

“You gotta put it down properly.”

He fixes it quickly before it burns unevenly, muttering to himself while adjusting it.

“Now you gotta relight it later. Wasting my shit.”

By the time you get to the front door, your eyes already feel warm and heavy.

You pull it open.

The delivery guy looks down at his phone first.

Then at you.

Then back at the phone again with visible hesitation.

“Order for…” He squints slightly. “Princess?”

You freeze.

The delivery guy looks awkward now.

“…Is that you?”

“Oh.” You smile awkwardly. “Yup... that’s me.”

He hands over the food while clearly trying not to react.

“Enjoy.”

“Thanks.”

The second you walk back outside, Riki’s smiling so hard he can barely hold it together.

“Order for princess?” you repeat flatly.

That immediately makes him laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugs innocently, still grinning.

“That’s what you are right? Ordering half the menu on my costs.”

“So?”

“So princess behavior.”

You shake your head while sitting back beside him with the food bags.

Riki laughs quietly while watching you unpack everything onto the outdoor table.

Containers everywhere. Soy sauce packets. Mochi. Chopsticks. You arrange everything carefully while he watches you with low amused eyes.

Then he hands your joint back to you.

“Smoke first.”

“I’m hungry.”

“It’ll taste better after.”

You look at him.

“Trust me.”

You sigh.

“Alright. But let me unpack first.”

Riki just leans back against the couch watching you continue organizing all the food until everything’s spread out perfectly across the table.

Only then do you finally put the joint back between your lips.

“Here,” you mumble.

Riki leans in with the lighter, one hand instinctively cupping near your face while he relights it for you.

Then he takes his own joint again.

Time starts getting weird after that. The world feels softer while the backyard lights blur slightly golden against your vision.

Riki’s head is tipped back slightly, eyes red and barely open anymore.

You’re not much better. Every movement feels delayed.

The sushi sitting on the table in front of you somehow looks like the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

And when you glance over at Riki, he’s already looking at you. Slow grin spreading across his face.

The second you take the first bite of sushi, your eyes widen dramatically.

“Oh my god.”

Riki’s already chewing on his own food beside you when you point at the tray.

“This tastes fucking amazing.”

Your words come out half muffled because you’re already stuffing another piece into your mouth.

Riki starts laughing immediately.

“You look crazy right now.”

“No seriously,” you say through another bite, “this is like… life changing.”

“Mhm,” he agrees lazily. “Told you.”

The weed is hitting hard now. Everything tastes better.

The soy sauce somehow tastes richer. The crunchy fried rolls are so good they piss you off a little. Even the stupid little ginger slices are suddenly very good.

“This is the best sushi I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

At one point you groan loud while chewing and let your head fall back dramatically against the couch.

Riki loses it.

“You sound like you’re getting fucked.”

“No. This better than getting fucked.”

Riki starts laughing so hard he nearly chokes on rice.

You laugh too immediately even though neither of you even knows what’s funny anymore.

The conversation keeps breaking apart halfway through because both of you get distracted constantly.

Riki reaches for a fried roll.

Misses the soy sauce completely. Still eats it.

You stare at him.

“You didn’t dip it, baby.”

“Huh?”

“You missed.”

He looks down slowly.

“Oh.”

Then both of you start laughing again for absolutely no reason.

At some point you try using chopsticks and completely fail because your movements feel delayed.

“You’re holding them wrong,” Riki says.

“No I’m not.”

“You look like you don’t know what planet you’re on right now.”

Eventually the table is a complete mess and both of you are completely gone.

You fall back dramatically against the couch cushions with a groan.

“I’m so full.”

Riki leans back beside you with heavy eyes.

“Same.”

The backyard feels unreal now.

The sun is setting lower, turning the sky orange and pink while the grass somehow looks very green.

You stare at it for a long moment.

“Why does the grass look like… that?”

Riki turns his head slowly. “Like what?”

“So green.”

He squints at the lawn for a few seconds.

“…Damn.”

“Right?”

“Yeah.”

You nod seriously.

“This is the best weed ever.”

“Mhm.”

“My eyelashes are tingling.”

That makes him laugh quietly.

You keep talking very slowly.

“And the sky is like…” You gesture vaguely upward. “Orange. But like… not normal orange.”

Your thoughts are drifting around faster than your mouth can keep up.

“And the clouds are so…” You trail off completely.

“So what?”

“…Nevermind.”

“You forgot?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re so stoned.”

You look over at him slowly.

“You are too.”

“I can handle it better.” he says immediately. 

Riki grins lazily beside you before grabbing his phone and putting music on. The sound plays quietly through the backyard while the sky gets darker by the minute.

The weed makes both of you ridiculously affectionate.

Your hand keeps finding his automatically. Or his hoodie. Or his chain.

You’re halfway in his lap again without even realizing it.

Riki doesn’t seem any better. One arm permanently around your waist now. Fingers tracing patterns against your side. Pulling you closer every few minutes like he forgot you’re already on top of him.

At some point he just starts staring at you.

You notice eventually.

“What?”

“You’re so cute when you’re high.”

“You say that every time.”

“Cause it’s true. You get all slow.”

“You’re slow too.”

“Yeah but I’m still functioning.”

The night settles around you slowly.

The air gets colder. The backyard lights turn on automatically above you. Music still humming softly in the background.

Eventually you both end up laying down across the lounge couch together.

You’re tucked between his long legs with your head resting on his chest, arms folded underneath your chin w.

Riki’s hand moves slowly through your hair.

Everything feels warm and comfortable. Your eyes keep slipping shut.

Riki says something eventually, voice low and sleepy above you.

You don’t answer.

A few seconds pass then he nudges you lightly.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Nothing.

“Princess.”

Riki lifts his head slightly to look down at you properly.

Your mouth is slightly open against his chest, breathing slow and even.

Completely asleep.

He stares for a second before quietly chuckling to himself.

His hand brushes gently through your hair one last time before his eyes close too.

A while later, the back door slides open softly.

Riki’s mom steps inside the dark kitchen first, kicking her shoes off quietly before setting her bag down on the counter.

The house is silent.

She frowns slightly.

“Riki?”

No answer.

“Y/n?”

She glances toward the backyard when she notices the faint music still playing outside. With a small sigh, she walks over and slides the door open further.

You and Riki are completely passed out.

Riki’s sprawled against the couch cushions with his head tilted to the side, one arm still wrapped around your waist in his sleep. His other hand is tangled loosely in your hair like he fell asleep petting it.

And you’re curled against his chest, tucked between his legs comfortably, breathing slow and peaceful.

Both of you look exhausted but very cute together.

For a second she just stands there quietly watching.

“Oh gosh,” she mutters under her breath, her eyes barely tearing up.

It’s kind of thing she’d probably take a picture of if she wasn’t actively trying to stay annoyed at her son.

She’s already about to leave you both alone when her eyes drift toward the table beside the couch.

The ashtray.

Two finished joints resting inside.

Her mouth flattens immediately.

“Oh my god.”

She clicks her tongue softly while looking back at the two of you asleep.

“You two…”

Riki just pulls you slightly closer unconsciously in his sleep.

His mom shakes her head slowly before heading back inside. The kitchen light flicks on and that’s when she notices the counter.

Several bags. Very recognizable bags, filled with weed.

All spread across the kitchen counter exactly where Riki had left them earlier.

She slowly closes her eyes.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

She walks over immediately, picking one up between two fingers with visible disbelief.

“So he went into the trash for it too,” she mutters to herself.

Another annoyed sigh leaves her while she grabs the box of trash bags from underneath the sink.

This time, she empties every single bag out of the packaging directly into the garbage.

No saving it now.

Just straight into old food, napkins, banana peels and whatever else is already sitting in there.

She ties the trash bag shut tightly afterward. Then looks toward the backyard again through the glass door.

Riki sleeping peacefully with you in his arms, completely unaware that his mom is throwing out his beloved weed stash… again.

⊹

Ravenchrest Academy, the most elite school in the country, only the richest, smartest students are accepted. Including you, Student Council Vice President.

People tend to use the word “bossy” or “demanding” when talking about you, which isn’t entirely false, you just like getting your way

So why does Nishimura Riki, the Student Council President think it's okay to boss you around, while you have to hold your tongue through it, even though most of the time you don't.

Truth is, he sees it as a power imbalance, in the end you have no choice but to listen, you two have a…complicated relationship.

Even though its the most luxurious School in the country, you still have to work in the same office as him, irritatingly so.

“So you're saying you haven't printed, nor made the sign up sheet for the student leadership conference?” Nishimura says, not even bothering to look up from his papers

“That's what I just said.” You say from your desk, the space isn't too cramped but it wouldn't be able to fit another person, your desks are nearly across from each other.

“And you think you deserve being in this position?” You hate the way he talks to you like you're beneath him.

“I was voted for among the students, and teachers. I think I'm perfectly capable of being in this position.” You say resisting the urge to throw your keyboard at his face

“Well I think you are too, but you can't even perform a simple task like making a sign up sheet, it's pathetic really.” He says, that “nonchalant” attitude radiating off him

You inhale and exhale, trying to calm yourself down before speaking “I'll work on it right now.” You say through your teeth, biting back the long list of insults you’re holding back

“Good.” He simply says 

Honestly, he acts unbothered and everyone around him believes it. Anyone would bend their backs just to do what he wants. Does he abuse the power? Yes. But there's only one person who can’t seem to back down, and it's you. No matter what he does, no matter how much he establishes his authority over you, no matter how much he punishes you, you still don’t respect him the same way the other students do.

He tries to hide his shock at the way you didn't insult him, opening his mouth to make a smart ass comment before a knock on the door cuts through the silence

“Come in.” You both say at the same time, glaring at each other

A shorter girl comes in, black hair cut in a short bob, she looks nervous. You're too focused on her to notice the way Nishimura's gaze immediately goes to her.

“Hi–I um, you emailed me to come here” She says, voice quiet

“Do you need help with something?” You ask, brow raising

“Sori, we can speak outside.” Nishimura says, standing up, you don't miss the way his hand guides her, resting on her lower back

You've noticed, he likes the shy ones, the girls who are willing to do anything for him at any time, you also notice the way he seems so gentle with them, almost like they're fragile. The complete opposite of how he treats you.

You also don't miss when he comes back, 20 minutes later, tie disheveled, lips slightly plumper than before.

“What did she need?” You press, your eyes focused on the computer

“Why? Jealous she took away from our precious alone time?” He says, watching your face for a reaction

“I just wish she would have kept you longer so I could enjoy my precious alone time.” You say calmly

You don't see the way his eye slightly twitches, annoyed with your need to be a walking disobedience to him. But he doesn't say anything, because he knows he'll eventually break you too.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

Since your school is known for its large charity events, and fundraisers, you're not surprised when the reporters come around to ask you about it.

So here you are, standing outside in the irritatingly hot air with Nishimura's hand on your back, and a reporter who won't shut the hell up.

“Hm..Can you two scoot closer together? This is going on the front page of the Academy's newsletter." The one holding the camera says

You look at Nishimura, he looks down at you before pulling you flush against his side, his hand splayed at the waistband of your skirt

“Perfect! And smile!” 

You take a deep breath before putting on that performative smile you always wear around teachers, and classmates

“Thank you, the letter should arrive later this week!” You and Nishimura just nod as they walk away

Pushing him from your side slightly “They’re insufferable.” You say using your hand to fan yourself

“Taking a picture with me is really that bad?” He says smirking

“Do you really want me to answer that?” your attitude spiking from the heat

his eyes lock on yours, an intensity you know so well glinting in them

“Careful, don't forget your place y/n.” He says, walking back to the door

You just stare at him in confusion as he walks away like the cocky asshole he is

Later that week you decide to go to school a little earlier than everyone, walking to the student council office, pausing when you see him already there

You step in, setting your bags down “Shocker that you're here.” you say, he doesnt even look up- is he laughing at you?

You stride to his desk to see what he's looking at before snatching the paper from his hands

“What the fuck!?” You practically yell and he bursts out laughing

Nishimura Riki is laughing. Which is odd considering what an uptight asshole he is

“I think they got it right” he says watching your face as you study the newsletter’s cover

“Nishimura Riki Student council President, and L/n Y/n The Vice president are the ultimate duo, chemistry unmatched as they work together to lead the Academy to greater heights–” You look at him eyes wide

“Is this official?” you ask, tone serious

He looks up at you through his black framed glasses

“It's already been given to the teachers to pass out” He checks the time “And right about now they should be given to the students.”

You look back down at the paper in horror

“Do you know what this means Nishimura?” You say, he asked you to use his first name before, but you refuse to call someone who you despise that

“That we have great chemistry? That we lead the school to greatness?” sarcasm leaking in his tone

“It means all your little girl toys are going to come for my throat.” You say slamming the paper on his desk in aggression

“Girl toys? Really y/n?” he says, brow raising, with that obnoxious smirk you want to slap off his perfect face

“That's what I just fucking said!” you yell, anger filling in your voice 

He stands up, towering over you, the only thing between him and you being his desk

“I suggest watching your tone, especially if you don't want me to tell the headmaster that your skirt is 3 inches shorter than the required length, breaking the dress code. I'm sure they wouldn't want their star student– well besides me, to be known for being a slut who flashes her light pink lace panties, now do they?” He says, tone calm

You swear your face is red, and someone definitely turned up the heater.

You don't know what to reply to first- the fact that he knows so much about how long your skirt is, or the fact that he knows what color underwear you’re wearing right now.

“You fuck-” You stop when someone knocks on the door

He just looks at you, that stupid ass smirk on his face “Come in” He says, a little too calm for someone who just practically violated your entire ego.

A boy you recognize from the student council meetings comes in, pausing in the doorway looking at the both of you standing up

“Um- Sorry did I interrupt something?” He says fidgeting with his clip board in his hands

“No, you didn't." You walk over to him

“Well I have the list of places to go for the student leadership conference-” he hands them to you

“This is good.” you say, scanning the papers

Nishimura sits back down, watching the way the boy nervously picks his nails “Ill review them and let you know if we need to make any changes.” Nishimura says, holding his hand out for the papers

You hesitate a beat before giving them to him

He watches as the boys eyes linger on your skirt before snapping back to your face when you turn to face him, making him scoff under his breath. That was his last straw.

“Thank you. You can leave now.” He says watching the boy shut the door behind him

“Fix the skirt issue, it's clearly distracting for your classmates.” He says, writing on the paper

You let out a sour laugh "You're still on that? Are you fucking serious right now?” 

His eyes snap up to your face “You think it's okay to talk to me like that?” 

“Yeah, actually. Considering you're wrong.” You say crossing your arms over your chest in defiance

“y/n, I would suggest cutting this attitude of yours off before I do something I wont take back.” He says, eyes testing

“Oh please, you’re not going to do shit—just because you’re literally one rank higher than me doesn’t make you any better.”

No one is able to get on his nerves as bad as you.

He stands up, walking around his desk till he's directly in front of you, reaching behind you to grab a ruler

“You really want to test me right now?” He says holding the ruler up

Now you’re doubting yourself, you watch as he holds the ruler up to your skirt

3 inches too short.

He tsks looking at you “y’know, you've been testing my patience this whole semester, but it's been even worse this past week.” 

He stands up to tower over you again “How should I punish you then?” he says, letting the ruler trail down your arm, letting the words sit. you don't know why you can't talk right now– maybe shock?

“Speechless now? Interesting.”

“You're a pervert.” you say through your teeth

He chuckles, pushing his glasses up his nose

“Bend over the desk.” He says, eyes locked on yours

“What?” you're not sure you heard him right

“Bend.Over.The.Desk.” spelling it out like you're a child.

“Nishimura-im not–” You don't even register when he pushes you down onto the desk, the edge of it digging into your stomach, before lifting up your skirt

“Pink lace, I knew it” He chuckles, almost to himself

“What the fuck are you doing-” he doesnt let you finish your sentence before landing a sharp slap to your ass with the ruler causing you to nearly yell

“That's for having such a dirty mouth.” He watches the way your ass reddens 

He hits your other with the ruler, making you let out a whimper on his desk

“Oh? Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this?” He says rubbing your ass with the ruler, as if to sooth the burn

“I knew you were a slut, but this is just- filthy” He says using the ruler and his hand to spread your ass 

You whimper as the ruler grazes over your wet cunt through your panties

“F-fuck you” you let out through uneven breaths

He doesn't hesitate before bringing the ruler up and slapping it right onto your pussy making you choke on a moan

“Still acting like a spoiled brat even when I have you like this? You're going to need some work hm?” 

Both your eyes move to the sudden ring of the school phone on his desk

He lets out a breath of frustration before he grabs the phone, answering, hand resting on your back to keep you from standing up, you don't bother standing up either because some sick, twisted part of you likes this. 

You hate it when people try to put you in your place, so why does it feel so good when Nishimura Riki does.

He moves his hand from your back to pick up the ruler again, petting your ass with it, letting it tease your cunt, multitasking. Another reason why he’s so good at what he does.

“No, we haven't decided on a city yet.” he says tone clipped

“Yes and we'll get to it right away. I'm aware it's due soon” He says, angling the ruler corner to rub against your throbbing clit, making you bite back a moan

“Yeah, you too.” He says sharply before hanging up and setting the phone down

He retracts the ruler looking at it, the corner of it soaked with your slick. “Making a mess on my supplies now?” He says looking down at your pathetic state

“Stand up. Start looking for the best hotels in the cities from the list. Narrow them down and report back to me when you've finished.” He says, putting the ruler on the table and walking back around his desk

“Go on, I need my desk to work on my own things” He says, You use your arms to lift yourself up, pulling your skirt down

He just watches you, the blush on your cheeks, your hair a mess, a tear threatening to fall from your eyes.

“You’re still an ass.” you mumble under your breath, walking around your desk to sit down

He sits down as well, getting his pencil to write something

“You’re lucky we both have work to do, after all it is our duties as President and Vice president of the student council.” He says looking at you, reminding you yet again of your ‘place’

You try not to wince at the slight sting as you adjust yourself in your seat, or the wetness that's still pooled in your panties. 

Fine. If he wants to act like nothing just happened, you can do that too. You’ve always been good at pretending anyway.

“Ill have the papers on your desk at the end of the day, Nishimura.” You say, tone cold as ice

He tightens his lips. How can someone act so normal after what he just did– he needs you to be affected, apparently bending you over the desk and spanking you wasn't enough. He needs you begging for more, he needs you to feel humiliated. 

⋆༺♱༻⋆

You don’t bring up what happened, neither does he. With having to deal with community service day, and the upcoming student leadership conference, you don't even have time to. 

During times like this you get snappy, impatient, He doesn't like that. 

But when you do listen, and you dont talk back, he fucking loves it. He likes seeing the defiance in your eyes, when he tells you to do something, and you can't say a damn thing to him. Especially in moments like these, where you're proposing the final cities for the trip in front of the whole student council body, and he interrupts saying he's already come to a decision. 

You can't disagree with him either, so he watches as you open your mouth to speak then shut it

This is almost a mere experiment for him, he wants to see how far you will go so he knows exactly how to push you. 

He speaks up, and everyone quiets down “New York, it's the perfect city for it. I've already talked to the headmaster, and the other Student Council Presidents from Thornewood, and Redmont. It's been approved.”

You watch from beside him as their smiles light up, and they begin talking amongst each other

“Well get the room situation dealt with later this week.” He says over the talking, making everyone quiet again

“Thats all, feel free to stop by our office if you have any questions.” He says, not sparing you a glance before walking out of the classroom

You follow him, slamming the office door behind you

“How come you didn't confirm with me about the city?” You say, your nails digging into the flesh of your palm

He looks up at you from his desk chair with a smug smirk

“I don't need to confirm anything with you y/n. Do you need a reminder of who’s in charge here?” He says, brow raised over his glasses

“Last time I checked we’re supposed to work together on this whole thing–you can't just go and make decisions and claim we decided-”

“Who are you to tell me what, and what not to do? As Student Council President, the final decision was New York, and im not changing it regardless-”

“That's not fair! You didn't even let me know prior to the meeting with the rest of the student council! It made me look unprofessional in front of them!” You say, watching the way he rubs his forehead in frustration 

“Do you think it's okay to interrupt me y/n?” He says, watching your movements intensely

You swallow, he watches your throat bob

“So when I ask you a question you suddenly can’t speak?” He says calmly

“Come here.” He watches you walk around his desk till your standing beside him

“Get on your knees.” He says, scooting his chair back slightly

“You can’t be fucking serious Nishimura– I swear-” He holds his hand up

“You keep opening that mouth of yours, even when you're told to shut it. I think it just needs to be filled. So get on your knees.” He says, pushing his glasses up so their resting on his head

You don't know why you listen, it’s like something takes over your body when you lower yourself on the rough carpet beneath you

He looks down at you, leaning to move a stray hair out of your face, swiping his thumb across your lip, you part them slightly and he smirks at that, you’re stunning.

He moves his hand to unbuckle his belt, and pulls down his pants and boxers waisting no time. his dick hits his stomach with how long, and thick it is, and flushed red at the tip, who knew Nishimura Riki was packing, but you don't admit that.

He watches as you look at his cock, your facial expressions being so easy to read make him chuckle before he strokes himself slowly

“Open.” He says, tapping his dick on your cheek

You hesitate a second before opening your mouth slightly

“Go on, show me what else you can do besides run your mouth.” He says looking down at you, eyes almost siren like

You wrap your lips around the tip, the taste of his precum coating your tongue

“Mmm.. such a good little slut for me huh?” He says pushing your head down a little so you can take more of his cock in your mouth, making you gag 

“Fuck–” He lets out through a deep groan 

“You look so much better like this baby, taking my cock so well” He says looking down at the way your head moves in attempt to take him fully in your throat, the nickname he occasionally gives you making your heart skip a beat

You brace your hands on his legs to steady yourself 

“Your mouth is so fucking small for all the big talk you do-” He says before biting his lip

You mumble something, the vibration making him groan louder

He wraps his hand in your hair, moving your head for you, making you take him deeper, His tip hitting the back of your throat, as your saliva seeps out the corners of your mouth 

You curl your toes to try and not gag as he speeds up, interlocking both hands on the back of your head

“Im gonna cum y/n– swallow it for me” He says through uneven breaths before bringing your face down till it touches his navel and shooting his thick load in your mouth, he lets out the most deep, broken sounds as your throat milks him dry

You lift your head, looking up at him before licking your lips

He laughs “You’re a little cum slut huh? Only good girls take my load like that.” He says standing up and pulling back up his pants, fixing his belt, not sparing you a glance before he walks around you

“Where are you going?” You say, using his chair to help you stand up

“I still have important manners to attend to, did you forget we have the assembly in–” He checks his watch “Less than 10 minutes?” he says adjusting the end of his sleeve

He takes in your state “I would suggest cleaning yourself up, can’t have everyone knowing what a pathetic little slut you are.” He says, tone way too calm for your liking before he walks out, shutting the door behind him.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

Fuck Nishimura Riki. Fuck his stupidly hot hair. Fuck the stupid way his glasses fit his face perfectly. And fuck him for being at your favorite convenience store at 11:43 pm.

You’ve never seen him outside of school, and this is ultimately the last place you think he’d be. With your house being just 15 minutes away of course you’re going to stop by when your hungry. After all your parents seem to think you’re top chef with the ingredients they left before they went on their fancy weekend trip.

Typical, considering they’re practically never home.

You curse yourself for going out in your pajamas and a hoodie. The outfit being something you would never wear out unless you were desperate. And right now with your stomach growling at the thought of eating, you sure as hell are.

Opening the door to the store, you flinch at the bell above it that rings before swiftly make your way to the ramen section, Nishimura is on the other side—plus he doesn’t seem like the type to even eat ramen at midnight-

“Y/n?” you hear the smooth voice you recognize too well say

You sigh before turning to face him in the cramped aisle

“Nishimura.” you say, trying to take in his outfit, baggy jeans, black long sleeve..who the fuck wears jeans for a midnight convienence store run-

He looks down at your outfit with obvious distaste

“hm..interesting.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you say crossing your arms over your chest

His eyes snap to yours, that look of authority glinting in them

“What did I say about your tone when talking to me? Or do I need to teach you another lesson?” He says, brow raising

You scoff at his words “Seriously? It’s midnight. Im tired, hungry, and you’re actually talking to me about that right now?”

“Y/n, I dont care if we’re off school hours or not, you still have to respect me regardless.” He says tone clipped

“Yeah okay sorry Mr. Student council president.” you say turning back around, and grabbing two of your favorite ramen

He shakes his head, tongue pushing against the side of his cheek, watching as you walk towards the cashier to pay

Coming beside you immediately he places his item down, the cashier scans it

“What the hell are you doing?-“

He hands the cashier the money, and gives you your bag before leaning down to whisper in your ear

“Thats for the other day, im not a total monster y/n. You deserve some sort of award for sucking dick that good.” He straightens before heading towards the door, leaving you with a dumbfounded look on your face

“See you on Monday Mrs. VP.” He says before walking out.

Even as you watch the water boil, you still think about the way his lips ghosted your ear when he whispered that to you, your mind drifting to the odd moments you two have shared over the past few weeks—what the fuck is going on.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

“I mean seriously you two would make a really hot couple.” One of the two girls who came to the office claiming they had important manners to talk about says. You don’t even remember their names

“You’re sure you two aren’t like you know..” the other one says

You look at both of them, eye brow raised

“I mean with the news letter and all- great chemistry? More like sexual tension.” The first one says casually

Nishimura stops at the cracked door to listen closer

“I promise you it’s nothing like that. Nishimura is hardly even my friend.” You say eyes going back to your laptop

“Well you’re better than the both of us, if Riki was by my side all the time id be on that di-“ she stops when he clears his throat and pushes the door open

He looks at them confused as if he hadn’t just eavesdropped on the whole conversation “Are you here about the student leadership conference?” He says, setting his bags down on his desk before walking around to sit down

“Uh no—wait yeah we were just asking y/n about it” One of them says before mumbling something like “have a nice day” rushing out, shutting the door

You both busy yourselves with your assignments for your classes before he interrupts the silence “Hardly even your friend huh?” He says eyes on his computer, you look up at him

“You were listenting to that?” You say foot tapping on the ground

“Yes, this is our office.”

“Well yeah—but its true, are we not mere.. acquaintances?” you say testing

He laughs at that. “Do all your acquaintances get you wet?”

Your face flushes red when he looks at you “Nishimura thats not-“

“Riki.” He says, tone assertive

“I want you to call me Riki. Enough of this professional, formal shit you pull. We both know its all just a mask to cover up what a pathetic slut you are.”

“Fine. Riki.” You say before looking back at your computer

He smirks before going back to his work

“asshole.” you whisper under your breath

He cocks a brow “Do you really want a punishment that bad y/n?”

You don’t respond.

He rolls up his sleeves before standing up and coming to your side of the desk, you turn your head, not quite looking at him, he moves your chin to look at him instead

“Spread your legs for me” He says, you dont even hear his next words with how loud your heart is beating. He could probably hear it too.

“Are you playing stupid now?” he snaps in your face

“Huh-?” you say looking up at him

He crouches down before placing both his hands on your thighs “I said, stop fucking hiding yourself.” He says before spread your legs for you to see your most intimate part

He drags a finger up the middle to collect the slick soaking your panties “I knew it.” He says before spreading them wider and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, eyes locked on your as he does.

He watches you bite your lip, smiling against your skin before bringing his lips to your cunt, you don’t expect him to but he flattens his tongue against your clothed core making you moan right at the contact

“Look at you. What would all those who voted for you to be in this chair say if they knew how wet you got from a few words hm?” He says before flicking his tongue over your clit through your panties

“Fuck Riki-“ You whisper, hands gripping the chairs armrest

He presses feather light kisses to your cunt, his lips being exactly what you need to feel yourself getting closer

“You want me to take these off baby?” he says, teeth at the top of your panties waistband

You nod, eyebrows furrowed

He pulls them off your legs, before bringing them to his nose to smell, dick hardening at the scent of your arousal

You watch as he stands up, putting your panties in his pocket

“What?” He says tilting his head at your confused look

“You really think I’d eat your pussy here of all places?” He says like you weren’t just taking his cock in your mouth last week

“You literally-“

“Im not doing that here y/n. I have to finalize the hotel situation with the headmaster.” He says before bringing your legs down, and fixing your skirt

“Just in case someone comes in. I don’t want anyone knowing how desperate you get for me okay? So keep your legs closed.” You watch as he walks out, leaving you yet again with more confusion in your head and an ache between your legs.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

“Tommorow we leave at 7:00 am for the train, Remember we will be there for the weekend so pack accordingly. The room situation is figured out, I have the papers here of who your roommate will be, requests were accepted as well.” You say before passing them out to the other student’s

Riki watches from the front as you perform your required duties, he can't help but let a smirk show at knowing how hard you try to keep up this ‘good girl’ facade

With you two being in the positions you are, its natural that you where allowed to have your own rooms, so you don’t have a roommate thankfully.

That night you packed your bags for the trip, formal wear for the actual leadership events, casual clothes, pajamas, mentally preparing yourself for what you know is going to be a long weekend. And not because of the convention, but because you would have to be by his side the entire time.

You watch as the students board the train, checking off their names as Riki talks to the headmaster beside you.

“And one thing I want both of you to make sure doesn’t happen is room crossing, Im trusting that you will enforce that rule as well.” The headmaster says

“Yes sir” You say before focusing back on the students

“There will be photographers and such at the venue, considering this is an important event for the school, so I need you two to play the part of hardworking partners, which shouldn’t be an difficult. Your teamwork is not overlooked.” You hear him say to Riki before walking back towards the teachers

“Shouldn’t be difficult huh?” you say as Riki comes to your side and you check off the last name

“Are we not compatible y/n?” He says looking down at you with that knowing smirk

You feel your cheeks beginning to flush “Shut up—we’re going to be late” you say before mumbling something and boarding the train

You walk to your seat, passing by the other students before you find two empty seats at the back—fuck.

He watches you pause

“Get used to it, Well be by each others side this whole trip. I call aisle seat.” He says as he watches you sit down by the window. Fine. You wanted window seat anyway.

Since this is a long trip, 5 hours exactly, you obviously brought the book you need to read for one of your AP courses. The chatter had died down a bit, the classmates around you seemed to be sleeping or locked on their phones.

Riki is on his phone, scrolling uselessly. You hate that he doesn’t even have to try to be one of the top students in the Academy’s rankings.

You don’t miss the way his hand rests on your bare thigh, his thumb rubbing mindless circles, as if this was some everyday occurrence.

“What are you doing.” you whisper

He glances at you, and down at your book resting above his hand on your lap

He doesn’t say anything before bringing his hand under your book, and letting his hand graze your inner thigh, you gasp at the contact before he leans closer to you

“Keep reading, don’t want you to lose second place in the rankings.” He says watching your face as irritation washes over you

But you listen. Picking up your book and starting where you left off, trying to ignore his thumb inching closer to your heat

“Fuck—“ he breathes out when he makes slight contact with your clothed core “Does being touched like this in a train full of your classmates really turn you on that much?” He whispers into your ear quietly

“You want me to finger your pretty pussy infront of all them? Make you come so hard you wont even care that they’re watching?” He says, pressing the pad of his finger against your warmth making you bite your lip

Realisation dawns when you hear laughing from a few rows up. You’re in a train for fucks sake, you suddenly stand up making a few eyes go to you, before chuckling awkwardly and walking to the bathroom of the train.

You come back 10 minutes later, looking down at Riki on his phone, who doesn’t spare you a glance as you sit back in your seat. The rest of the ride is quiet, at least between you two..Did you make it awkward? Is he upset with you? But you brush those thoughts aside before picking back up your book and reading.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

Once everyone got situated at the hotel, rooms were found, and bags were unpacked, you sent a message to the student council group chat

“We are going to the main venue for the conference at 4:00, the other academy’s should be there at the same time. The dress code is formal, remember to make a good impression, this reflects the whole academy. We will meet in the lobby at 3:30” You send the message and shut off your phone to worry about what the hell you were going to wear

Settling for some dress pants and a blouse from an expensive boutique back home, you put your hair in a half up half down, before making your way to the elevator and stopping when you see Riki. spam clicking the down arrow button, you look at his attire, from the black business pants he’s wearing to the black formal long sleeve before coming beside him.

“If you keep clicking it, it resets it. Shouldn’t that be obvious?” You say giving it 5 seconds before clicking it yourself, watching as the door opens

He lets his eyes roam down your body, from the way your blouse hugs your chest, to the pants that fit your ass perfect, he doesn’t hesitate before guiding you in the elevator like you couldn’t do it yourself, his hand dangerously low on your back.

“Im not going to check you for your tone, only because you look sexy as fuck in this” He says before trailing his hand down further to cup your ass in his hand making you gasp slightly

“You wearing these to impress someone?” He says, looking at your face when you don’t move to look at him

“These are just regular pants.” You say when the elevator dings, stopping on the 4th floor to pick up a few of your classmates, his hand makes its way back to his side

You make room in the elevator for your classmates, trying not to take too much space, but also trying not to touch him

You’re half listening to their conversation when you feel him, pressed behind you “Riki what the hell-“ you whisper so only he can hear

“Shhh” he whispers before subtly placing his hand on your waist and pressing his front into your back, claiming it’s too cramped in the elevator—if you make any sudden movements your classmates attention will be on you—

Your eyes flick up when the door opens and you practically jump out the elevator, smiling when you see everyone in the lobby on time, once again putting on that mask. Riki follows behind you, shaking his head with a smirk on his face

⋆༺♱༻⋆

“Yeah, I think the work of student councils vice president is severely underrated, it always gets pushed aside by everyone. So I try to give as much credit to ours as possible” Says the boy infront of you, Yang Jungwon, Student Council President of Thornewood Academy.

“Well she’s definitely lucky..” you say admiring the way he talks so passionately about it

“You see that guy over there?” You say subtly pointing at Riki, making Jungwons eyes go to him

“You probably already knew but hes the Student Council President at Ravenchrest.”

“The one who keeps looking at you?” He says, eyes back on you when Riki glances in your direction again

“Yeah..Hes got this like weird possessive thing..”You say, before turning back to Jungwon

“Right, I gathered that” He says nervously, making you laugh

Riki watches from the table hes seated at, the words of the girl talking to him going in one ear and out the other, whats so fucking funny? Is he really making you laugh that hard? How about you go and be vice president of that school instead since you’re already so buddy buddy with him.

He excuses himself from the conversation hes in, and walks over to you and Jungwon

You two are too busy talking about how your schools are extremely wealthy, yet you still have one office to work in, when Riki suddenly interrupts

“Y/n, you dont enjoy our shared space? because I could have sworn—“ you cut him off

“Nishimura, this is Jungwon!” you say a little to cheerfully

Riki glares at the use of his formal name

Jungwon holds out his hand “Nice to meet you, in person” He flashes a smile, dimple evidently clear, Riki shakes his hand before facing you

“I need to speak to you about student council.” He says turning to you

“Can you wait a few min-“

“Now. Its important.” He says eyes lowering on you

You hesitate before turning back to a very uncomfortable looking Jungwon

“Im sorry Jungwon, duty calls. Maybe we can talk over breakfast sometime yeah?” You say offering a small smile

He nods “I’d like that y/n” he says before Riki practically drags you across the venue to the side of the stage, where its dark and secluded

“You won’t be meeting him for anything.” His hand splayed on your waist possessively

“I will-“

“you wont.”

“Thats an order, as Student Council President. And you will listen to me.” He says, tone sharp like a knife

“You can’t do that, thats not fair-“ You say

His eyes drop to your lips “Do you want me to punish you here y/n? Of all places? Make you take my cock so deep you wont-“

“Riki?” you hear a small voice say, and he immediately pulls himself from you when a girl rounds the corner, the one from a few weeks ago, short hair, small frame

She pauses when she sees you, looking between you two, voice stammering as she speaks

“Um-the reporters are looking for you..They said they wanted a picture of all the student council presidents together but I can just tell them you’re busy-“

“Thats not necessary Sori, Thank you for coming to get me.”

You watch as he smiles sweetly, tone suddenly gentle like he’s talking to a baby deer who’ll run away from him the second he makes a sudden movement, it makes you scoff

He hands you a card before whispering in your ear “Nine. Since you’re looking to be put in your place so bad.” He says before looking back at Sori, placing his hand on her waist as they walk back to where everyone is, she hasn’t done anything to you but you want to pull her by her stupid hair so fucking bad right now.

You look down at the card in your hands—the hotel key card to be exact, with his room number on it, biting your lip as you put it in your pocket

The rest of the afternoon is a blur, from people asking you questions about the school, to students asking you permission for every little thing, like yes the food on the table is there for you to eat. You even decided to get Jungwons number so you can make breakfast plans, since Riki rudely interrupted you two.

Its not like he’s your boyfriend so it doesn’t even matter if you get food with another guy anyway.

But your mind cant stop replaying the interaction between you and Riki earlier, your heart beating at the thought of what would happen if you actually went, I mean his room is on the same floor so theres no harm in it..right?

⋆༺♱༻⋆

You’ve been back at your room since 8:15 pm, contemplating actually going, pacing around like an idiot. Its 8:52 now. Why is time moving so much faster right now!

Sitting on your bed in your bra and underwear, matching set..for no specific reason. Trying to figure out what to put on, maybe sweatpants? No that feels to casual, but is this not casual?

You settle for some shorts and a sweater, after second guessing it five times. Looking at your phone “Shit!” 9:08. You lock your room door behind you, awkwardly waving at one of the housekeeping ladies before making your way to his room

“715..710…705.” You whisper as you approach the door, knocking on it, waiting for any type of response

You lift the key card to the door and it unlocks, the cold handle biting your skin when you open it.

“Riki..?” you whisper before taking off your shoes and walking further in the room, shutting the door behind you quietly, like someone will know you’re here if you close it too loud. He’s sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone as you approach him, he’s wearing some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Casual. Because this is all casual right?

“You’re late.” He says looking at you, glasses resting low on his nose

“It’s only like 10 minutes-“ you start

“I don’t want your pathetic excuses.” He says before putting his phone down next to him

You look like a deer in headlights, just staring at him, the silence is brief. “You we’re talking to him again.” He says, eyes locked on yours

“Who?” You say, knowing exactly who.

“Jungwon.”

“Am I not allowed to talk to him now?” You say brow raising, that familiar temper rising

“I don’t like when you don’t listen.”

“Come here.” He says, and you walk over, stopping at the side of his bed

“Are you going to listen to me now y/n?” he says, eyes trailing down to your legs

“Depends what you ask-“

“Take off the shorts and sweater, I want to see if im right.” He says watching your face

“Right about what?”

“I’d bet my position as Student Council President you’re wearing one of those little matching sets underneath your clothes right now. So I want to see if im right.”

You can feel your face flush. because he is right. your expression is all he needs to know for that.

You lift your sweater off your body, letting it fall limply to the ground, watching as his eyes drop to your chest in the white bra you chose, before you pull your shorts down, stepping out of them to reveal your white panties with a pink bow on the front

He lets out a knowing chuckle, “You wore that for me y/n?”

“No-“

He pulls you to his lap, his chest against your back before whispering in your ear “I don’t want your pathetic lies either.” He says, using his hand to spread your legs as the other trails across your collar bone

You watch as his hand inches closer to your core, his finger brushing it slightly making you gasp

“Sensitive are we now?” He says before pulling them to the side, the cold air making you whine as it hits your bare cunt

He brings his middle and ring finger to your mouth urging you to open

“Suck” He says before you take his long fingers in your mouth, sucking them as if they were his dick

“Look at you, you really miss my cock that much?” He says before pulling them out and bringing his hand back down to your core

He gathers the slick, mixing it with your saliva and making slow, agonizing movements on your pussy

“Riki-“ you let out through a breathless moan

He uses his two fingers to spread your pussy open more, and uses his middle finger to flick at your puffy clit, making you gasp, his other hand slides down to cup your tit in his hand

Your head is thrown back against his chest, your eyes rolling at the sensation, but his eyes are locked on the way your legs twitch everytime his finger makes contact with your sensitive bud

You’re moaning gets slightly louder when we rubs your clit with two fingers, pinching it between them, he smiles at that

“Are you gonna come just from me touching you like this?” He says, voice mocking

You try closing your legs but he brings his hand down from your chest to hold you open

“Yes- fuck im close” You let out as he rubs fast figure 8’s on your pussy, he watches your breath pick up, and how your hole clenches around nothing

“You wanna come baby?” He says, somehow his fingers are moving faster

“R-riki im gonna-“ you let out a moan that turns into a sob as he moves his hand from your pussy to slap your thigh

“You think you deserve to come from my fingers? After the shit you pulled tonight?” He says, rubbing the spot he hit softly, watching as your clit practically throbs at the loss of contact

“Little brats like you don’t get to come so soon.” He says before landing a sharp slap on your pussy, making your hips jolt, you let out a choked moan at the sting

“L-let me come—“ you say before he lands another sharp slap to your clit before rubbing it again, picking up his pace, bringing you closer to the edge and then stopping again

You swear you feel a tear slip from your eyes “Aw, are you crying?” he says, bringing his hand that was on your thigh up to wipe the tear

“I-I cant—“ You let out through a whine

“Thats too fucking bad.” He says before slapping your pussy again, with more force, your hands claw at his arm

He watches as your sensitive pussy flushes at the harsh contact, yet somehow you’re even more wet

“I-I wanna come..Riki” You say looking up at him, eyes watery

He begins rubbing small circles again, teasing you

“You’re going to have to beg.”

You hesitate and he notices immediately. Landing another slap to your cunt making you practically yell

“Fuck!- Please Riki!” You say when he traces your pussy lips with his fingers

“Please what?” He says knowingly

“Please..make me come from your fingers” You say, that pleading tone in your voice making him bite his lip before he plunges his two fingers in your hole, sliding in with how wet you are

You let out a sharp moan as he curls them just right—your eyes threatening to close from how good it feels to be filled

“Open your eyes. Look at how good your pussy takes my fingers.” He says, trying to hold his own composure as your walls flutter around his fingers

He makes a scissor motion in you, stretching you more, moving his fingers in and out, and curling them

“mm y..yes im gonna- come—“ you say through whimpers, your arms hugging the one hes using to finger you

“Yeah you wanna come baby?” He says curling his fingers deeper in you, making you hug tighter on his arm as he hits the perfect spot, he watches as you throw your head back, using his fingers to ride out your orgasm, his dick hardening at the sight

But he doesnt stop. Instead of curling his fingers he thrusts them in and out, pushing your arousal back in you, his palm hitting your clit over and over again as he pounds his fingers ruthlessly into you

“F-fuck! Riki!” You say through a string of moans

“You’re not done. I want to see if your pussy can squirt for me.” He says, fingers reaching deeper at each thrurst, the sendation of your clit being hit making it even more euphoric

“I-i have to-“ You scream- actually fucking scream as the clear liquid comes out of you, soaking his hand- your legs- the bed beneath you, he’s fucking his fingers in and out of you, trying to milk every last drop your willing to let out, you’re nothing but a pathetic whimpering mess when he finally stops moving his fingers, he inches them out slowly “I knew you could do it, you’re a good little slut right baby?”

“Y-yes Riki-“ you say, trying to catch up to your breathing as you come down from your high, your legs are practically limp, he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them to taste you, he closes his eyes as your flavor hits his tastebuds

“I want-“ He starts and then stops at the sudden ring from your phone, eyes glancing to the nightstand at the sound

He used his other hand to reachover and pick it up and his movements still. You sit up to see what he saw and your heart drops at the reminder you had set earlier

Make reservations for breakfast with Jungwon

and right under that is a text message

Jungwon: Hey it’s Jungwon, im exited to talk soon without any interruptions lol :)

Riki hates the way he added that stupid fucking smiley face, your frozen between his legs, glancing between his unreadable face and your phone.

He moves you off him to stand up, pushing his glasses higher up his nose, before finally making eye contact with you

“I want you to shower, and then get the fuck out. When I come back you better not be fucking in here y/n” He says, not even giving you time to reply before grabbing his own phone and shoes and closing the hotel door behind him.

You feel like theres a wire around your throat, restriciting your breathing as a tear falls from your eye, why do you feel so guilty right now—was it wrong to get Jungwons number and make plans?

You force yourself up, not daring to look in the mirror as you walk to his shower, cleaning yourself, putting back on your clothes that lay beside the bed. You walk to the door, putting on your shoes, and make your way back to your own room.

You force yourself not to cry. Even if the pain in your heart right now wants nothing more than that to relieve it. After changing into your pajamas you curl into the hotels blankets, trying not to think about tomorrow. The fact that you still have to remain professional, by his side the entire time. You still have to act like nothing happened, put on that stupid fucking mask yet again.

Riki cant help but feel the dissapointment wash over him when he walks back into his hotel room an hour later, with a bag full of convenience store ramen, because part of him hoped you would keep that stubborn attitude and stay here, waiting for him to get back just to call him an asshole, he can’t help but feel like he fucked up instead.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

The morning was hell. Getting ready felt like a chore when it was supposed to be one of your favorite things. You put on a similar outfit to yesterdays, just with a white blouse, and black pants instead, you don't know why you decided to wear heels either when there a pain.

Riki hasn’t even looked in your direction this whole time. He didn't sit with you on the way to the venue, he didn't even touch you when you two had to take a picture for the “Most successful StuCo President and Vice President” award. Was he really this fucking mad over a text?

You’re helping one of your classmates prepare for their speech, as one of the best event planners in student council, when you see Riki, laughing with that girl. Sori. How can he be so unbothered right now? Why does your chest hurt at the sight of her touching his arm. The same arm you were clinging to last night. You should just go over there and tell her exactly what-

“Y/n?” Your classmate says

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was asking if I should just bring the note cards with me just in case?” She says looking at you with a worried look 

“Um- yeah, just do that” You say before excusing yourself, you need to talk to Riki. Now. You're walking closer, when someone stops infront of you, Jungwon.

“Hey, you didn't answer my text last night, are you okay?” he says observing the intense expression your face

You fully turn to face him “Yeah im just nervous I guess” You say chuckling to ease the tension

“You? Nervous?” he says brow raising

“Well yeah..?” you let out awkwardly

“Do you want to come sit with us? Not like one of those weird rival schools kind of way- it's just, you look like you could use a friend.” He says offering that kind smile

You look past his shoulder, Riki’s eyes locked on you. But his hand is on Sori’s back. You look back at Jungwon before smiling and nodding.

“And then he tripped- actually tripped over his own shoe after that whole ridiculous lecture” Thornewoods vice president says through a laugh

Jungwon can't help but laugh too, which makes you let out a giggle 

“It was truly humiliating..” he says rubbing the back of his head

Riki glances at you every few minutes, jealousy boiling in his chest, but you can't see it because you're faced away. You did that on purpose though, the sight of him touching another girl used to not bother you but in that moment, it made you want to throw up the appetizers that where passed out earlier.

Maybe it was a friendly interaction you needed, you open your mouth to say something when someone from the podium speaks

“Everyone please head back to your assigned school areas, we have a few more things to get through.” 

You smile at Jungwon and his friends before going back to your assigned section, looking down at the chair that says your name, and then the one next to it ‘Nishimura Riki’ plastered on it under the Student Council President title.

You sit down, crossing your legs, trying to seem less tense, even when you feel the shift in the air as Riki takes his seat beside you.

After what feels like 3 hours of speeches, awards, pictures, they finally pass out the dinner, the food was truly rich, which makes sense with how wealthy each of these schools are. You try to ignore his presence beside you, making conversation with your classmates instead, The only time you acknowledge eachother is when the woman who was speaking at the podium comes over to compliment you and Riki's work ethic, him claiming “he couldn't have done it without you.”, then going back to ignoring eachother. 

By the time the event was fully over, you said your goodbyes to Jungwon and his friends, thanking them for letting you join them earlier. 

On the ride back to the hotel, you check off the names of the student council members, making sure you didn't leave anyone, once you were finished you sat down, satisfied. But you could feel his eyes on you. Two rows back diagonal from you. 

Thanking God as you get to the elevator first, 7 other of your classmates joining, looking exhausted, you watch as the elevator doors begin to close when a hand stops it, making it open back up. Riki.

“What floor?” He asks the boy next to him

“Level two” He says, voice small, and Riki clicks it

The short ride is silent except for the whisper from your classmates next to you.

You watch as the elevator door opens and resist the urge to pull them back in there with you when 5 of them get off on this level.

“Im floor 3” One of the girls says, before clicking the 3 button

You look down at your feet, silently praying that the other girl is magically on the same floor as you, when the door dings open again your heart drops to your ass as they both get off. Leaving you and him here, alone. 

He doesn't click the 7 button on the elevator keypad. Instead, he settles for the ‘close door’ one, before turning to face you

“Y/n” He says looking down at you

“Look at me” He steps closer, lifting your chin, watching the way you cant even look at him

“Fuck- baby..” 

You swat his hand away “Dont fucking touch me- y-you spent the whole night glued to her side, touching her even after last night” You say, the words tumbling out of your mouth without a thought

“Well you spent the whole night practically eye fucking Jungwon so you're not completely innocent!” He says voice louder than intended

“He’s my friend! You don't get to take that away from me.” You say pushing him back, trying to make space in this small ass elevator

“A friend doesn't look at you like that y/n.” He says, hands resisting the urge to touch you

“Like what?!” You say, practically yelling even though you two were already close

“Like they want you as bad as I do.” He whispers, vulnerability leaking through his tone, a tone you haven't heard before until now

You look up at his face before letting out a sour chuckle sound, making his eyes snap back to you

“Thats bullshit- Riki you can’t even fucking kiss me.” You say, watching the way his eyes darken 

“Yeah?” He says, tone low before he steps closer to you, you step back, cursing the elevator for being to damn small when your back hits it

“Yea-” Your words are gone when he cups your face in his hands and presses his mouth to yours, you're frozen, in shock.

He pulls back looking at you with the most desperate look in his eyes, before you pull him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him again, your lips move like they were made for one another, his tongue brushes your bottom lip, before he pushes in, groaning into your mouth, his hand slips down to your waist, pulling you against him, but also pushing you against the wall more, as if it was the only thing grounding the two of you.

He steps back for a moment before clicking the ‘7’ button and then his lips are back on yours, your hand lifts his glasses so they rest on his head, even as the elevator door opens he's still trying to savor your lips on his, reaching into his back pocket to get his key card out, opening the hotel door and shutting it as he pushes you against it

He lifts your leg over his hip, rolling his hips into yours, making you both moan at the contact, you blush at the sound of him being so vocal, he pulls back, both of you breathing for a few seconds before he finally speaks again 

“Ive been wanting to do that y/n- I was just..” He sighs looking down then looking back at you

“I was scared.” The Nishimura Riki just told you he was scared. The same person who takes what he wants and nothing more is opening up to you..

You respond by pressing a soft kiss to his lips

“Fuck–you’re going to kill me” 

Then his lips are back on yours, the same passion leaking in from earlier, you both kick off your shoes, and clumsily try to remove the clothing off of each other's bodies without tripping, you fall softly onto the bed, he climbs on top of you, before kissing your neck, leaving sloppy kisses down your half naked body before unclasping your bra, his lips are on your nipple instantly, his hand coming up to knead the other one

Your back arches off the bed when he sucks your nipple between his teeth, gasping at the feeling of it, before he focuses on your other one with the same precision, your hands go to tangle in his hair when he kisses his way down to your core, watching as he slides your panties down with ease 

“Riki-” You breath out when he takes the glasses off his head

He looks up at you

“Want you to keep them on-” You say through a breathless moan

He chuckles “You want me to eat your pussy with my glasses baby?” He says kissing your thigh

“Please-” You manage to say, he puts his glasses back on before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking and licking, the same way he was kissing you earlier

He flicks his tongue over your clit, watching the way your eyebrows furrow at the stimulation

“Mm- tastes so good” He mumbles into your pussy making your hips jolt up, he looks up at you with hooded eyes, the sight alone could make you come right now

“W-wait” you say and he pauses, breathing heavily on your pussy

“Hm?” He says tilting his head

“Want to come on your cock..” You say shyly when he smiles up at you

He doesn't hesitate one bit before pulling his boxers off and guiding his tip to your entrance, smearing his pre cum on your pussy, hitting your clit just right

“Stop teasing-” You whine

“Why? Its fun” He says laughing at the way you squirm beneath him

Your legs move to lock around his hips when his hand stops you “Stop being greedy y/n” that tone of authority seeping in

He positions himself, hands gripped on your thighs before he pushes the tip of his cock in “Fuck- loosen up for me baby” his hand moving to rub slow circles on your clit, making you moan 

He slides in deeper, bottoming out, groaning at the warmth of you around him. He pulls out halfway before slamming back into you, making you let out a high pitched sound

“Riki–It f..feels so good” You make a wrecked sound as your fingers claw at his shoulders, he repeats the same motion, moving his hips and rolling them into you, his cock hitting you so deep you know you're going to be sore in the morning.

“This pussy was made for me baby- You’re taking me so well” He says kissing your shoulder, and gripping the pillow beside your head as he fucks in and out of you faster

He kisses your cheek, before his lips attach to yours, swallowing your moans, drinking them like water as he feels himself getting closer

“I-im gonna come ki..” legs locking around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer

“Fuck y/n-” He lets out before his thumb slips between the two of you and he presses your clit, your hole flutters around his cock as you ride your orgasm out, his thrusting doesnt slow down as he reaches his high, using your pussy to milk every last bit of come inside you, letting out the most desperate groans

His forehead rests on yours, you're both breathing heavily against each other before he pulls out slowly, the sensitively making you both wince

He moves to lay down next to you, wrapping his arms around you. You two stay like that, in each other's embrace.

You don't know how long after, but you eventually got up to clean yourself, before he stopped you. Hand tight on your arm before he got up saying he wanted to help you this time, yes he rinsed your body in the shower, kneeling down, watching the water wet your hair as he looked up at you, before lifting your leg up and pressing gentle kisses to your core, the words "I'm making up for how many times I should’ve done this” rolling off his tongue

⋆༺♱༻⋆

Riki’s hand slides to your waist as the headmaster takes a spot next to him

“1..2..3, Alright, perfect!” The photographer says looking at the photo on his camera, before the headmaster turns to you and Riki

“I wanted to congratulate the two of you for the conference, the outcome was amazing- I mean the publicity too, the people truly see you two as the ultimate power duo, Great Job on your hard work.” He says smiling at the both of you

“Thank you” You nod

“I couldn't have done it without her” Riki says looking at you, because he truly does mean it

“Glad you're aware.” You say smartly, making the headmaster laugh before he walks away to talk to the photographer

Riki leans down to whisper in your ear “Careful y/n, I have no problem putting you in your place again.” He says before looking down at you

Your heart races at his words before you smile sweetly “I’d like to see you try” You say before walking back to the main building, he just watches, smiling because he knows he's going to do a whole lot more than ‘try’.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

Thank you guys for reading!

Also, Thank you for 500 followers! 😊 if you guys have any requests on what you want to see next, I would love to hear it <3

­

A few months ago, you got accepted into the university you had always dreamed of. The campus is hours away from your hometown, which means you have to move.

When you applied for the dorms, they were already full and the waiting list was huge. To make things worse, all the apartments nearby were ridiculously expensive, way beyond what you could afford.

Your older brother, Jake, suggested that you share an apartment with his two best friends, Riki and Sunghoon. Their apartment has three bedrooms and is just a few minutes walk from campus. Jake told you that Heeseung, the friend who used to occupy the third room, had graduated last semester, so the room was now empty.

Splitting the rent between three people would be much cheaper than anywhere else you could find. Still, you hesitated. Riki and Sunghoon have been Jake’s best friends since high school, and you’ve known them for years, but living with them felt strange — too intimate. At the same time, it was an excellent opportunity.

In the end, you had no other choice but to accept. A few weeks later, you packed your things and moved into your brother’s best friends’ apartment.

───

You slam the door behind you harder than necessary, taking out your frustration and exhaustion on the poor door. Riki looks up at you from the couch with that usual smirk.

"Rough day?" he asks, patting the empty space beside him. "Come here."

You drop your bag on the living room floor, kick off your shoes, and walk slowly toward him. "Yeah… rough day. I hate being me sometimes."

He turns to look at you properly. "You look fucking exhausted." It’s obvious from your tired expression, heavy eyelids, and tense body. Anyone could tell your day had been hell.

His other hand rests on your warm, soft thigh, exposed by your tiny skirt. It doesn’t take long for him to slide it higher, carefully moving between your legs.

"Sunghoon isn’t home…" he murmurs, leaning closer. "Let me help you relax."

"Riki…" Your voice falters as your body already reacts to his touch. "We shouldn’t do this without him. You know about our agreement."

He laughs at your weak excuse. "That’s bullshit and we both know it." His hand moves up to gently cup your jaw. "Come on, I just want to help you. What’s wrong with that?"

Your mouth opens, ready to give another excuse, but no words come out. Riki’s smile widens. Unable to wait any longer, he crashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.

His hands grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. You let out a small sigh but don’t hesitate. You straddle him, knees on either side of his hips. The kiss grows messier by the second, wet tongues moving in a chaotic rhythm.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groans into the kiss, pulling your skirt up until the fabric bunches around your waist. You understand what he wants and start grinding slowly against his growing erection.

His hand slides down to grab your ass, squeezing it while helping you roll your hips. The friction makes his cock throb inside his sweatpants. He leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and smirks when your head falls back, giving him more access. "That’s it, baby. I’m gonna make you feel good. You just need to relax for me, okay?"

Suddenly, he flips you over. Your back hits the couch and he hovers above you, settling between your legs. He quickly grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, tossing them somewhere in the living room. "Look at this perfect pussy, already dripping for me."

His thumb slides over your folds, moving up and down between your swollen lips, spreading your wetness. With his other hand, he pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock is rock hard and leaking precum. "I’m gonna fuck all that frustration out of you, baby."

He wraps his fingers around his length, stroking a few times before slapping it against your wet pussy, making you gasp and shiver. "Ah— oh my God."

He does it again, slapping his cock against your soaked folds and then against your swollen clit just because he enjoys your reaction. "It’s embarrassing how wet you are just from this."

Without warning, he pushes inside you slowly, watching the way your pussy stretches to take him. When he finally bottoms out, your walls clench around him like his cock is your salvation.

Your hands grab his back as you moan and whimper with every inch that enters you.

"Taking me so well… You were made for my cock, baby." He stays still for a few seconds, letting you adjust to his massive length.

Then, agonizingly slow, because he knows it drives you crazy, he pulls out almost completely before slamming back in hard, making your back arch and knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing mockingly, he does it again, pull out until only the tip is inside, then thrust back in brutally. The impact sinks your body deeper into the couch and a broken moan tears from your throat. "Oh my— fuck, Riki."

His cock twitches inside you when he hears you moan. "You love this. You love how I fill you up to the brim." He picks up the pace, fucking you fast and hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. "You feel that? I’m so deep inside you…"

He makes sure every thrust hits that spot inside you that makes you scream and scratch his back. "You sound so good like this."

His hands roam your body. One grips your hip to hold you in place while the other slips under your tank top to play with your sensitive nipple, pinching and rolling the hard peak.

At this point, you can barely think straight. All you can do is moan, your legs shaking uncontrollably as the pressure builds intensely in your core. He hooks one of your knees higher, allowing him to go even deeper.

"I’m gonna cum, I’m so close." Your walls flutter and tighten around him, your toes curling. He laughs, mocking how broken you look. "Then cum for me. Let me feel how much your pussy loves getting fucked like a slut."

Pleasure hits its peak and you cum with a loud moan, your whole body shaking beneath him. Your pussy pulses and squeezes his cock, but he doesn’t stop thrusting, fucking you through your orgasm as he chases his own.

He only slows down when his own orgasm hits. With one final deep thrust, he cums inside you, filling you with his hot load while groaning your name. "Take it, every drop."

He stays buried inside you to make sure you take it all, then slowly pulls out, collapsing beside you on the couch. Both of you are clearly wrecked. You can feel his cum leaking out of you as aftershocks run through your body.

The sound of the front door unlocking makes you turn your head quickly. Sunghoon is standing in the doorway. Everything goes silent as he stares at you and Riki, both still breathless. The air smells like sweat and sex — it’s obvious what happened.

Without saying a word, he closes the door behind him. The click of the lock sounds louder than ever. His expression remains neutral, showing no sign of shock or anger. "My room. Now," he says, walking past you without another glance.

You hesitate, but soon follow him on shaky legs. Sunghoon is already sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, looking perfectly calm. You carefully close the bedroom door. Just as you’re about to turn to him, his voice cuts through the silence. "Lock it."

Swallowing hard, you obey and lock the door, then walk slowly until you’re standing between his legs. "Hoon, we—"

He cuts you off with a dry, humorless laugh. "You couldn’t wait, huh? You are such a greedy desperate slut for cock that you could not even wait for me huh?"

You open your mouth to respond, but once again nothing comes out because you have no excuse. You nod slightly. "Use your fucking words."

"I am. I’m a greedy slut desperate for cock." Your voice is low and shaky.

He grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "We had a clear agreement that no one gets to fuck you alone, only when all three of us are together."

Your face burns with both shame and arousal. "It wasn’t exactly like that… I was really tired and Riki was just trying to help me relax."

He raises one thick eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "So he was just being a good friend, huh? By burying his cock deep inside you to help you relax."

Without waiting for an answer, he slides his hand under your skirt and runs his fingers over your folds, feeling how wet and swollen you still are. "Your pussy is still dripping with his cum." Two fingers slip inside you without warning. "How many times did he make you cum, hm?"

Your legs tremble and you hold onto his shoulders to stay standing. "Once… just once, Hoon."

"Just once?" He mocks, adding a third finger, pumping slowly and curling them against that sensitive spot that always makes you squirm. "I’m gonna make you cum so many times that you’ll never want to break the rules again in your life."

He suddenly pulls his fingers out and gives your pussy a firm slap, hitting your clit and sending a wave of pleasure mixed with a little pain through your body. "Hoon, I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again," you beg in a whiny voice.

"Get on the bed. Now." You don’t hesitate to obey, lying on your back with your legs spread wide for him. "Good girl," he praises as he removes his pants and boxers, finally freeing his throbbing cock.

He positions himself between your legs, stroking himself while looking at your swollen pussy still clenching around nothing, begging for more. "So fucking needy." He thrusts into you in one go, not giving you time to adjust to his length.

You let out a loud moan, arching your back off the bed. The stretch burns in the most delicious and overwhelming way, making you writhe beneath him.

His pace is brutally fast, merciless thrusts that reach deep inside you. With one hand he grips your hip while the other presses down on your stomach so he can feel the shape of his cock moving inside you. "Fuck, look at that." He presses harder. "Taking me so deep."

His thumb finds your clit and rubs it in fast circles just to watch you tremble and make those sounds he loves. "Gonna cum? Do it. Cum on my cock."

As if you were only waiting for his permission, you cum hard, creaming around his cock while he keeps fucking you. Your walls squeeze him tightly, making him groan and slam into you messily.

He buries himself to the hilt and cums hard, his cock twitching with every spurt as he fills you up. Your pussy overflows with his load.

Suddenly he laughs mockingly and grabs your cheeks, squeezing them just enough for you to feel it. "I wonder what Jake would think of this… what he would do if he knew his little sister gets her pussy fucked by his best friends every single day in every room of this apartment."

───

NOTE : english is not my first language! I thought about writing a threesome scene, but I wasn't happy with the result, so I will try again another time