you’re a college student with clean hands. Riki is the campus plug. one simple deal turns into late night conversations and accidental flirting.
pairing: dealer!riki x fem!reader
contains: weed, smoking, he keeps calling u sexy
⌗AN: had to tease u guys again with the ending whoops! sorry I just like slowburns so I can make sequels with extra tension hihi
⊹
Riki was exactly where everyone expected him to be between classes. Posted up against his black car in the parking lot, hoodie over his head, joint tucked behind his ear, eyes half-open like school physically bored him. AirPods in. Backpack on the ground. Like he lived there.
You spotted him as soon as you stepped outside.And okay, maybe your heart jumped a little, but only because you were about to do something stupid. Or bold. Same thing.
You walked straight at him with purpose, not even hesitating.
He didn’t notice you until your shadow fell over his shoes. He pulled out one AirPod, looking up lazily, then blinked when he realized who was standing in front of him.
“…You’re kidding,” he said.
You crossed your arms. “Nice greeting.”
He gave you a slow up and down look, squinting like he was trying to find a stupid joke to make.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “This is skipping class zone. You’re lost.”
“I’m not lost.”You took another step closer.“I need something.”
His brows shot up. “What, extra credit?”
You scoff. “Weed.”
Riki laughed, short and disbelieving. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for”
“I know enough” you say, not sure if you believe that yourself.
He pulls out his other AirPod. He stands up and you realize how tall he is. He’s almost hovering over you. "Yeah? Then you know firsttimers don’t walk up to me like they're ordering off a menu."
“This isn’t about being a first timer. I know you deal. Do you want money or not?” You say as you cross your arms.
He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Fine. How much do you need”
You hesitate at his question, going silent before responding.
“I- an eighth?”
He smirks, anyone could tell you have no idea what you’re talking about. “You don’t even know how much that is, ma.”
You scoffed. “Does being annoying help with your business?”
A slow grin spread across his face — not mocking, but impressed.“Ohhh so you have a mouth on you.”He tilted his head. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Obviously,” you said. “You don’t expect much.”
“For real?” he asked, pushing off the wall, stepping closer. “You’re actually serious about this?”
You nod your head yes.
He clicked his tongue. “This is crazy.”
You frown again, “this is a yes or no question, Riki.”
He parted his lips like he wanted to argue more… but you held his stare, solid, unbothered, totally not the prissy girl he thought you were.
“Can you hurry and give me the weed?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not just walking around with bags of weed on me bro. You think im an idiot?"
He shakes his head, and sighs exaggerated. “Give me your phone.”
You squint “why.”
“You want the damn weed or not? just give me the phone.”
You unlock your phone and he snatches it out of your hands like a little kid that wants to play games on it.
He scrolls through your phone like it his own, looking for the contacts app. Then he starts tapping on things and after a minute he hands your phone back. “There. Got my number saved. When i've got something, I’ll text you a time and place."
“Don’t come asking for more than what you’ve asked for now. And never show up with anyone else. I don’t sell to groups.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to babysit your friends too if they’re like you.”
A smirk tugged at your lips.“Right.. well im going back to class. Bye druggie”.
He chuckles and shakes his head, amused. “Yeah alright.. bye geek”.
-
The next day his text came around 5:42 PM.
Riki:
got it
meet behind Westpoint Mall
10 mins
don’t bring anyone
You weren’t sure why your stomach flipped.It was just weed. Just Riki.
Still, you checked the mirror twice before leaving. Fixed your hair. Changed your shirt. Put on lip gloss you claimed you “just felt like wearing.”
Right…
The sun was low and orange when you walked behind the mall. The parking lot was half-empty, the dumpsters humming, the air warm from the leftover heat of the day.
Riki was already there — leaning against the wall, hood up, twirling his keys around his finger. When he spotted you, his mouth tilted into that cocky half-smirk he always wore when he was about to say something irritating.
“Sup, sexy” he said. The word rolled of his tongue so smoothly you didn’t even register it. “You didn’t skip any classes for this, right? Would hate to ruin your perfect attendance.”
You rolled your eyes.“Don’t start.”
He lifted a brow. “Relax, I'm just asking. Aren’t you supposed to be doing homework in a color-coded planner right now?”
You stepped closer. “No. I’m here giving you money.”
“Damn,” he said, mock surprised. “Corrupting the innocent. My favorite hobby.”
“Whatever.” You say and you open your hand. He puts a tiny plastic bag with weed in your palm, fingers brushing against your hand.
“$50.”
You grab the cash out of your purse that looked too classy for this kind of encounter, you shoved the folded bills toward him.
He reached for them—And you pulled your hand back.
Instant reaction, his eyes narrowed, annoyed.“Don’t play games. That’s not funny.”
“I need a favor first.” You say and you look him straight in the eyes.
“A favor?” he repeated, sounding one second away from turning around and leaving.“What favor? If you’re about to ask for a discount—”
“Jezus calm down, I'll give you the money. Just listen. It’s not a discount.”
He waited. Arms crossed. Already stressed like you were about to ruin his whole night.
You took a breath.
“I… don’t actually know how to smoke.”
Dead silence.
And then he blinked at you, slow, like his brain had to reboot.
“…You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“No, because why would you buy from me if you can’t even— fuck man..” He stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face.“So you pulled up to a dealer… to get something you don’t know how to use.”
You flash a fake cocky smile at him “teach me, or no money”.
He scoffs, giving you an exasperated look.
“Teach you? You think i'm a fucking weed sensei? This isn't a movie.”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“But if you wanna pay extra for a lesson… fine.”
You look at him like he’s crazy “I’m not paying you for teaching me how to smoke..”
“Why the hell would I waste my time then? You expect me to tutor you out of the kindness of my heart?”
He gives a sharp laugh.
“This ain't a charity, pretty. Either shell out the cash and i'll show you how to smoke. Or take the stuff and figure it out yourself. Your choice. But don't expect my time for free."
You groan exaggeratedly loud and roll your eyes “fine, how much.”
His smirk returns, satisfied with himself for getting you to give in.
“A hundred. And that's me being nice. Cash. Right now.” He holds out his hand expectantly.
Your eyebrows shoot up. “What the fuck? I’m not paying you a hundred dollars?”
“Then you can go light a joint with your student ID and good vibes. Next.”
He turns to walk away, already slipping his hands into his pockets. You quickly walk after him and grab his wrist.
“I don’t have it on me right now.” You say as you hand him the $50 from the weed.
He rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched. he's losing his patience, but a hundred bucks is a hundred bucks. He takes a deep breath, trying to reign in his annoyance.
“Fine, you owe me 50. I want it tomorrow. No games, no bullshit. I hate chasing people down.”
-
The walk to the top level of the mall’s parking deck feels way too slow for how fast your heartbeat is going. The sun is setting, throwing long orange shadows across the concrete, and Riki keeps glancing at you, obviously checking you out.
“You always make people climb five floors for drugs?” you ask, breath a little uneven.
“Nah,” he says, pushing open the door to the rooftop. “Just the hot ones.”
You almost trip. He pretends not to notice, but the smirk on his face makes it clear he definitely did.
His beat-up black car sits right on the edge, nothing but open skyline and warm evening air stretching out in front of it.
“See?” he says, nodding toward the view. “Looks better when you’re high.”
It is beautiful. You’d rather look at him though, but he doesn’t have to know that.
He hops onto the hood of his car like it’s the most natural thing ever, then pats the spot next to him. You slide up beside him, close enough that your legs almost touch, pretending not to notice.
Riki reaches through the half-open driver window and grabs a little pouch, filters, papers— a whole kit.
You raise a brow. “You keep all that in your car?”
He shrugs. “You never know when someone’s gonna need a good time.”
His forearms flex as he starts rolling the joint. When he’s done he looks at you, almost proud of himself.
“That was fast” you say.
He chuckled “I do this every day sweetheart.”
Your stomach flips. You hate it.
He seals the joint, flicks his lighter, and the flame briefly lights up his face. He takes a slow drag, jaw sharp, lips parted, then hands it to you.
“Ready?”
“…No.”
He laughs under his breath and hands it to you anyway.
“Just inhale slow. Don’t be dramatic.”
You shoot him a glare, take the joint, and try to do exactly what he said, except the smoke hits your throat instantly and you choke so hard you practically fold in half.
Riki bursts out laughing, hand coming up to support your back.
“Yo.. nah, that was insane. You didn’t even try.”
“I did try,” you cough, shoving his shoulder weakly. “You didn’t explain it right.”
He takes it back, hits it again, effortlessly, and holds it out for you.
“Again. Lighter this time. Breathe it in like… like you’re sipping it.”
You try again. This time you manage not to die, though it still burns like hell.
“There you go,” he says, sounding a little proud, hand still resting on your back. “Look at you.”
A few hits later, everything feels warm. You’re relaxed, floaty, and way too aware of how close Riki is sitting. His knee keeps bumping yours, and you don’t know if it’s an accident anymore.
“So…” you say, turning to him, “why do you even skip so many classes?”
He tilts his head slightly, eyes still on the sky. “Dunno. School’s loud. Teachers talk too much. I get more done when I’m not there.”
You raise a brow. “More done? Yeah selling weed behind malls…”
He gives you a playful look. “Hey, entrepreneurship. You study it, I live it.”
You laugh and he watches the sound leave your mouth like he wasn’t expecting you to find him funny.
“What about you?” he asks. “Why’re you sneaking around with me?”
You lean back beside him, letting the wind hit your face.
“Maybe I’m not as boring as you think I am.”
His eyes drop to your mouth for half a second. “Yeah. I’m starting to figure that out.”
For the first time, Riki feels less like the asshole weed-plug stereotype you had in your head… and more like someone real. Someone interesting. Someone with secrets and softness he doesn’t know how to show.
And Riki, quietly watching you out of the corner of his eye, looks like he’s realizing the same thing about you.
The joint burns down to a tiny ash ring between Riki’s fingers, and when he flicks it away, the world feels… different.
Warm. Fuzzy. A little too bright.
You blink slowly, trying to focus on the city lights — but they look like they’re breathing. Or maybe that’s just you swaying a tiny bit.
Riki snorts. “Damn. You’re gone.”
“I’m fine,” you protest, except your voice comes out soft and floaty, like you’re underwater.
“Yeah?” He leans closer, squinting at your face. “Your eyes are low as fuck. You look like you’re about to melt.”
“I’m not—” You forget the sentence halfway through. A lazy smile pulls at your lips instead. “Okay maybe a little.”
He chuckles, slow and warm. “You’re cute like this.”
You blink at him, too sluggish to react. “Shut up,” you mumble, which makes him grin even wider.
For a second, he watches you — the way your feet don’t stay still, how your fingers keep fiddling with the hem of your shirt, how your cheeks are pink and your eyes keep drifting back to him.
“You hungry?” he asks suddenly.
You whip your head toward him way too fast. “STARVING.”
He laughs again, pushes off the car hood, and stands. “Come on then, before you pass out on my bumper.”
He opens the passenger door for you, being dramatic about it, and you climb in, giggling at nothing. The car smells like mens cologne mixed with weed. The leather seat feels like heaven. The car lights feel like fire. You’re convinced his steering wheel is the funniest-looking circle you’ve ever seen.
“You’re literally a toddler right now,” he mutters as he starts the engine.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He smirks and shakes his head, pulling out of the lot.
The drive is a blur of neon lights and music that sounds like it’s echoing inside your chest.
When you walk inside the fast food place, the fluorescent lights feel unreal. Riki looks completely normal — hoodie, hair messy, hands in pockets — except for his red eyes giving him away.
“Act normal,” he says.
“I am normal.”
Then you trip over absolutely nothing.
He catches your elbow, laughing under his breath. “Yeah, okay. Total sober behavior”
You order chicken nuggets, fries, and a drink big enough for two people. Riki pays before you can argue.
They hand you the tray, and you both collapse into a booth, your thighs brushing under the table — again on accident, again on purpose.
You reach for a nugget at the same time as him, fingers touching.
You freeze.
He doesn’t move.
Your skin tingles way too intensely for something so small.
Then he clears his throat, grabs the nugget, dips it, and holds it out to you.
“Eat.”
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t feed me.”
He chuckles “just open your mouth.”
You roll your eyes but lean forward anyway, taking a bite straight from his fingers, your lips brush his fingers softly. His jaw flexes slightly. You pretend to ignore it.
Then you reach for the drink at the same time he does. There’s only one drink, but two straws.
“You can drink first,” you say.
“Nah, go,” he replies.
You end up sipping at the same moment, your faces stupidly close, eyes lowering on instinct. Sipping from two straws in the same drink like a romcom, and you both pull back laughing.
By the time the nuggets are almost gone, your brain feels like it’s gently sliding off a shelf.
You rest your cheek on the cold table, eyes half-closed.Riki raises a brow.
“You good, pretty?” He says with a smile, he slips in those pet names way too smoothly.
“I’m sleepy,” you mumble. “And you—” you point at him lazily “—you’re acting way too normal”
He laughs under his breath. “I told you. I’m used to it.”
You squint. “How used to it?”
“Used to it enough to babysit you right now,” he teases, tapping your forehead with his finger. “Come on. Before you fall asleep on this nasty ass table.”
You don’t even argue. Your limbs feel warm and loose as you follow him outside, the doors sliding open with a dramatic whoosh that makes you giggle for no reason.
The air hits different — cool against your skin, the sky already dark, city lights glowing like stars piled on the ground instead of the sky.
Riki shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets.You wrap your arms around yourself automatically.
He notices and bumps his shoulder into yours. “Cold?”
“A little.”
Without a word, he drapes an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you walk.
“So,” he says, voice low, casual, “why’d you really wanna try smoking?”
“I was curious.”
“That’s it?”
You pick at your sleeve. “And… I dunno. I guess I wanted to try something new.”
He hums. “Didn’t think you were that typa girl.”
You nudge him with your hip. “Maybe you don’t know me.”
He glances at you, a slow smirk pulling at his mouth. “I’m starting to.”
The two of you just walk.Talking about dumb stuff, deep stuff, whatever your high brains feel like throwing out.
He tells you how he hates math but likes building things, and how he always dreamed of being an architect as a kid.You guys talk for 2 hours straight, walking through the city like you own it, it feels like you know each others whole life story after tonight.
Back in his car.
You don’t even remember how you ended up here again. One minute you were walking around talking about childhood pets and the next you were climbing into the passenger seat because your legs “felt like jelly.” Riki just laughed and walked around to the driver’s side like it was the most normal thing ever.
By 8:30pm, he’s pulling into your neighborhood, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh. He looks relaxed, too relaxed for someone who just spent hours being unexpectedly vulnerable with you. Like he didn’t just smoke the same joint you did.
He parks in front of your building but doesn’t turn the engine off. Just lets the car hum quietly between you.
You go to unbuckle but your fingers fumble, and he reaches over and clicks the seatbelt loose for you.
And then neither of you move.
Your faces are too close.Close enough to feel his breath.Close enough to smell the sweet smoke still clinging to his hoodie.
Your eyes shift to his lips.
His gaze drops to yours too.Then back to your eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you want something.” He says low.
“And what if I do?” you throw back before you can stop yourself.
His jaw flexes and he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it.
You scoff and reach for the door.
You get out of the car, before you close the door, he leans over and calls out—
“Goodnight sexy”
You roll your eyes, trying to act like your heart isn’t doing backflips.
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smoking in riki’s bed is the best way to relax after a stressful day… if he can find his weed.
📓pairing: dealer!riki x fem!reader
contains: weed smoking skinship fluff kissing bickering riki’s kind of rude to his mom
🗯️vaeh’s note: i guess I’m back from my short ass break. this was supposed to be a Higher drabble but ig this counts as a regular bonus part now cs I am the worst at keeping my ffs short
⊹
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.
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felt seen, now evergreen (3/3) - park sunghoon (m)
pairing: sunghoon x fem bodied reader | established relationship
plot: your boyfriend has severe jealousy issues and you're reached a breaking point because you realise that the green monster was here to stay | 3/3 installment of jealous badboy hoon
word count: approx. 3k
warnings/notes: sunghoon has tattoos (including one of your initials), he's your basic bad boy, he's obsessed with reader, unprotected sex (wrap it the fuck up), jealousy, possessiveness, breeding kink, creampie, squirting, oral sex (male & female receiving), fingering, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, he is absolutely freaky what's new, he wants a baby, idk what else like this was straight up nasty filth cos it's the last one i went all out
requested - yes | hii, gonna be cliche and ask for a toxic badboy tatted sunghoon as bf and he's like obsessed with reader gf and gets jealous and possessive
a/n: i messed around and did 3 drafts for this ask and decided to post this as a three part thing cos well idk which to post | this is a twist from the ask since the first part sunghoon was the jealous one
masterlist | read: saw red, turned green (1/3) ; turned green, felt seen (2/3)
it had always been obvious, even if no one ever said it out loud, that behind sunghoon’s cold, inked exterior lived something volatile, something possessive, something that didn’t know how to love in moderation; jealousy ran through him like a current, quiet until it wasn’t, until it surged and turned him into something bigger, something harder to contain, a green kind of fury that didn’t ask questions and didn’t wait for permission. just like the hulk, sunghoon was ready to fight anything and anyone that threatened to destroy what you two have.
tonight, it finally spilled over.
punching an innocent guy for talking to you? for asking your number because he wanted to reach out to you about the project you two were assigned to? granted there was a friendly hug but nothing major. the scene happened at a fucking café. you can’t even show your face there again.
just thinking about it infuriates you.
the zipper slid shut with a deliberate pull, the sound sharp in the quiet room, final in a way that made your chest tighten, but your hands didn’t stop moving; you folded another shirt, smoothed it down, placed it into the suitcase like you could control at least this one thing, like if you stayed calm enough you wouldn’t break. the decision had already been made somewhere deep inside you, long before tonight, long before the shouting and the stares and the humiliation of watching him lose himself over something that didn’t need saving.
the front door slams so hard the walls shake, rattling picture frames, but you don't look up from the suitcase on the bed—your hands trembling as you fold another shirt and lay it inside, the silence between you heavier than any scream.
"what the fuck. baby you can’t keep storming out of places and make me chase after you i was looking for you for an hour why the fuck is your location off!"
his voice is low, dangerous, that tone that usually makes your stomach flip, but right now it just fans the flames of your anger. you keep packing, refusing to acknowledge him, but he's already crossing the room in those heavy boots, his tattooed hand clamping around your wrist and yanking you around to face him before you can react.
sunghoon's chest heaves under his black t-shirt, the ink on his arms twisting with every flex of muscle, his jaw tight and eyes blazing—but underneath the fury, there's something raw and scared that he's desperately trying to hide. "look at me when i'm talking to you."
"let go of me." your voice cracks, but you force it steady. "i can't do this anymore, sunghoon. this is toxic."
"I was protecting you!" he releases your wrist only to grab your face, palms cupping your cheeks and forcing you to meet his eyes.
"you punched a guy for talking to me!"
"he was touching your arm!"
"talking, sunghoon! he was just talking!"
"i don't give a shit." his thumb strokes your cheek, rough but desperate. "you think i'm gonna let some asshole put his hands on what's mine?"
you shove at his chest, but he doesn't budge—solid muscle, all tattoos and tension—and he uses that bulk to crowd you against the dresser, the wood digging into your lower back.
"i'm leaving." your voice wavers despite your best efforts. "i've already called my sister—"
"the fuck you are."
in one fluid motion, he steps around you and slams the suitcase shut before tossing it off the bed, the heavy thud echoing as clothes spill everywhere.
"sunghoon!"
"no." he turns back, his eyes almost black, pupils blown wide. "you don't get to leave me. you don't get to walk out that door. i won't let you."
you try to make a run for it but he secures his grip on your arm, trying to yank you back to him.
"stop—fucking let me go!"
but instead of letting go, he wraps his arms around you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides as his chest presses against your back, and you feel his heart hammering through his ribs. his lips find your ear, hot and desperate. "please." his voice breaks. "please don't go. i know i fucked up. i know i'm crazy. but i can't—i can't without you. i don’t know how to be normal around you. you're the only good thing in my life. the only thing that makes sense."
you struggle, but his grip only tightens, insistent and unyielding.
"let me go, sunghoon—"
"no. never." he starts kissing your neck, soft at first, then harder—open-mouthed, desperate, his teeth grazing your skin. "i'll do anything. i'll go to therapy. i'll get help. just—please. don't leave me. i need you."
"sunghoon—"
"i love you princess." he turns you around, and now he's on his knees in front of you, looking up with those dark, pleading eyes. the sight of him—this big, rough, tattooed badboy on his knees—makes your breath catch despite yourself. "i love you so much it hurts. i love you so much i can't think straight. i know i'm possessive. i know i'm jealous. but it's because you're everything. everything."
his hands slide up your thighs, gripping the denim of your jeans, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above your knees. "i'll make it up to you." his voice is low, husky, dripping with need. "let me make it up to you. please. i just wanna love you. i just wanna worship you."
you should say no. you should walk out.
but then his fingers find the button of your jeans, and he's looking at you like you're the air he breathes, and your body betrays you before your mind can catch up. "sunghoon..."
"let me eat that pretty pussy, baby." his lips press against your stomach through your shirt, hot and reverent. "let me taste you. let me make you forget why you're mad."
"th-that's not—"
"i know." he looks up, and there are tears in his eyes—actual tears, glistening in the dim light. "i know i'm a mess. but you're my mess. and i'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you just stay."you don't answer with words—you just look at him, at the desperation and love and insanity all tangled together, and your hand moves to the back of his head, fingers threading through his dark hair. he takes that as the yes it is, and in seconds, your jeans are undone and pulled down your hips along with your black lace panties, though he doesn't even bother to take them off completely, just shoves them aside and pushes you back onto the bed. you land on your back, and he's already between your thighs, spreading them wide with a possessiveness that should terrify you but instead makes your pulse quicken.
"fuck, i missed this." his voice is reverent, almost a prayer. "i missed you."
his lips press to the inside of your thigh, kissing, biting, leaving red marks that will bruise tomorrow—marking you, claiming you, and god help you, you want him to. "sunghoon..." it comes out as a moan, breathy and wanting.
"that's right, baby. say my name." his tongue traces a wet path higher, closer to where you're already slick for him. "i wanna hear you scream it."
then his mouth is on you.
he dives in like a starving man, tongue flat against your clit, lapping at you with frantic, desperate strokes that make you gasp while your back arches off the mattress. one of his tattooed arms hooks under your thigh, holding you open, while the other hand slides up your body to pinch your nipple through your shirt, rolling the stiff peak between his fingers.
"oh god—"
"taste so fucking good." he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your wetness. "sweetest pussy i've ever had. all mine."
his tongue dips lower, circling your entrance, then plunges inside, and you cry out, hands fisting in his hair as he groans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. "fuck, you're so tight. so wet for me." he looks up, eyes dark and hungry. "you love this, don't you? love your man eating you out."
"yes—yes—"
"say it." he flicks your clit with his tongue, the tip tracing quick patterns. "tell me you love it."
"i love it! i love—ah!—your mouth on me!"
that's all the encouragement he needs. he latches onto your clit, sucking hard while his finger circles your entrance, then pushes in—one finger, then two, crooking them just right, hitting that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.
"sunghoon—i'm—fuck—!"
"cum for me, princess." his fingers pump faster, curling with each stroke, while his mouth doesn't let up, his tongue flicking and sucking in rhythm. "cum all over my face. let me taste you."
and you do—you shatter, back bowing off the mattress as a gush of liquid floods his face, squirting against his tongue while he moans like it's the best thing he's ever tasted, drinking you down, not stopping until you're twitching and oversensitive beneath him.
"that's it." he crawls up your body, kissing a wet path up your stomach, your chest, your neck—his lips finally finding yours, and you taste yourself on him. "good girl. my good fucking girl."
but he's not done.
he pulls your shirt up and over your head, then unclasps your bra, tossing it aside without ceremony before his mouth finds your nipple immediately, suckling hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak until you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
"your tits are perfect." he switches to the other, giving it the same attention—tongue circling, teeth nipping, his hand groping the soft flesh. "everything about you is perfect."
his hand slides down between your legs again, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your hips buck against his touch. "i wanna make you cum again. and again. i wanna feel you fall apart on my cock."
"then fuck me." you're already putty and sensitive for him, already desperate, the fight draining out of you and leaving only raw need. "sunghoon, please—i need you inside me."
he grins, that cocky, dangerous grin that makes your thighs clench instinctively. "that's my girl." he sits back on his heels, pulling his tank top over his head, and the sight of him—muscles rippling, abs tight, tattoos covering his skin, your initials inked over his heart—makes your mouth water. "you want my cock, baby? want me to fill you up?"
"yes—please—"
"then get on your knees and show me how much you want it."
you don't hesitate—you scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands already fumbling with his button and zipper while he watches you with hooded, hungry eyes. "so eager." his voice is rough, strained. "touch it."
you wrap your hand around his length, stroking slowly, feeling the weight and thickness of him, the tip already slick with pre-cum, and when you lean forward and take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, he groans deep in his chest.
"fuck—" his head falls back, his hand gripping your hair, guiding you. "yeah, just like that. take it deep."
you relax your throat, letting him slide deeper, and he groans again, hips twitching as you hollow your cheeks around him. "such a good slut for me. only for me." he starts thrusting into your mouth, gentle at first, then harder, his rhythm building. "look at you. choking on my cock because you love it."
tears stream down your cheeks, but you don't stop—you want this, you want him, and you take him deeper until your nose brushes the base of his cock, your throat convulsing around him. he pulls out with a wet pop, then pulls you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he lays you back on the bed.
"now i'm gonna fuck you." he positions himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip against your slick folds, teasing you. "and i'm gonna cum so deep inside you. gonna breed this pussy. fill you up with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to."
"yes—yes—"
he slams into you in one thrust, both of you moaning as the sound fills the room—he's so deep, stretching you perfectly, and he pauses, letting you adjust with his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and ragged. "you feel that, baby?" his voice is wrecked, raw. "feel how good we fit together?"
"sunghoon—move—please—"
he starts fucking you slow at first, deep, deliberate strokes that hit your cervix with every thrust, and then he picks up speed, slamming into you hard enough to make the bed frame hit the wall, each impact driving a cry from your lips.
"whose pussy is this?"
"yours!"
"say my name."
"sunghoon—sunghoon—!"
"that's right." his hand wraps around your throat, not choking, just holding, his thumb pressing against your pulse. "i'm the only one who gets to fuck you. the only one who gets to make you cum. say it."
"only you—only you, sunghoon!"
he flips you over in one smooth motion, pulling out and pushing you onto your stomach before grabbing your hips and pulling you up onto your knees. he enters you from behind, doggy style—his favorite—and you feel every inch of him as he fills you again.
"gonna fuck you so good you forget about leaving." he slaps your ass, hard, the sound sharp in the room. "gonna fuck you until you can't walk."
his pace is punishing now—deep, fast, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust while you both sweat and moan, the sound of wet skin echoing around you. "touch yourself." his command is rough, breathless. "rub that clit while i fuck you."
your hand moves between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing in frantic circles while he pounds into you, the angle perfect, each thrust hitting that spot that makes you see stars.
"close—i'm close—"
"cum with me." he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him to change the angle even deeper. "cum all over my cock. now."
you shatter, your walls clenching around him as you cry out, and he follows with a guttural roar, pumping his hot cum deep inside you, filling you up while he keeps thrusting, riding out both your orgasms until you're both trembling and spent. he pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum leaking down your thighs, warm and wet.
but he's not done.
he flips you onto your back again, spreading your legs wide as he positions himself at your entrance, already hard again—and this time he's gentle, slow, sliding in with a tenderness that makes you gasp at the sensation of your mixed slickness coating him, the way he fills you completely.
"i love you." his voice is soft now, his eyes locked on yours, dark and sincere. "i love you so fucking much."
he makes love to you like that—slow, deep, romantic, missionary with your legs wrapped around his waist as he kisses you, soft and tender, while his hips rock against yours in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. "stay with me," he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and heat mingling. "please. i'll be better. i'll do anything."
"sunghoon..." you're crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks, and you don't know if it's from the emotion or the pleasure or the overwhelming mix of both.
"i know i'm crazy." he thrusts deeper, hitting that spot that makes you gasp, “i’m your crazy. and you're my everything."
his hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again and rubbing in time with his thrusts, building you up once more.
"one more, baby. one more for me."
you cum again, harder than before, your body convulsing around him as he follows, spilling his seed inside you once more, filling you so full it's almost too much. he collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, and you feel his tears on your skin, warm and honest.
"i'm sorry." his voice breaks, muffled against your throat. "i'm so sorry. i'll never hit anyone again. i'll control myself. just—don't leave. don't ever leave."
you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as his weight presses you into the mattress, comfort and exhaustion settling over both of you.
"i'm not going anywhere."
and in that moment, tangled in sheets and sweat and cum, you know it's the truth. for better or worse, this toxic, obsessive, all-consuming love is yours.
a good solid five minutes passed by. you're tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, his cum still warm and sticky between your thighs, leaking onto the mattress as he holds you, tracing lazy patterns on your hip. but the air shifts. his fingers, still slick with your mixed release, slide down your stomach, dipping between your legs before you can even react.
"sunghoon..."
"shh." his voice is a low rumble against your ear. "i wanna feel it."
his fingers push into your spent, sensitive pussy, gathering the thick cream that's dripping out—his cum, your cum, everything mingled together—and he presses it back inside, deeper, his thumb circling your clit as he works the mixture into you like he's claiming every last drop.
"look at that." he pulls his fingers out, glistening, and brings them to your lips. "taste us."
you open your mouth without hesitation, sucking his fingers clean, tasting the salt and musk of your combined arousal. his eyes darken, pupils blown wide, and you feel him hardening against your thigh—thick, heavy, already ready for more.
"you feel that, baby?" he guides your hand down to wrap around his cock, already slick with pre-cum. "feel how hard you make me? even after i just filled you up, i need more. i always need more."
"then take it." you're breathless, already aching for him again despite the soreness. "i need you inside me again."
he doesn't make you wait. he rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him, his hands gripping your hips as you straddle him, his cock sliding between your wet folds, teasing, coating itself in the cum leaking from your hole.
"ride me, pretty girl." his voice is rough, needy. "show me how much you want this."
you sink down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion, both of you moaning as he fills you again—his cum acting as lube, making every inch slide deep and slick. you pause once he's fully seated, feeling him twitch inside you, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.
"fuck, baby... you feel that? that's my cum sloshing around inside you." he thrusts up, shallow, grinding against your cervix. "making a mess of this perfect pussy."
you start to move—slow at first, rolling your hips, finding a rhythm that makes stars dance behind your eyes. his hands find your breasts, pinching your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as you ride him.
"that's it. take what's yours." his eyes are locked on where your bodies meet, watching himself disappear into you. "look at you. taking all of me. taking my seed so deep."
the dirty talk sends a shiver through you, making you clench around him. "sunghoon..."
"i mean it, baby." he sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling your chest against his, and now you're chest-to-chest, his lips brushing your ear as he fucks up into you from below. "i wanna get you pregnant. wanna watch your belly swell with my baby."
"oh god—"
"think about it." his hand slides down to your stomach, pressing flat against it. "my cum taking root in here. making a little life. a little version of us." he bites your earlobe, hard enough to make you gasp. "then you'd never leave me. you'd be tied to me forever. carrying my legacy."
your pussy clenches so tight around him he groans, his hips stuttering. "you like that idea, don't you? you like the thought of being my baby mama. my pretty little breeder."
"yes—yes—"
"i knew it." his voice is triumphant, dark and possessive. "that's why you're so wet for me. that's why you're dripping. your body knows what it wants." he thrusts deeper, harder. "it wants my seed. wants me to fill you up over and over until it takes."
"i do—i want it—"
"then i'm throwing away those pills." he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze burning. "tomorrow morning. first thing. i'm flushing them down the toilet. you don't need them anymore. you're mine."
the thought should terrify you. instead, it sends a wave of heat straight to your core, and you moan, riding him faster, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bounce on his cock.
"fuck, you're so sexy when you're desperate for my cum." he grips your hips, guiding your rhythm, slamming you down onto him with each thrust. "i'm gonna breed this pussy until you're so full you can't walk straight. gonna keep you pregnant for years. give you a house full of babies so you never even think about leaving."
"yes—sunghoon—!"
"cum for me, baby." his hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing harsh circles. "cum on my cock while i fill you up again. let me feel you milk me dry."
the pressure builds—too much, perfect, overwhelming—and you shatter, squirting around him, a hot gush flooding his lap as you cry out, your walls convulsing so hard he can't hold back. he roars, thrusting up into you, spilling another thick load deep inside, pumping until you're both trembling and spent, your combined fluids dripping down his thighs.
he collapses back onto the bed, pulling you with him, holding you close as you both gasp for air, his softening cock still buried inside you, plugging you up.
"i meant it." his voice is hoarse, raw, but sincere. "every word." he presses a kiss to your forehead. "you're gonna be the mother of my children. and i'm gonna spend the rest of my life proving i deserve you."
you don't answer with words. you just curl into him, your hand resting on your stomach, feeling his cum warm and deep inside you, and you let yourself imagine it—a future where you're his, completely, irrevocably, bound by more than just obsession.
tied together by life itself. and it's the most beautiful, terrifying, perfect thought in the world.
you see the way he loves you — you really do — and you see the green monster in him too, watching, waiting, never letting go.
Heyaaaa you’re one of my FAVORITE enha writer 🫶 NOW WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR ENHA BIAS!!!! I really want to see what you will come up with 🙈
Back of the club - Park Sunghoon
Pairing: ex!sunghoon x nepobaby!fem!reader
Genre: oneshot, toxic, smut MDNI
Synopsis: He was your addiction. A gang chief, manipulator, toxic jerk who fucks like a god. You were his favorite prey. Six months ago, you ran. And tonight, at a club, he corners you against a wall and says he's not here for friendship.
Warnings: toxic!relationship, emotional manipulation, sextape (mentionned), unprotected!sex, fingering, edging, baby!trapping (mentionned), murdering (mentionned), swearing, alcohol, dom!sunghoon
WC: 4k
Note: I’m working on the wips I have it’s gonna take so long (especially rn since I’m pretty busy and I’m having a writer’s block) but I will post the requests when I can 🙂↕️🥲
🎧 Back of the club - kwn now playing
The thing about being a nepo baby is that you learn early: image is everything. The right dress, the right friends, the right table at the right club. And tonight, you're giving them a masterclass. Six months post-breakup, and you're a phoenix in a Prada mini dress, all sharp angles and liquid silver that catches the light like broken glass. Your friends are a blur of expensive alcohol, giggles and compliments in the car. It's been 183 days since you deleted his number. An entire summer of pretending the ghost of his touch wasn't tattooed on your skin.
Your parents had been more than happy to erase Park Sunghoon from the family narrative. The scandal had been brutal, a sextape he’s sent to your parents and leaked to the media to punish you. A grainy video of you two in the back of his car, your head thrown back, his hand a possessive claw on your jaw, and his cock deep inside you, the internet eating it up like candy while your mother wept with the publicist on speed dial. They didn't understand. They saw a threat to the brand, a dangerous man ruling the night world with perfect ease. You saw a man who touched you like he was trying to start a fire and burn down the whole world, just for the two of you. But even you, high on the fumes of toxic, obsessive lust, knew a sinking ship when you were drowning on it. You couldn’t possibly forgive him for this one…so you jumped. You ghosted. You healed. Or so you tell yourself.
The club is a sensory overload, just how you need it. The bass vibrates up through the soles of your heels, a filthy beat that makes your hips want to move on their own. Your crew has the best VIP booth, perched like a throne above the sweating, pulsing mass below. Bottles of Hennesy and Don Julio sparkle on the table, and you're laughing at a joke you didn't even hear, your head tipped back, the perfect picture of devil-may-care. This is your kingdom. You're fine.
And then, the air shifts. It's a primal thing, a sudden drop in pressure that your body recognizes long before your mind can catch up. Your laugh dies in your throat. You feel it, a laser focus, a heat on your skin that has nothing to do with the club lights. You look.
He's in the DJ booth.
Not just by it, but in it, leaning against the equipment with a god-like nonchalance, a pair of headphones slung around his neck. The DJ, some hype-beast with face tattoos, is dapping him up like he's a damn king. And he is. Sunghoon. His hair is a little longer, falling in dark, silken strands over his thick brows. His fit is aggressively simple, a white tank top showing off his biceps paired with jeans, a silver chain catching the light. His aloof, unbothered expression is perfectly in place as he surveys the crowd, his crowd.
And then his eyes find yours.
It’s not a casual glance. It's a collision. The eye contact after 6 months of starvation hits you right in the gut, a full-body flush of pure adrenaline. Forget your heartbeat fluttering, your heart just stops, then restarts at double time, a frantic drum against your ribs. There's no surprise in his gaze, no shock. Just a slow, deliberate burn. His bedroom eyes, those dark, infinitely deep pools, travel from your face, down the length of your neck, over the cling of your dress, all the way to your thighs, and back up again. He's devouring you. Without shame. Without blinking. A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips, and you know…you know he remembers everything. The sound you make when he bites that spot on your collarbone. The way your nails raked down his back. The video. This man is a mind player, a total bastard, and with one look, he's already won.
"Y/N?! Is that Sunghoon? In the flesh?" Mina’s voice is a distant, horrified shriek. "Oh my god, Y/N, do not make eye contact!"
Too late. The entire booth has clocked him. And more importantly, him clocking you. The tension at your table turns thick and panicked, but it’s nothing compared to the tension arcing across the club between you two. You force yourself to turn away, your movements feeling jerky and unnatural. "I’m fine," you say, your voice too bright, your smile a plastic, brittle thing. "Old news. Pour me a drink."
You try. God, you try to enjoy the night. You dance with your girls, your body moving on autopilot. You knock back your drink, the expensive alcohol doing nothing to douse the fire he’s lit in your belly. But it’s a performance now, and the only audience member who matters is that predator in the DJ booth. Your body is a traitor, a finely tuned instrument that only recognizes his frequency. Every stolen glance feels like a hit of a drug you’ve been forced to quit. You catch the back of his head and remember the silk of his hair between your fingers. You see his long fingers drumming on the table and your thighs clench, a muscle memory of them gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
The memories aren't just in your mind; they're physical, visceral. The way Sunghoon used to kiss you wasn't just a kiss, it was a claim, a statement, his tongue a hot, invasive promise that left you breathless and stupid. He was a master of delayed gratification, the kind of toxic manipulator who would spend an hour working you up with whispered filth in your ear at a party, only to ignore you the second you tried to touch him back. He got off on your desperation. And you, the spoiled, bossy princess everyone catered to, got off on being denied. The sex was a battlefield where he'd break you down and build you back up again in the same breath, and you were an addict for the demolition process. The memory of a specific night in his penthouse crashes over you, you'd been wearing a necklace, nothing else, and he'd used the cold chain as a leash. "You think you run things out there, princess?" he'd murmured against your thigh, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "In here, you're my good girl. Say it." A hot wave of nausea and need rolls through you. You feel sick with wanting him. You’re a goner.
He knows what he's doing. His toxic aura is working you with such ease it was infuriating. His eyes never leaving you, a silent promise. He's not approaching you. He's just… there. A constant, magnetic pull. Reeling you in without lifting a finger. He's the predator who lurks before attacking, and this, this right here, watching you squirm and melt from across a packed room, this is the lurking.
You're in the middle of a conversation you've completely lost track of when you feel it, a shift in the energy behind you, a familiar scent of dark amber and danger cutting through the sticky-sweet air of the club. He doesn't tap you on the shoulder. He doesn't say "excuse me." He just walks through your group of friends like they're made of smoke, their protests dying in their throats under the weight of his sheer, aloof presence. And then he's there, right beside you, leaning his hip against the VIP table. The world goes silent, or maybe you just go deaf from the thunder of your own pulse.
He doesn't look at you directly, at first. He just picks up your glass, the one with your lipstick stain on the rim, and takes a slow, deliberate sip. His lips go right where yours were. A claim. A statement.
Finally, he turns his head, and his eyes pin you in place. Up close, the impact is devastating. He looks tired, but in that dark, romantic, "I haven't slept since you left" way. His expression is pure, unbothered arrogance. He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, and the club’s noise just vanishes. The heat of him, the solid, alive reality of Sunghoon an inch away, makes you dizzy.
"Back of the club. Now." It's not a question. His voice is a low, cocky command that travels straight from your ear to the juncture of your thighs. It's the tone he used to use when he was done with foreplay. He pulls back just enough to look at you, a nonchalant nod gesturing toward a dark, curtained-off corridor near the emergency exit. His eyes are black holes of want, and his smirk is the most infuriating, beautiful, bastardly thing you've ever seen. He knows you'll follow. He has no doubt.
And he's right. The spoiled nepo baby who swore she was done? She evaporates. What's left is the goner. The one who's too down bad for Park Sunghoon to function. You don't even give your friends an explanation. You just slip off your barstool and follow him, a moth to a goddamn flamethrower. The world narrows to the broad line of his back as he walks ahead of you, not even looking back to see if you're there. Of course you're there.
He pushes through a heavy black curtain into a dim, plush hallway lined with the club's offices, the music instantly muffled, the air cool on your over-heated skin. Dirty. Private. He leans against the exposed brick wall, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other. He looks you up and down again, slowly, a predator finally examining the prey he's cornered.
"So," he says, the word dripping with smug, venomous honey. He pushes off the wall and takes a step toward you, and you instinctively take a step back, hitting the opposite wall. His smile is a slow, dangerous dawn. You're exactly where he wants you. One hand comes up, planting itself flat on the wall beside your head. He’s caging you in, his entire, overwhelming presence blotting out the rest of the world.
"Six months." He says it like a curse. His other hand comes up, and he trails a single, cold knuckle from your temple, down your cheek, to the corner of your mouth. "No texts. No calls. You didn't even come to say hi after so long. I'm a little… offended." His thumb traces your lower lip, tugging it down slightly.
You flinch away from his touch, trying to summon the cold, strong-willed woman you're supposed to be. "Didn't think there was anything to say. We're not friends, Sunghoon."
His head tilts back, and a short, mocking laugh escapes him. It's not a nice laugh. "Friends?" He leans in, his mouth hovering over yours, not kissing, just sharing breath. "Baby, I didn't drag you back here to catch up about your semester. Let's not play dumb. It doesn't suit you." His eyes drop to your lips. "I'm not here for friendship." He says it like it’s the most obvious, fundamental law of the universe. The bastard knows exactly what you want, what you've been dying for, and he's going to make you choke on it. And god, you don't want to be saved.
His words hang in the air between you, a challenge and a promise all at once. "I'm not here for friendship." The arrogance of it, the sheer certainty that he knows your body better than you know your own mind, should make you slap him. It should make you push past him and march back to your friends, head held high, leaving him in the dusty shadows.
But you don't.
You can't.
Because he's right. And the worst part is, he knows you know he's right.
A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face, and before you can form another coherent thought, his patience snaps. He moves. It's not a kiss; it's an ambush. His hands are suddenly on your face, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks, thumbs pressing into the hinge of your jaw. He holds you captive, forcing your head back against the cool brick. There's no escape. There's no room to breathe, let alone protest. Then his mouth crashes down on yours.
This isn't a reunion kiss. This is a punishment. It's sloppy, nasty, and utterly consuming. His lips are demanding, bruising, and he doesn't wait for an invitation. His tongue shoves past your teeth, a hot, invasive force that tastes of tequila, mint, and pure, unadulterated Sunghoon. It's a kiss designed to erase the last six months, to remind you of exactly who owns this territory. He licks into your mouth, claiming every corner, swallowing your gasp. You try to turn your head, a token resistance from your pride, but his grip is like iron. He just follows your movement, a predator who refuses to let his prey wriggle away. Your hands, which had been clenched into fists at your sides, come up to push against his chest, but the moment they make contact with the solid warmth of his tank top, they betray you. Your fingers curl, clutching the fabric instead of shoving him away. You're drowning, and you're grabbing onto the lifeline that's pulling you under.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips brushing yours, his breath hot and ragged. "Missed this mouth," he growls, his voice a low, guttural thing that vibrates straight through your bones. "Missed these smartass lips wrapped around my cock." He punctuates the filthy words by biting your lower lip, a sharp, stinging nip that makes you whimper. "So fucking pretty when you know nothing but moaning."
Before you can process the insult, his right hand leaves your face. You have a split second of relief before he brings his index and middle fingers to your own lips. "Open," he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. When you hesitate, a flicker of that old bratty defiance in your eyes, he just smirks. "Don't make me ask again, princess. You know how this ends."
With a shuddering breath, you part your lips. He pushes his fingers into your mouth, sliding them over your tongue. "That's it," he murmurs, his eyes darkening as he watches you. "Get them wet for me. Show me how good you can be." Your tongue swirls around his digits, your saliva coating them, the act so intimate, it makes your knees weak. You're trapped between the wall and his body, his fingers in your mouth, his gaze pinning you down. It's a position of complete submission, and your body is humming with a sick, thrilled electricity.
He seems satisfied. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a wet, obscene pop, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips for a moment before breaking. "Good girl," he whispers, and the praise, so condescending and so needed, makes a fresh wave of arousal pool in your panties.
Then his hand disappears under the hem of your dress. The liquid silver fabric bunches around his wrist as his fingers, slick with your own spit, find the soaked lace of your thong. He doesn't tease. He doesn't wait. He pushes the fabric aside and slides two fingers directly into your folds. A choked moan escapes you at the sudden, shocking contact. He's not gentle. He strokes you with the same rough, possessive energy as his kiss, his fingers circling your clit once, twice, before plunging inside you. The stretch is immediate, a perfect, familiar burn that your body instantly craves more of.
"Still so fucking tight," he grunts against your ear, his breath hot. "Like this pussy was waiting for me." He sets a punishing rhythm, his fingers curling inside you, stroking that sensitive spot that makes your vision go blurry. "Tried to forget me, didn't you? Tried to fuck your feelings away with some trust fund prick who doesn't know how to make you scream?"
"No," you gasp, the lie tasting like ash in your mouth. "I haven't-"
"Don't lie to me," he snarls, his thumb pressing down hard on your clit as his fingers pump faster. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, pleasure so sharp it borders on pain. "I can feel you. I can feel how much you missed this. This greedy little cunt is soaking my hand. Tell me you missed it."
"Sunghoon, stop," you whimper, trying to sound authoritative, but it comes out as a breathy plea. Your hips are moving against his hand now, a desperate, grinding motion you can't control. You're trying to stand your ground, to maintain some semblance of the strong woman you're supposed to be, but your body is a traitor, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.
He laughs, a dark, cruel sound. "Stop? Baby, I'm just getting started." He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, hypnotic whisper that bypasses all your defenses. "You know, I thought about you every night. In my bed. Alone. I thought about your stupid designer clothes. I thought about ripping them off you and bending you over the nearest surface. I thought about how you'd look crying my name, begging me to let you come." He licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the curve of your ear, and the sensation is so intimate, so filthy, it makes you shudder violently. "But you left me. You ghosted me. Made me look like a fool. So I think you need to be punished for that, don't you?"
He punctuates his question by suddenly withdrawing his fingers completely. The emptiness is a jarring, cold shock. You cry out at the loss, your body trembling with unfulfilled need. "Please," you whisper, the word tearing from your throat before you can stop it.
"Please what?" he taunts, his hand resting possessively on your mound, his fingers so close yet so far away. "Use your words, princess. You're so good with them when you're acting like a bitch. Use them now."
"Please… touch me," you manage to say, your voice cracking with humiliation and want.
"Where?" he asks, his voice dripping with false innocence. He's edging you, playing your body like an instrument, and he knows every note.
"My… my pussy," you choke out, the words humiliating and electrifying all at once.
He rewards you by sliding just one finger back inside you, a slow, maddening tease. "Like this?"
"No," you whimper, frustrated beyond belief. "More. Please, Sunghoon."
"Tell me you love me," he demands, his voice suddenly hard, his mask of playful cruelty dropping to reveal the raw, obsessive need underneath. He's not playing anymore. This is the real demand. The core of it all. He starts pumping that single finger in and out, a slow, deliberate rhythm designed to drive you insane. "Say it. Say you love me, and I'll give you what you want. Say you're sorry you left."
Tears of frustration prick at your eyes. You're caught in a web of pleasure and pain, of humiliation and desperate need. He's breaking you down, piece by piece, just like he always did. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to fight, to run, but the part of you that's been starving for him for six months is desperate to give in.
"I… I hate you," you sob, a last, futile attempt at defiance.
His smile is a flash of white teeth in the dim light. "No, you don't." He adds a second finger, stretching you again, and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in tight, relentless circles. The pleasure builds, a tidal wave rising inside you, threatening to pull you under. "You love this. You love me. Now say it, Y/N. Say it or I'll leave you here. Wet. Alone. Unsatisfied." He leans in, his voice a venomous promise right against your ear. "I'll walk away and find someone else. Someone who appreciates what I can give her. I'll make her scream the way you used to."
The threat is the final blow. The image of him with someone else, of him giving this, this intense, consuming, perfect torture, to another woman, is more than you can bear. It shatters what's left of your resistance.
"Okay!" you cry out, your voice ragged. "Okay! I love you! I love you, Sunghoon, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please!"
The words are barely out of your mouth before he rewards you. His fingers plunge back into you, deep and hard, and his thumb works your clit with an expert, relentless pressure. The dam breaks.
The orgasm rips through you with the force of a detonation, a blinding, deafening wave of pleasure that erases every thought, every memory, every regret. Your body convulses as you clamp down around his fingers. A strangled cry tears from your throat, a raw sound of pure release. For a moment, the world goes white, and all that exists is the overwhelming, all-consuming bliss of coming apart in his arms.
When you slowly drift back to reality, you're slumped against the wall, boneless and trembling. Sunghoon doesn't pull his fingers out immediately. Instead, he keeps them buried deep inside you, feeling the aftershocks as your walls flutter and clench around him. A slow, smug, utterly satisfied smile curves his lips. He brings his other hand up, and you watch through hazy, half-lidded eyes as he drags his fingers through your slickness, gathering your cum on his fingertips.
"Look at this mess," he murmurs, his voice a low, appreciative rumble. He holds his glistening fingers up in the dim light, a testament to your surrender. "So fucking pretty. Soaked for me after all this time." He brings his fingers to his own lips, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly, deliberately licks them clean. A jolt of renewed arousal, goes through you at the sight. "Tastes just like I remembered. Sweet and desperate. We were so addicted to this, weren't we? Remember that week in Jeju? Barely left the hotel room. Just ordered room service and fucked until we couldn't stand. You were insatiable. My little nympho."
His words are a poison, a toxic cocktail of degradation and nostalgia that goes straight to your head. He's manipulating you, rewriting your history to paint a picture of mutual obsession, and the worst part is how desperately you want to believe it. You want to go back to being that girl, the one who existed only in his orbit, whose only purpose was to please him and be pleased in return.
He finally pulls his fingers from you, and the emptiness is a fresh ache. He doesn't give you time to mourn the loss. With a fluid motion, he undoes his belt and the button of his jeans. The metallic clink of his zipper is loud in the quiet hallway. He frees his cock, and the sight of it, hard, thick, and weeping at the tip makes your mouth water.
He doesn't enter you. Not yet. He just takes himself in hand and rubs the thick, blunt head of his cock through your soaked folds. The sensation is exquisite torture. He coats himself in your wetness, sliding against your clit, over your entrance, a teasing, maddening friction that has you whimpering and arching your hips, trying to draw him in.
"Sunghoon, please," you beg, your voice a pathetic, breathy thing.
"Please what?" he taunts, a total jerk, enjoying your desperation. He hooks one of your legs over his hip, opening you up completely, changing the angle so his cock slides perfectly against your most sensitive spots. "Tell me what you want, princess. Use that smart mouth of yours for something useful for once."
He leans in and kisses you again, a deep, possessive kiss that's all tongue and teeth. It's messy, and you start to move against him, a desperate, instinctive humping, your clothed body rubbing against his, your slick pussy grinding against the hard length of his cock. The friction builds, a hot, tight coil of need winding in your belly. You're so close, but he won't let you have it.
Then he does something that makes you gasp. He pulls back slightly, spits into his own palm, and slicks it over his cock. The wet, obscene sound of him stroking himself, the sight of him making himself even wetter for you, is so debasing and so incredibly hot that it nearly pushes you over the edge.
"Fuck, you like that, don't you?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You like it when I'm nasty. When I'm a dirty bastard for you." He continues to rub himself against you, the added wetness making every slide slicker, every touch more intense. "You want me to fuck you, don't you? Want me to split you open on this cock? Want me to remind you who you belong to?"
"Yes," you sob, tears of frustration and need streaming down your face. "Yes, please, Sunghoon, fuck me. I need it. I need you."
He's edging you, pushing you to the absolute limit of your sanity, and it's working. He's breaking you, mind-fucking you so thoroughly that you can't remember why you ever left. You're a mess, disheveled, tear-streaked, and so turned on you can't think straight.
"Look at you," he says, his voice a mix of triumph and something that sounds suspiciously like affection. "So beautiful when you're broken for me." He finally seems satisfied with your begging. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he sinks into you.
The feeling of being completely filled by him after so long is a revelation. It's a stretch, a burn, a perfect, homecoming ache that steals your breath. He doesn't give you time to adjust. He starts to move, his hips snapping against yours in a hard, deep rhythm that's immediately overwhelming. This isn't the teasing, maddening friction from before. This is a fucking. A raw, passionate claiming.
His demeanor shifts. The taunting, cruel edge softens slightly, replaced by an almost frightening intensity. He buries his face in your neck, his thrusts becoming deeper, more purposeful. "I love you," he pants against your skin, the words a shocking, desperate confession. "God help me, I fucking love you." He licks a hot stripe into your ear, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "And if you ever leave me again, I'll destroy you. I'll burn your entire world to the ground until there's nothing left but me. Do you understand?"
You can only nod, your head thrashing against the brick as he pounds into you, his words a terrifying thrill that only heightens your pleasure.
"I'm serious," he growls, his hand gripping your hip, holding you in place for his deep, punishing strokes. "I'll knock you up. Put a baby in you so you can never leave. Tie you to me forever." The thought is so insane, so horrifying, and yet it sends a fresh gush of arousal through you. "Or maybe I'll just kill your parents. Get them out of the way. They never liked me anyway. Then it'll just be you and me. Forever."
"Sunghoon," you moan, his name a prayer and a curse on your lips. The dirty talk, the threats, the possessiveness, it's all a twisted aphrodisiac, and you're completely under its spell. "I love you. I love you so much."
He groans, your words seeming to push him closer to the edge. He fucks you harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the hallway. His hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, hard circles that match the rhythm of his hips. It's too much. The pleasure builds again, higher and higher than before, a wave of ecstasy that threatens to drown you completely.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice harsh and demanding. "Come all over my cock like a good girl. Show me you're mine."
And you do. The second orgasm is even more powerful than the first, a full-body convulsion of pure, unadulterated bliss. You scream his name, your vision blurring, your body clamping down around him like a vise. The feel of you coming undone sends him over the edge with a guttural roar. He thrusts deep one last time, and you feel the hot, powerful pulse of his cum as he spills inside you, marking you from the inside out.
For a long moment, you just stand there, tangled together, breathing heavily in the aftermath. He's still inside you, a heavy, comforting weight. He gently kisses you, a soft, lingering kiss that's a stark contrast to the brutal passion of moments before. It's almost tender.
Finally, he pulls out, and you feel the slow trickle of his cum mixed with yours running down your thigh. He tucks himself back into his jeans, then looks down at you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He reaches out and gently wipes a tear-streak from your cheek with his thumb.
"Come home with me tonight," he says. It's not a question. It's a statement. A command.
And even though a small, rational part of your brain is screaming at you, telling you that this is a mistake, that going home with him means slipping right back into the toxic, all-consuming relationship you barely escaped, you know you're going to say yes. You know it means more fucking, more fighting, more of the beautiful, destructive obsession that defines you both. But you also know, with a certainty that settles in your bones, that you can't say no. You're his. You always have been.
You nod, your voice barely a whisper. "Okay."
He takes your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, and leads you out.
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mimi stands clear with her words. tung tung tung sahur had broken her heart.
“sahur… if you want to be with her, then so be it. i dont want to keep you here with me if you dont like me any longer.” mimi says her words breaking in sync with her heart, failing to keep eye contact with him.
tung tung tung sahurs head hung low, feeling defeat.
“mimi please. i dont like ballerina cappucina. it was an accident i love you mimi please.” he rambled on pleading for forgiveness practically on his knees infront of mimi.
and she gave in. she loved him too much to hold anything against him. her arms unravelling from her chest falling around tung tung tung sahur, tears uncontrollably falling.
“i know sahur…you hurt me.”
mimi broke out between sobs
“ill never do that to you ever again mimi. i wouldnt want to hurt you like that ever again.” he reassures her convincingly.
he pushes her face away from his chest slightly, his big glowy eyes meeting hers. he pulls her in. his lips brushing against mimis, his hands tangling lightly through her hair, passionately taking her lips into his
heeseung looked down at your daughter, attached to him like a tiny koala.
"baby, i can't do this anymore with you clinging to me.."
haeun only hugged him tighter. you were sitting at the kitchen counter, trying not to laugh while he tried to cook with one hand and hold her with the other.
it wasn't going well.
"she's literally been like this all day.." you said.
"because appa's home.." heeseung whispered back to her.
haeun nodded seriously from his shoulder.
"see?" he said immediately. "she gets it."
you rolled your eyes.
"she cried when i took her to change her diaper earlier.."
heeseung gasped softly. "you cried, haeun-ie?"
haeun looked at him with the saddest little face ever.
he melted instantly.
"okay.. don't do that."
you laughed. "you're so weak for her, hee.."
"weak AND proud."
he tried putting her down near the couch so he could finish cooking. the SECOND her feet touched the floor, she looked up at him with betrayal in her eyes.
"appa.."
he picked her back up immediately. you pointed at him from across the room.
"oh my god."
"she was upset!"
"she was standing.."
haeun buried her tiny face into his neck again. heeseung rubbed her back softly.
"it's okay baby, appa's here.."
"stop encouraging her, hee!"
he started laughing silently while walking over to you, haeun still fully attached to him like glue.
suddenly, she leaned towards you with grabby hands.
"mama.."
you smiled softly and took haeun from him carefully.
"finally.." you whispered proudly.
for about three seconds.
then haeun twisted around again.
"dada.."
you stared at her.
"seriously?"
heeseung was trying SO hard not to smile while taking her back again.
"sorry babe."
"no you're not sorry."
"not even a little."
haeun looked way too happy after, her tiny fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie.
then she looked up at him sleepily.
"dada."
"hm..?"
"mine."
silence. you covered your face immediately. heeseung genuinely looked emotional.
"haeun-ie.." he whispered like this had changed his life forever.
she just blinked at him. then reached toward you again.
"mama too!"
you instantly melted this time.
heeseung laughed softly before leaning over and kissing your cheek.
"okay.." he whispered, pulling both of you closer. "both of you are making me emotional now, stop it.."
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YOU SHOULD DO NI-KI TATTOO ARTIST AGAIN PLEASE PLEASE
pairing: tattoo artist! nishimura riki x fem! reader
warnings: unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of pregnancy (especially towards the end), breeding, foot fetish, toe sucking, slight cervix fucking, slut shaming
💭 I got you bb !!! saw the recent riki pics (above) and RUSHED to finish this ASAP, he looks so hot😩😩 part 1 here
after the first time, you just couldn't stay away. you were hooked, and so was riki.
it started with just a couple quick fucks in his studio, then he was dragging you out to his car on lunch breaks, then he was bringing you back to his apartment after work. what began as a brief fling with your tattoo artist quickly grew into more, until you couldn't tell where the lines of your relationship began, or when they had started to blur. hell, he didn't even charge you for tattoos or piercings anymore, not when your mouth felt so heavenly wrapped around his cock, not when he died and came back to life inside you, again and again.
it started seeping into every aspect of your conversations. one day you let him carve a tattoo into the skin just above your ass, hands meticulously working on the intricate tramp stamp before he's leaning over to murmur low in your ear: “gonna let me bend you over tonight so I can see my work while I ruin this pussy?”
and, like the fool you are, you did. as soon as you got in the door, he'd bent you over his dark leather couch, long, broad fingers pressing down into your back to keep you pinned down, all while he delivered delicious backshots.
he chucked behind you, something low and cocky while he pounded into you. each thrust only wedged his cock deeper into you, his hungry, twitching tip battering against your cervix, claiming your cunt as his.
“takin’ it so well,” he grunted against your skin, lean body bent over until his chest pressed against your back, surrounding you, owning you. he mouthed at the nape of your neck, filthy and slow, his tongue dragging a stripe up to your ear before nipping at the skin. “y'know you're mine right? you're not goin’ anywhere.”
you moaned, grinding back onto his cock in a way that made him smile proudly, delivering a slap to the supple flesh of your ass. “mhm. yours, ‘ki.”
“that's my fuckin’ girl,” he grunted, pumping his length harder into you, determined to carve a permanent spot inside your cunt, just like he had done to your skin─making sure you'd never be able to get rid of him.
he hit a particular spot inside you that made your thighs shake, a loud whimper tearing from your throat as your gummy walls clamp down around him, sucking him in like a vacuum. he groans lowly, eyes rolling back, fingers digging into the skin of your ass to pull you back onto his cock roughly. “fucckkk, just like that.”
it only takes a few more thrusts into your tight cunt before he's pulling out. he wraps his fingers around his length and tugs hard, dragging the skin over his tip again and again, until he cums with a load groan, ropes of hot, white cum shooting out onto your fresh tattoo.
he pants, slowly stroking himself through his orgasm as you melt into the couch beneath you. you don't get long to relax though, because he delivers another rough slap to your ass.
“go wait on the bed,” he commands. you're quick to jump up, rushing into his bedroom. he runs his hands over his sweaty face, into his freshly dyed black hair, and as he watches you disappear─cute ass on display and fresh ink carved into you─he decides one thing's for sure:
he's gonna ruin you for anyone else.
that's how you find yourself still hostage in his bed, face down as he pounds into you round after round. his hand grips the back of your head, pushing your nose down into the sheets. you can barely breathe, but that's all secondary─nothing more than a background thought as his cock drills into you over and over.
“fuckin’ addicted to this pussy,” he grunts, hips slapping against your skin loud in a way that rings throughout the entire room, your face flushing at the lewd sounds of your cunt squelching with each thrust.
you can hardly think, your brain fuzzy, melting into nothing more than a pile of mush, a toy for him to use. you arch your ass up subtly─barely any movement at all─but it's enough for him to notice it, enough for him to release your head in favor of pulling your hips closer.
“god, even after going for hours, you're still so desperate for dick, huh?” he mocks, shifting weight onto his feet and angling his hips so he can fuck down into you harshly, making you cry so deliciously for him. “what's it gonna take for you to be satisfied, huh? need me to knock you up?”
that thought has you clenching, hard. the thought of his seed filling your tummy, of his cock breeding you, makes you gasp, pushing back against him hard.
he lets out a sound unlike any before─deep and dark, direct from the back of his throat. a growl. he pulls out and flips you over, grabbing the nearest pillow and stuffing it under your hips. he manhandles you like you weigh nothing, gripping your leg with bruising force and tossing it over your shoulder before he's suddenly thrusting back in.
the angle is deep, all his weight placed on his feet as he fucks down into you, the bulbous head of his cock just barely pushing into your cervix with each thrust. you cry out, nails carving into his back as he pounds into you with punishing thrusts. “r-riki!! fuck, c-can’t-”
he turns his head, lips mouthing against your ankle as he chuckles against the skin. “yeah, you can.”
he licks a slow, filthy path up the heel of your foot, a low growl tumbling past his lips before he's sucking your toes into his mouth, making you gasp. the view is so filthy, so disgusting, but you can't help the way it makes your cunt quiver around him.
and he certainly doesn't let it do unnoticed, either. he smirks around the skin, looking right into your eyes as he pulls off, only to slide his tongue into the crevice between your two toes, making you whine.
“sexy body, sexy feet…” he murmurs as he pulls off, pressing a soft kiss to the ball of your foot. “gonna let me rub these when I get you nice ‘n pregnant f'me?”
you whimper, your wet hole fluttering around his thick length at the mention of being full with his baby, your body weak and desperate for his seed. you nod shakily, making him smirk against your skin.
“what will I tell our kid when they ask how we met, huh?” he smiles cockily, hips slapping harder against yours, “that you were just a slut, desperate for some dick?”
you whine, your cunt soaking, your wetness leaking down his balls and dripping down onto the sheets. “riki, please─fuck─stop talking, just─just give it to me.”
he smirks, his hand holding your leg in place, keeping it perched on his shoulder. “need me to shut up ‘n put a baby in you, huh?” he murmurs, cock twitching inside you. “fuck, princess, I'm almost there, don't you worry.”
his promise, spoken in that low, raspy voice of his, is enough to send you over the edge, legs shaking in his grip as you clamp down onto him, soaking his cock.
with a deep groan, he starts fucking you like a man possessed, eyes rolling back and hips twitching erratically before he goes completely still, burying himself deep as he pours out his load into your womb.
he buries his face in your neck, giving you soft, slow thrusts as he works through his orgasm, moaning quietly when he feels your fingers comb through his hair.
after a few moments, he lifts up, placing a warm kiss to your lips as he looks down at you in awe.
“fuckin’ incredible.”
bonus content:
when you do get knocked up with his baby, you watch him grow into something softer, nurturing. he does your next tattoo at home, keeping you perched on his lap while he carefully inks a new design onto your collarbones.
“does it hurt, baby?” he murmurs, looking up at you with a quiet tenderness. you smile down at him, running your fingers through the strands of his hair. “a little. it's okay, ‘ki.”
he smiles, going back to work. it's quiet, until you hear him barely murmur: “you're gonna be a beautiful mama.”
the words hit you like a truck, your chest growing tight. you look down at him, fighting off the urge to cry─that is, until the next words fall out of his mouth.
nerd bestfriend!jake teaching you how to squirt… with his dick :)
a/n: uhm, im not back. but this shit is too good to not share😞
>>>>>>>>>>
“okay, so—fuck—” jake hisses, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, fogged up from sweat, “so the, uh, the anterior vaginal wall is—shit—right here.”
he adjusts his grip on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees press to your chest, your pussy stretched wide around him, flushed and dripping. he’s buried deep, almost too deep, but you can’t think, can barely breathe, your hands fisting the sheets as you stare up at him.
he’s panting, face red, brows furrowed behind his glasses as he tries to keep himself from moving, trying to keep the “lesson” under control, but his cock keeps twitching inside you.
“j-jake,” you whimper, trying to move your hips, but he pins you down, glaring.
“stop, i’m teaching,” he snaps, but his voice is high, strained, as he tries to regain composure, pushing his glasses up with one trembling finger.
“a-anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat, “the g-spot is around two inches in, towards the belly button, and—fuck—when you stimulate it with the right pressure and rhythm—”
he shifts, pulling back slightly before rolling his hips forward, grinding against that spot, making your eyes roll back.
“you—ah, you feel that?” he stutters, his breath hitching, “th-that’s the—fuck, that’s the spot.”
your hands fly to his forearms, nails digging in, your body arching, “oh my god, jake—”
“and when you keep stimulating it, the skene’s glands—” he gasps as he thrusts again, “can cause—f-fuck—expulsion of fluid, which is—squirting—”
his voice cracks on the last word, his hips stuttering forward, cock dragging against your sweet spot again and again, your cunt fluttering around him.
“you’re clenching—shit, baby, you’re clenching too hard,” he moans, loud, glasses sliding down again as sweat drips onto your chest.
“jake, please, please—” you whine, tears pricking your eyes, your thighs shaking violently.
“s-shit, i’m—i’m trying to teach, okay?” he whines, loud and embarrassingly needy, “you just—fuck! you feel too good, it’s—so hard to—fuck!”
his hips snap forward harder, faster, despite himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tries to keep talking.
“n-need consistent pressure—like this—” he pants, grinding his cock deep, making you sob, “and—ah—angle towards the belly button, right there, right—fuck, right there—”
your vision blurs, a tight coil snapping as you scream, your body locking up before a sudden gush of liquid spills out around his cock, soaking his thighs, the sheets, everything.
“holy shit—holy fuck—” jake chokes out, hips jerking, cock twitching inside you as he pulls out fast, wrapping his hand around himself.
he strokes himself frantically, eyes wide behind his fogged glasses as he cums, thick ropes spilling over your pussy, your stomach, some of it dripping onto your folds, warm and messy.
“s-sorry, fuck, sorry, you just—” he whines, shivering as his cum leaks between your thighs, “you just feel too—fuck! too good.”
you’re both panting, your body still shaking, your pussy still leaking from your first squirt, your skin sticky with his cum and your own mess.
he looks down at you, cheeks flushed, hair a sweaty mess, glasses crooked, before letting out a soft, breathless laugh.
“so, uh,” he says, clearing his throat as he pushes his glasses up again, “that’s… how you squirt.”
you smack his arm weakly, but you’re laughing, tears slipping down your cheeks, your heart pounding, your body warm, your best friend looking at you like you just gave him a reason to live.
