#plugki

⊹

Riki was exactly where everyone expected him to be between classes. Posted up against his black car in the parking lot, hoodie over his head, joint tucked behind his ear, eyes half-open like school physically bored him. AirPods in. Backpack on the ground. Like he lived there.

You spotted him as soon as you stepped outside.And okay, maybe your heart jumped a little, but only because you were about to do something stupid. Or bold. Same thing.

You walked straight at him with purpose, not even hesitating.

He didn’t notice you until your shadow fell over his shoes. He pulled out one AirPod, looking up lazily, then blinked when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“…You’re kidding,” he said.

You crossed your arms. “Nice greeting.”

He gave you a slow up and down look, squinting like he was trying to find a stupid joke to make.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “This is skipping class zone. You’re lost.”

“I’m not lost.”You took another step closer.“I need something.”

His brows shot up. “What, extra credit?”

You scoff. “Weed.”

Riki laughed, short and disbelieving. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for”

“I know enough” you say, not sure if you believe that yourself.

He pulls out his other AirPod. He stands up and you realize how tall he is. He’s almost hovering over you. "Yeah? Then you know firsttimers don’t walk up to me like they're ordering off a menu."

“This isn’t about being a first timer. I know you deal. Do you want money or not?” You say as you cross your arms.

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Fine. How much do you need”

You hesitate at his question, going silent before responding.

“I- an eighth?”

He smirks, anyone could tell you have no idea what you’re talking about. “You don’t even know how much that is, ma.”

You scoffed. “Does being annoying help with your business?”

A slow grin spread across his face — not mocking, but impressed.“Ohhh so you have a mouth on you.”He tilted his head. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Obviously,” you said. “You don’t expect much.”

“For real?” he asked, pushing off the wall, stepping closer. “You’re actually serious about this?”

You nod your head yes.

He clicked his tongue. “This is crazy.”

You frown again, “this is a yes or no question, Riki.”

He parted his lips like he wanted to argue more… but you held his stare, solid, unbothered, totally not the prissy girl he thought you were.

“Can you hurry and give me the weed?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not just walking around with bags of weed on me bro. You think im an idiot?"

He shakes his head, and sighs exaggerated. “Give me your phone.”

You squint “why.”

“You want the damn weed or not? just give me the phone.”

You unlock your phone and he snatches it out of your hands like a little kid that wants to play games on it.

He scrolls through your phone like it his own, looking for the contacts app. Then he starts tapping on things and after a minute he hands your phone back. “There. Got my number saved. When i've got something, I’ll text you a time and place."

“Don’t come asking for more than what you’ve asked for now. And never show up with anyone else. I don’t sell to groups.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to babysit your friends too if they’re like you.”

A smirk tugged at your lips.“Right.. well im going back to class. Bye druggie”.

He chuckles and shakes his head, amused. “Yeah alright.. bye geek”.

-

The next day his text came around 5:42 PM.

Riki:

got it

meet behind Westpoint Mall

10 mins

don’t bring anyone

You weren’t sure why your stomach flipped.It was just weed. Just Riki.

Still, you checked the mirror twice before leaving. Fixed your hair. Changed your shirt. Put on lip gloss you claimed you “just felt like wearing.”

Right…

The sun was low and orange when you walked behind the mall. The parking lot was half-empty, the dumpsters humming, the air warm from the leftover heat of the day.

Riki was already there — leaning against the wall, hood up, twirling his keys around his finger. When he spotted you, his mouth tilted into that cocky half-smirk he always wore when he was about to say something irritating.

“Sup, sexy” he said. The word rolled of his tongue so smoothly you didn’t even register it. “You didn’t skip any classes for this, right? Would hate to ruin your perfect attendance.”

You rolled your eyes.“Don’t start.”

He lifted a brow. “Relax, I'm just asking. Aren’t you supposed to be doing homework in a color-coded planner right now?”

You stepped closer. “No. I’m here giving you money.”

“Damn,” he said, mock surprised. “Corrupting the innocent. My favorite hobby.”

“Whatever.” You say and you open your hand. He puts a tiny plastic bag with weed in your palm, fingers brushing against your hand.

“$50.”

You grab the cash out of your purse that looked too classy for this kind of encounter, you shoved the folded bills toward him.

He reached for them—And you pulled your hand back.

Instant reaction, his eyes narrowed, annoyed.“Don’t play games. That’s not funny.”

“I need a favor first.” You say and you look him straight in the eyes.

Riki’s whole posture changed.He tensed, shoulders lifting, jaw working.

“A favor?” he repeated, sounding one second away from turning around and leaving.“What favor? If you’re about to ask for a discount—”

“Jezus calm down, I'll give you the money. Just listen. It’s not a discount.”

He waited. Arms crossed. Already stressed like you were about to ruin his whole night.

You took a breath.

“I… don’t actually know how to smoke.”

Dead silence.

And then he blinked at you, slow, like his brain had to reboot.

“…You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“No, because why would you buy from me if you can’t even— fuck man..” He stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face.“So you pulled up to a dealer… to get something you don’t know how to use.”

You flash a fake cocky smile at him “teach me, or no money”.

He scoffs, giving you an exasperated look.

“Teach you? You think i'm a fucking weed sensei? This isn't a movie.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But if you wanna pay extra for a lesson… fine.”

You look at him like he’s crazy “I’m not paying you for teaching me how to smoke..”

“Why the hell would I waste my time then? You expect me to tutor you out of the kindness of my heart?”

He gives a sharp laugh.

“This ain't a charity, pretty. Either shell out the cash and i'll show you how to smoke. Or take the stuff and figure it out yourself. Your choice. But don't expect my time for free."

You groan exaggeratedly loud and roll your eyes “fine, how much.”

His smirk returns, satisfied with himself for getting you to give in.

“A hundred. And that's me being nice. Cash. Right now.” He holds out his hand expectantly.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What the fuck? I’m not paying you a hundred dollars?”

“Then you can go light a joint with your student ID and good vibes. Next.”

He turns to walk away, already slipping his hands into his pockets. You quickly walk after him and grab his wrist.

“I don’t have it on me right now.” You say as you hand him the $50 from the weed.

He rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched. he's losing his patience, but a hundred bucks is a hundred bucks. He takes a deep breath, trying to reign in his annoyance.

“Fine, you owe me 50. I want it tomorrow. No games, no bullshit. I hate chasing people down.”

-

The walk to the top level of the mall’s parking deck feels way too slow for how fast your heartbeat is going. The sun is setting, throwing long orange shadows across the concrete, and Riki keeps glancing at you, obviously checking you out.

“You always make people climb five floors for drugs?” you ask, breath a little uneven.

“Nah,” he says, pushing open the door to the rooftop. “Just the hot ones.”

You almost trip. He pretends not to notice, but the smirk on his face makes it clear he definitely did.

His beat-up black car sits right on the edge, nothing but open skyline and warm evening air stretching out in front of it.

“See?” he says, nodding toward the view. “Looks better when you’re high.”

It is beautiful. You’d rather look at him though, but he doesn’t have to know that.

He hops onto the hood of his car like it’s the most natural thing ever, then pats the spot next to him. You slide up beside him, close enough that your legs almost touch, pretending not to notice.

Riki reaches through the half-open driver window and grabs a little pouch, filters, papers— a whole kit.

You raise a brow. “You keep all that in your car?”

He shrugs. “You never know when someone’s gonna need a good time.”

His forearms flex as he starts rolling the joint. When he’s done he looks at you, almost proud of himself.

“That was fast” you say.

He chuckled “I do this every day sweetheart.”

Your stomach flips. You hate it.

He seals the joint, flicks his lighter, and the flame briefly lights up his face. He takes a slow drag, jaw sharp, lips parted, then hands it to you.

“Ready?”

“…No.”

He laughs under his breath and hands it to you anyway.

“Just inhale slow. Don’t be dramatic.”

You shoot him a glare, take the joint, and try to do exactly what he said, except the smoke hits your throat instantly and you choke so hard you practically fold in half.

Riki bursts out laughing, hand coming up to support your back.

“Yo.. nah, that was insane. You didn’t even try.”

“I did try,” you cough, shoving his shoulder weakly. “You didn’t explain it right.”

He takes it back, hits it again, effortlessly, and holds it out for you.

“Again. Lighter this time. Breathe it in like… like you’re sipping it.”

You try again. This time you manage not to die, though it still burns like hell.

“There you go,” he says, sounding a little proud, hand still resting on your back. “Look at you.”

A few hits later, everything feels warm. You’re relaxed, floaty, and way too aware of how close Riki is sitting. His knee keeps bumping yours, and you don’t know if it’s an accident anymore.

“So…” you say, turning to him, “why do you even skip so many classes?”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes still on the sky. “Dunno. School’s loud. Teachers talk too much. I get more done when I’m not there.”

You raise a brow. “More done? Yeah selling weed behind malls…”

He gives you a playful look. “Hey, entrepreneurship. You study it, I live it.”

You laugh and he watches the sound leave your mouth like he wasn’t expecting you to find him funny.

“What about you?” he asks. “Why’re you sneaking around with me?”

You lean back beside him, letting the wind hit your face.

“Maybe I’m not as boring as you think I am.”

His eyes drop to your mouth for half a second. “Yeah. I’m starting to figure that out.”

For the first time, Riki feels less like the asshole weed-plug stereotype you had in your head… and more like someone real. Someone interesting. Someone with secrets and softness he doesn’t know how to show.

And Riki, quietly watching you out of the corner of his eye, looks like he’s realizing the same thing about you.

The joint burns down to a tiny ash ring between Riki’s fingers, and when he flicks it away, the world feels… different.

Warm. Fuzzy. A little too bright.

You blink slowly, trying to focus on the city lights — but they look like they’re breathing. Or maybe that’s just you swaying a tiny bit.

Riki snorts. “Damn. You’re gone.”

“I’m fine,” you protest, except your voice comes out soft and floaty, like you’re underwater.

“Yeah?” He leans closer, squinting at your face. “Your eyes are low as fuck. You look like you’re about to melt.”

“I’m not—” You forget the sentence halfway through. A lazy smile pulls at your lips instead. “Okay maybe a little.”

He chuckles, slow and warm. “You’re cute like this.”

You blink at him, too sluggish to react. “Shut up,” you mumble, which makes him grin even wider.

For a second, he watches you — the way your feet don’t stay still, how your fingers keep fiddling with the hem of your shirt, how your cheeks are pink and your eyes keep drifting back to him.

“You hungry?” he asks suddenly.

You whip your head toward him way too fast. “STARVING.”

He laughs again, pushes off the car hood, and stands. “Come on then, before you pass out on my bumper.”

He opens the passenger door for you, being dramatic about it, and you climb in, giggling at nothing. The car smells like mens cologne mixed with weed. The leather seat feels like heaven. The car lights feel like fire. You’re convinced his steering wheel is the funniest-looking circle you’ve ever seen.

“You’re literally a toddler right now,” he mutters as he starts the engine.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He smirks and shakes his head, pulling out of the lot.

The drive is a blur of neon lights and music that sounds like it’s echoing inside your chest.

When you walk inside the fast food place, the fluorescent lights feel unreal. Riki looks completely normal — hoodie, hair messy, hands in pockets — except for his red eyes giving him away.

“Act normal,” he says.

“I am normal.”

Then you trip over absolutely nothing.

He catches your elbow, laughing under his breath. “Yeah, okay. Total sober behavior”

You order chicken nuggets, fries, and a drink big enough for two people. Riki pays before you can argue.

They hand you the tray, and you both collapse into a booth, your thighs brushing under the table — again on accident, again on purpose.

You reach for a nugget at the same time as him, fingers touching.

You freeze.

He doesn’t move.

Your skin tingles way too intensely for something so small.

Then he clears his throat, grabs the nugget, dips it, and holds it out to you.

“Eat.”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t feed me.”

He chuckles “just open your mouth.”

You roll your eyes but lean forward anyway, taking a bite straight from his fingers, your lips brush his fingers softly. His jaw flexes slightly. You pretend to ignore it.

Then you reach for the drink at the same time he does. There’s only one drink, but two straws.

“You can drink first,” you say.

“Nah, go,” he replies.

You end up sipping at the same moment, your faces stupidly close, eyes lowering on instinct. Sipping from two straws in the same drink like a romcom, and you both pull back laughing.

By the time the nuggets are almost gone, your brain feels like it’s gently sliding off a shelf.

You rest your cheek on the cold table, eyes half-closed.Riki raises a brow.

“You good, pretty?” He says with a smile, he slips in those pet names way too smoothly.

“I’m sleepy,” you mumble. “And you—” you point at him lazily “—you’re acting way too normal”

He laughs under his breath. “I told you. I’m used to it.”

You squint. “How used to it?”

“Used to it enough to babysit you right now,” he teases, tapping your forehead with his finger. “Come on. Before you fall asleep on this nasty ass table.”

You don’t even argue. Your limbs feel warm and loose as you follow him outside, the doors sliding open with a dramatic whoosh that makes you giggle for no reason.

The air hits different — cool against your skin, the sky already dark, city lights glowing like stars piled on the ground instead of the sky.

Riki shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets.You wrap your arms around yourself automatically.

He notices and bumps his shoulder into yours. “Cold?”

“A little.”

Without a word, he drapes an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you walk.

“So,” he says, voice low, casual, “why’d you really wanna try smoking?”

“I was curious.”

“That’s it?”

You pick at your sleeve. “And… I dunno. I guess I wanted to try something new.”

He hums. “Didn’t think you were that typa girl.”

You nudge him with your hip. “Maybe you don’t know me.”

He glances at you, a slow smirk pulling at his mouth. “I’m starting to.”

The two of you just walk.Talking about dumb stuff, deep stuff, whatever your high brains feel like throwing out.

He tells you how he hates math but likes building things, and how he always dreamed of being an architect as a kid.You guys talk for 2 hours straight, walking through the city like you own it, it feels like you know each others whole life story after tonight.

Back in his car.

You don’t even remember how you ended up here again. One minute you were walking around talking about childhood pets and the next you were climbing into the passenger seat because your legs “felt like jelly.” Riki just laughed and walked around to the driver’s side like it was the most normal thing ever.

By 8:30pm, he’s pulling into your neighborhood, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh. He looks relaxed, too relaxed for someone who just spent hours being unexpectedly vulnerable with you. Like he didn’t just smoke the same joint you did.

He parks in front of your building but doesn’t turn the engine off. Just lets the car hum quietly between you.

You go to unbuckle but your fingers fumble, and he reaches over and clicks the seatbelt loose for you.

And then neither of you move.

Your faces are too close.Close enough to feel his breath.Close enough to smell the sweet smoke still clinging to his hoodie.

Your eyes shift to his lips.

His gaze drops to yours too.Then back to your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that unless you want something.” He says low.

“And what if I do?” you throw back before you can stop yourself.

His jaw flexes and he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it.

You scoff and reach for the door.

You get out of the car, before you close the door, he leans over and calls out—

“Goodnight sexy”

You roll your eyes, trying to act like your heart isn’t doing backflips.

“Yea goodnight Riki”

⊹

⊹

It doesn’t even feel like it started with a deal.

It’s been months since that first time you showed up nervous and left lightheaded.

You know his car like it’s yours. Where he puts the spare lighters, which song he always skips even though he pretends he likes it, which seat squeaks when he pulls you into the backseat again. You don’t ask for the aux anymore. You don’t hesitate before climbing into his lap when he’s parked somewhere quiet, legs tangled, his arms loose around your waist like that’s just where they belong.

You call him Riki, sometimes Ki. He calls you baby without thinking about it. Princess when he’s teasing. Goofy when you’re ragebaiting him. You don’t flinch at it, you lean into it, smile into his neck, kiss his jaw like you’ve done it a hundred times before. Because you have.

It stopped being sneaky a while ago.

You go on actual dates now. Sitting across from each other in actual restaurant instead of cheap places that smell like fries and coffee, his foot nudging yours under the table. Movie nights that turn into you half-asleep on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy shapes on your arm. He walks you to your door and kisses you goodbye like he’s not worried about who sees. Sometimes he doesn’t leave at all.

He drives you to college even though he hasn’t stepped into a lecture in weeks. You complain about exams. He complains about clients. You sit in his car before class longer than necessary, foreheads pressed together, “you’re gonna make me late”, you say every time.

The only thing you don’t do is name it.

No one clarified. It just became this familiar. You have routines, you have inside jokes, you have his hoodie permanently at your place and your charger permanently in his car.

You’re already acting like you’re dating.

You just haven’t said it yet.

Riki knows it too and it getting to him, the no-label thing. He can’t stand it anymore.

—

You’re sitting in class, half-listening.

Your laptop is open but you haven’t typed anything useful in at least ten minutes. Your phone buzzes against your thigh and you already know it’s him before you even look.

Riki: Come outside

You frown, thumbs moving fast

You: I’m literally in class Ki

Riki: Tell them you’re going to the bathroom

You let out a quiet laugh under your breath, shaking your head.

You: Are you serious?

Riki: Dead serious

You glance toward the front of the lecture hall. The professor is rambling about something you can read later anyway. You sigh, shove your phone in your pocket, and raise your hand.

“Bathroom,” you mumble when acknowledged, already standing.

You walk down the hallway, push through the exit doors and step outside.

The parking lot stretches out in front of you.

And there he is.

Leaning against his car like he’s got nowhere else to be, no class he should attend. Hands in his pockets. Hoodie you’ve stolen before. Sunglasses pushed up into his hair even though it’s not that bright out. He looks up the second he sees you and his mouth curves into that lazy grin that always gets you.

“Hey baby,” he says.

You walk straight up to him and he meets you halfway, one hand coming to your waist automatically and he kisses you like it’s routine.

“You’re insane,” you mumble against his mouth when you pull back.

“Missed you,” he shrugs, like that explains everything.

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling anyway. “You dragged me out of class because you missed me?”

“Partly,” he says. Then he straightens a little. “Also, you need to be ready at seven tonight.”

You blink. “For what?”

“I’m picking you up.” He watches your face closely. “I’ve got something planned.”

That alone is enough to make your stomach flip.

“Okay… that’s new,” you say.

“I know,” he smirks. “Just go with it.”

You hesitate for half a second, then nod. “Okay.”

“Good.” He pushes off the car, steps closer again. “Now go back before you get marked absent or some shit.”

You stare at him. “So this is really all I got out of class for?”

He grins wider, eyes flicking over you like you can’t tell he’s checking you out. “Nah.”

“I also just wanted to see my sexy girlfr—” he stops himself, tongue pressing to his cheek. “—girl.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You almost said girlfriend.”

He scoffs, looking away like it’s nothing. “No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Go,” he says, pointing back toward the building, but he’s smiling. “Before I make you late on purpose.”

You back away, laughing, shaking your head at him. “Bye Ki.”

He watches you walk off like he always does, eyes following the way your hips move when you walk until you disappear inside.

And when you sit back down in class, seven o’clock feels way too far away.

—

But it comes way too fast.

You’re standing in your room with one shoe on, hopping slightly as you try to get the other on when his car horn blares outside.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, spraying perfume into the air and walking through it. You grab your hoop earrings from the dresser and shove them on, barely checking the mirror. You don’t even know what you’re getting dressed up for, he was annoyingly vague, but you still do it. Because it’s him.

You pause for half a second, lift your shirt, and switch out your belly piercing for the sparkly, dangling one. The one he always notices, the one he complimented the very first time you smoked with him.

The horn goes again.

“Fuck off,” you say to absolutely no one, grabbing your bag and heading out.

When you open the front door, you see his car, engine running, window down. He honks once more just to be annoying.

You flip him off as you walk toward it.

He laughs when you slide into the passenger seat. “You take forever.”

You lean over and kiss him anyway, quick but warm, like it’s automatic. “You started honking after like two minutes.”

“Felt longer,” he says, pulling back onto the road.

You settle into the seat, then lean toward him again, nose brushing his neck. “You smell good.”

He smiles “Yeah? New cologne.”

You breathe him in a little longer than necessary, lips ghosting his skin. “I like it.”

He glances at you, pleased, then his eyes flick downward when you shift in your seat. He notices your belly piercing immediately.

“Put that one in for me?” he asks.

You smile. “Maybe.”

He chuckles and shoot his eyebrows up once, “sexy”.

His hand slides onto your thigh like it belongs there, thumb rubbing slow, absent circles as he drives. The sun is low, painting everything gold and orange, warm air rushing in through the open windows. Music plays quietly.

You rest your head against the seat, watching the sky city go by.

You still don’t know where you’re going.

But you don’t really care.

The last turn comes a little too early. You notice it right away, lifting your head from where it’s resting against the window.

“…you’re driving to the mall,” you say, watching it come closer.

Riki doesn’t answer right away.

“Yeah.”

You look at him. “No way.”

He finally glances over at yoy, a corner of his mouth lifting.

“Problem?”

“No,” she says, dragging the word out. “Just… we haven’t been there in forever.”

That rooftop parking lot is where it started. First few times. Back when it was awkward and new and you still pretended this was just about weed.

He pulls up the ramp, concrete walls echoing the engine, and parks in the same corner spot like muscle memory. When he turns the car off, the sudden quiet feels loud.

You lean back in your seat, looking out over the edge of the rooftop. “Feels weird being back here.”

“Feels normal,” he says. “Feels like early us.”

You fall into your routine without thinking about it. You kicks off your shoes and turns sideways in the passenger seat, tuck one leg under yourself, the other draped over his thigh without asking. He grabs the stuff from the center console, rolling like he’s done it a thousand times, because he has. You watch his hands.

“You always do it too neat,” you say.

“No, you always fuck it up.”

“Excuse you,” she laughs, leaning into him. “Mine have personality.”

“Your joints have anxiety.”

He lights it, takes a slow pull, holds it, then passes it to you.

A few comfortable, silent minutes pass, before you say “Do you ever think about how long we’ve been doing this?”

He exhales smoke, eyes forward. “Yeah.”

“How long is it?” you ask.

He thinks for a second. “Like… four months? Almost five?”

You hum. “That’s insane.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t feel like that long. But also feels like we’ve been doing this forever.”

He nods. “Yeah. I get that.”

You take another hit, then hesitate before speaking again. You stare out the windshield, words coming easier when you’re not looking at him.

“I just think it’s funny how we keep calling this ‘just hanging out’ when we’ve literally slept together. Multiple times. And you sleep over. And I sit on your lap. And you drive me everywhere.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. His thumb starts tracing slow circles on your leg that’s draped over his lap.

“And you call me baby,” you add. “All the time.”

“That’s not accidental,” you add.

He exhales through his nose, half a laugh. “You bothered by it?”

“No,” you say fast. Too fast. “I like it.”

“You ever think about what this looks like?” you ask. “From the outside.”

He looks down at you then. “Yeah. Looks like you’re my girl.”

“Then why haven’t you said it?” You ask.

He opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Runs his tongue over his teeth, like he’s choosing his words too carefully.

He leans down, presses a short kiss to your forehead. “Because when I do, I wanna do it right.”

You smile despite yourself. “You’re already doing it.”

“No…” His lips press into your neck. “Not yet”

He pulls you closer, holding you like there’s no argument left to have. You relax into him, unaware that it’s the last time you’ll sit here without a label.

—

At first, it just makes you soft, the weed.

Heavy in the limbs, loose in the chest, like your body’s melting into his without asking permission. You end up half on his lap without really meaning to, arms wrapped around his shoulders, nose brushing his jaw.

You kiss his neck once. Then again, slower.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, his cheekbone, like you’re memorizing him all over.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur, staring at his face like it’s new to you. “Like… it’s almost annoying.”

He snorts, hand sliding up your back. “Yeah, okay. Weed’s got you clingy as hell.”

You hum, unfazed, pressing another kiss just under his ear. “I’m always clingy with you.”

“Not like this,” he says, amused. “You’re usually meaner.”

You smile lazily, forehead resting against his. “I’m never mean to you.”

“You said you had something planned,” you mumble suddenly, eyes half-lidded. “You always say stuff like that.”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb under your eye. “Relax. It’s later.”

You squint at him. “You swear?”

“I swear baby” he says. “I just wanted this first. Us chilling.”

That’s when it starts to tip.

At first you think it’s just the car, the air feels thick, like it’s sticking to your skin. You shift, tugging at your top, breathing a little deeper.

“Why is it so hot?” you ask.

He frowns immediately. “You hot?”

“Yeah. Like… really.”

He reaches forward, turns the air conditioning higher. Cold air blasts out, but it doesn’t help. Your chest feels tight now, heart beating too loud, like it’s echoing in your ears, it scares you.

You lean back against your seat and close your eyes, breathing in and out deeply for a few seconds before you go quiet.

Too quiet.

He notices right away.

“Hey,” he says softly, turning toward you. “Talk to me.”

“I feel weird,” you whisper. “I think—”

That’s all you get out before the dizziness hits. The world tilts, lights too bright, sounds too sharp. You curl into yourself instinctively.

You groan and hold your head “Riki I don’t feel good…”

“Okay,” he says, calm but serious now. “C’mon we’re getting out.”

He’s already opening the door, guiding you like he’s done this before. The cool night air hits your face as soon as your feet touch the concrete, and it helps, just a little.

He sits you down against the car, crouching in front of you.

“Breathe with me,” he says. “In. Out. You’re okay.”

You cling to his hoodie like it’s the only solid thing left, forehead pressing into his chest. He doesn’t hesitate, just wraps both arms around you, grounding you there.

He pushes a water bottle in your hand. “Drink some,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, voice shaky. “You had stuff planned and now I’m ruining—”

“Hey.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes serious. “You didn’t ruin shit.”

You sniff, still dizzy. “I’m being dramatic.”

“You’re greening out,” he says simply. “It happens.”

You cling harder, fingers bunching in his hoodie. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he says, rubbing slow circles into your back. “I got you, baby. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You breathe him in, and slowly the world settles. The buzzing fades. Your heart calms. He stays like that the entire time, sitting on the ground with you between his legs, arms locked around you like his job is to take care of you.

Once your head stops spinning and the world feels solid again, he nudges your knee gently with his.

“You hungry?” he asks. “Eating helps. And… that was kinda the plan anyway.”

You squint at him. “You planned food?”

He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “I always plan food y/n.”

Getting back into the car feels a little reckless, both of you still floating, but neither of you says it out loud. He drives slower than usual, windows already down, night air pouring in.

You rest your head on your arm against the door, staring out into the dark blur of streetlights. The wind pushes your hair back, cool against your face.

He keeps glancing over at you. Something about you like this, eyes half-closed, lips parted slightly, hair waving in the wind. It makes his chest tighten. You look unreal. Like a movie scene he wasn’t supposed to get front-row seats to.

“You know you look crazy good right now,” he says casually, like he’s not thinking it.

You smile without turning to him. “You’re high as fuck.”

“Doesn’t make it wrong.”

The food spot comes into view a few minutes later, neon sign buzzing softly in the dark. The second he pulls into the lot, it clicks.

You laugh quietly. “Wait. No way.”

He kills the engine.

“This place?” you say, turning toward him now. “I’m getting déjà vu.”

He smirks. “Yeah. Thought you’d notice.”

—

This is where things started. First smoke, first shared fries, first shared drink. It feels different every time you do it, because you grow closer to each other each time.

Inside, the place smells like grease and burgers and late nights. It’s almost empty, just the hum of the fridge, two other couples eating and a guy behind the counter wiping his hands on a rag.

Riki nods at him, quick, subtle. The guy nods back, eyes flicking between the two of you a little too carefully.

You don’t notice. You’re already sliding into the booth, legs brushing Riki’s as he sits across from you.

The guy comes over with a pad, but he’s… weird about it. Hesitating. Looking past you, then back at Riki with a smirk like he’s waiting for something.

“What can I get you?” he asks, voice flat but eyes alert.

Riki orders easily, like he’s done it a hundred times. Same thing as always. When the guy writes it down, you swear you see him hold back a smile when he glances at you, then back at Riki again.

A few minutes later he comes back with a tray of food, he places it in the middle off the table.

“Order for the couple.” He says.

Riki snorts and pinches his nose bridge. “Alright dude... thanks.” Before brushing him off with his hand.

You lean forward, lowering your voice. “Why is he acting like that?”

Riki just shrugs, mouth twitching into a smile. “Probably tired. Thinks he’s being funny”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

He grins, leaning back against the booth.

“You know him, don’t you?” you ask suspiciously.

“No.” Riki flicks a fry at you, quickly changing the subject. “Eat.”

You immediately reach for a fry, still a little floaty, still not fully back in your body.

Riki watches you for a second, then gestures you to come closer with his fingers.

“Hey,” he says, low. He tilts his head toward himself and holds up a fry, already halfway to his mouth. “Come here.”

You lean in without thinking, biting the other half off the fry from his fingers. Your lips brush his skin and he doesn’t even pretend not to enjoy it. Before you can pull back, he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your mouth.

“Knew it. Cornball.” you mumble, smiling anyway, already turning back to your food.

You eat quietly for a bit after that.

Your eyes keep drifting to the window, watching cars pass, lights streaking by. Your mind keeps circling back to the weird behavior earlier, the counter guy, the look Riki gave him, the way Riki’s been acting overall. You poke at your food, lost in it, chewing slower than usual.

Riki doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches you. The way your lashes blink a little slower, the way you zone out like that sometimes. He thinks you look stupidly pretty doing absolutely nothing.

But eventually, he gets bored.

He stretches his leg out and lightly kicks your shin under the table.

You jump a little. “Ow—what?”

“You’re so quiet,” he says. “Ask me something. Anything.”

You squint at him, thinking. He’s already back to eating, clearly expecting something deep or dramatic.

You take your time, then blurt out, “Are you a boob guy or an ass guy?”

He freezes mid-bite.

Then he laughs, nearly choking. “The fuck?”

You shrug, unapologetic. “You said anything. That’s all I had.”

He shakes his head, still grinning, eyes warm.

“So?” you press.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Ass.”

You hum like that answers something important, nodding to yourself. “Yeah. I knew it.”

“How?”

“You just have the vibe,” you say, completely serious.

He kicks you back under the table, harder this time, smiling to himself as he watches you laugh.

When you’re done eating, you’re the first to lean back in your seat, full and finally feeling human again. Riki doesn’t relax the same way. He pays a little too fast, stands a little too stiff, his jaw tight in a way you know means something’s going on.

Outside, the air is cooler. Night settled in fully now. He slips an arm around you as you walk, pulling you into his side like he always does, but instead of steering you towards the car, he keeps going straight.

You glance up at him. “We’re not going back yet?”

He exhales through his nose, almost a laugh. “Nah.”

Then, quieter, “I just wanna sit for a minute. Talk to you.”

That makes you slow down. He never says stuff like that out of nowhere.

A little further ahead, there’s a bench facing the lake, water dark and still, reflecting the city lights. It’s quiet out here, just distant traffic and the soft hum of the city.

You sit, he sits and places his arm on the backrest behind you.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. He keeps glancing at you shortly, because if he looks too long you’ll notice how nervous he is.

Finally, he clears his throat.

“Y’know… I’ve never been in love before,” he says.

You turn your head slowly, heart doing a stupid little jump. He’s not smiling. He’s serious.

“I’ve fucked around,” he continues, eyes on the water now. “Met people. Been with people. But this?” He shakes his head. “This feels different to me.”

He looks at you then. “You make me feel calm. Which is crazy, ‘cause my life’s not calm at all. I’m always watching my back, always moving, always doing shit I probably shouldn’t.” He lets out a quiet breath. “But with you.. I feel safe. Like I can actually be myself”

“And you’re so beautiful,” he adds, softer now. “And sexy. And annoying as hell sometimes.” A small smile flickers. “But it’s like… I like everything you do, because it’s you. And that scares the shit outta me.”

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can, Riki’s eyes flick past you, to something behind you.

He stiffens.

“I wanna ask you something, y/n,” he says quickly.

You blink. “What—?”

“Close your eyes,” he says, gentle but urgent.

You hesitate for half a second, then do it. Trusting him without even thinking.

Behind you, footsteps approach and it’s the guy from the restaurant, he was part of the plan all along. You hear him whisper something and the footsteps disappear slowly.

Something presses into his hands.

“All right,” he murmurs. “Open them.”

You do.

And there it is, Riki, holding a bouquet of soft pink roses and a ridiculously corny teddy bear that’s carrying a red heart, tucked under his arm. It’s so unlike him it knocks the air right out of your lungs.

Your hands fly to your mouth. “Riki?!”

He laughs, nervous, breathless. He shifts closer, eyes locked on yours. “I don’t wanna do this no-label shit anymore. I don’t wanna pretend you’re just someone I smoke with or hook up with.”

He swallows.

“Will you be my girlfriend y/n?”

Your heart explodes.

You giggle, barely kicking your feet and twirling your hair, leaning forward without even thinking. “Yes Riki.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months, pulling you into him so tight the world disappears. Your arms wrap around his neck, his face buried in your shoulder, laughing softly like he can’t believe it worked.

He kisses you, a kiss full of everything he just said out loud.

When you start walking again, it’s slow and unhurried.

You’re holding the flowers carefully in both hands. Riki’s got the teddy bear tucked under one arm, the other draped over your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

He’s quiet for a bit. You can feel him thinking.

“You liked it, right?” he says finally, nudging you a little closer with his shoulder.

You look up at him. “What?”

“The surprise,” he adds, a little unsure now. “I mean… I know it wasn’t big or fancy or whatever. I didn’t book out a place or do some crazy shit. I just—” He shrugs. “I didn’t know if it was enough.”

You stop walking and turn to him.

“I love it Riki. You say, smiliing. “I don’t need flashy. I liked that it was… you actually thinking about it. Planning it. That’s what matters.”

His jaw tightens for a second, like he’s holding back a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You start walking again, and his arm tightens around you, proud in that quiet way he gets when something means more to him than he’ll ever admit.

A moment later, you glance at the teddy bear. “How’d you plan this? The presents.”

He laughs.

“That guy from the restaurant? He used to buy stuff from me. We hung out a few times, nothing deep. I asked him earlier if he could keep something for me behind the counter for me and hand it over when his shift ended.”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re so cute.”

“Couldn’t fuck it up.” he says.

You look down at the flowers again, smiling to yourself. He notices immediately.

“You like ’em?” he asks, nudging your shoulder.

You nod. “I really do.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied. “You wanna stay at my place tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, already smiling.

“I might have another present for you,” he says casually.

You laugh, bumping into his side. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mm,” he hums. “Kidding. Unless you’re down...”

The city lights stretch out in front of you as you keep walking, flowers in your hands, his arm warm around your shoulders.. everything feeling right.

Turns out the real high was asking you to be his.

⊹

⊹

After that first night behind the mall, you and Riki somehow end up meeting again. And then again. Same rooftop parking lot. Same spot on the bumper of his car. Same stupidly addictive chicken nuggets afterwards. It becomes… a thing.

He tells you stuff you never expected from someone who looks like he hasn’t taken a real class in months; about music, his sleep schedule (or lack of it), the weird customers he deals with.

You tell him about school, your bullshit professors, the future you’re supposed to be planning.

And every time his eyes linger on your lips a little longer, you sit a little closer and you giggle a little more. You’re not stupid, you know this isn’t just about weed anymore.

-

A week passes. A full, silent week.

No texts. Zero.

After spending three nights in a row with him the week before, letting him teach you how to smoke without coughing, eating the same greasy food, laughing until your cheeks hurt.. the sudden nothing feels weird.

You tell yourself not to care.He’s not your boyfriend, he’s not even your friend, technically.He’s your plug, just a guy you happened to click with. That’s it.

But still, the quiet stings a little.Maybe he got bored.Maybe he realized you weren’t his type after all.Maybe he was just being nice that first week and now he’s over it.

So you move on with your life, sort of. You pay attention in class, stop checking your phone every five minutes, tell yourself he probably just forgot you existed.

It’s a late afternoon, one of those last classes where everyone is half-asleep and the professor is talking just to hear himself. You’re staring at your laptop, pretending to take notes, when your phone vibrates in your lap.

It’s Riki…

You blink at the screen, reread his name just to make sure you’re not high again.

Riki: wsp sexy, u wanna smoke later??

You sit up straighter without meaning to. You thought he’d go back to ignoring you like every other girl on campus he doesn’t care about.

One week of radio silence, and suddenly he texts like nothing happened?

You type back slower than you want to, pretending you weren’t waiting for this.

You: maybe

why

Three dots appear instantly, like he was waiting.

Riki: bored

and u were fun last time

so u down or what

You: ok… what time

Riki: six? same spot

dress cute this time

You: I always do??

Riki: yeah that’s why i said it

You tell yourself you’re only going because you’re bored.Because college sucks.Because weed is relaxing.

But you know exactly why you said yes. For him.

When you’re finally free to go home, you practically sprint. The moment your bedroom door closes, you’re tearing through your closet like you’re being timed. Shirts get judged, jeans get tossed, colors get reconsidered. Nothing feels right until you land on the black-on-black.

Low rise jeans, cropped top that shows just a teasing strip of skin and the tiny silver glint of your belly piercing.

Hair gets redone. Then redone again. Then perfume—two sprays, then three, because apparently you want to smell like effort.

Still, you try to convince yourself you’re not going for him. Big lie.

Across town, Riki is in his own silent crisis. He opens his closet like it personally wronged him. Normally he’d grab joggers and whatever shirt he slept in, but today he thinks a little too long. He ends up in a baggy jeans, a clean tee, and actual shoes instead of slides. He stares at himself once, scoffs, and mutters, “It’s not that serious.”

Also a lie.

-

You show up to the same rooftop parking lot as always, but this time you walk slower, playing it cool.If he’s gonna text you after a whole week like nothing happened, then he can wait a little.

He’s already there, leaning against the hood of his car, blonde hair slicked back, silver chain catching the last bits of sunset.He’s scrolling on his phone, pretending not to be checking every two seconds to see if you’re coming.

Then he spots you.

His head lifts.Eyes drag from your hair, down to your jeans sitting low on your hips, the tiny silver belly piercing glinting under the fading sun, and he actually pauses.

For the first time since you’ve known him, Riki looks caught off guard.

He whistles under his breath.“Damn… you really came dressed like that to see me?”

You force a smirk.

“You didn’t text me for a week. I assumed you were dead. Thought I’d show up to your funeral looking cute.”

That gets a laugh out of him, real and just a little surprised.He pockets his phone, eyes still glued to your stomach like he’s trying not to stare but absolutely is.

“When the hell did you get that?” he asks, nodding at your belly piercing.

You shrug, walking closer. “Had it for months.”

“What? And you just never told me?” He sounds offended in a fake, dramatic way.

“You never asked,” you shoot back.

He snorts. “Well shit, Miss-I-Do-My-Homework has a belly piercing?”

“It’s clear that you don’t know me, at all,” you tease.

He steps closer, just enough that you can smell the faint mint on his breath.

“I’m not gonna lie.. that’s hot as fuck. Especially on you.”

“Yeah, well, eyes up here” you say as you hop onto the bumper like always, swinging your legs a littleBut Riki shakes his head instantly.

“Nah, get in,” he says, jerking his chin toward the passenger seat. “I’m taking you somewhere better today.”

You blink. “Better?”

He smirks. “Trust me.”

So you slide into the passenger seat, buckle up, and before you can even ask where you’re going, he turns the music up, way too loud. Bass shaking the car, windows all the way down so the whole city can hear him drive by. Some song you half-recognize but can’t even focus on because he’s already pulling out of the parking lot.

Fast.

He drives like he doesn’t care about speed limits, one hand on the wheel, the other hanging outside the window.You should probably tell him to slow down.

But instead you just sit deeper in your seat, feel the wind in your hair, stare out the window as the sun sets and the city becomes darker.

Eventually he pulls into a quiet spot on a small hill overlooking the city. It’s darker than the places you’ve gone before. No streetlights, just the glow of windows and headlights below, tiny and far away.

He steps out of the car first and nods for you to follow.

“See?” he says, leaning against the hood. “Told you. Better.”

You join him, sitting beside him on the cold metal. The air is cool, but late summer night cool. Your thighs brush accidentally, and he starts rolling the blunt without needing to say anything.

When he lights the joint, the orange tip glows against his face, highlighting his cheekbones, his lashes, the curve of his smirk.

He takes a slow hit, exhales, then hands it to you.

And the familiar burn hits your throat instantly.You cough. Hard.

Riki laughs under his breath, tapping your back lightly.“Still a lightweight,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you croak, but you’re smiling.

After a few more hits, everything starts to soften, the view, the breeze, the way he keeps looking at you when he thinks you won’t notice.

Finally, you ask him the thing that’s been bothering you all week.

“So…” you start, voice a little hoarse from the smoke. “Why did you disappear for a week?”

He blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to bring it up.Then he actually laughs.

“You care that much?” he teases, nudging your leg with his knee.

“Riki,” you warn, half annoyed, half embarrassed, “just answer.”

He leans back on his hands, looking at the city instead of you.

“I didn’t ignore you,” he says, voice lower now. “Had some shit to deal with. Some dude owed me money. Got messy.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing, even though you can tell it wasn’t.

“Didn’t really have the headspace to chill with anyone.”

You stare at him for a second.The honesty surprises you.

“And you couldn’t tell me that?” you ask quietly.

He sighs once through his nose, then glances over at you.

“My bad,” he says. Genuinely. “I’m not good at… texting people. Or explaining shit.”“But I wasn’t trying to ghost you.”

You look away, pretending the city lights suddenly got more interesting.

“Okay,” you mumble. “I guess.”

He bumps his shoulder into yours.

“Hey,” he says. “If I didn’t wanna see you again, I wouldn’t be here. I missed this.”

Your eyes meet his and he holds your gaze for a little too long.Then hands you the joint again, thumb brushing your fingers, slow, on purpose.

“You’re not that easy to ignore anyway,” he adds with a smirk.

You’re sitting on the hood with your knees slightly pulled up, the cool metal pressing through your jeans.

He glances down at your outfit, then tilts his head a little.

“Turn a little,” he says suddenly, tapping your hip with his knuckle.You look at him, confused but amused. “Why?”

He grins. “Wanna see your belly piercing again.”

You laugh, rolling her eyes. “You’re obsessed.”

Still, you shift in place and lift the hem of your top up a few centimeters—nothing dramatic, just enough for the tiny metal to catch the faint orange streetlight.

His eyes lock onto it instantly.

“Damn,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her. “It really suits you. You look sexy as hell.”

You raise a brow. “Why are you so impressed by it? It’s just a piercing.”

He sits up straighter, turning towards you as if the answer genuinely interests him.His gaze drags from the piercing back up to your face, slow, intentional.

“It’s not the piercing,” he says softly.“It’s that I didn’t expect it from you.”

“Oh?” You tease. “And what exactly did you expect?”

He shrugs, but his smile grows, lazy and warm.“Something softer. Something more… innocent.”He taps the spot where the piercing glints. “This just makes you more interesting.”

You try not to react, but the compliment hits in that unexpected way that makes your stomach flip.He notices, of course. He always notices.

He chuckles and takes another hit before passing the joint to you.

“Don’t act like you don’t like hearing that,” he teases quietly.

You take another hit, slower this time, and the weed settles over you like a warm blanket. The city lights blur a little at the edges, and the air feels thick, sweet, heavy.Riki watches the smoke leave your lips with a focus that makes your stomach flip.

Then he shifts. He moves closer like he’s claiming space next to you, one hand on the bumper behind you, his arm brushing your back.

“You’re getting better at this,” he says, voice low enough that it feels like he’s speaking directly into your skin.

You roll your eyes.“Yeah I’m not a complete amateur.”

“Nah,” he murmurs, his knees touching yours now, “not anymore.”

The wind blows your hair forward, and he reaches up, fingers brushing it away from your face. Slowly. Gently. But with intention.

Your breath gets stuck somewhere in your throat.

He smirks, noticing.

“You okay?” he asks, but it’s not worry.It’s a challenge.

“Yeah” You say and turn your head to him. “Why”

“What kind of guys are you into?”

You blink. “That’s random.”

“No it’s not,” he laughs, eyes dragging down your body and then back up again. “I’m asking for a reason.”

You try to sound unfazed. “Why? Trying to set me up with someone?”

“Maybe,” he says, shrugging lightly.“Or maybe I just wanna know if I should keep wasting my time.”

Your heart stutters.

“I mean,” he continues, eyes flicking to your lips, “you don’t dress like you’re not trying to impress someone.”

You scoff, flustered. “This is just what I grabbed.”

“Sure,” he says, smirking. “Totally random outfit. Nothing to do with me at all.”

He taps your bare hip with the back of his fingers where your jeans sit low.Just once.But it’s enough to send a spark straight through you.

“Relax, pretty” he murmurs. “I like it.”

You swallow. Hard. He watches with too much attention.

He takes the blunt back from your fingers—slowly, like he’s testing what he can get away with—and takes a hit, exhales it and watches the smoke disappear in the night sky.

“Come here,” he says, he holds the joint up for you, you wrap your lips around it and take slow hit. Lips brushing his fingertips softly.

He leans in, close enough that your noses nearly brush.

“Blow,” he says softly.

You blow out the smoke towards him, and he inhales it, eyes locked with yours the whole time. It’s so intimate it makes your stomach twist.

Then he exhales, letting the smoke spill past your cheek in a warm wave.

“That’s my favorite way to smoke,” he murmurs.“With someone who looks at me like that.”

And then he moves.He just leans in like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he’s been waiting for you to realize it too.

His nose brushes yours. His breath mixes with yours, smoke, mint gum, and something warm that’s just him.

His eyes flick to your lips. That’s the only warning you get.

Because then his hand slides up to the side of your jaw, and he kisses you.

Soft at first. Testing.Then firmer—hungry, sure, like he’s finally letting himself take what he’s been teasing you about all night.

You taste smoke and warmth and his heartbeat against your mouth.His thumb strokes your cheek once, grounding you, then his fingers slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss just enough to make your whole body light up.

He pulls back only a breath away, lips still grazing yours.

“Knew you’d taste good,” he murmurs.

You’re breathless.He smirks—like he knew that, too.

His forehead stays against yours, lips brushing yours every time either of you breathe. One of his hands stays on your jaw, warm and steady, the other drifts down to your thigh, thumb pressing softly into the denim.

“You okay?” he asks quietlybut he says it with a smirk, like he already knows damn well that you’re not.

You swallow, nodding even though your heartbeat is thundering in your chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” he teases, leaning in like he’s going to steal another kiss. “You look kinda…” his eyes drop to your lips again, “shaken.”

“I’m not,”

He smiles. “So if I do it again,” he murmurs, “you won’t get all shy on me?”

You open your mouth, ready to fire something back, but you don’t get the chance because he kisses you again.

This time he doesn’t bother pretending it’s soft or tentative. He kisses you like he wants to feel you, like he needs to know what sound you make when he gets it right.

One hand stays cradling your jaw; the other slides a bit higher up, fingers hooking just under the hem of your shirt as he pulls you a little closer.

You exhale against his mouth, and he swallows the sound with a quiet, satisfied hum.

When he pulls back again, his lips are pink, a little swollen.His eyes flick between your lips and your eyes, like he’s deciding if he’s done.

He’s not.

“See?” he says softly. “Knew you wanted this.”

You glare at him. Your voice comes out breathier than you’d like. “You kissed me first.”

“That supposed to change something?” he says, leaning in close enough that his nose brushes your cheek. “’Cause you kissed me back.”

You don’t deny it. You can’t, not when he’s looking at you like this.

He nudges his forehead back against yours, breathing you in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs. “If you want me to.”

You don’t say a word.

He smiles “That’s what I thought.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip. And he kisses you again, his hand slides up your shirt for a second and then he pulls away. Eyes locked on yours, dangerous and low.

“You ever had high sex?” He asks, but it wasn’t exactly a question, more like… an idea.

You smile “no…”

He smiles too “high sex is the best sex.”

“Is it?”

“It is. And… I kinda need you. Now. So let me show you.” He says, and he’s already on his feet, holding out his hand for you to grab it. So you do, he pulls you to the side of the car and opens the door.

You crawl onto the backseat and he can’t help but smack your ass softly before he follows you in. The car door slams behind you, you barely have time to sit down before his tongue slips into your mouth again.

Your hand slips inside his jeans, a soft whimper escapes from his lips. You smile into the kiss and bite his bottom lip softly. His hands move to the sides of your body, he breaks the kiss and slides your top over your head, leaving you in your bra.

His own shirt was off in no time. Displaying his lean upper body and the tanlines on his arms from smoking under the sun all summer.

He reconnects the kisses and used both hands to undo your pants, well… he tries. The tiny space of the car makes everything a little difficult, but more exiting. You help him slide of your pants, both of you high as hell, giggling like it’s your first time.

You swing a leg over him, sitting on his lap now, slowly grinding against the hard bulge in his boxers. He slides his fingers over your panties slowly before pulling them aside and starts moving his fingers over your clit very gently. You let out a soft hum into the kiss.

His fingers move a little faster over the sensitive bud before he slides two fingers inside of you slowly, your eyebrows furrow and you accidentally bite his lip.

He chuckles “ow, damn. Feels that good?”

“Mhm” you nod and move your lips to his neck, giving him sloppy kisses there.

“Yeah?” He says, moving his fingers in and out of you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“…Faster Riki” you say and you start grinding your hips with his fingers inside you, you can’t handle the slow pace anymore.

He chuckles low and uses his free hand to grab your hip, firm, making sure you stay still.

“Be patient baby”. He says, he’s being so, SO gentle with you, it hurts.

When his fingers finally speed up a little, sliding out of you back to your clit and starts rubbing it in circles, you moan. “Fuck,” you grab the back of his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

He took in the moans you released into his mouth, a smile forming into the kiss. He loves hearing you moan, he loves knowing he’s doing a good job satisfying you. He increases the speed of his fingers, pushing you towards your orgasm.

“Mmh Riki” you whined into his mouth. He let out a groan in response.

He dips two fingers in to start pumping your insides and uses his thumb to rub your clit at the same time.

“Fuck.. Riki—” you moan.

“Yeah im right here baby.” He says, and never would you have expected a guy like him to be this gentle and reassuring. “You close?” He asks, quickening his pace as the sound of your moans filled the car.

He senses you were almost there and starts pumping his fingers faster and deeper. You buck your hips against his fingers for extra pleasure.

“Ah fuck Riki im gonna c-“ you whine as your climax spills over you, you arch your back and your body starts trembling.

“There we go” he says and he bites his lip, fighting a smile. He kept his fingers moving, curling inside of you slowly till your legs stop shaking and your breath has stabilized.

Your head is buried in his neck, you’re slowly calming down from your climax, and he lets you. But Riki is starting to get impatient himself, you can tell by the way he licks and sucks on your neck while bucking his hips up into yours, hands on your hips to push you down on him.

You get off his lap and squeeze yourself onto the floor, in between his knees and the back of the front seat. You’ve never seen someone unbuckle their belt as fast as he just did for you. He lifts his hips up from the backseat and slides his pants and boxer off in one quick motion, exposing his dick, tip leaking with pre cum.

You start stroking it with one hand before you take it into your mouth, instantly bobbing your head, your eyes locked on his. Before you know it you’re choking on him instead of the smoke. Riki groans and squeezes the leather seat like his life depends on it.

“Fuck… that’s it baby”

You take him even deeper and he loses it, he lets out a loud groan, throws his head back and covers his eyes with his free hand. He can feel he’s almost at his limit, he looks back at you and then he grabs your face gently, your lips disconnecting with a small pop.

“C’mon baby.. sit on it” he says low. You come back up and position yourself above him, he gives you a quick kiss before entering the tip. He lets out a soft ‘fuck’ and his hands find your hips immediately, sitting you further down on his dick slowly.

“You alright?” He asks. You nod, “uh-huh.” And when he’s fully in you, your hips start grinding on instinct. His hands stay on your hips, guiding you up and down slowly.

“Fuck… so good baby” he says and he lets out a sharp breath through his teeth.

His hands slide to your ass and he squeezes it. Then back on your hips, making you increase the pace.

“Yeah just like that.” He groans.

He’s getting closer to his climax. His hands find your bare back and he pulls you in, chest to chest, and he wraps his arms around you.

He’s hugging you.

Mister tough-guy-weed-addict-drug-dealer is hugging you during sex. You didn’t expect it, definitely not, but you love it. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him, still grinding your hips at the pace he wanted.

“Mmm” he groaned into your neck, you can tell he’s close, arms tightening around you, groans getting louder. He starts lifting his hips up from the seat, pumping into you.

“Riki- fuck“ you moan.

The way you moan his name, god it makes his dick twitch. “Mhm- who?”

You moan his name again. Loud. And that’s when he reaches his orgasm. “Fu— mmh fuck baby” he groans.

You ride him out for a few more seconds till you’re both calmed down.

The windows are still fogged when you pull your shirt back over your head, both of you laughing under your breath like two people who should not be as giddy as you are.

You’re trying to get your pants closed, but your fingers won’t cooperate—shaking too much, fumbling over the button three times.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, cheeks burning.

Riki’s quiet laugh fills the car.“C’mere,” he says, scooting closer.

You freeze for a second as he gently catches your wrists, lowering your hands.

He takes over without a single hesitation, his fingers steady and warm as they slip the button into place. His touch is careful, slow, almost protective.

Then he looks up at you.

“You good?” he asks quietly, voice lower and softer than you’ve ever heard it.

Your breath catches.“Yeah. Just… my hands are kinda—”

“Shaky,” he finishes for you, his mouth twitching into the tiniest smile. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He leans back finally, grabbing his own shirt and pulling it on with way less coordination than he pretends to have. When he catches you staring, he smirks.

“What?” he says.“Nothing,” you lie.

“Please,” he grins, “you’re obsessed with me.”

You shove him lightly, but you’re still smiling.

Then he pauses.

“You hungry?” he asks, more gentle now.“Yeah.”

He nods once, decisive.“Alright. Let’s get you food.”

“Me?” you echo. “You’re always the hungry one.”

“Shh, im taking care of you. Appreciate it.” He jokes.

Once he’s back in the drivers seat, and you in the passengers’, he drives off. Quieter music, slower speed, one hand resting on your knee like he means it.

He ends up driving you to a different fast-food place this time. The fluorescent lights make everything look a little unreal, but the two of you walk in like you’re totally normal people who definitely did not just hook up in a parked car.

You take a booth in the corner. He orders for both of you without even asking, like he already knows what you’d want. And when the food comes, it’s stupid how natural it feels to sit across from him, both of you half-dazed, eyes a little heavy, hair a little messy.

You’re eating fries out of the same carton, stealing bites of each other’s burgers, sipping from his drink because you’re too lazy to get your own straw. He doesn’t even blink, just pushes the cup toward you whenever you glance at it.

And honestly?

That’s the part that feels the safest.

No tension. No weirdness. Just comfort. Like the air between you is still warm from the car.

You’re picking at your fries when the thought finally slips out of your mouth.

“I, um… didn’t expect you to be so gentle.”

Riki looks up mid-bite, eyebrows raising.

“With what?” he asks, pretending not to understand, but the smirk already tugging at his lips gives him away.

“You know what.”

He laughs quietly, eyes dropping to his tray for a second before he leans back in the booth.

“Why’s that?”

You smile at him and hug “I don’t know, you’re… a dealer. A little mean.”

He huffs out a laugh, but there’s something curious behind it.

“So you thought I’d be what? Rough as hell? Not give a shit about you?”

You swallow. That is exactly what you thought. You nod once.

He sits back, looking at you with this mix of disbelief and something softer.

“Damn,” he says. “That’s what you think of me?”

“I wanted you to feel good,” he says plainly.

Then he adds, more like his usual self, “And don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

You fail to hide a smile and he sees it. He nudges your foot under the table “aww look at you getting shy,” he says with a big grin on his face.

-

You two walk out of the fast-food place still talking like neither of you want the night to end. The cold air hits you first, making you shiver just a little, and Riki notices instantly.

He doesn’t say anything, just moves closer, hand resting lightly on your lower back in this casual, protective way that shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

The parking lot is almost empty now, just a few flickering lights and your breaths visible in the air.

You’re barely on the road before the exhaustion hits you. You didn’t realize how heavy your body felt until now. The hum of the engine and the streetlights passing by like soft flashes make everything blurry. Your head starts to tilt toward the window.

Riki sees it immediately.He glances over, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile so tiny you almost miss it.

“Tired?” he asks quietly.

You hum a half-asleep “mmhmm,” already sinking into the seat.

He doesn’t tease you this time.Instead, he reaches forward and turns the music down, just low enough that it’s barely there and he drives smoother than ever. No fast turns, no loud bass, no heavy acceleration.

Just calm.

He keeps checking on you at red lights, eyes flicking over to make sure your head isn’t hitting the glass. His jaw relaxes every time he sees you still breathing soft and slow.

By the time he pulls up to your place, it’s late.11:45 PM.

He puts the car in park, looks at you for a moment, lashes low, lips parted, cheek pressed against the headrest. You look so peaceful he hates to wake you up.

He leans over a little, careful not to startle you.“Hey,” he whispers first, testing.

No reaction.

He tries again, softer. He taps your thigh twice.“Yo… princess.”

He frowns at his own words for a second, he doesn’t know why that came out, but he doesn’t take it back.

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, like waking up from the warmest nap ever. You look confused for half a second, then your gaze focuses on him.

“You good?” he asks, voice low and warm in a way he doesn’t use with anyone else.

You nod, but the movement is more of a sleepy wobble.

“Yeah? Slept good?”

“Uh-huh,” you hum as you unbuckle your seatbelt. When you open the car door he quickly calls out.

“Hold up,” He nods his head to the side and says “come here”.

You turn around and lean in, he grabs your face and gives you a warm kiss on your lips, then one on your forehead.

“Alright you can go now” he says after, with a familiar smirk.

You chuckle “goodnight Riki,” you say as you step out the car, legs wobbly from a mix of exhaustion and everything you feel for him.

“Night baby” he murmurs.

He waits and watches you walk to your door. Watches you go inside safely.

When the door closes behind her, he exhales, drops his head back against the headrest, and lets out a breathy laugh.

He should’ve driven off the second you stepped inside. But instead he’s stuck replaying the last four hours on a loop. The way you fell asleep so trustingly beside him, the way you sounded when it felt a little too good, how warm you felt against him, how soft you got when you were high and the stupid questions you asked.

Inside, you barely make it to your bedroom.You don’t change, don’t wash your face, you just collapse onto your bed fully dressed, eyes drifting shut almost instantly.

And as your mind drifts off into sleep, all you feel is warmth…and this stupid swirl of butterflies tearing up your stomach because him. Riki with his low, dangerous looking eyes, his boxy smile and his blond hair.

Riki already knows he’s going to see you again. Kiss you again. Touch you again. Too soon, probably. But he can’t bring himself to care.

He’s got butterflies too. Something he hasn’t felt in years. The thing is, he doesn’t even try to push them away.

He just lets them stay.

You got him higher than any amount of weed ever could.

⊹