nia

His large hands gripped the backs of your thighs, fingers splayed wide enough to nearly span their full width, holding you open like a present he planned to unwrap slowly and thoroughly.

"You're staring," you said, voice breathier than you intended.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets beside you, trying to anchor yourself against the heat building low in your belly.

He smirked, the silver ball of his tongue piercing glinting as he ran it across his lower lip.

"Can you blame me?" His breath fanned hot against your inner thigh, close enough to make you twitch. "You look fucking delicious."

Heat flooded your cheeks, but you didn't look away. Couldn't. Not when Riki was looking at you like that—like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy him.

6 '1 " of lean muscle, sharp jawline, and those massive hands that could pin you down or pull you apart with equal ease.

You'd been together long enough to know every inch of him, but the way he ate you out never failed to unravel you completely.

He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, teeth grazing just enough to sting.

"Been thinking about this pussy all day," he murmured against your skin, voice low and rough. "Wanted to skip practice and come home to it."

"Riki—"

"Shh."

Another kiss, higher now, closer to where you ached most. His nose brushed the edge of your folds, and you gasped, hips jerking up instinctively.

His grip tightened, holding you still. "Let me taste you first."

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you.

Flat tongue licked broad strokes from entrance to clit, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every drop. The piercing dragged cool metal against your heated skin, a stark contrast that made your back arch off the bed.

He groaned into you, the vibration humming through your core, and sealed his lips around your clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicked the sensitive bundle with precision.

"Fuck," you whimpered, hands flying to his hair. His dark strands were soft between your fingers, but you gripped tight anyway, pulling him closer.

He loved it when you did that—loved the sting, the control you tried to take only for him to steal it right back.

Riki pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny with your arousal. "Tastes so fucking good."

Then dove back in, hungrier now, tongue spearing inside you without warning.

The piercing bumped your entrance as he thrust in deeper, curling against your walls, fucking you with his mouth while his nose ground against your clit.

Wet sounds filled the room—lewd, obscene, perfect.

Your thighs trembled around his head, but his hands kept them spread wide, fingers digging bruises into the soft flesh.

He was relentless, alternating between deep thrusts of his tongue and quick flicks over your clit, the piercing adding textured friction that had you seeing stars.

Pressure built fast, too fast, your hips rocking against his face desperate for more.

"Riki—gonna cum—"

He hummed approval without stopping, the vibration shattering you.

Orgasm crashed hard, walls clenching around his tongue, slick gushing into his waiting mouth.

He groaned like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted, licking you through every wave, not letting up even as you writhed and tugged his hair hard enough to hurt.

When you finally sagged boneless against the pillows, panting, he pulled back slowly. His lips glistened, chin slick, piercing shining wet.

He licked his lips deliberately, eyes dark and hungry locked on yours. "Good girl. But I'm not done."

Before you could protest—overstimulation already prickling sensitive nerves—he flipped positions.

Large hands gripped your hips, dragging you up his chest until you straddled his face, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his head. His eyes burned up at you, hands sliding to cup your ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.

"Ride my face," he said, voice muffled slightly. "Want you to fuck yourself on my tongue."

Heat flooded you fresh despite the aftershocks. You hesitated half-second—then sank down.

His tongue speared you again immediately, piercing dragging inner walls as you ground against him. Hands guided your hips in tight circles, then up and down, controlling the pace even as you rode him.

Nose bumped your clit perfect pressure; tongue fucked deep relentless. You moaned loud, head thrown back, fingers braced on the headboard for leverage.

"So fucking wet," he mumbled against you, words vibrating core. "Dripping down my chin. Love this pussy."

Overstimulation burned deliciously—every flick of his piercing against your clit sent sparks, almost too much.

Thighs quaked around his ears; his grip was iron though, keeping you seated. Second orgasm built faster than the first, pressure coiling white-hot.

"Riki—fuck—again—"

"Cum. Soak my face." He said in a muffled growl—then sucked hard on your clit, his piercing flicking rapid.

You shattered—squirting a mess of clear jets that flood his mouth, chin, neck. Body convulsed; he held firm licking every drop, groaning like a starved man.

You collapsed forward, hands reaching for the headboard, trembling. He licked you clean, slow and worshiping you—piercing bumping with aftershocks that spark the oversensitiveness again .

Pulling off finally, his lips swollen red and shiny, his chin drenched and his eyes glistening with pride.

"Perfect," he rasped thumb swiping his chin. "Perfect girl."

notes: riki being a munch with a tongue piercing has been on my mind. this is pure filth for you lovelies as I just reached 1k follows!! thank you so much it means the world to me!

Riki didn't care much for parties. 

Despite how feral he'd get over tequila in his first years of uni, perhaps his taste had matured with time. Graduated to the expensive whiskey his father got him as a reward for going into his last year of uni, shifted from the daze of break-dancing in someone's living room to sitting out back, on plastic white cars passing a blunt between his fingers. He'd dabbled in mostly everything, seeing uni as the lawless and experimental grounds he often laid witness to, which is why he buys his first g of weed in the abandoned park he loved as a child, in the lowlights of a tunnel he had no business being in this late at night. The dealer - a friend of a friend - a uni dropout despite his clientele being mostly uni students gives him a nod before they exchange weed for cash, so casual in nature despite the thrum in his neck. 

Only when he's scattered away, stuffing the bag so far into his hoodie pocket, it'd bury into the material, can he exhale. Except when he gets to his friend's house, free of rigid parents for the weekend, does he realise he doesn't know the first thing about smoking weed. He assumed it was like smoking a cigarette, which he'd regretfully done at a house party once and threw up strawberry wine on some poor girl's shoes. He didn't inhale right, hacked every time he tried burying the puff of smoke in his lungs and then while his high school friends starfished on the living room carpet, giggling to themselves, Riki sits on the couch, legs folded into himself with his cheek pressed into his knuckles, a bit left out but at least busying himself with the run of Courage the Cowardly Dog on the blaring TV. 

Now at uni with people at bit more knowledgeable and empathetic, he tries this and that. Gets his high in more ways than unexpectedly good grades, surprising himself and when he tells his flatmate, Jake about the coursework, he grins like some proud father, corners of his lips to his ears as he gives him a hug. 

"That's my guy," his palm smacks onto Riki's back, hand braced on his shoulder as Jake pulls away, a knowing grin on his face. "I say we celebrate."

"Over some coursework?" Riki's eyebrow quirks. "That's uhm, sweet but no need broski."

"Bro, I'm making brownies. The good kind," Jake nods over his shoulder, the chocolate aroma hitting Riki again, wafting with the current of something unwinding the tension packed in his shoulders. "Hee's finally submitted that CompSci project that's made him a ghost and Sunghoon's got a game he's gonna win. We're celebrating." 

Riki lets the idea carry his smile, stretching further as he deserts his leather bag on the couch and walks into the kitchen with Jake, timbs echoing against vinyl as they check on the progress of Jake's creation. Riki's fairly acquainted with the various ways of ingesting weed, his Chrome Hearts themed bong bought off Etsy one of his prised possession, but brownies are still his favourite. Quick and easy, his second year dealer an aspiring chef with a knack for desserts, from space cake, lemon pound cake and even tiramisu. The latter his favourite, sweet enough for him to stand and strong enough for him to laugh controllably watching Fantastic Mr. Fox, collapsing over Sunghoon's lap in breathless laughs echoed in the back of his throat. 

Needless to say, "What the cuss?" became a go-to phrase between the two, unavoidable in first two weeks of life, but still forever present.

Shuffling out his bedroom door, the front door adjacent to it flings open, heavy clattering following as Sunghoon's figure ambles through. He topples over the mess of shoes stationed at the door needing a wash, hands splayed against the narrow hallway walls to stead himself. Riki raises an eyebrow.

"You good?" His head ducks, mirroring Sunghoon's ducked one as he struggles tugging off his sneakers, a dramatic sigh emptying him as they fling off, his flushed face in full view. "You drank already?"

"The guys insisted on a pint after we pummelled Yonsei 7-0, an embarrassing shutout," Sunghoon runs his hands through his sweaty hair, face settling into a lax Riki's happy to see. "But you know, it's never just one and now I'm halfway smashed and I still need to fucking shower,"

He starts departing, clapping a hand over Riki's shoulder with a heavy squeeze as he says ascending the stairs. "If you hear me fall over, just ignore it. Later!"

Riki can only smile at the interaction, shaking his head as he styles his caramel blond strands into something more spiky, finally having time to put effort into his appearance after coursework that literally stole the swag from him. In the mirror, he's the painting of a 200s punk love interest doomed to his perpetual existence in the mall food court and Hot Topic, baseball long sleeve olive and silver with saggy jagged jeans to match. And soon enough when the lights dim, living room illuminated by disco LED lights and packed with conversating bodies, Riki's dodging drunken spills, reaching into the back of the fridge for Jake's brownies to bring out back, pebbles rubbing together under his shoes as he plots down in the circle of his housemates and a few other friends, a welcome slow in mellow conversation. 

"I'm pretty sure I'm part whatever they put in Monster because except that and microwave Mac & Cheese, that's all I survived off," smoke blows out Heeseung's lips, some cheap cigarette from the corner shop between his fingers as his body slumps into the plastic chair. His free hand pulls his black beanie downwards, his fringe peeking out still. "You know how down bad I've gone back to being a nitty."

He takes another drag, head tilted up to the sky, moonlight bathing the slopes of his face in shadows and brilliance. Riki watches on quietly. 

"Well, it's done now. So, do yourself the favour and buy better cigs," Jake chuckles, eyes averting opposite him to Riki. "You brought them out?"

"Yeah, I'm not looking to drink twelve pints tonight," he unwraps the cling wrap over the brownies, rings clinking together as he offers the stacked amount around. "Plus, they're fresh. And hopefully better than the last batch."

Beomgyu, one of Heeseung's friends breaks out into a chuckle, laughing along with his friend who says, "Those were an attempt."

"Hey! It's harder than it looks, okay?" Jake insists, biting into his brownie. "The fuck would youse know about using an oven, much less baking."

"Well, if your aim was to give us diabetes, you were almost successful," Riki laughs, gulping before he takes a bite. Dense but still somehow airy, not too sweet - good on Jake. "Good attempt this time round."

"Thanks Riki, because I really only live for your validation," Jake's eyes roll, amusement on his face meaning the jabs mean nothing as he nods to Haechan. "What you think?"

"Like I won't need a glucometer," he giggles, mouth full with crumbs against his tanned skin. "It's really science if you think about it. I'm glad you learned from your ways."

"If you think you're taking some home ─ fat chance," the two stick their tongue out at each other, to the sound of Beomgyu moaning, "Just kiss already, I'm close." Jake's laugh only lasts moments before his phone buzzes in his pocket, screen lighting his face. "Oh shit, she's here."

"Who's here?" Riki asks, another bite into his brownie.

"Wonder if she's run into Sunghoon. Lord knows that man is a mess," Jake supplies, neck straining to peek at the backdoor, fingers running through his midnight hair. 

"Yeah, I haven't seen that man so fucked since St. Pattys - and that was last week," Haechan adds on. "Think he'll make a move?"

"He'll try but she won't have it. He's probably got beer and sick down his shirt anyways," Jake replies, lighting up at the opening back door, waving his raised hand, more enthused than Haechan's. "Took you fucking ages."

"Sorry, but Sunghoon insisted to talking to me with his sicky breath," a feminine voice echoes from the narrow alley leading to where they're situated, your figure emerging from the shadows. "I had to get him to brush his teeth. He gagged brushing his tongue ─ pussy."

Cheeks full of chocolate brownie, Riki feels all his weight sink to his feet, body running arctic cold than densely warm at the sight of you. You're so pretty it hurts, sweet in the face with a confidence keeping your shoulders back and head high, the smirk across your face alone very much capable of making him pop a boner. In the silent howls of the night, so much air surrounds them yet makes no effort to make a home in his chest, emptied out with a heart beating only for you, attuned to every move you make.

"Oh, is that a brownie? Fuck yeah," you lean down into Jake's hand holding his, teeth sinking into the dessert with a nonchalance so alarming Riki only can blink, swallowing heavy in his throat. "Hm, that is good. That dealer hasn't left for France yet?"

"Nah, it's my own humble creation," Jake's hand splays over his chest, nodding proudly. "Happy you like it. Kiss for my troubles?"

"My God, this whole house is full of horn dogs," you drag the last plastic chair closest to Riki, ripped leather trousers crying against the material as you settle, sipping on your drink. "Don't tell me you're one of them."

The sentence is directed at Riki, who's still baffled how he's gone three and a quarter years not having seen you once. Not at any party, not at any club, not even walking on campus. Perhaps it's for the best because if he knew you existed, his focus would boil to only you as it does now. Trailing the stack of silver hoops and chains stacking your ears, the dermals under your eyes haloed by dark, unworried makeup, he snake bites settled beneath the plump of your lips with sharp nails and leather clothing plucked from his wildest dreams. Slouched back and manspread, he gets full view of the belly piercing beneath your black vest, a skeleton hanging at the bottom.

Riki might fucking explode. 

"Riki, you good bro?" Heeseung asks, blowing smoke with a knowing smirk. Riki can't hide his groan. "Brownies already hitting?"

"Something like that," he only spares his friend a glance, eyes fighting for more time on you, a polite smile on your lips. He hates how quick he is to imagine your lips elsewhere. "We haven't met before."

"Right, we haven't," you confirm, nodding with a fist extended. "I had the misfortune of being in a group with Jake for some workshop a bit ago. I'm only in it for the baked goods."

"Sounds like something totally unrelated." Beomgyu chimes in.

"He wishes," your nose scrunches, laugh contagious in the coy smiles dispensed around the entire group. "Good to meet you, Riki. Your fits seem to live up to the hype."

Riki points to himself, incapable of social interaction. "My fits?"

"Hair's a bit questionable. Bro looks like he got electrocuted." Heeseung jokes, just to wind him up.

"Coming from a man smoking cheapo cigs, I'd pipe down," you retort, eyebrows jerking upwards in a retort that has the guys howling. "It's cool spiked up. A bit out of place, hang on,"

A small, "Can I?" escapes your lips for only his ears to hear, an immediate nod following before your hand with the lightest touch arranges his hair back into place, satisfaction in your grin. "All better. Don't you look handsome, Riki."

His blush floods all the way to his ears, not missed by Heeseung who only shakes his head with a chuckle, sending dancing eyebrows and bitten back smirks his way over the background of hummed music inside the house, nothing but conversation and Jake's chill RnB playlist humming out of his phone's speakers. Riki learns all sorts about you that night, lulled by your velvety voice and weed making him float on a cloud. However, what becomes blaring obvious is no matter what anecdotes he learns over the short time you spend outside, something else prevails.

The dire obsession he has over you.

Whatever Riki's dissertation his Sports Science degree is based on takes a backseat in his final year, most of - if not all - his thoughts circling back to you. He experiences the phenomenon of life at university, where you see a person and you either never see them again or see them everywhere. You are the latter. Blooming in places unimportant to him, now significant as he catches glimpses of you. Sees you in the university mail room collecting your guitar pick parcel, sees you on the grassy lawn near the library when the sun's out, cat eye sunglasses perched on your septum-pierced nose, laughing as a kicked football bounces off your sunbathing friend's ass, sees you in said library nodding your head to the Drum & Bass music blasting through your headphones, laser focused on the work you blitz though. He even catches you outside the modern Design school building, giggling as you swap a blunt amongst your friends, not the least bit worried of getting caught. 

Having access to you like this makes his mind wonder, go to places on fuelled by obsession and it hotwires his system to you. In your mystery black but bright smile, the silver of your jewellery but the warmth of your heart. How in all the moments he thinks he's alone in seeing you, your head turns. Most times you motion him over or simply smile, acknowledging him with an acknowledgement he thinks of all day. His brain doesn't let him forget you, finding every excuse to bring you up in conversation, try your favourite foods, listen to your favourite artists (lots of crossover between his) and just…well, simp over you as Heeseung so lovingly puts it. 

Riki can protest all he wants, but he knows it to be true. How much he's fallen for how you move through the world like its yours, carving every bit of yourself in spaces he'll never forget, whispering your name in suppressed whimpers as he doesn't let his thoughts venture too far, just the image of you laughing at some poor joke he made or the compliments you so freely give him. 

And then he's coming. All of his hand, chest and in the swirl of relief and shame, even then his mind cannot banish thoughts of you. You're hard to forget after all. 

"Is she coming?" Riki asks, always referring to you as he follows Jake down the stairs. The older between the two scampering through to the living room where Sunghoon's left some hockey game playing and into Jake's room, lived in-neat with the scent of sea salt blowing through.

"Man, I don't know. It's like you have a crush on her or something," Jake says absently, sifting through his closet for something to wear. Except when he only hears the scrape of his clothes hangers, rather than Riki's immediate denial, he stops. Looks his friend in the eye, chestnut curls encompassing his surprised face. "What the fuck? You're joking."

Riki could deny it. Save himself the additional teasing, but he's always been a shit liar. 

"She's cool." He ends up admitting, looking down at his suede sneakers. They need a clean. 

"Yeah, I bet she is since you beat your meat to her," Jake laughs, pulling out an outfit he's satisfied with - jeans and a brown plaid jacket. "I get it, but you're not the only one. Jay from Psych's acting like she's cast a love spell on him and Sunghoon's all over her like a rash, so…"

Riki groans, fed up. "Come on, he has options." 

"And you don't?"

He considers it. Thinks about that girl in his Advanced Sports Biomechanics lecture he's been pining over since they last kissed first year, but quickly got a boyfriend before he could take out to her favourite restaurant. Thinks about the other girl from the library months ago who he suspects like girls and somehow, he finds peace in it all. Letting go of a past that no longer serves him, that didn't really to begin with and finds you. Nestled into every crevice of his memory and heart.

Fuck, he's a goner. 

"She's special," Riki lets it be known, his nape a source of comfort for his scraping nails. "I only want her."

"Aren't you a romantic," Back turned to him, Jake circles back with a baseball cap with a design of unbuttoned jeans. He's stolen that out of Riki's closet, reminding him to lock his door when he leaves for lectures. "Maybe talk to Hoon about it. So we can avoid another shared-girl situation,"

"Unless you're into being a cuck or whatever."

"You signed up for that." Riki states, well aware of that situation.

"Different strokes for different folks, I don't know what you're into," Jake can only shrug, bottom lip jutted out. "Don't think I want to either. Just talk to the guy so there's no drama." 

And because Riki's preferences don't line up with Jake's, he makes the trek up the stairs to the attic room, hearing Heeseung yell from his corner room to his right, probably playing LOL. Riki knocks, Sunghoon yelling for him to come in. 

Up the five stairs, he spirals up into Sunghoon's room, fitting for the so-called 'slut' of their house, the most spacious room out of their four, decently clean with hockey memorabilia scattered all around. He's at his desk to the stairs' right, thick-rimmed glasses on his nose bridge as he actually works on his dissertation, slumping back at Riki's presence.

"Needed something?" 

He avoids his gaze, fingers threading through the hairs down his nape. He'd cut it if it wasn't for you saying how much you wished to see it long. 

That night he'd dream of you pulling on his hair, head between your legs. 

"Yeah, I wanted to run something by you," he sits on the edge of Sunghoon's navy blue bedding, legs not having much strength to stand. He chooses to ignore the mystery white stain centimetres from him. 

"Shoot."

"Well, you know," he then mentions your name, shoving back down the spike in nerves at Sunghoon's small but undeniable grin. "You uhm, like her or something?"

"The fuck's with all the awkwardness?" Sunghoon laughs, nose scrunched up as he folds over. "Yeah, she's cool."

Same words Riki said. He's screwed.

"How much do you really like her?" Riki asks, fingers playing with the frayed fabric of his shorts, head all the way down. "Because I mean, there's no shortage of ladies who want you, I just wanted to know so-"

"So you could get a hall pass?"

His question is accented with a disbelieving eyebrow, something like distaste amongst his moled features. Riki's hand smooths over his neck, not sure why he's so nervous about this. 

"A forever thing - more like," Riki supplies, finding it in himself to start verbalising what he's kept to himself for the past few weeks. "I like her, I'd like to take her out if she'd let me."

There's a silence after his words, nothing the house's usual sounds of Heeseung smashing his keyboard and yelling, along with Jake's playlist thrumming through the living room speakers. It's a confession he's known since that fateful night and yet, when said in front of Sunghoon, he isn't quite sure how the words will land.

"Shit Riki," Sunghoon curses, something akin to amusement in his features. He leans back in his office chair, matching grey hoodie and shorts hanging off his large frame. "Should've just said you were serious about the girl. Would've backed off ages ago." 

"You seemed close," Riki recalls, thinking back to when you physically helped him brush his teeth. The intimacy of the moment lingers in his mind longer than he's liked. 

"Well, yeah. I've been trying since first year," Sunghoon laughs, not a sliver of embarrassed at being rejected for almost four years. "But she's pretty set on being friends. Even more so lately,"

Recollection pinches his features together, hands smoothing over the five o'clock shadow he almost always has. "Lowkey she might be into you. She's weaved you into conversations loads."

Riki can't quite believe his ears. "Sorry?"

"She has this Pinterest board - I even downloaded that for her - for guy fits she likes, but I think it's just what she'd dress her boyfriend in," Sunghoon supplies, shaking his head. "Anyways, it's like, yours to a tea. So, she wouldn't have to convince you. Plus, she said you're cute. She never compliments guys."

Riki frowns. "Surely that's not true."

"Bro, during my bulk, when I was at like, my peak sexiness, she said I looked like I was on roids," Riki swipes a smile off his face, clearing his throat to disguise his smile. "She also says nice things about Jake, but never his appearance."

"Maybe that's not what matters to her."

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, turning back in his chair. "Here you go, Romeo," he shakes his computer mouse, monitors coming to life. "Maybe that's shit she's charmed for, couldn't be me. But yeah, go ahead. She's all yours."

A flutter kickstarts in Riki's chest, lips folding over each other to somehow hide his elation. 

"Only mine?'

"Don't push it," Sunghoon warns with a side eye, no real bite to his words. "Close the door behind you, I'm gonna have a tactical jerk before tonight's party." 

"Right, because you've got chyl─"

"Get out, Riki."

How Riki's found himself in this situation, he'll never know. Nevertheless, if there's a higher being orchestrating this, he'd spend his days praising their existence because there's just no way.

The evening starts off with some nerves, enough for him to desert his dinner cooked by Jake's inability to make one serving. He apologises, saying he had a big lunch but that his leftovers will be tomorrow's lunch, whisking off to their shared downstairs bathroom to start getting ready. While he does put effort into his appearance, this is certainly above the rest, every item of clothing or jewellery picked with precision, hair carefully styled. Heck, he even gives himself a manicure, pushing back his cuticle and making sure his nails are trimmed with no sharp edges. When Heeseung comes into his room to borrow some cologne, they're both startled. Riki sitting on his edge of his bed, in a black bathrobe with green face mask on, nail file putting in work. 

Heeseung damn nearly topples over in laughter when Riki pushes him out, shutting the door to hear Heeseung yell out. "Holy fuck, Riki's whipped." 

Perhaps the comedic break does some good to his nerves, but they are very much well and alive once the house party starts, one last night before the Easter break. So, if Riki wants to spend the next four weeks reliving every interaction you've had because he was too scared to get your number, he'd have to put in work tonight.

Usually he has a low amount of drinks before he moves onto weed, but with shaky pupils scanning the living room, he's yet to see you and since his heart can't differentiate between being shot and looking for you, he yields to Sunghoon's request to play beer pong. Sunghoon hard carries their teams against his two teammates, Jungwon and Taehyun, and because Riki can't think straight, he has almost four drinks before he's trudging outside, needing some air and a joint. 

The usual suspects are outside - Jake, Haechan, Beomgyu, Heeseung and you. He'd missed you, your entrance made in the back alley because Jake said he had hot gossip that couldn't wait. Relief drops him into the chair opposite, a side-eye cast at Heeseung whose purposely positioned himself next to you with Jake on your other side, the dirty look all but gone when you acknowledge him in front of the entire group.

"Was wondering when you'd swing by," something unlabelled lines your lips, pulled in easiness accelerating Riki's heart rate the more he looks at you. The bore of your eyes. "Wanna hit the bong?"

He's too hopeless to speak, settling for a nod and looking back on it, he thinks it's then that seals his fate. How tension unwinds from his rigid shoulders and mellowness makes his lids heavy, makes him so open and funny because despite how comfortable you make others around you, the romantic thought of you makes him hold back. Scared that his attention is all-consuming, a turn-off for a lack of better words. However, his perspective on this situation seems warped at best, a shuffle of seats having you end next to him as their circle go in and out the house. You talk like you're the only ones outside, close and whispered, enough for the hairs on the back of his neck to stand when you lean in further, lips so close to his jugular he's afraid you'll hear the hammer. Know he's into you. 

"You've got a mole here too," you offer up some space before the poor boy's about to combust, your finger instead resting on the mole. Where you can definitely feel how fast his heart's going. "They're so pretty - your moles."

"I've got more down my back," he answers, because he's stupid. And down bad. "Seven, I think."

You lean back in your chair, leg swinging over to hike up your impossibly short skirt dangerously high, slyness pulling your features. "Isn't that a treat."

That's the nail in the coffin. One Riki doesn't hear beyond the desperate gasp of air he does after your reply, eyes quickly averted to Heeseung's prying ones, mouthing a shared, "What the fuck?" Somehow you miss it and talk more and when Riki talks of his Chrome Hearts themed bong, your eyes sparkle. Ask to see it and he lets you, a quiet hand offered to you as he navigates through the warm bodies swaying to thumping music and beelines to his bedroom.

He notices you lock the door behind you. A shy smile offered. "Don't tell me you haven't been locking your door during these parties."

"I'm usually good about it," Riki speaks slower, aided by the relaxation coursing through him. 

"Good. Because we've had forks stolen during one of ours," you roll your eyes, shrugging off your faux-fur toasted jacket. Hanging it amongst the rack of Riki's coats, fitting in so nicely with his. "Uni students steal anything."

"Tell me about it." He thinks back to the traffic cone Sunghoon had in his bedroom first year, then promptly forgets all about him. About anyone except you.

He shows you the bong, hoping his mind isn't hallucinating how close you are, pretty much doing a Show n' Tell because he doesn't know how to talk about himself. Something he mistakenly utters. 

"I don't think you realise how personal your room is," you express, perched on the edge of his bed alongside him. Thighs touching, face illuminated by the black candles matching with every colour choice in the room beside deep maroon. "It's got all your memories, everything you've loved. It's…refreshing,"

Your hand falls over his, fingers threading between the gaps of his fingers, squeezing. "Thank you for showing it to me."

"Of course," his answer comes out in a whisper, muffled by the background noise of streamlining students coming in and out the house. "I feel comfortable with you." 

Which is a lot more truth he's banked on admitting tonight, but at the sight of your bright smile, he can't hate himself for being vulnerable. On the laptop right in front of them, where his desk is, he gets his Spotify up, putting on a blend at your suggestion. You don't stop holding hands through the entire interaction, more command in his veins as his thumb grazes over your knuckles. Some more talking happens, but it's almost lost in the grand scheme of things when his heavy lids drop down to your lips, wondering how the cold metal of your snakebites would feel, the noises you'd make when he wouldn't rush kissing you like every loser looking just to get some. Savour you like he's wanted to every since he laid eyes on you. 

The opportunity comes like destiny, over the chorus of Joey Bada$$' 'Y U Don't Love Me?' forever remembered as the moment he kissed you. Colour explodes beyond his closed eyes, a moan releasing at the pillowy press of you, your free hand coming up to cup his face while his other rests around your nape, thumb stroking skin as he loses himself in you. The weed cycling through his system intensifies the moment tenfold, having to hold onto you to assure himself he's tethered to reality, groaning at the cold metal sliding his lips as he captures your bottom lip in a teasing bite. You moan at that, the prettiest sound he's been blessed with hearing and when he's ready to get on his knees to serve you, you beat him to it. 

"I wanted to─" Riki starts.

The unbuckle of his belt is striking loud amidst the house party, ringing in his ears as your tongue swipes your bottom lip, teeth left in its wake as you insist. "Later. I want you in my mouth now." 

And who is he to argue? Especially when every second of this is plucked from the dark corners of his mind, watching with a laboured chest as you button his jeans and from him from his precome-damp boxers, cock springing free. 

Wonder dazzles in your eyes, a satisfied hum resonating through your chest as your tongue immediately lolls out, swirling all around his flushed tip, ending off with licking the pool of precome in his slit, groaning at the taste. "Fuck, you're huge. Taste good too."

Riki's shoulders drop in defeat, hand coming out to cup your face as he looks at you with agony. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Don't go dying on me, Riki," you smirk, lowering your plump lips to his cock, hand folded over it, thumb grazing its engorged veins. "You haven't fucked me yet."

Between the weed amplifying his sense and the sin that is you, Riki doesn't anticipate himself lasting long. Especially when you're working him like this, unconcerned with being messy as you cover his length in spit, smeared it into your hands to account for what can't fit into your mouth. You start off so sweet, teasing disguised as you cover his length in adoring kisses, from his balls your hands fiddle with, up his shaft to his tip, leaking by the time you get there. The chuckle you do vibrates into his hot skin, earning a hiss from him as you lap it up with unparalleled enthusiasm, taking him in your mouth. 

"Fuckkkk," 

If his other hand wasn't supporting him sit straight, it would've pulled at his bleached strands, thighs quivering the warm sensation of your mouth enveloping him more and more. Your head bobs as everytime you duck down, you feed more of him in your mouth. So sloppy too, the wet suction and drag eating at the music nonexistent in his ears from his laptop or the living room, ears only catching to the sounds of the gag you do on him, overconfident but not yielding, your throat closing around him to make him whimper. 

"God, your throat feels so good, baby," the words come so naturally to him, eyes closed in pleasure. "Taking me so well."

Around his length, you mumble, "I'll take more. I want more." 

He damn near comes right then and there, precome beading down your throat closing around him despite your push to continue. Riki throws his head back, fingers carding through your hair and pulling, not meaning to but spurred on by your moans around him, his cock throbbing in your mouth as you keen, "Harder please," 

So sweet to him, he could never say no to you. As your head bobs, your tongue swirls, a groan unearthed from the deepest of Riki's chest as pleasure swirls in his stomach, breaths coming out hard and fast as he tries holding himself back. But you're so good, moving your hand in tandem with your mouth, sucking him like he's the best thing you've put in your mouth and he undoes. 

"Shit, wait ─ I'm gonna come," he warns, eyebrows pulled together but it appears to be no concern to you. Gaining confidence and momentum, you push yourself to take more of him, close to your nose grazing his pelvis, gagging hard enough to wet your lashes but everything's secondary to you. Getting Riki to come is everything, which comes to you as you whimper around his length, nails scratching at his hip, over the mole you kissed on your way down his torso and he comes. "Gonna fill your─hmph!"

He pulls hard at your hair, only adding his orgasm as you squeal around his length, shaking your ass like you'll push into some pressure and it kills Riki, flooding your mouth and not being in you, body curling into himself as his cock reaches where you can only sit there and gag. Once he's blinked enough times for his sight to return, relieved but wanting more, his cock slips from out your mouth, face coming into view as tears streak down your face, so pretty and perfect for him with come edged in the corner of your lips. 

"Don't swallow."

You're about to wipe the come into your mouth when he says that, curiosity in your expression, morphing into surprise as he pulls you closer into a kiss. The gasp muffles against his plump lips, some of his come already down your throat but enough shared between your mouths as his tongue swipes into your mouth, kissing and tasting every inch of you, you're dizzy. Fawn legged as you collapse back onto the grey carpet, looking up at Riki with saucer eyes as he can do nothing but smirk as his thumb swipes away missed come from the corner of your lips, licked off his thumbpad. 

"We taste so good together, angel," he smirks, darkness flared in his eyes. "Just like I thought."

Riki thinks he's scared you off.

Perhaps the heat of the moment led him astray and he did that, but he'd been so deprived of your lips on him, he took every chance to have you on him. Including when your mouth was full of come.

When Heeseung hears this the next morning, he sits there with his pink cat-ear headphones with a jaw dropped, appalled. "You're a fucking freak, dude. Or a narcissist. I can't tell the difference here." 

His words don't inspire much confidence, especially when Riki recalls how after the kiss your phone buzzed, a frantic call coming from your housemate that ultimately ends up with you disappearing into the moonlight, a thousand apologies falling from your lips as you scurry out the door, shouldering people too. On the kitchen stool, house vacant as the rest of guys headed back home for the holidays, Riki runs his hands through his hair, cursing at himself for scaring you when he had you. Plentiful curse words cross his minds, cut off by the blare of his phone lighting up on the kitchen marble counter.

Unknown number: hey, i got your number for jake. sorry for the unexpected text (╥﹏╥)

Unknown number: my housemate's boyfriend broke up with her and i think we've eaten enough ice cream and egged his house for her to go back home feeling okay. i don't like how i left things, but i at least wanted to explain and apologise before anything. im sorry 

Unknown number: if you're still around, you're welcome to come round mine or i can come yours. i'd just like to talk things out if you're willing to. i'm really sorry once again <3

Being mad at you hadn't even crossed his mind, but it very clearly crossed yours. And when the realisation settles, he grabs the few things he needs and bolts out the door, on his way to you. 

You're waiting outside your doorstep for him when he drifts around the corner, air cycling out his lungs as he runs the rest of the way, watching you blink back surprise, only for it muffle against his lips as he crashes onto them, face screwed in all the worry and longing he has for you. Always had for you, body pressed to yours as you melt into his embrace, hands gripping the collar of his jean jacket for dear life as you lose yourself in all things Riki.

Not much talking is done, just a lot of 'miss you's and 'God, you're it for me,' coming from Riki, wrecked when he can have you like this, splayed across your wine and charcoal of your bedspread, shorts and underwear tossed aside, folds glistening with all the arousal swimming your eyes as you cry, "Riki, please," 

"Let me, princess. Let me," he whispers breathlessly, so close to your cunt, the warmth of his breath making you shudder. "You're so fucking pretty, baby. Been dreaming of this forever." 

Speaking like a man tortured, he gives into his dreams, falling into the inevitable as he presses a kiss to your clit before licking a stripe straight from your entrance back to your clit, swallowing it with swirls of his tongue. You keen high in your throat, hands flying to his hair for stability, nails grazing his scalp as his life's purpose is to eat you out, eyes falling shut as he gets off on the withers of your body, the quivers of your breath, each time you whine his name. He catalogues it all ─ somewhere where his brain isn't present, laser-focused on the slow open mouth kisses he gives your clit, tongue swiping to the chorus of your chorus. 

"Rikiii," you whine, his eyes finding yours squinted as pleasure blooms across your face in an angelic halo. "Your fingers ─ hmph! Need them,"

"Anything you want, pretty thing," he mumbles against you, lips glistening in your slick as a two finger trace your entrance, obsessed with the quivers under his fingertips while he noses along your pelvis bone, swirling his tongue with the right pressure to chase after your incoming orgasm. "Just ask me, I'm all yours."

The impatient whines dye his ears red, eased by helpless whines as his arm extends to your chest, pushing up the flimsy material of your tank top to play with your pebbled nipples, thighs closing around his head. He doesn't care, the close proximity only gets him harder as his fingers push into your crying walls, closing in on him with everything you have. 

Your fingers pull harder on his hair, a groan stifled against your clit as his fingers curls in you, a croak in your throat echoed as the sensation ripples through your sizzling body. 

"You're so pretty when you don't know what to do with yourself," he chuckles, a harder curl of his fingers bringing a stretched groan out your bared teeth. "Feel good, baby?"

"I-I can't think," you admit, cheeks flushed and expression dazed, eyes trying to find his. "Just want you, Riki. Want all of you."

"You'll get me, princess. Let me eat you out first," he speaks with a husk, only aiding the tension-filled coil pulling in your stomach. "You taste so good, baby. I'd spend all day here if I could."

And to an extent, he does. He's so attuned to what you like, how much pressure, how much suction that it's not long before desperate gasps for air swallow the room whole, eating at the wet mess sound Riki makes between your thighs. Again, it's all secondary to the hurtle into space your body does, a cross between cries, begs and screams running out your lips as you chant his name, coming and coming. The burst of ecstasy is unlike anything you've ever felt before, body mirroring the free float you do in between someplace between time and space, body raking through with shakes Riki only feeds off, maintaining the curl of his fingers as they pump into you without restraint, tongue migrating down around his fingers to taste every drop of your come. It's the kind of fixation you couldn't concoct in your wildest dreams, everything a mere mirage as your body just takes whatever Riki gives, sucking your clit and fingering you until you're shivering from overstimulation, bedsheets wet beneath your butt as you struggle for air. 

Riki is nice enough to allow you the time between when he removes his mouth off your cunt to pressing your lips again for you to breathe, whining against your lips as his tongue darts into your mouth, your head tipped back as your syrupy head lives off the taste of you two mixed, getting every bit of obsession of you two together. 

"Don't we taste so good together?" he'd asked and even then, you agreed. More so now that with the bloom of softness and intimacy between you, fingers curled in his strands as he rids himself of his pesky clothes, not having the heart to separate your lips as you help get rid of his trousers and boxers. 

When he does, you do like you did back then in his room, fingers tracing the tattoo on his ribcage with a hungry fever, a kiss pressed into the kiss mark just near his hip before your teeth sink into the mole on the other hip. You're feral, one-track minded as Riki consumes all your thoughts, back pushed back down into the plush of your mattress as your legs spread, head lifted to view him hold his hard cock in his hand, tip weeping as his body folds with desperation, tip smearing your folds with precome. 

"Tell me you want it," Riki gruffs out, eyebrows knitted with parted lips. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Riki, please fuck me," impatience and frustration extend every letter of your plea, similar tears lining your eyes as your hand lowers to spread your folds, enticing him by the bite of his lips. "Your cock would feel so good in me. Am I not yours?"

"Fuck, you are." He says immediately.

"Then make me yours."

It's all he needs to hear, having had enough of his own games before he pushes in, both your mouths falling open at the stretch of him gliding in, your walls gripping him with all the hunger you have for him and more. The molten burn curls your toes and grits your teeth, feeling Riki everywhere accessible to your senses, breath stunted by the fill of him as he feeds himself until he's buried to the hilt, rewriting any concept you know of pleasure to him. 

He stalls in you, chest rising and falling as all his eyes consume is you, your body beneath him, cunt stuffed with his twitching length, cheeks dusted in pink with a body quivering to the size of him, pupils blown to your eye colour serving as a ring around them, so gone for him he doesn't know how he maintains his composure. Just strokes hair out your face with the back of his fingers before he starts thrusting.

He doesn't start off slow, fast-forwarding to the moment he's pondered when alone and everything about this doesn't compare. Not in the slightest, the warmth of your skin, the squeeze of your cunt, the cries you do as your stomach pulls in overload, nails scraping at the duvet cover with forgotten restraint. Everything about this, he will never get over, refuses to and with the look you give him, he thinks you share the sentiment. 

He notches himself harder into you, groaning at the high keen you do as your eyes roll back, blinking tears away as you cry. "Kisses, Riki."

"You're so fucked out, I've barely done anything, princess," he purrs, a carnal feeling conjured in his chest as he lowers himself down to you, safety-pin pendant on his chain feeding into your mouth as you suck on it. "Your mouth's lonely, huh baby? Need to keep it stuffed, don't I?"

You nod around the pendant, all teary and doll eyed at him, gasping for air as you let it go, finger curling around it to pull him closer. "Kiss me." 

"Manners."

"Pleaseeeee!" it comes out so rushed, so pathetic you can't quite believe the voice belongs to you, so high you only seek what you want. And what you want is him. "Pretty please, need you. Need your lips, want it so bad, 'Ki."

"Open your mouth." 

All commands come out with such authority your body always falls into compliance, lips parted as spit lands at the back of your tongue, at the back of your tongue. Your mouth closes to taste him, whimpering at the taste. "Again, again. Please,"

"You're so greedy, baby," he replies, voice frayed by the grip of your cunt, smacking bodies bouncing off your cluttered walls. "It's okay, I want you too. Need you always."

He gives in, jaw unhinged under a dominating hand that keeps your mouth open for his spit, the force of its landing closing your eyes and contracting your body, a squeal muffled to your closed lips before his lips find them, kissing you like a man possessed. Kissing and tasting everywhere, making sure to fuck you through it all, nails scraping down his shoulder blades and back as he hits your sweet spot again and again. 

You could cry. You do, stray tears escaping the squeeze of your eyes, their trail licked by Riki as he separates from you, sharing breaths with his forehead against yours before he leaves altogether, firm hand pressing into the bulge peeking through as he thrusts in, a whimper out your lips. 

"Rikiiii," you moan, so lost. "So good. You fuck me so─ngh, so good."

"I do, don't I, princess?" he muses, composure fraying further as he feels his tip against his palm. "You're close, can feel you clenching for me,"

"You gonna be my good girl and come on my cock?"

The coil in your stomach is so impossibly tight, you don't know much more you can take, frantic breaths choked back sobs as you swipe tears out your eyes, looking at him despite the fact. "Yes. I'll be your good girl, best girl. I'm gonna come."

"Who's making you come, baby?" he asks, his husky voice all around you, your legs pushed to your chest as he leans his bodyweight into you. You cry. "Tell me."

"You, Riki. You!" you sob, stumped by your intercepted breath as he pushes further into you, face so close that your lips brush as you whine. "You're gonna make me come."

The coil snaps, everything coming afterwards. The cry of your lungs, the suspension of your breath and the dismantling of your body, so malleable to Riki's whims you accept him whole, hold his face as he ruts into the last few times, whispering words that make you clench around him. 

"God, you're milking me princess," he whimpers, eyebrows screwed tight. "Gonna keep you nice and stuffed. You want it, don't you?"

You do, a chorus of agreements and kisses peppering his face as he shatters in your hold, burying himself deepest in you as he convulses, swallowing the room in his drawn out moans and curses as he gives a few half-hearted ruts before collapsing onto you, going soft in you as he keeps you plugged. 

"You're everything I want," he confesses, pink in his cheeks and tip of his nose as he caresses hair out your hair, easing off you. "Tell me you're mine, that I can take you out."

Merriment flutters in your chest, producing the giggle you do as you cast hair behind his ear, loving the overgrown look of his bleached hair. "Took you long enough." 

He smiles, the boxy kind that makes your heart soar before he giggles, kissing you with everything between the two of you, together as one. 

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⊹

There were seven of them.

Seven loud, annoying ass, inseparable boys who took up too much space at every party, every hallway, and every parking lot. They were always together, skateboards under their arms, half-finished coca-cola cans in their hands, laughter echoing too loudly through college apartments that definitely couldn’t fit all of them.

You really weren’t supposed to be part of them. Even thought they we’re weird at first.

The first time they saw you, you were standing alone at some shady off-campus house party.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter in low rise jeans and a baby tee, flipping your pink bedazzled Motorola shut and open again because you didn’t know what else to do with your hands.

It was Sunghoon who noticed first. “Why is she by herself? She looks nice.” And then all seven of them ended up standing in front of you like a mildly intimidating boyband.

You don’t remember how, but that night you were adopted into their friendgroup.

You’d been with them ever since.

Especially Riki.

—

You and Riki were never stable.

You were either disgustingly in love or dramatically broken up. There was no in-between.

You’d ‘break up’ over anything:

Because he didn’t call you back fast enough. You helped another guy with his homework. He didn’t let you borrow his clothes. You told him smoking was unattractive.

And once because spilled an entire cup of Sprite on your Juicy Couture bag, which you spent your entire salary on.

You cried like a baby. He’d rolled his eyes and said, “It’s just a bag. Get a new one.”

You didn’t speak to him for a week.

The friend group suffered… Riki got quieter. You got meaner. The air felt heavy every time you were in the same room.

Until Jungwon snapped.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said, rubbing his temples. “You two are exhausting. Apologize. Now.”

You tried to act careless but you both folded in under five minutes and ended up in your bedroom.

—

You hated being called popular, but you weren’t invisible.

People knew you.

You had that early-2000s glow. Glossy lips, hoop earrings, low-rise everything. Professors remembered your name. Girls whispered about you. Boys stared a little too long.

Riki? He had baggy jeans sagged so low you could always see which brand of underwear he was wearing, Calvin Klein most days, sometimes something knockoff that you’d tease him about constantly.

“Pull them up,” you’d hiss in the middle of the mall, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and yanking it higher. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He’d just grin, completely unbothered.

“Why? You don’t like my boxers?”

“I don’t like that everyone else can see them.”

He’d lean closer, smoke still lingering faintly on his breath. “I don’t care.”

And then he’d glance down at your hips.

Low rise jeans. A tiny strip of pink lace peeking out when you moved. Belly piercing glinting under the mall lights.

“Oh,” he’d mock, tugging lightly at the strip of your thong on your hip, making it snap back. “And that’s modest?”

You’d swat his hand away. “That’s fashion.”

“Mine is too.”

“You look homeless.”

“You look like a hooker.”

“I do not. You asshole.”

You’d both be smiling by the end of it.

—

It’s one of those perfect late mid-August afternoons.

The sun is low and orange. Everything smells like hot pavement, sunscreen, and cigarettes. The entire city feels outside, kids with scraped knees, girls in denim skirts, boys shirtless with skateboards tucked under their arms.

The skatepark is loud.

Wheels scraping. Laughter echoing. Music playing from someone’s brand new portable speaker.

The whole friend group is there and Riki insisted you’d come too.

His white tank top clinging slightly to his back from sweat. Wired headphones dangling out of the pocket from his jeans. A cigarette tucked behind his ear, which you hate.

Heeseung is beside him, attempting something reckless off a skating ramp.

They take turns.

They hype each other up.

They shove each other when one of them almost eats concrete.

You’re sitting on top of the half-pipe, legs dangling over the edge, flip-flops hanging loosely off your toes. The smallest top imaginable clings to your torso more lace than fabric, blue jeans sit dangerously on your hips, held in place by a big bedazzled belt.

Riki had absolutely hated the top.

“That’s not a shirt,” he said earlier.

“It is.”

“It looks like a bra.”

“It’s hot outside.”

“It’s hot for me too.”

“Then take your shirt off.”

He gave you a glare, you walked ahead anyway.

Now you’re bored.

Bored and slightly irritate because you’ve already watched him light up two cigarettes.

Two.

And you hate when he smokes. Hate the smell. Hate the way it makes his voice raspier. Hate how casual he is about it.

And he knows that, but he does it anyway. Which makes it worse.

He skates toward you suddenly, rolling to a stop between your knees. One hand presses to the ramp beside your thigh, the other still holding his board.

“You look grumpy,” he says, squinting up at you against the sun.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He leans forward and kisses your forehead anyway.

Then he pushes off again before you can respond.

You sigh.

You’re melting. You’re bored. And you’re watching your boyfriend risk concussions for fun.

Amazing.

Then Heeseung has an even more amazing idea.

“Teach her something,” he says, nodding toward you.

Riki looks up immediately.

You narrow your eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He’s already skating toward you again.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand. “It’s easy.”

“It’s not easy.”

“It is.”

“I’m wearing slippers.”

“Then take them off.”

You gasp like he’s insane.

He grins.

“Baby, I’ll hold you.”

Everyone’s watching now.

Jay whistles from somewhere near the fence. Sunghoon pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. Sunoo is already smiling like something crazy embarrassing is about to happen.

“If I fall and ruin my outfit,” you warn, pointing a manicured finger at him, “I’ll kill you.”

He laughs. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You step onto the skateboard and it wobbles instantly.

You grab his hands.

“Why is it moving?”

“Because it has wheels.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He positions himself in front of you, holding both your hands firmly.

“Okay,” he says, focused now. “Just bend your knees a little. Then pop the tail and slide your foot up.”

“Pop what?”

“The back.”

“I don’t know what that means Riki.”

He laughs softly.

“It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

You glare. “You better.”

He counts you down.

“One. Two—”

You jump.

The board flips sideways instead of up.

Your foot lands wrong.

His grip slips and suddenly you’re falling. You hit the concrete with a very embarrassing thud.

There’s a split second of silence, then there’s Laughter.

Sunoo’s laugh is the worst. High and dramatic and absolutely unnecessary.

You sit up slowly, hair in your face, pride completely shattered.

Riki is crouching immediately. “Are you okay?”

You stare at him.

“Did you catch me?”

“I tried—”

“You did not.”

He bites back a smile.

You gasp.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

He fails. Just a little chuckle, but that’s it for you.

You stand up, brushing off your jeans dramatically.

“I’m done.”

“Baby—”

“No.”

You grab your slippers and stomp back toward the half-pipe.

Sunoo is still giggling when you sit down beside him.

“I’d like to see you try next time,” you snap.

Sunoo chuckles. “I would never fall like that.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I have natural balance.”

“You have natural dramatics.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”

You both dissolve into a stupid little argument about who would survive longer on a skateboard.

It almost distracts you from Riki.

Almost.

Until you glance over and see some random guy offering Riki a joint.

And Riki… takes it?

Your stomach drops.

He laughs at something the stranger says. Throws his head back slightly. That boxy grin that made you like him in the first place.

Your jaw tightens.

Sunoo is still talking beside you.

“…and then I’d definitely land it because— helloo? Are you even listening?”

You aren’t. Your eyes are locked on Riki.

Then a girl loses control of her board and swerves straight into him.

She stumbles forward and Riki catches her.

One hand at her waist on instinct.

You feel it before you even think, that little sting in your chest.

He lets her go immediately.

“You good?” he asks casually.

She laughs. “Yeah, thanks.”

She lingers half a second too long.

That’s it. That’s your last straw. You’re already on your feet. Sunoo reaches for your wrist. “Wait—”

Too late. You walk fast, hips swaying, chin lifted, eyes low and dangerous.

Riki doesn’t even notice until you’re right in front of him.

You grab his arm and tug him away from the small group of strangers.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He blinks. “What?”

“I said what do you think you’re doing.” you repeat, quieter but sharper.

He genuinely looks confused. “Nothing?”

You look at the joint still between his fingers.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach up, snatch it from him, drop it to the ground and grind it into the concrete with your heel.

“Are you serious right now?” he mutters.

“Oh, I’m serious.” you snap.

He runs a hand through his hair. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” Your voice rises. “You’ve smoked, like, five cigarettes today. And now this? Oh and you’re just touching girls?”

His head jerks back. “Touching girls?”

“You literally had your hands all over her waist.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you had to grab her like that?”

“She was falling.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Keep it down,” he says under his breath. “Not everyone needs to know you’re mad at me again.”

That does it.

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you?!” you fire back. “You weren’t embarrassed five seconds ago.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re making a scene.”

“You’re smoking in front of me after I told you I hate it.”

He exhales hard. “It’s my choice.”

“Oh my God.”

“It’s called free will,” he adds, clearly irritated now.

You stare at him.

“Right,” you say flatly. “So you just do whatever you want.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You were all up on her.”

“She bumped into me.”

“You didn’t have to hold her like that.”

He scoffs. “Like what?”

“Like—” You stop yourself before you say something dramatic.

He shakes his head. “You’re overreacting.”

You feel your chest tighten.

“Am I?” you ask quietly.

“Yes.”

Silence hangs between you. Then he makes the mistake.

He gestures vaguely at you.

“And don’t act like you’re not out here in that top all day.”

Your eyes widen.

“What about my top?”

“It’s too revealing.”

You laugh once. Sharp. Disbelieving.

“So now this is my fault?”

“I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying what?” you cut him off. “That I deserve it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But you thought it.”

He looks frustrated now. “You can’t tell me what I thought.”

“You can’t tell me I’m overreacting.”

“You are tho.”

Your face goes cold.

“Okay.”

You step back.

“Okay,” you repeat.

He frowns slightly. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He grabs your wrist once.

“Don’t leave.”

“Whatever.” You say and you turn and walk away.

You expect footsteps. You expect him to call your name. You expect him to follow you like he always does.

You walk past the fence, the group of boys, past Sunoo’s wide eyes. And still nothing.

You finally glance back and your stomach drops.

He’s back on his board like nothing happened.

Like he isn’t supposed to chase you.

And that hurts more than the cigarette, more than the girl, more than the argument. Because in your head, he’s supposed to follow you and beg you to stay. But instead he just skates.’

—

By nine o’clock it’s almost completely dark, the last bit of orange fading out of the sky. Your room is lit by the glow of your TV, candles and the small lamp on your nightstand. You’re curled up in bed in soft pajamas, a plate of brownies balanced on your stomach while Clueless plays for what might be the hundredth time.

Your flip phone has been buzzing the last half hour.

Four missed calls.

Ten texts.

You’ve read none of them, you refuse to.

Then you hear A small tick against your window.

You pause mid-chew.

Another one.

And then a third.

You sit up slowly, pushing the plate aside and sliding out of bed. The floor is cool under your feet as you walk toward the window and pull the blinds apart.

Riki is standing in the street below, hands filled with tiny rocks to throw, looking up at your room like he’s been waiting for you to appear. When he sees your face, he waves casually, like this is completely normal behavior.

You stare at him for two seconds.

Then you shut the blinds and walk straight back to your bed.

Your phone buzzes again immediately.

You don’t check it.

A few seconds pass.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

You exhale sharply and shuffle back to the window, throwing the blinds open this time and sliding the window up.

“What?” you hiss down at him.

“You need to let me in,” he says like it’s obvious.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“But I want to talk to you.”

“Too bad.”

He steps closer to the house, lowering his voice even though no one is outside. “Please, baby. I wanna make it up to you.”

You cross your arms against the windowsill. “Make what up? You didn’t do anything, remember?”

“Come on,” he tries again. “Are you really gonna let me stand out here looking like a fool?”

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He stares up at you, half offended, half impressed.

You hold his gaze for another second, then slide the window shut and drop the blinds again before he can argue. You get back into bed, pull the covers up, grab your brownie plate, and press play like nothing happened.

For a few minutes, it’s quiet.

Then you hear something strange. Not rocks this time, but a scraping sound. A shuffle. Something brushing against the side of the house.

You freeze.

The sound gets closer.

Your heart jumps as you sit up again just in time to see two hands grab onto your windowsill from the outside.

And then Riki’s stupid face appears.

You let out a sharp gasp and scramble out of bed as he hoists himself up, creased sneakers braced against the brick. He looks mildly proud of himself, slightly out of breath, hair falling into his eyes.

You slide the window open with a dramatic sigh.

“Seriously, Riki?”

He doesn’t answer. He just swings one leg over the sill and climbs into your room like he’s done it a hundred times before, landing lightly on your floor.

“You’re insane,” you whisper-yell, shoving the window shut behind him. “My dad is literally going to kill the both of us if he finds out you climbed through my window.”

“He won’t,” Riki says easily.

“And you smell like smoke,” you add, wrinkling your nose. “If he comes in here—”

“He won’t,” he repeats, completely unbothered.

You stand there with your arms crossed, trying to stay angry while he casually looks around your room like he’s on a tour.

He glances at you slowly, eyes dragging from your messy hair to your pajama shorts. A lazy grin spreads across his face.

“Those make your ass look good.”

Your mouth drops open. “That’s what you have to say right now?”

“I’m just being honest.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

He walks past you toward your bed, picking up one of your pillows and tossing it aside before noticing the plate of brownies. Without asking, he takes one and bites into it.

“You made these yourself?” he asks through a mouthful.

“Yes.”

“They’re good.”

“They’re mine.”

He shrugs and flops down onto your bed like he belongs there, one arm behind his head, chewing lazily while Clueless continues playing in the background.

Your eye twitches.

“I’m still mad at you, Riki” you remind him.

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m here.”

You stay standing by the window like you’re guarding it, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Riki, meanwhile, looks entirely too comfortable sprawled across your bed, one hand behind his head, the other reaching lazily for another brownie.

He watches you for a moment, amused.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He snorts softly. “Come sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

“You weren’t nervous climbing up my house like a creep.”

He pats the mattress beside him anyway. “Baby.”

You hesitate, but you do it. Of course you do. You walk over and sit cross-legged on your bed, leaving a noticeable gap between you. You grab a pink heart-shaped pillow and hold it against your chest like armor, arms wrapped around it as a clear barrier.

Riki doesn’t look intimidated.

He slowly looks you up and down instead, gaze dragging over your shorts, your bare legs, your messy hair. He takes another bite of brownie, chews thoughtfully, then winks at you.

“Can I get a kiss?”

Your jaw drops.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You lean forward and snatch the plate of brownies out of his hands before he can grab another one. “Start talking,” you demand. “Or I swear I’m throwing you back out that window.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not strong enough for that.”

“I’ll get my dad to do it.”

He actually laughs at that, like the idea is ridiculous.

You glare harder.

He sighs dramatically and sits up, closing the space between you. The mattress dips as he moves closer.

He reaches out, resting his hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The touch is warm and familiar, annoyingly gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You narrow your eyes. “For what?”

He pauses half a second too long.

“For… making you mad.”

That’s it.

That’s the apology.

He doesn’t even fully know what he’s apologizing for, the smoking, the girl, the comment about your top, he just knows you’re upset and that saying sorry usually fixes it.

You try to hold your glare, but your grip on the pillow loosens.

This is how it always goes. One of you gets mad. The other gives a weak apology. And somehow it’s enough.

He watches your expression soften, just slightly, and that tiny shift is all he needs.

“Come here,” he says quietly, patting his lap.

You roll your eyes like you’re still annoyed, but you put the pillow aside and shift forward, settling onto his lap anyway. His hands come to your waist automatically.

He leans in and kisses you.

It starts slow, almost careful, like he’s testing if you’ll pull away. You kiss him back, fingers curling lightly into his black hair. For a few seconds, everything feels lke the argument never happened.

Then you wrinkle your nose and pull back slightly.

“Take your jacket off.”

He blinks. “What?”

“It smells like smoke.”

He smirks immediately. “If you wanted to undress me you could just say that.”

You don’t even entertain it. You grab his shirt and kiss him again just to shut him up.

He laughs against your mouth, hands tightening at your waist, and for now, at least, the fight is over.

Until he chuckles, he pulls back just slightly, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he talks.

“You know,” he mumbles, half smiling, “Sunoo told me to apologize.”

You don’t really listen, just give him another peck on his lips. “Hm?”

He shrugs, leaning back in to kiss you again like it doesn’t matter. “He said I should just say sorry and you’d stop being mad.”

Your lips press together instead of moving with his.

“And?” you ask slowly.

“And it worked,” he says lightly. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

You freeze.

He tries to kiss you again, but you pull your head back this time.

“Are you kidding me right now?,” you say.

He frowns, confused at the sudden shift. “What?”

“You don’t know what you did wrong?”

He laughs a little, like this is harmless. “You were just in a mood.”

You slap his arm.

Not hard. But sharp enough.

“Ow— what was that for?”

You’re already climbing off his lap. “I actually can’t stand you.”

“What?” he repeats, genuinely lost.

“You didn’t apologize because you meant it,” you snap. “You just didn’t want me to be mad.”

“That’s the same thing y/n.”

“It’s not the same thing!”

He sits there, staring at you like you’ve switched languages mid-conversation.

You grab his arm and yank him off the bed. “Come here.”

“Why are you dragging me?”

“Because you’re leaving.”

He stumbles after you as you pull him toward the window again. “I just said sorry!”

“No, you didn’t!” you fire back, pushing the window open. “You said sorry because Sunoo told you to and because you wanted me to shut up.”

“That’s not—”

“That is exactly what it was.”

He steps closer, trying to catch your wrist, trying to pull you back in like he did before. “You’re overthinking it.”

You shove his chest lightly. “Go.”

“Can you calm down for two seconds?”

“No.”

He leans in again like kissing you will solve it, like it always does. You put your hand flat against his chest and push him back.

“Get out.”

“Baby—”

“Go!”

He exhales sharply, clearly frustrated now. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“And you’re not making it a deal at all!” you shoot back. “Come back when you can take accountability!”

You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care if a porch light flicks on somewhere down the street. You’re too irritated to think about neighbors.

He glares at you for a second longer before finally swinging one leg over the sill again.

“This is so stupid,” he mutters as he climbs out.

“You’re stupid!” you yell back.

“You love me though.”

“Bye Riki!”

He drops down to the ground below with a dull thud and looks back up at you. “Throw my jacket!”

You grab it off your floor and hesitate for a second.

“It smells like smoke! Wash it out!” you shout.

“Just throw it y/n, Jeez!”

You toss it out the window a little harder than necessary. It hits him in the face before falling to his arms.

“And pull your up your goddamn pants, you loser!” you yell one last time before slamming the window shut.

He stands there for a second in the dim streetlight, running a hand through his hair and muttering a curse under his breath. “Fucking hell.”

He pulls up his pants anyway, then he turns and starts walking.

Riki walks home with his jacket slung over his shoulder. His jaw is tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he kicks at small rocks along the sidewalk. He replays the entire thing in his head.

He apologized.

Didn’t he?

He showed up. Climbed yout house. Said sorry. What else was he supposed to do?

He mutters under his breath, calling the whole situation dumb, ridiculous. Calling you dramatic.

You just crawl back into bed and press play on your movie again, rather relieved than angry.

Cher’s voice fills the room.

You reach for a brownie.

Your fingers hit an empty plate.

You stare at it.

“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes.

—

The next day feels like nothing happened, it’s a Saturday and you’re at the mall with your friends, like usual

The mall in the center of the city is loud. Every store window is screaming SALE in red letters. Somewhere above them, a movie trailer echoes from the cinema entrance. The air smells like hotdogs, sugar, perfume samples, and fryer oil all blending into one.

Every time you guys go there to “just walk around”, someone somehow leaves with an empty wallet.

The vibe between you and Riki, though? Ice cold.

You walk slightly ahead when he’s near. Conversations split awkwardly around you two. You guys barely acknowledge each others presence. Everyone notices. No one says it yet.

You split up near the giant directory map in the middle of the mall.

Heeseung, Sunoo and you walk towards the arcade, immediately distracted by blinking machines and the sound of digital coins clinking. Jungwon and Jay walk off with one mission only, to eat every free sample the mall has to offer.

Jake, Riki and Sunghoon head towards the skate shop onsecond floor.

“Bro, I’m telling you, softer wheels are better for street,” Jake insists.

“Yeah, if you like going slow,” Sunghoon shoots back.

Riki barely speaks. He flips a board over, studies it, doesn’t see it.

He sees you in his head instead, standing at your window, yelling at him to come back when he can take accountability.

They check every board. Compare prices. Debate colors. In the end, none of them buy anything.

When they walk out into the mall hallway again, the crown hits them full force. Sunghoon stretches his arms above his head.

“So,” Jay says casually. “You and her gonna keep pretending you don’t know each other?”

Riki clicks his tongue immediately. “She’s mad at me.”

“For?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know, man.” Riki snaps, defensive already. “I apologized.”

Sunghoon snorts. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Riki insists. “I climbed her window. I could’ve fallen and died bro. I said sorry.”

Jake squints at him. “For what?”

Riki opens his mouth.

Closes it.

“…For making her mad?”

Sunghoon actually laughs. “That’s not an apology, idiot.”

Riki runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “She was yelling about the joint, and the cigs, and that girl at the skate park. But I didn’t even do anything with that girl. I just caught her because she bumped into me.”

Jake raises a brow. “By her waist?”

Riki hesitates. “…On instinct.”

“Mm,” Sunghoon hums. “And then?”

“And then she dragged me to the window and kicked me out ‘cause I said Sunoo told me to apologize,” Riki mutters.

Both boys stare at him.

“You told her…” Jake says slowly, “that someone else told you to apologize.”

“I was joking. “And at least I apologized? I don’t see the problem.”

Jake lets out a sigh. “I don’t know how you ever got her to like you, man.”

Riki scowls. “I literally climbed into her room. What more does she want?”

Jake grins. “Maybe don’t touch random girls in front of her.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you caught her,” Sunghoon says dryly. “You couldn’t even catch your own girl when she fell.”

Riki groans. “It’s not like that.”

Jake smirks. “Then go tell her that.”

“She’ll just get mad again.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Get better at apologizing.”

Meanwhile the boys are discussing how to apologize to girlfriends, you’re at the arcade, trying to win a stuffed animal.

The arcade is chaos, neon lights flickering, pixelated sound effects, the constant clink-clink of coins dropping somewhere. A racing game to your left, a dance machine behind you, and right in front of you—

The claw machine.

Inside it sits the biggest stuffed cat you’ve ever seen. Grey and white, oversized head, cute smile. It’s ridiculous. You want it immediately.

You shove another coin in.

Heeseung leans casually against the machine beside you. “You’ve been trying for like ten minutes.”

“I almost had it,” you mumble, eyes locked on the claw.

Sunoo crouches dramatically beside the glass. “Manifest it. Tell it you love it.”

“I do love it,” you whisper.

The claw drops.

Grabs the cat.

Lifts it.

For one beautiful second it hangs there.

“YES!”

Then slips.

The cat falls back into the pile.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you curse under your breath, stepping back in disbelief.

Heeseung laughs softly. “Y/n, did something happen between you and Riki?”

You don’t even look at him. “He was being a dick.”

Sunoo nods immediately. “Newsflash.”

Heeseung hums in agreement. “Fair.”

No further questions.

You shove another coin in aggressively. The claw misses completely this time and you kick the machine.

Heeseung gently nudges you aside. “Let me.”

You cross your arms, pretending you don’t care. “You’re gonna lose.”

The claw lowers.

It grips the stuffed cat around its head.

Lifts it.

Carries it over to the hole.

Drops.

The cat tumbles into the prize slot.

You and Sunoo scream like he just won an Olympic medal.

“NO WAY—” you laugh. It’s bigger than you expected, soft and and perfect.

Heeseung smiles, brushing his hands off. “All skill.”

He takes the cat from the slot and hands it to you with a small grin. “For your suffering.”

You hug it immediately. “You’re my favorite person.”

He just laughs.

ou three walk out of the arcade a few minutes later, the mall lights feeling calmer after all the flashing machines. You hold the stuffed cat in your arms like it’s something precious, its giant head resting against your shoulder.

Riki notices you.

From halfway down the hall, he spots you walking toward them, oversized plush cat in your arms, laughing at something Sunoo just said.

And unfortunately for his pride, you look cute. And pretty. And happy.

It does something uncomfortable to his chest.

The groups meet in the middle of the walkway.

Sunghoon claps his hands once. “We’re gonna go find Jungwon and Jay before they eat themselves sick.”

“Too late,” Heeseung says dryly.

They all start walking, Sunghoon and Jake up front debating something again, Sunoo walking slightly behind them.

Heeseung slows just enough to walk beside Riki for half a second.

He gives him a small nod toward you.

Go.

Riki exhales through his nose.

Fine.

He steps up, walking beside you.

You don’t look at him.

He notices that immediately.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to sound casual. “Where’d you get that?”

Your eyes stay forward. “Arcade.”

“Obviously.”

“Heeseung won it for me.”

There’s something about the way you say it, so simple, that hits him wrong.

He glances at the stuffed cat.

Heeseung won it… not him.

“Oh,” Riki mutters. “Cool.”

You finally lift it slightly, showing him the cat’s stupid stitched smile. “It’s my new boyfriend.” You say it teasingly.

But Riki doesn’t smile.

Something annoyed flickers across his face before he masks it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice calm but a little tight. “He looks like he’d treat you better.”

You glance at him briefly, catching that tone.

“It doesn’t climb through windows uninvited,” you reply.

He huffs softly. “Yeah. It also doesn’t have legs.”

You shrug. “Less likely to run around with random girls then.”

He goes quiet for half a second.

Then he nudges the cat’s head lightly with his fingers. “He looks dumb.”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You really replacing me with a stuffed animal?”

You keep walking straight ahead.

“Depends. Can he apologize properly?” You say, then you step up your pace to nonchalantly walk away from Riki.

You eventually find Jungwon and Jay exactly where everyone expected them to be, around a food stand with tiny paper cups in their hands.

Jay is mid-sentence when the group walks up. “I’m telling you, if you circle back in ten minutes they forget your face.”

Jake nods seriously, holding up another sample. “This one’s teriyaki chicken. Third time.”

Heeseung sighs like a tired parent.

“Are we leaving?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon says.

Everyone slowly makes their way toward the mall exit.

Riki walks quietly behind everyone.

You do too.

By the time the glass doors slide open, the air outside is thick and warm, with the hum of traffic and laughs from somewhere down the street.

Sunghoon and Jake walk ahead, arguing about the best type of flipphone. Jay tries to convince Jungwon to stop at a convenience store on the way. Sunoo keeps poking Heeseung about the stuffed cat like it’s some kind of trophy.

You and Riki walk a few steps behind them again.

For a minute, neither of you says anything.

Your arms are wrapped around the giant plush cat, its soft head resting against your shoulder. Riki glances at it once, then looks ahead at the group, then down at the pavement like he’s building up the courage to say something.

Finally, he exhales and speaks.

“Y/n...”

You glance at him.

“I was being an asshole yesterday.”

You blink slightly.

He keeps walking beside you, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on the ground instead of on you.

“And… I’m sorry,” he adds. “For the cigarettes. And the joint. And that girl at the skatepark.”

You don’t interrupt.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“And I’m sorry for not knowing how to say sorry,” he admits. “I know I kinda… suck at that.”

For a moment you just look at him.

Then a small giggle slips out before you can stop it.

He looks over immediately. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, smiling a little. “I just like hearing you apologise”.

He shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

“I maybe shouldn’t have kicked you out the window.” You say hesitantly.

He snorts. “Maybe?”

“Okay, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He slides his hand out of his pocket and slowly, almost carefully, he lets it brush against yours. When you don’t pull away, his fingers curl around your hand.

The group ahead of you turns a corner toward the quieter streets leading back to your neighborhood.

You glance at Riki. “Do you wanna come to my house?”

His eyebrows lift. “You gonna let me in trough the door this time?”

You roll your eyes. “If you behave.”

“I always behave, baby.”

You scoff softly. “Mhm… just pull your pants up before my parents see you.”

⊹

extra note: I rlly hate the ending, I had writers block…

you take another puff, this time a small one.

riki continues lavishing your shoulder with kisses, his right hand travelling down the side of your waist, your hip, over your denim miniskirt and resting on the flash of your thigh.

it doesn't take long for the effects of the weed to start setting in. it makes you feel...happy? yes, happy. happiness slowly washes over you and you let out a giggle as riki buries his face in your neck, eyes closed.

"feel good, yeah?" he asks.

"hm."

he inhales your scent in as you take another puff before quickly plucking the joint from your hand and killing it. watching you whine he quickly hushes you with his lips on yours.

"that's enough for today, princess," he declares, killing the joint so that it wouldn't set your house on fire before turning his attention fully to you.

riki feels you relax into his arms, a blissful look in your eyes. his mouth moves over your neck almost playfully, as your eyes struggle to take in the newly vivid colors of the world.

you let out sighs of pleasure at the open-mouthed kisses that mark your soft skin. riki hums in response, satisfied as he finds that sensitive spot on your neck, hand rubbing your thigh.

"riki." your hand moves to clutch his shirt before slowly making it's way to his head, where it entangles between the strands of his silky hair.

your reactions seem to drive riki crazy, for he sinks his teeth into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. your eyes fly open in surprise. your brain momentarily snapping out of your weed-induced daze.

"what the hell?" you yelp. "riki!"

"sorry," he mumbles, gently licking the stinging bite mark. "you tasted so good, baby."

you blush at his words, adoring the way his head drops onto your chest. he simply basks in your presence, relaxing in the way your nails lightly scrape his scalp while you run your fingers through his blonde head.

and you're content to let the moment drag on like this.

브리 ܃ cowboy stoner ki... 🤤 guys i don't smoke weed uhh 🚬🚬🚬

✦taglistopen+reqsclosed ; nets! @k-records @fruiteronet @kflixnet

“come on, riki. it’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” jake nagged, shaking his forearm desperately, pointing towards the bright orange sign ‘pyramids’, his lips in a pout and eyes wide. “just think about it, for your bachelor's party, we go in there, strippers all around us in a private room!”

riki’s body slowly got pushed by his other friend, jungwon, inching slowly towards the club. “it’s like your last chance of freedom, riki, it’ll be your last time before you get married, live a little!” he hummed, the orange finally hitting his body. he could hear the don toliver blasting from the outside of the club – he could feel the bass pumping through his chest.

“pyramids…?” he scoffed, raising his eyebrows with suspicion, as he looked between the two grinning men, with a soft sigh, and under no pressure at all, he reached into his back pocket to take out his id card. “fine, but since it’s my bachelor party… i get first dibs.”

the light reflected off jake’s eager and excited grin, staining jungwon’s white shirt. each step of the way, riki held a smile on his face, in all honesty, he didn’t want to marry her, sooha. it was too fast, the agreement, the young love, it was something he would’ve dreamed of in high school, but now he was 25, stuck in something he didn’t want.

with a fina shake of his head and a smirk, riki handed his id to the bouncer, who couldn’t care less about who came and how old they were, unhooking the red rope, glaring them down until they disappeared into the dark.

as the three walked deeper, they could feel their soles peel off the floor – smells of booze, sex and cheap cologne filling their nostrils in an instant, strobe lights cutting through the fog and smokey air, blinding them.

“see, told you it’d be a good idea!” jake yelled directly into his ear, as they sat down at a booth next to the stage. the pole was shining against the dancer’s sweaty, glittery bodies, money being thrown at them as if they were nothing, just a meer tool of entertainment.

jungwon let out a low whistle as he noticed a hostess in an outfit that was more skin than any sort of fabric approach them with a smile and in rollerskates.

“hiya!” she exclaimed cheerfully, sliding menu’s to the three hungry men. “welcome to the pyramid, i’m your host for tonight, wh’d you like to take a look at the food menu or… our exclusive one?” she hummed, leaning against the sticky table, her cleavage practically in jungwon’s face while waving the bunny shaped paper.

“exclusive.” jake said a little too fast, eyes not once looking up at her face, as he wiped the drool from his lips, “we’ll take the exclusive one.”

the woman giggled, sliding it slowly against the table before skating away, not forgetting to blow a kiss towards the flustered jungwon.

“i’m dibsing her, you got that?” he murmured, eyes lingering on her uncovered behind, as he pointed at the other men, who were laughing at the sight of his chub in his jeans. jungwon’s hands didn’t even drop to hide it – rather, he was trying to flex it, to attract attention, even.

both riki and jake threw their hands up as a surrender, a way to back off of jungwon’s claim as they searched the menu. jake’s smile grew wide as he saw the name of one of the, as the club would call it, ‘desserts’, puppy.

with a giddy smile, he finally slid the menu to riki with a wink, finger lingering on the woman he thought riki would’ve liked – and oh boy was jake more than right. – you. on the paper, you were titled as ‘cleo’.

he swore he had never seen such beauty, not when sooha was in high school, and certainly not now. he could feel his pants tighten up, the fabric feeling heavy against his boner. “her. i want– no, need her.” he hitched.

he couldn't care less about the laughter from the other two men, as he raised his hand up almost at the speed of light to call the host back, the sound of skating filling his ears as she arrived once again.

“what can i do for you gentlemen?” she hummed, resting her hand on jungwon’s shoulder, lightly squeezing, feeling how tense he is. “i see you’re looking at our exclusive menu, wanna order one of our ‘desserts’?”

“please.” jungwon whined, looking up at the woman with almost glossy eyes. “We’ll order them, for me i want you, for jake – the brunette, we want ‘puppy’ and for this… soon-to-be husband, we want ‘cleo’.”

“soon-to-be husband, aye?” the woman smiled brightly, grabbing jungwon’s wrist, guiding his hand around her waist. “why don’t ya follow me, handsomes?” she hummed, slowly skating towards a velvety pink curtain, holding it open for them. “room 109, will be there shortly!”

she skated past the men, further down the hall, where a door sat, labelled ‘desserts’ in glowing pink lights. it was… fitting to say the least.

the hallway had absorbed the club’s music, the bass disappearing to be replaced with a low thrum. the air now cooler and laced with a perfume that did little to mask the scent of sweat and salty sex.

the walls were drapped with velvety curtains – ones mixed with deep reds and golds, each of them hiding a private room behind them, the number 109 glinting softly under the dim lights.

jungwon pushed the curtain aside with eagerness, revealing a heavy black metal door, which made him groan for the hard labour to get into the room. he nudged it open with his arm, finally revealing the room.

it was one that was of medium sized, as in the room there was a red-velvet sofa wrapping around the walls, as in the center a stage was lit with a silver pole straight through the middle, walls dusted in glitters. the air conditioner was placed on full, raising the hair’s along riki’s arm.

“last change of freedom?” riki murmured to himself, as he slid into the booth, feeling the velvet of the sofa to be cold and slightly sticky.

“oh come on, ki, don’t look so grossed out,” jake laughed, slapping his shoulder as he sat away from him, manspreading. “‘yer bout to have an experience even your fiancee would never give you, y’know about her preaching sex after marriage.”

the word ‘fiancee’ didn’t hurt as much as riki thought it would, sooha. her smiling face, the way she’d plan the wedding from the first day they started dating in high school, to the pressure in her voice when they talked about kids.

it was too much, it felt like a room too small for two. without a word, he grabbed the bottle of cheap wine from the icebucket in the center of the table, pouring a generous glass – downing it in one go.

jungwon and jake let out low whistles as they watched riki drink his, what he’d like to say, ‘sorrows’ away. before riki could pour a third or fourth glass, the curtains swished open a loud shrill.

the hostess had skated in first, playful as she winked at jungwon, who instantly sat up straighter, legs spread wider as he winked back. behind her, came in two other women – the one’s that the group had ‘ordered’.

next, was a women with her hair in twin pigtails as she bounced into the room, a leather collar sat against her neck with a leash connected, which she placed in jake's hand, before kneeling between his thighs and nuzzling his knee with a grin. “woof,” she hummed, voice playful.

jakes face lit up as he curled the leather between his fist, pulling it closer to him, so her palms could sit against his thigh. “hey there, puppy.”

riki’s legs bounced in anticipation as he waited for you to enter. was he going to get catfished? did you not look like yourself? did he order the wrong person–

the air shifted as you entered, and riki’s heart had stopped entirely.

the meny description and photo did you no justice, ‘cleo’. you moved with a seductive elegance that was oddly hot with the tacky setting around you. your eyes were lined with black, smoky eyeshadow, which found riki’s own immediately.

a small knowing smile rested on your lips, not one of a performative grin of the hostess, or the dumb one of your coworker – puppy – but something more quieter. the gold fabric of your outfit barely covering anything, the onlything under was the small bikini set.

riki felt the air leave his lungs, if his pants couldn’t get tighter before, they were even tighter now. it was a feeling of unsettling desire and recognition, as if he’d been waiting for a moment like this his whole life. as if he had dreamed of seeing you walk through those curtains, as he waited in the sticky booth.

“must be the almost-husband” you hummed, voice dropping low, but enough to cut through the club’s obnoxious music. you didn’t wait for an invitation, instead you slid beside him on the sticky velvet, leg brushing his as you rested your hand on his bicep – a warm jolt sliding through him.

“that’s me,” riki managed, voice a slight mumble, and rougher than he needed it to be. he took a quick sip of wine from the bottle itself.

to the left, he had noticed jake’s fly already down, as he pulled ‘puppy’s’ leash upward – a soft gagging sound filling his ears.

to his right, he sees the hostess from before, now slowly grinding the bikini bottoms she wore against jungwon’s boner, his face stuffed between her bare breasts as her top hung god knows where.

riki made a face of disgust at the sight, before looking back at you with a sigh – a bubble of silence forming between the two of you. you studied him, head tilting with a squint of your eyes. he could smell the lotus from your perfume.

“you don’t seem very… happy,” you hummed, finger tracing the soft lines of his muscles, a pout highlighting the gloss of your lips. “most bachelor parties are… eager. well, the groomsmen are, and clearly yours are ecstatic about this.”

riki let out a short laugh, deprived of any sort of humour. “maybe i’m not most bachelors.”

“clearly,” you coughed out, gaze direct. “what’s her name?”

the air between the two of you filled with something out of place, one that stunned him to the point he couldn’t hide. “sooha,” he mumbled, voice as soft as a secret.

“do you love her?”

he should’ve been offended by your words. should’ve said it wasn’t any of your business, that he was paying you to get his dick wet and not a therapy session. but the wine he downed echoed in his mind, like he needed to tell you. the view of the glowing orange sign, etched into his head, had felt like the point of no return – all it did was loosen his mouth.

“i did. once. or i thought i did, now it just feels… like a chore.”

you nodded slowly, as if he had confirmed your speculations, which he had. “a chore? that’s a strange way of saying the beginning.” your body moved closer to his, breasts pressing against his forearm, lips close to his face, and for a wild second, he thought you were going to kiss him. instead, you whispered against his cheek, breath hot in the cool air, “do you want to be free, mr groom-to-be?”

he froze at your words, reality hitting him. he was engaged. he was going to have a wife in three months time, what was he doing at a strip club. yet, he didn’t feel any sort of sadness, the way you said it, like a spell, it made his skin spike.

he swallowed the lump in his throat, glancing down at your shining lips. “what are you offering?” he whispered back, heart hammering against his ribs.

your smile returned, one more smirk and mischievous like than enjoyment. you stood up, extending a hand – gold fabric of your outfit shimmering against the lights. “a dance. for the almost-husband, a story for the future. maybe something more.”

hypnotized, he placed his hand in yours, your skin cooler than the aircon. you led him past the stage, pushing open the heavy door with your shoulder, leaving the room with him. in the back, he could hear the wolf whistles of his friends, and jakes moans.

the air had shifted as you dragged him past every repeating door, only to push the one at the end of the hallway open, one revealing a bed – a heart shaped bed, decorated in hot pinks and reds.

your hand had shoved him down onto the bed, letting him lay down against the soft covers, hips instantly straddling his waist, as heavy breathing filled the room. the music had seemed to shift, through riki’s head, all he could think about was how beautiful you looked. not sooha. not his friends. not the wedding, nor the future. but you and how your body swayed.

you began to move, to the rhythm of whatever song was echoing in the speakers from the stage. each beat a guide of your hips as your lower half moved slowly against riki’s half-hardened cock.

this wasn’t your usual routine, you had rarely even brought anyone back here, unlike some of your co-workers. you weren’t fast, nor were you what people would call ‘boring’. your hands stayed idle against his upper abdomen, soft panting escaping both of your lips. a soft, vulnerable moan escaped your lips with the arch of your back. you could feel your bottoms slick up, your stomach pooling with desire.

riki’s hands go to grip your wrist, pushing them higher against his body, resting on his chest – as if he wants you to do more than grinding against his hard-on. and you listened, customer’s always right, arent they?

your fingers pressed against his hard nipples through the button-up, earning a loud groan from his lips, one that vibrated through your palm. this wasn’t any sort of performative one like a porno you’ve starred in, but it was real. something that burnt under your skin, your urges to strip away from your persona filling your mind.

it wasn’t about ‘cleo’ and him, but you and him, this desperation, a friction. something to spark any relationship between you and him. not his fiance, but you.

“harder,” he rasped, voice wrecked in way’s you’ve never heard from any man. his hands left your wrist, sliding down your sides to grip your hips, fingers digging into your bare skin. he took over each thrusts, guiding your own movement as his thrusts meet your grinds with something that stole air from your lungs.

the sound of fabric rustling and the bed creaking from beneath you, combined with the slick sound of fabric on fabric, too lewd to even comprehend. you could feel the wet heat browning between you, a small patch developing on your bottom and riki’s jeans.

his earlier vulnerability now gone and consumed with a hunger. he watched your face, from how your lips parted and how your eyes fluttered close – he was trying to memorise every reaction he pulled from you, like he’d never see you again. it wasn’t about the money or customer service anymore, this was about pleasure.

“take it off,” he growled, eyes glancing down at the buttons of his own shirt, where small water particles dampened.

a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine, there was a rule for everyone: never more than a dance, never more than a blowjob. the real treat was served somewhere else, for a much larger price range and with stricter views. but, to you, the rule book was a myth; it was gone in an instant when you saw him walk through the door.

your fingers, which were trembling now, not from any sort of fear, but a need that mirrored his, went to work on the buttons. one. two. three. with each one removed, more of his torso was revealed to you, the slightly tanned skin, hard planes of his stomach, a fair trail of dark hair leading down to his pants.

you pushed the fabric aside, letting him shrug it off his shoulders, letting it pool behind him on the pink sheets. the sight of him under the amber lights was more clearer than any sort of fantasy in your mind or sold.

you let your hands map the warmth of his skin, nails scrapping lightly against his nipples, a hiss escaping his lips, as he let his head fall back against the velvet on the bed.

“your turn,” he grunted, gaze dropping to the flimsy gold ties that held your top together, his words werent a request, but a demand.

every part of your body screamed at you, telling you no, don’t. you could lose your job. hostess. management. every deal you could’ve gotten. but it was too late, you’ve already crossed the line of no turning back, the pounding in your ears matching the bass of the music.

holding his gaze, your fingers reached back, fumbling with the string before pulling, gold fabric loosening in an instant. the top slid down from your chest to riki’s lower abdomen, the cool air instant hitting your perked nipples.

his breath hitched in awe, a hunger in his eyes replaced with something for a second, maybe adoration, or even some sort of warmth. “god,” he whispered, the words a prayer on his tongue.

the hands from your waist slid up to your chest, his warm and rough hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples. your body arched into his hands, a needy and genuine sound tearing through your throat as you rocked against him, layers of clothing between your lower bodies feeling like a barrier.

outside the room – thumping music, other girls with elder men, and the clock ticking of his old life – had ceased to exist. there was only the seeking want of your bodies, the slick of leaking heat, and the taste of red wine and sweat on hus lips when you had finally crashed your mouth to his, the kiss all tongue, teeth and a desperate oxygen.

it was a kiss that felt less like a promise and reckoning, but more of the beginning of something new, something more.

he broke the kiss, panting hot air as he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes wild and dilated. “tell me your name,” he demanded, voice rough against your lips. “your real one, please.”

the words made you swallow a thick lump, your own breath coming in short of gasps. you could lie, you should lie. but between the two of you, you knew you didn’t want to. after you gave him a lap dance on a heart-shaped bed, after you flashed your tits to him, with your skin under his hands, and his wrecked future in the heat between the both of you, it felt like the only thing you should tell him.

you exhaled a shaky breath, opening your mouth to answer. “i’m–”

“who the fuck is in there? hurry up! i have a client here, and you know the policy, you’ve been in there for more than 15 minutes!”

you gasped at your co-worker's words, pushing riki down with some sort of secrecy. “give me a second, i’m finishing up!” you lied with an apologetic look down at riki, whose eyebrows furrowed.

riki, with a disgruntled look and almost regret, reached into his wallet, pulling out a thick wad of bills, he didn’t count it, but rather pushed you off his body and threw the cash at you. green bills flying over the place as he stormed out of the room in a rage, not even bothering to thank you – leaving you half naked, door wide open with your co-worker and her client staring in disbelief.

as riki walked down the hallway, his mind raced with emotions, regret, confusion, rage. he couldn’t place a finger on it, his hand pushed the door to room 109 with a loud bang, making every single person in there jump.

“we’re leaving,” he growled out, cheeks flushed red.

the silence was deafening; if something from outside had even dropped, you would be able to hear it.

jake was the first one to speak, letting out a low whistle as he looked him up and down, eyes lingering on his boner and the wet stain. “damn, ki. she… wow, she did a number on you.” he raised an eyebrow, finally looking back at his mad expression.

jungwon chirped in, hand rubbing the hostess's lower back softly. “you okay, man? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“we are leaving.” his voice left no room for any sort of argument, as he turned on his heel, expecting the other two men to follow him, which they did, saying goodbye to their ‘desserts’ with a kiss and a call me motion.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀˚　　　✦　　　.　　˚　 . ⠀⠀♪ ˚

a month goes by, and riki could still feel the ghost of your lotus perfume on his skin.

he say stiffly on the black leather sofa in the apartment he shared with sooha, morning news droning on about trafficking, local politics and assumed doxxing of the president. the soft sunlight streamed through the blinds, small specks of dust floating.

everything was clean, quiet, how they should be. a photo of the couple, ‘smiling’ at a strawberry garden, sat on the shelf close by the television. it felt like the perfect life, or what should be perfect.

sooha scooted closer, her head an uncomfortable weight on his shoulder as her finger hooked around the string of his hoodie, giving it a soft tug. “they’re saying it’ll rain later,” she hummed, her voice soft with what many would consider as ‘wifey material’. “maybe we should move in the sofa on the patio, and don’t forget about the cake tasting at three.”

he made a noncommittal grunt in his throat, eyes fixed on the news reporters moving lips, yet nothing clicked in his brain, mind elsewhere and trapped in the memory of the heartshapped bed.

the feeling of it – the sticky leather under his thighs, to the plush hot pink of the bed. the smell of a perfume cut by his own adrenaline that was almost haunting, how the lotus scent had clung to him as he made his way back to the hotel.

the sound, not the television, but the wet rustle of fabrics, a sharp inhale, a moan that wasn’t fake, and a voice, one low, like you’ve had this happen to you before, asking, “do you want to be free, mr groom-to-be?” you didn’t know his name, and he felt attached.

“riki?” sooha’s voice rang straight through the memory, tingling with an annoying and gentle concern. “honey, you’re tensing up again. is it work? all the merger stuff?”

she shifted to look up at him, her thigh wrapping on his as her eyes were wide and caring. he forced himself to meet her gaze, offering a a smile that was too fake to even be classified as one, but sooha, blinded by love, didn’t notice it. “yeah. just… work, y’know?” he huffed, looking back up at the television. “alot on my mind.”

to be fair, it wasn’t a complete lie, he was clouded with the merger at his frim. but, it wasn’t the main thing that was occupying his thoughts, the main thing was the black, smoky eyeshadow and the way her hips moved like she was trying to make him forget about sooha.

he saw it every night when his eyes shut tight. not the full ordeal, but fragments of the events. the way your back arched as his hands cupped your chest. the way your lips parted as you moaned. the face you made as he threw his money at you in a rage, your skin unde his palms.

it was almost devastating how much he missed the moment when you were bare from chest to your waist, the way in his mind, you were his and he was yours. he’d replay the moment he’d asked you for your real name a thousand times, the silence before you wouldve answered only to be ruined with his own panic.

‘we are leaving.’

he’d fled, tear himself from the room, from you, as if the building was burning down. he’d dragged out a confused jake and a whiney jungwon into the cold, ashy, night time air, the neon orange sign now a glow on their back.

he’d spent the cab ride to the hotel in silence, his body radiating a desired heat that he couldn’t ever solve.

and for what? to return to this bullshit of a ‘home’. to mornings on a black leather sofa that resembled the booths where you first met. to cake tasting and moving furniture. to no sex what so ever, and a future that he could see before him. one very boring, very predictable.

sooha’s phone buzzed against her lap, a reminder of the cake tasting flashing against the screen – her wallpaper a photo of the two of them when they first met in high-school. her smile widened at the sight. “the baker said she has a new lotus buttercream she want’s us to try. sounds perfect for out wedding doesn’t it?”

lotus. those words felt absurd, annoying. and in a way, painstaking – thats what you smelt like, it practically made his teeth ache. he could vividly see the wine in the ice bucket, the way the taste of grape burned his throat.

“yeah, perfect.” he grumbled, words feeling more forceful than not.

he gently pushed her off, pretending to stretch his limbs. “i’m gonna grab a shower before the day gets going, okay?”

sooha’s eye’s widened at his actions, before letting out a sigh. it must’ve been stress, yeah, stress. “okay, honey. don’t take long we have to–”

“i know, cake tasting. stop repeating yourself.” he sighed, one more aggressive than before as he walked away, disappearing down the hallway.

he braced his hands against the wall of the shower, allowing the spray of water that he’d think is the perfect temperature, which is now more colder than usual, his head hanging in an emotion he couldn’t put his finger on.

the water couldn’t wash it away, the memory of you crawled in your skin, in his brain.

'do you want to be free?'

he had left the club that night thinking he was running away from any regret, from any mistakes. but, it cost him a month of sleepless nights and distracted him from his job, his annoying fiance, and the truth.

he didn’t run away, rather back to the cage he was trapped in for the rest of his life.

when he closed his eyes, he didn’t see sooha’s face or the lotus cake. he saw the velvety curtains, the glowing numbers of 109. he saw a pair of eyes that looked at him and saw the man trapped inside something he didn’t want to be a part of. he could see his own hand, the money you sat in as a substitute for what he’d really wanted to give you – you being on the sofa instead of sooha.

once he opened his eyes once again, all he could see was the raging boner he sported against his stomach. with a loud groan, his rough hands wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking up and down.

his fingers traced each vein as he grunted, the image of you imprinted in his mind. he imagined how you would look on your knees, how your pretty lips would wrap around his cock. his fist ran up and down his cock faster, to the point he could see stars.

“fuck, right there…” he moaned to himself, head thrown back as he felt his stomach churn, before a loud groan escaped his lips, cum dribbling out from the head of his cock before falling onto the tiled ground, soft splats echoed through out the bathroom only to be drowned out by the sound of water.

he didn’t want to open his eyes, yet he had to eventually. he wasn’t in that fantasy land he dreamed of, rather he was back in the shower, one of the apartment he shared with sooha. with a final breath, he turned off the water – the ghost of the lotus scent still lingering in the air.

and for the first time within a month, the answer he was looking for was clear: he needed you, this instant. he loved you, as crazy as it sounded, he wanted you, not sooha.

the steam clung to the tiles, droplets traced a slow path downwards as riki stood there, towel wrapped low around his wairs, his black hair damn against his neck.

he walked out of the bathroom, plush carpet muffling his steps against the carpet. sooha, who was still sitting on the sofa, was now scrolling through her phone, most likely looking at the floral arrangements and seating plan.

the morning light caught the tiny diamond of her engagement ring, sending a soft glittering shimmer across the wall.

“sooha.”

his voice was quiet, yet it wasn’t his usual nervous calm voice. it held more power, confidence, something that was going to destroy her.

she looked up from her phone, smile wide as if she was about to comment on the flower arrangements, before faltering at the sight of riki’s face.

“we need to talk.” he stated bluntly, eyes dark. “now.”

the next hour was a blur of straight foward sentences which were met with silence and silent tears. he hadn’t mentioned you, nor the club. no, that would’ve been wrong. he spoke of not feeling the spark after 10 years, the feeling that he was living a life made for someone else.

he had used words such as “unfair to you” as well as “finding myself”, which were true in their own aspects, but felt fake and hollow even to him.

they were polite and acceptable to the public eye, but to speak the truth, what he really meant was: ‘i’ve met a woman at a strip club that jake and won dragged me to, she showed me what it felt like to be seen, to actually get my dick wet unlike you and your rules. i hate it, i hate how i was living under your shadow. i can’t deal with it anymore.’

he packed a single large bag, movements swift and fast, he wanted to leave the dumpster fire as fast as he could, while sooha sat shivering on the edge of what used to be their bed, face red and hot from tears and sorrow.

as he left, he didn’t look back, nor did he feel any guilt. rather, he felt a sense of excitement and giddyness for the first time in forever. he didn’t head straight to jake or jungwon’s place. they would’ve welcomed him, sure, but with shit eating grins, which would’ve made him was to punch their perfect faces.

instead, he drove.

the city blurred past his car windows, each house in the neighbourhood blending into one as he drove further and further away into the afternoon. the sky was a orange, the neon orange sign now off, building looking deserted and empty in the daylight.

his heart hammered against his ribs, this was fucking insane. you were a fantasy for men, a persona. you wouldn’t be there, nor would you remember him. you wouldn’t care.

but something in his mind pushed him. he had to know, had to see if the lotus was real or just a trick of his mind, his desperation.

he parked in the almost empty parking lot, each step towards the entrance feeling heavier and regretful, he could remember it, the fateful night. a bored looking man in a security shirt was smoking by the dumpster, the bud glowing a orange as well.

riki took a large gulp, saliva burning his throat before he approached the man. “i’m looking for someone,” he said bluntly, voice steadier than he felt. “she works here, dances, strips, whatever. goes by the stage name… ‘cleo’?”

the guard took a drag, eyeing riki’s expensive jacket and the panicked and eager look in his eyes. “don’t know ‘er, girls come and go around here.”

“please.” riki reached for his wallet, not for cash to bribe the guard with, but a small reumpled recepit he found ages ago, in the pocket of his jeans. one the back, in a moment of a sort of vulnerability in the first week, he had scribbled information he could remember to the best of his abilities: 109, lotus, cleo. “it’s important.”

the guard, glanced at the pathetic piece of paper before shrugging with almost sympathy. “try coming back after seven, sometimes they come in early to get dolled up. but i ain’t promising ‘thing.”

with a defeated sigh, riki nodded thanking the guy as he dragged his feet to the seven-eleven nearby, purchasing a can of hosegarden and a pathetic sandwich.

the hours until seven felt like forever. he sat in the passenger seat of his car, phone connected to the aux, playing different rnb song’s as he watched the sun set, the sky shifting into tones of orange and pinks that reminded him of the club.

when he saw the first glow of the ‘pyramids’ sign flicker up, he got out, practically running around to the back of the dimly lit alley way, watching figures arrive. different women with large makeup cases. a man carrying a crate of liquor and drugs.

and as he was about to give up, he saw you. you stepping out of a car that was rusted, and modest.

you something casual, the warmth before stripping it all away within a few seconds. your face was free of any sort of dramatic eyeshadow, you looked younger, more real, and even more beautiful than the beauty he saw in the private room. you were checking your phone with a frown etched into your face.

his breath caught, every cell in his body screamed to run to you. to hold you, kiss you. but he froze, the reality crashing down onto him. what the fuck was he doing? stalking a stripper in the alley way? after what, one lap dance? this was the actions of a psycho.

but when you looked up, eyes scanning over the alleyway, passing over him as he was nothing before you did a double take, eyes snapping back.

your body went frigid.

everything had stilled around you, the city sounds, thumping base being tested inside of the club, the flickering of the alley lights – it had all dissolved into the back of your mind. there was only twenty feet of ruined pavement between you and the customer you couldn’t keep your mind off of.

you remembered.

slowly, you tucked your phone into your pocket, face still. you didn’t smile, nor did you look away. you just looked at him, head tilting slightly, the same unnerving look in your eyes. waiting for him to move.

he found his feet moving slowly, before he was sprinting across the alleyway, with a flushed face until he stood before you, bendin g down to catch his breath – the scent of lotus filling your nose, mixing with the clean detergent and smokey air.

it was the real you.

“hi,” he panted, words sounding ridiculous.

“hi,” you replied, voice the same tone that he had first heard when you entered the shared room. it wasn’t a performance, but just you.

“i’m riki.”

“i’m… aware.”

the air filled with an awkward silence, making you bounce on your heels as you waited for his words.

“i left her,” he blurted out, the hard-cold truth spilling out of his mouth. “i called it off– i called off the wedding. i’m… i’m here.”

your eyes squinted at him as you studied his expression, his posture, looking at the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his jaw, raw hope with the fearful expression.

you didn’t look triumphant. you didn’t look seductive – just… normal.

“why?” you finally asked, the words almost devastating.

he wanted to say more, for anything to explain the heartbreak of a woman that he had caused, all because of you. all he had was the sharp truth.

“because you asked me if i wanted to be free.” he sighed, taking a shaky breath. “and… the answer is yes, it’s you. always been you. as stupid as it may sound, since the moment you had walked into that room. i completely forgot about her, about everything.”

a slow smile touched your lips, not the persona nor was it something disingenuous, but something softer and more real. it practically lit up your face. you took a small step closer, closing the distance between you. you reached out, not to touch him, but to brush the drop of sweat away from his temple.

“y/n,” you said softly.

his eyes caught yours in confusion, eyebrows furrowed softly. “what?”

“my name is y/n,” you repeated.

his breath hitched for a second. he captured your hand, holding it against his cheek, eyes snapping closed for a second, before opening them wide open, as if he thought he was dreaming. the world not a blur, but rather something else, like it answered a prayer.

“y/n,” he repeated, your name a whisper, a beginning. the solid ground he needed to return to, as if he had known you for years. in the alley, the club, the past – it had melted away. it was only you and the decision he had made.

without a word, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you to his car. you didn’t argue with him, infact, you allowed him to manhandle you, you wanted this – if atleast what you’re thinking would happen is about to happen.

the sound of the back cardoor opened snapped you out of your thoughts. you looked up from the concret floor, tracing the line of his body, from his feet, to his long legs, to his undeniable hard on to his flushed face.

he was giving you a chance to leave – but you didn’t. you practically jumped in to the car, crawling against the soft leather of the seats, ass shaking lightly as an invitation for riki. and he didn’t hesitate at it.

he climbed in behind you, his lankyness never a trouble for stuff involving sex. the door slammed shut with a soft jitter, before his hands found your waist, fingerings lingering at the band of your sweats.

with a moan and a nod, he smirked, fingers dipping under the waistband of your pants, pushing them down to your knees – revealing what he had missed the first time. the smell of your arousal instantly hit his nose, making him moan.

he could see the damp spot against the thin fabric that covered nothing, his thumb slowly rubbing your needy hole. “already so wet for me…” he mumbled to himself, his teeth coming to bite the soft flesh of your ass.

“can’t wait to taste this sweet thing…” he coo’d, pushing the small fabric to the side, landing a small kiss against the wetness of your hole. the words hung in the air as he breathed against your skin.

a high, broken sound tore from your throat, one of pure sensation. your fingers gripped the cool leather of the car seats as his tongue traced slow circles around the your gasping hole – his thumb slowly finding your clit, matching the motion of his tongue against your hole.

your legs thrashed softly, only to be held down by riki’s free hand as his tongue pushed into you, the hot muscle pressed inside you with a relentless pace. the air being thick with the sound of your shared breaths and the slick of his mouth on you.

he let out a low hum, vibrating against your core – making you jolt upwards, the strength in your arms faltering as your face planted onto the seats. the grip firm against your thigh as his tongue and thumb worked together to get your stomach churning – perfect circles with sent shocks up your spine.

“riki–” you gasped, his name a plea and prayer that dissolved into a moan as his free hand slid from your thigh to your hip, his nails digging into the plush of your skin, angling you just to you could take his tongue deeper.

his eyes were shut tight, drinking you in, tasting you as if it was his last meal he’d ever eat, every choked-off cry and moan was music to his ears.

he had pulled back, just enough to speak, voice ragged and breath hot against your soaked skin. “so… fucking good… you taste so delicious, baby.” before you could say anything, he was back on you again. his tongue flat, rough and broad all at once lapping up every bit of your slick before pushing it back inside, deeper than the last, as if he couldn’t get enough.

everything outside the car was a blur, fading into the sensation of his mouth and pressure of his thumb. you could feel your stomach coil, a pressure that you needed to release asap. “riki–! i– i need too–” you gasped, back arching in desperation for more.

“fuck, cum on my face–” he grunted, kissing your clit before delving in for more. his grunts muffled by your puffy pussy. with his words, you felt your stomach let go – walls tightening around the muscle of his tongue and dripping your release onto it.

not once did he let go, his mouth attached to you as if he was made for it. the sensation was almost too much to the point you had to use your hand to push him off your pussy – even then he was reluctant.

“fu–ck riki,” you panted, chest heaving as you yelped at the stinging of cool air against your twitching pussy. “as much as i want you to eat me… fuck, out. i need you in me…” you gasped.

if riki wasn’t hard before, he was certainly harder than ever now. without a word, he had spat against your pussy, watching it glid down to your pulsing hole, his middle and index finger slowly moving in and out, curling to find the spot that would make you cry.

with a few thrusts of his fingers, you let out a whine, one embarrassing even for you. your hands clasped around your mouth as a way to shut yourself up, before riki reached over to pin your hands against your back. “don’t cover your mouth, ‘wanna hear you and how good you take me.”

he pulled out his fingers once he thought you were ready, a whimper escaping your lips at the lose of him – only to shut up at the sound of his tip slapping against his lower abdomen. with a soft gulp, you peaked over your shoulder to look at him – and fuck, he was big.

you could remember how he looked a month ago, but this was even better. the way riki’s body was still toned – maybe even more than last time, that path of hair now slightly thicker, the glimpse of a new tattoo on his side. it was everything you dreamed of.

you pushed your ass backwards, as if to say you were ready, earning a chuckle from the man. “‘yer gonna have to work for it, pretty.” he hummed, taking a seat against the leather, bringing you to straddle his lap.

you let out another whine at his words, work for it? that was ridiculous, atleast thats what your brain thought. your hands went straight to work, stroking the tip of his cock softly before hovering over him, your slick running down your thighs as you felt the thick head enter you.

as you slowly sank down on him, you both let out a sharp moan and groan in unison, your stomach feeling more fuller than ever.

“oh god–” you cried as you felt him poke your cervix, your walls stretching to fit him – his stupidly perfect, big cock that made your head spin. for a moment, you just stayed there, sat there impaled and trembling – every singly throb and twitch of his cock making you moan softly.

his rough hands, oh how you missed them, held your hips steady, not letting you move as he rested his forehead against his shoulder as a low rumble escaped his chest. “so fucking tight… just– sit. let me feel you.”

he was trying his best not to fuck you right there. you unintentionally clenched around him, walls squeezing his cock as a plea. he groaned, hot breath against your clothed shoulder, fingers digging into your skin under the sweater. “that’s it… just like that. show me how much you want it.”

slowly, he began to guide you, his fingers digging into your hips that’ll leave bruises for the next day, lifting you up until it was only the head that remained, before pushing you down on his dick, making your stomach burn.

his eyes were locked to where you were both joined, watching your slick coat him everytime you weakly pushed up and down, a soft foam forming between you two. “that’s it, pretty. work for it – show me you’re mine.” his voice was dark and possessive.

his panting hit your neck before his teeth found your skin, biting against the salt, marking you and claming you with every slow stroke.

a hand slid from your waist, up your stomach, to your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple through your thing bra, a string of moans escaping your lips as you gripped his shoulder, leaving scratch marks with your nails.

“ki–” you whined, hips tired yet still going. you could feel the skin wrap around his cock against your stomach – mind dizzy.

your voice made him growl, his eyes dark with an animalistic intent. before he could control himself, he set himself at a pistoning pace – his thrusts harsh and rough, the tip of his head gliding up your cervix slowly.

“riki–riki–” you gasped, his name a prayer on your tongue as you felt tears prick up in the corner of your eye.

your stomach felt full and heavy, you felt your orgasm slowly leak against his cock, your tits jiggling under one of his hands and the car rocking violently – but you couldn’t care less. neither of you did.

“oh fuck– y/n,” he grunted, his thrusts harsh but sloppy as he felt his orgasm – his chest and balls tightening. “‘m gonna cum in you– fuck, breed you– so you don’t have to come and work here.” he growled, biting your neck and leaving marks.

“pleasepleaseplease–” you gasped, eyes widening as you felt a gush of liquid escape you, soaking riki’s cock and the leather seats under you both. drool leaking from your mouth as you felt him thrust three more times before his hot seed spilled deep into you.

both of your pants filled the car, the smell of sex and fogged up windows harsh evidence of it. before you could think about it, your lips latched onto his, tasting yourself on his tongue. a rough groan vibrated against his chest into yours as you made out with him, his fingers cradled your jaw as he deepened the kiss. it was messy and possessive.

he pulled away with a smirk, eyes heavy. “you liked that,” he breathed against your lips, his thumb brushed your cheek, still damp from earlier and you weren’t sure if it was swear or something else. “could feel you falling apart on my cock.” he rumbled, hooking your underarms softly to pull you off his chub.

“come on, sweetheart. you still gotta make money, yeah? for us.” he hummed, sliding your panties back to normal, watching how the cum slowly leaks through – yet he could care less, nor could you. his fingers ran through your fingers softly, flattening it out to atleast look presentable.

“go get dolled up for me, okay? i’ll watch you from the booth’s, 'cleo'.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀˚　　　✦　　　.　　˚　 . ⠀⠀♪ ˚

It's late afternoon in the apartment, sunlight slanting lazy through half-closed blinds, turning everything golden and soft. Ni-ki's sprawled on the couch in nothing but loose gray sweatpants and an old oversized tee that's ridden up just enough to show a sliver of toned stomach. He's scrolling on his phone, legs kicked out long, one foot dangling off the armrest.

You notice it the second he turns his head to ask if you want ramyeon later.

There.

The faintest shadow dusting his upper lip — not even full hair, just the softest, barely-there peach fuzz that's finally decided to show up after years of baby-smooth skin. And below it, along his jaw, the tiniest prickles of stubble, like velvet sandpaper you can only see when the light hits right. It's so minimal most people wouldn't clock it, but you're obsessed. Immediately. Irrevocably.

"Wait," you say, sitting up straighter from where you're curled against the opposite cushion. "Don't move."

He freezes mid-scroll, eyebrows lifting. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Yeah." You crawl closer, knees sinking into the couch. "Right... here." Your fingertip ghosts over his upper lip, barely touching. The texture is insane — prickly. His breath hitches, just a tiny bit.

"Uh... yeah?" He sounds confused, but there's that small, cocky smirk tugging at his mouth. The one that shows off his teeth. "It's just... growing in. I was gonna shave it tomorrow morning."

No.

Absolutely not.

You shake your head so fast your hair whips. "Don't you dare."

He laughs — that low, raspy chuckle that always makes your stomach flip. "Why? It's barely anything. Hyungs are gonna clown me if I keep it."

"Let them." You lean in until your noses almost brush, eyes locked on that faint shadow like it's the eighth wonder. "This is... this is new. And hot. And—" You drag your thumb very deliberately along his jaw, feeling the rasp under your pad. He shivers. Full-body. "—you're not touching it."

His ears go pink. Classic Ni-ki, absolute mess when you're this close and staring like he's your personal discovery. "You're being dramatic," he mumbles, but he doesn't pull away. If anything, he tilts his chin up a fraction, letting you trace the line of his jaw.

"Dramatic?" You press your palm flat to his cheek, cupping the side of his face so you can feel the texture against your skin. It's barely there, but it's enough to make your brain short-circuit. "This is you growing up right in front of me. And it's unfairly attractive. The baby face is gone, but not really, and now there's this... edge. I'm losing it, Riki."

He swallows. Hard. His Adam's apple bobs, and you track that too because why not? Everything about him is suddenly hyper-visible. The way his lashes are unfairly long, the faint freckle under his eye, the way his lips part just enough to show he's breathing faster.

"You're really into this, huh?" His voice drops lower, teasing but soft.

"Obsessed," you correct, thumb brushing back and forth over the stubble. "If you shave, I'll cry. Actual tears. Ugly ones."

He snorts, but his hand comes up to cover yours, pressing it firmer against his jaw like he wants to feel it too. "Fine. Two more days. Then we reevaluate."

"Week," you bargain instantly.

"Three days."

"Five. And you let me touch it whenever I want."

His eyes narrow playfully. "You're negotiating my facial hair like it's real estate."

"It is. Prime property." You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, then drag your lips very slowly along his upper lip, savoring the faint tickle-prickle against your own. He makes a small, involuntary sound — half groan, half sigh — and his free hand finds your waist, fingers digging in just enough to anchor himself.

"You're gonna kill me," he mutters against your cheek when you pull back barely an inch.

"Good. Then you'll stay like this forever." You kiss him properly then — slow, deep, letting your tongue trace where the fuzz meets smooth skin. He melts into it, the rasp of his barely-there stubble adding this new, addictive layer to every brush of contact.

When you finally break apart, both breathing uneven, he rests his forehead against yours. His voice is wrecked. "Okay. No shaving. For now."

You grin, triumphant. "That's my boy."

He rolls his eyes, but the blush has spread to his neck, and he's not moving your hand away from his face. Not even a little.

𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 does he know HIS FANS ARE CRAZY!!! i absolutely lost it after seeing that picture .

TAGLIST: @stvrlightt-42 @borderdaytwo @biased-and-broke @rikismists

—

the thing about being friends with you meant that he has to be patient seeing you interact with others. with you being the sweetest soul, it’s no surprise you’ve always got people around you.

admirers, even. and it pushes riki’s button.

but he’s a patient guy. okay, tolerant, to be exact. patience comes in many forms, and his is by wrapping an arm around your delicate shoulders from behind, chin on your crown as he stares silent daggers to the guy you’re chatting with.

his large hand is curled around one shoulder, veins bulging from controlling his grip the longer the guy stays. how daft can one be that he can’t even read the room?

clearly, you already have a man so why is he still trying??

sure, it’s not official. yet. but that doesn’t make you any less his and him any less yours.

“sure! i’m free on that day!” you chirp, already used to riki’s behaviour but you miss the way he flinches when he heard your approval.

hyuk grins, completely ignoring the glare riki’s shooting. “that’s great! i’ll pick you up, then?”

“i can send her,” your roommate abruptly interjects and you instantly agree, saying that it’ll be easier. but before hyuk can even argue, riki’s already pulling you away and you follow along without a single suspicion.

long story short, you ended up not going on your hangout with hyuk because riki 'suddenly got sick' so you obviously, have to stay and take care of him.

which involves a lot of cuddles and spooning in his chilly, dark room.

riki was content. who did hyuk think he was to just take you out like that?

but his victory is short lived. because hyuk is persistent—always finding ways to slither his way to you everytime he isn't around. and his patience is running thin.

it's midnight when you come back home from your day out with hyuk and you jump when a tall, shadowed figure suddenly rises in the dim living room—relaxing instantly when you realise it's just your brooding roommate.

"riki," your voice echoes in the dead silent apartment. "you're still up."

he smiles, one that doesn't reach his eyes, as he walks over—slow, precise strides, like a stalking predator—before reaching up to palm the side of your neck with his large hand and sliding it higher to cup the expanse of your cheek. "i was waiting for you. no calls, no texts... you had me worried, bun."

you lean against his touch, face smooshed slightly and the sight reminds him once again why he chose your nickname. you look like one: a bunny.

"sorry, ki. hyuk and i were watching this super long movie then went for dinner. i didn't realise i had my phone on silent the whole time," you respond, clearly blind to the way his eyes darken at the mere mention of that...pest.

still, he's calm. he's cool.

sharp, stray strands of dirty blonde hair fall over his eyes and he bends down slightly to be face to face with you—scrutinizing gaze flickering across your features before he nods. "had fun?"

and suddenly, your eyes upturn and lips pull to the biggest smile. "yeah!"

his world comes falling down from one single reply.

you look so…excited. joyous. but he’s in despair. he’s supposed to mirror you—be happy whenever you are.

but not like this. when you’re happy because of some other man.

that roach.

his vacant hand by his side curls into a tight fist as his jaw clenches, teeth grit.

you start rambling about how much fun you had with hyuk—going into detail about the activities and how he ‘kept calling you cute.’

like riki doesn’t already do that.

and the more he hears, the more deeper he sinks into this abyss of melancholy, of distress, and all you’re adding to is weights on his leg—trapping him to the surface of the ocean.

he can’t take this anymore.

“do you…like him more than me?” his voice comes out almost warbled and incoherent, too deep—like his lungs are filled with water and you furrow.

“what? no, i just think he’s a nice guy, that’s all,” you reply casually, unaware of the depths of his emotions.

his fist unravels to instead wrap around your wrist before bringing it up to kiss the inner part. you stare, unbothered by his usual display of affection and he shuts his eyes—savouring the sensation of your skin against his plush lips.

“you’re not replacing me, are you?” he asks, breath hot and you frown.

“of course not.”

he smiles, eyes open and instantly, they’re fixed on you. “then, you’ll spend more time with me?”

mirroring his expression, you nod. “of course, ki.”

and his heart swells, already feeling lighter and fuller from seeing your face glow because of him. just him.

—

call it paranoia but ever since then, riki’s never left your side when you’re at campus. it’s not just hyuk now who he’s wary of, but everyone.

he’s made it his priority to be with you at most—all, if can—times, to the point that he’s spent lesser and lesser times with his friends. they—and everyone, honestly—notice it, his obsession.

the way at lunch time he sometimes forgets to eat from how busy he is glaring at anyone who even glances your way, the way his large hands are always on you whether by a subtle grip at the waist, or a blatant arm around your shoulders. they see the way he trails behind you like a stray dog, even waiting guard outside your lecture room for when you’re done whenever your classes don’t meet.

he’s turned sharper, aloof, guarded. and with his new black hair and white stripes on the right side of his raised bangs, he only looks more intimidating.

he’s stopped dapping others, he’s stopped hanging out with his friends, he’s stopped…being. and everyone can see it but you. how can you, in the first place?

when in front of you he acts like nothing’s different, like he hasn’t just shut down everything and everyone else aside from you, like he hasn’t turned you into his very world, his oxygen?

in fact, he’s even more affectionate now.

with eyes that drip with endearment and a veiled hunger as he watches you walk around at your shared apartment, and large palms that map your figure with gentle yet, heated caresses while you giggle, amused and tickled.

all while pouring sweet words out of his full lips that sometimes can’t seem to stop stamping at your skin.

“you wearing that shirt today? it’s cute, bun.”

“bunny, is that my hoodie? fuxk, it’s perfect on you. take more.”

“your new perfume smells so good… come closer.”

“you lost your scrunchies? my poor pretty bun, let me buy you some more.”

then they turn darker, more desperate.

“you’re going out? the weather doesn’t look too good, bun.”

“it’s cold outside, stay in with me.”

“we can have fun here, bunny. come, i’ll do your hair.”

“did you see the news? they said there was an aggressive robber…”

“stay with me, please?”

almost every day when you try to hang out with other people, riki pulls up a random news article talking about some dangerous criminal on the loose or some red warning weather. he’d tell you to stay in, it’s better, safer, warmer. and he’s there. he’ll guard you.

and you? you believe him. he’s never given you any reason not to.

neither can you deny the way he immediately perks up when you agree. he’ll instantly start busying around the place—getting snacks, building forts, starting up shows or some hair products so the both of you can play with each other’s hair.

all with the biggest, boxy smile on his face.

at some point, you don’t even feel the want to go out anymore—not when you have everything here.

he gapes when he sees you walk out your room in a cute pair of pjs: a pretty little pair of shorts that reach just your upper thighs and a cute cotton top that’s fluffed up at the sleeve and flowy from the chest down to your hips.

you looks so fluffy, so soft, like a dwarf rabbit and it has him trembling in the legs. his words choke up when you approach and he instantly drops onto the couch—looking up at you with parted lips and trembling hands as they travel up your sides.

“you’re so cute, so lovely, bun…” he breathes out, raspy, and when you comb his hair back—fingers threading through his dark and and white locks—his eyes roll to a shut as a soft groan crawls up his throat. “that’s good… so good, bunny.”

you figured he’s touch starved (which he is, but only for yours) and you play with the hair on the back of his nape to which he responds with a grunt.

slowly standing, he ends up hunched over you as he holds you tight into his broad chest, face in the crook of your neck to get himself high on your saccharine scent. meanwhile, strong, steel arms are wrapped tight around your back before one shifts so he can rest his hand on the back of your head—no, palming it with his fingers curled slightly inwards into your hair.

claiming you.

he thinks he has you all figured out—have you chained here with him so you can never leave him.

but he’s wrong.

while you still have your own free will, your wants, your desire to go and see other people, he’s lost his. in his mind, there’s only you.

his dictionary is filled with words to describe you. his mind busy with excuses to keep you, hands that are always warm and extended just for you, with senses—eyes, ears, skin—only seeing, hearing, feeling you.

he’s wrapped himself in solid silver chains and you hold the key. a hostage of his own: himself.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

this fic is inspired by the smau ੈ✩ WEE LAMB ✩‧₊˚

four hours later, you’re past that shit. you stab the elevator button, deprived of your morning coffee, but still a little pissed about last night. you felt like you had insomnia all over again. the doors start to slide shut—

before a hand slams between them.

niki stumbles in, hair tousled from what you hope was a post sex sleep and not a round ten. his shirts inside out, but he just blinks at you like a sun bleached idiot.

“morning, neighbor.” he rasps, leaning against the mirrored wall. “‘could’ve held the door for me, y’know that right?”

you sip your water pointedly, forgetting you didn’t fill it up with coffee this time because you were going to be late if you did so. “yeah, sorry about that. didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“oh? why’s that?” he looks at himself in the reflection of the elevator walls, fixing his hair.

you turn your head just enough to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes, all loose-limbed and careless. “you’re not that obtuse, are you?”

niki just looks at you with a confused face.

“we share a wall, riki.”

his brows lift—not in guilt, just in realization.

“shit. that bad?” he says it like he already knows the answer, as if he’s been told before.

“yeah. that bad.” the elevator dings. “just.. keep it down next time.”

as the doors open, he has a wry smile across his lips. “yeah, yeah. alright.”

a week later, and you still can’t get him out your head. you didn’t even like the guy, so what was this all about?

his smirk, that stupid bedhead, just the way the muscles beneath his shirt moved with every laugh. it’s driving you mad. he’s driving you mad.

and it seems to be more than the sex sounds, as if that weren’t enough. it’s how unaffected he seemed to be by your anger. you hated him.

it’s a friday night, finally, restless on your couch. you were about to fall asleep.

knock knock knock.

three quick knocks followed by a pause, then another few knocks, slower this time. there were faint sounds of movement outside your door.

you open your eyes and debate whether to move. but the knocks come again, more insistent this time. you sigh, pushing yourself up from the couch and make your way to your door.

opening the door, you find niki. he was leaning against your doorframe with a grin. he’s in a casual hoodie and baggy sweatpants, something more casual than his usual clothing.

“evening,” he greets casually, as if he hasn’t been interrupting your thoughts all week.

you raise an eyebrow at his appearance, trying to ignore how the soft fabric of the hoodie only emphasizes the tone of his muscles beneath. “riki. you need something?”

niki just pushes off the door frame and steps closer, invading your personal bubble. “can i come in?” his nonchalant tone is at odds with the way his eyes linger.

“no.” the word leaves your mouth automatically. he’s far too comfortable for someone you just had a confrontation with yesterday.

his grin doesn’t falter. if anything, it widens at your resistance. “c’mon, pretty,” he says, voice dropping into something warmer. “i didn’t apologize for last week's noise. figured i’d return the favor.”

niki’s thumb brushes your wrist where it rests on the doorframe. “return the favor how, hm?” you look up at him skeptically.

his gaze flicks down to your lips, studying the way your mouth curves around the question. his thumb starts drawing lazy circles on your wrist—you don’t even try to stop him.

when his hands move from your wrist to each side of your hip, he leans in and pushes you two back into your apartment. “i can show you,” he murmurs, kicking the door shut behind him.

“lock the door.”

after he does so, his lips are on yours before you can protest. not that you would’ve anyways. the kiss is all teeth, hands dragging up your thighs to hike them around his waist.

niki walks into your bedroom until your back hits the wall, that same wall from last night now at your back.

“this what you wanted?” he breathes against your mouth, fingers digging into your hips. “were you hoping i’d fuck you against it?”

“shut up,” you nip at his lip as he lowers you both onto your bed.

niki groans as your hands roam over his chest, pressing you down into your pillows. his kisses are demanding, definitely a difference from his lazy smiles he’d give you every time you saw him.

he kisses a trail down your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “been louder than usual,” niki marks your pulse point just to feel your back arch against him. “wanted to see how long it’d take you to snap. you’re a tough one to crack.”

the weight of his body on you is both thrilling and overwhelming. he pushes a thigh between your legs. “so, what? you’ve been thinking about me while fucking those other girls raw?”

your voice is a low rasp as his kiss against your neck stutters. “hm? do you almost say my name, too?”

niki suddenly lifts you, flipping your positions and pulling you up onto his lap. “you talk a lot for someone so desperate for me,” he breathes as he takes off his hoodie. “i think someone’s still too wound up from last night.”

and fuck, he’s not wrong. you’re all too aware of his bulge against your pussy, which is barely being covered by some thin pajama shorts. his hands slide up your sides, fingers tracing every curve.

“i’m not— whatever,” you huff, rolling your hips against him with slowness. anything to watch his smirk falter when your hips grind against the oversized tent in his sweats. “we both know you’ve been itching for this since i called you out.”

“yeah?”niki’s breath ghosts hot over your shoulder as he rocks up into the motion, teeth sinking into your skin when you do it again. “ride me properly or stop teasing.”

“if you say so.”

you shove him backward onto the mattress before taking your shorts and underwear off, straddling his face before he can protest. his laugh his muffled against your thighs, hands gripping your hips as you lower your wet cunt onto his mouth.

“fuck— baby,” he starts, but you cut him off by sinking down fully.

meanwhile, when you pull his sweats down, his cock bobs against his stomach, all flushed and leaking. you don’t even hesitate before taking him into your mouth, humming around the salt slick taste of him.

niki’s hips jerk upward, “shit—you’re mean,” he pouts, but the way his tongue laps greedily at you betrays his act.

his tongue is relentless. he alternates between fast and slow, plunging his tongue into you as deep as he can, then lapping at you lazily. niki’s free hand slides up your side.

you’re not playing fair either—your lips tighten around the head of his cock, sucking hard enough to make his hips jerk. he groans, the vibration against your cunt delicious.

niki’s tongue fucks into you in rough, shallow thrusts, his nose nudging your clit in a way that has your thighs trembling.

his rhythm stutters when you hollow your cheeks. his thighs tense under your grip, “fuck— pretty, i–gonna cum—!” his warning is half choked. his fingers dig into your hips as he shoots hot ropes down your throat.

you swallow every drop, lapping at the oversensitive head just to hear his whimpers of pleasure.

niki’s mouth doesn’t let up even as you clench around his tongue. “ah– fu.. fuck—! right there, there, riki!” you groan, hips grinding against his face as your orgasm crashes through you.

he drinks you in greedily, his low groan vibrating against you as you ride out the aftershocks.

you collapse sideways onto the mattress, both of you gasping. niki wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“so,” he rasps, “still wanna complain about the noise?”

you laugh, throwing a pillow at his face. “fuck you, nishimura.”

“oh, i’d like that.”

🐹🍰 cs enha is seven… fuming in rage while i wrote this !! but it’s so hard for me to commit to LOMG fanfics im abt to give up on my sunghoon one T_T also hi im back…