#scandal

⊹

@ idolsdaily

🚨 ENHYPEN's Ni-ki and REPLAY's Y/n caught fighting outside HYBE.

The two idols were seen having a heated argument outside the HYBE building today before Y/n appeared to push Ni-ki in the chest. Witnesses say the argument lasted several minutes before they walked away separately.

[🎥 Video attached]

You take a deep breath before pushing open the door of the practice room.

Music hums quietly from the speakers, Riki's phone is charging in the corner, water bottles are scattered across the floor. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Riki looks up.

His footsteps are heavy against the wooden floor as he walks straight toward you. One hand drags through his hair, pushing it back out of his face, bracelets sliding down his wrist and clinking softly with every step.

He's dressed exactly how you'd expect him to be, oversized sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a black hoodie with the zipper halfway down over a white tank top, silver jewellery around his neck, on his wrists and in his ears.

A smile spreads across his face before he's even reached you.

"There she is."

Without thinking twice, he opens his arms for a hug.

You hesitate for half a second. Then you step forward just enough to give him a quick side hug, one arm patting his back once before immediately pulling away.

"Hi."

The smile leaves his face almost as quickly as it came.

"...Hey."

You don't linger, you walk past him toward the corner of the room where his black duffel bag is already thrown on the floor. You quietly set yours beside it, unzip it to grab your water bottle, then sit down on the floor, keeping a comfortable amount of distance between the chair he was on and yourself.

Riki slowly walks back too. He drops into the chair with a sigh, legs spread, leaning back so far it almost looks ridiculous. One arm hangs over the backrest while the other absentmindedly taps against his thigh.

The silence feels unfamiliar, there used to be a time when the two of you couldn't stop talking. Now even finding the first sentence feels awkward.

He clears his throat. "So..."

His eyes flick toward you. "How've you been?"

You look up from unscrewing your water bottle. "Good."

"...Good?"

"Yeah ...You?"

"I'm alright."

— 

Four months ago, this room would've sounded completely different.

You would've stolen his chair before he got to it. He would've complained while trying to pull you onto his lap anyway. You would've argued over which song to warm up with, flirted your way through practice, shared snacks during breaks, and left to his dorm after.

You had dated for a year.

A year full of arguments about stupid things.

Who forgot to text back, who cancelled plans because of practice, who was too lazy, who didn't listen. The little fights started happening so much they stopped feeling little.

When you finally broke up with him, the company immediately stepped in.

"Due to increasingly busy schedules, the idols have decided to end their relationship by mutual agreement and focus on their personal careers.”

It would've worked if nobody had seen the argument.

Someone had filmed the two of you outside the HYBE building after a rehearsal. The video only lasted twelve seconds, but it changed everything.

You raising your voice, Riki slamming the door in frustration. You giving his chest one small shove to get past him. It wasn't violent, it barely moved him. 

But online, rumours and theories spread faster than ever.

"She hit him!"

"He's controlling."

"Ew they're so toxic."

“Get rid of both of them!”

"Enhypen and Replay definitely hate each other."

Every livestream they’d bring it up. Every airport appearance they’d call you out. 

Your anxiety got so bad you stopped sleeping.

Eventually, you were completely removed from the schedules by the company. Mostly for your mental health, but it was also to let the scandal die before it dragged down not only you, but Replay, Enhypen, and HYBE itself.

—

For Riki, the past four months had been strange.

Not nearly as hard as they were for you, but nowhere near as easy as they should've been either.

The first few weeks after the breakup, he was just angry. Angry that you'd broken up with him. Angry that one stupid argument had somehow turned into the biggest scandal either of your groups had ever dealt with. Angry that everything had spiraled over something that should've stayed between the two of you.

So he did what every stubborn twenty-year-old guy does when his heart gets broken.

He blocked you. Your number, your private Instagram, he blocked Replay on Spotify and removed you from all your shared playlists. Anything that had your name attached to it disappeared from his phone within minutes.

If someone mentioned your group backstage, he'd quietly leave the conversation. Whenever your name somehow came up during interviews or variety content, he'd pretend not to hear it.

He was convinced the easiest way to get over you was to act like you didn't exist.

It didn't work.

Then the company announced your hiatus.

At first he thought it'd only be for a week or two, maybe until things calmed down online. But you disappeared completely.

During those long, quiet months, his anger slowly started fading. Because the more he replayed that argument in his head, the more he realized he couldn't keep blaming only you.

Yeah, you pushed his chest. Barely. 

But he was the one who kept following you outside, he was the one who wouldn't let the argument end. He kept provoking you, throwing little comments your way because he was frustrated and wanted the last word.

Neither of you had noticed someone recording. Neither of you wanted the internet to twist twelve seconds into an entire theory.

It wasn't your fault that someone happened to have their phone pointed at you two. And it definitely wasn't your fault that millions of people decided they knew exactly what your relationship had was like.

The anger turned into guilt quickly. Especially every time he made the mistake of opening comments.

"Kick Y/N out of Replay."

"She pushed him. I don't care if it was 'lightly.'"

"Poor Ni-ki deserves better."

"She's only crying because she got caught."

"Hope her hiatus becomes permanent."

"Blink twice if HYBE is forcing you to defend her."

He hated reading it. One afternoon he'd gotten so frustrated that he marched straight to his manager.

"People need to stop this."

The manager looked up from his laptop. "We're handling it."

"No, you're not. She barely touched me."

"We know."

"Then why aren't you saying anything?"

"Because responding will only make the situation bigger."

His jaw clenched. "They're tearing her apart."

"We understand."

The room fell quiet, the manager sighed. "Ni-ki."

He already knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next.

"Do not say anything publicly. Not on Weverse. Not on live. Not during interviews. Nowhere."

He stared at him in disbelief. "She's getting hated every single day."

"And if you speak up, people will start talking again."

"But she doesn't deserve—"

"I know. But the best thing you can do for y/n right now... is let the situation die."

He hated that answer. He wanted to tell everyone that you'd never hurt him and that the fight had been both of your faults.

But all he could do was wait. Wait for the hate to die down, or for the day he'd finally get to see you again, he even wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

Finally, around the third month, something slowly started to change.

People got bored. New scandals happened, new rumors started, people actually began looking back at the original clip instead of just repeating what everyone else had been saying. The comments slowly became less hateful.

"That's the push everyone's talking about? She literally barely touched him."

"We don't even know what happened before."

"Ni-ki was yelling at her too."

"This was obviously just a couple arguing. Why is everyone acting like she's some criminal?

"Y'all ruined a girl's career over THIS?"

Edits started appearing, slowing the video down, circling details people hadn't noticed before.

"Ni-ki’s still walking towards her after she pushes him."

"She looks more upset than angry."

"We judged Y/N way too quickly."

"Bring her back already."

"She served a four month hiatus over a tiny shove??"

"Free Y/N."

"Replay doesn't feel complete without her. We miss our main dancer :("

The company went back and forth behind closed doors.

Managers from met with Riki several times to discuss how contact between you and him should go if you came back.

Emails were constantly being exchanged with Replay’s management. Rules were made. No interviews about the breakup, no public interaction unless approved, no mentioning the scandal. No dating rumors. Just move on.

Four months of no performances, no interviews, no seeing Riki.

And now, only a week after your return, management had decided the best possible way to prove to the public that there were no hard feelings… was to lock the two of you in a dance practice room and have you film a dance collaboration.

"Show the public you two are fine."

—

You walk over to one side of the mirrored wall, setting your phone and water bottle on the floor before sitting down to stretch. One leg folded underneath you while the other extends out, your fingertips reaching toward your shoe.

Then Riki clears his throat. He isn’t looking at you anymore, his elbows rest on his knees as he stares at the floor.

"...I'm really sorry about everything. You didn't deserve any of th-“

You stop stretching for a second and cut him off.

"Don't worry about it."

He looks up. “I’m serious y/n… I wish we h-”

You offer him a small smile. "I'm back now. I'm fine."

"...Mhm." That’s all he manages to say. "Okay."

The silence immediately returns and it feels painfully awkward, so you decide to fill it.

"You changed your hair."

He instinctively runs a hand through it, the bracelets around his wrist softly clinking together.

"Oh." A small grin appeared. "Yeah."

The last time you saw him it was long and blonde, now its shorter and darker, kind of brown-ish.

He ruffles it again before looking back at you and his smile becomes a little more nervous.

"You like it?"

You look at him for a second. Then simply shrug one shoulder and give him a small nod, nothing too much.

"...Yeah."

He smiles. "Thank you."

Before the conversation could awkwardly die again, you push yourself off the floor, dust off your sweatpants and walk towards the center of the practice room. You glance at the huge mirror in front of you before looking over your shoulder at him.

You clapped your hands together once.

"Shall we start?"

The first hour of practice was very quiet. The only thing filling the room was the song over and over. The same thirty seconds replayed until you got every single step perfect.

Neither of you talked unless it was necessary.

"Five, six, seven, eight."

"Again."

"You were half a count late."

"My bad."

"Let's go."

That was it. Just mirrors, sweat, music and counting.

The choreography itself wasn't difficult, it was just precise. Every step had to land at exactly the same moment. You were both main dancers for a reason.

After almost an hour, Riki suddenly stops moving.

"Nah..."

He exhales sharply, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "It's hot as hell in here."

He walks toward the chair in the corner. His hoodie comes off in one smooth motion before he throws it over the backrest, leaving only the black tank top underneath. Silver chains rest against his collarbones, his hair already sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat.

He walks over to the air conditioning unit on the wall and presses the temperature down a few degrees.

"There." He sighed in satisfaction. "Way better."

Walking back toward the speaker, he presses play again and looks at you through the mirror.

"Ready?"

You nod and he counts. "Five... six... seven... eight."

You both move at the exact same time. Your bodies slip into the choreography automatically. Muscle memory, years of training.

You catch your own reflection, then his. Your eyes stay there longer than they should.

It feels strange. Four months without seeing each other, pure silence, convincing yourself everything between you had changed.

Yet somehow, the moment the music starts, your bodies still move together like they always had. Every turn and step matched. The realization made something tighten in your chest.

You miss a count, your eyes still on his reflection instead of your own.

"...Wait."

You stop dancing.

"Can we stop for a sec?"

Riki immediately reaches over and pauses the music.

"What happened?"

You rub the back of your neck.

"This part..." You look at your feet. "I can't get the footwork right."

He looked down for a second before nodding.

"Oh. It's..."

He steps into position and demonstrates it slowly.

"This foot first. And then your weight goes here."

He repeats it again.

"You keep putting your weight on the wrong leg."

You watch carefully. "Oh..."

"See?"

He does it one last time. "It's easier if you don't think about your upper body yet."

You copy him. "...Like this?"

"Almost."

He steps closer and points at your foot. “No, this one.”

You adjust it.

"Yeah." He smiled. "That's it."

“Okay.” You laughed quietly. “Thank you.”

He nods and walks back to his spot.

"Again?"

The music starts. This time you made it a little further. Then—

"Wait. Sorry." You frowned. "Again."

Riki didn't complain. "Okay."

You got through the first half, then stumbled.

"...Stop for a sec."

Click. The music stops.

"My bad."

Again, and again, and again. By the fifth restart, you let out a frustrated groan.

"Can we do it one more time?"

Riki clicks his tongue. "Y/N. You were fine."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I messed up."

"It wasn't noticeable."

"It was to me."

He sighed through his nose. "Just keep going."

"We're filming this."

"I know."

"So I want it right."

"It is right."

You roll your eyes before walking straight past him towards the speaker and stop the music.

Riki closes his eyes for a second, dragging a hand down his face before rubbing the back of his neck.

"...Seriously?"

"I wanna try again."

He looks at you for a long second before letting out another sigh.

"Y/N."

You don't look at him. He lets out a small sigh. "You're stressing yourself out too much."

Your hand stays on the speaker, waiting for him to continue.

"It's just a dance challenge."

The words hit a nerve instantly. You slowly turn around.

"…To you, maybe."

Riki frowns.

You laugh once. "To you, it's just a dance challenge."

"For me?" You gesture around the practice room. "This is my first appearance after disappearing for months. My first time people are gonna see me again."

You shake your head. "If I mess this up once, they'll tear me apart again. They'll say I lost my skills, and that I shouldn't have come back."

You look him straight in the eyes.

"So no, it’s not just a dance challenge. I have to do this perfectly."

Then you quietly add,

"And it doesn't exactly help that they paired me up with you."

His eyebrows pull together immediately.

"...What's that supposed to mean?"

You scoff. "Come on, seriously? You wanna act like nothing happened?"

His jaw tightens. "Oh, i’m not the one acting, y/n."

"No?"

"No." He takes a step closer. "You're the one acting. And a great fucking actress you are."

Your jaw drops and you scoff, ready to fire something back but he cuts you off before you can.

"I literally apologized the second you walked in, but you cut me off. I tried talking about it, you cut me off again."

You fold your arms. "I don't need your apology. It's not like you gave a shit before."

His head snaps up. "Don't say that."

"Why?"

"Because it's not true."

You scoff. "You don't know half the shit I've been through these past months."

"I know enough."

"No, you don't."

"I do." He runs an irritated hand through his hair. "I talked to the managers."

You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Sure."

"I did. They wouldn't let me contact you."

"Oh please. Don’t lie to me. You blocked me on everything!" The words echo through the room.

Riki exhales sharply.

"Come on y/n. I blocked you right after we broke up, i was angry. I know it was childish, but I was pissed."

You shake your head in disbelief. "And after that? You could've unblocked me? You could've texted, you could've asked if I was okay."

"I wasn't allowed."

"Bullshit."

His voice rises. "I argued with management! I told them you didn't deserve the hate, I told them you barely even fucking touched me! They told me to stay out of it because it'd make everything worse!"

You stare at him. You hesitate, then you look away again.

"Whatever, Ni-ki."

His expression changes immediately. "Don't."

You frown. "What?"

"Don't call me that."

His voice is lower now. "It's Riki to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is it?"

He says nothing. You give a bitter little smile. "We're coworkers now. You said it yourself."

"This is work. So professionally..." You shrug. "You're Ni-ki."

He clenches his jaw. "I hate it when you call me that."

You give him one last glance. "Let's just get this over with."

Five, six, seven, eight.

You start again. The choreography you've already repeated dozens of times, but everything is off.

Your heart isn't in it anymore. Your mind keeps replaying the argument. The counts blur together, you miss another step, ignore it, keep going.

Riki notices you're a fraction behind, but he doesn't say anything. He just adjusts without thinking, like he always used to.

You reach the chorus. Turn, step— A sharp pain suddenly shoots through your calf.

"Ah!"

You immediately stop moving, grabbing the back of your leg. You sink down onto the wooden floor with a groan.

"Shit..."

The music is off instantly, Riki is already halfway across the room.

"What happened?" He crouches down in front of you. "You okay?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, both hands gripping your calf.

"...Yeah." A pained exhale leaves you. "I'm fine."

Another cramp shoots through the muscle. "...Fuck."

He watches you rubbing desperately at the back of your leg. "I told you you're stressing yourself out too much. We should've taken a break."

You shake your head. "It's just..." You wince again. "...a cramp."

He nods toward your leg. "Can you stand?"

"I think so." You plant one foot on the floor, but the second you put weight on it—

"...Ow." You wince.

Riki immediately reaches toward you. He slips one arm around your back and another underneath your arm. "Lean on me."

You hesitate, then reluctantly let him help you up. The moment your foot touches the floor again, another sting shoots through your calf.

You hiss through your teeth. "I think... I think I strained something."

"Easy." His hand automatically settles against your waist to steady you. "Don't rush."

The two of you slowly make your way toward the corner of the practice room.

He helps you lower yourself onto the floor before sitting beside you with a quiet sigh. You keep kneading your calf with both hands in silence, hoping the muscle will finally relax.

Beside you, Riki twists open his water bottle and the plastic crackles. He takes a long drink before glancing sideways at you.

"...Want me to massage it?"

You don't even look up. "No. It’s just a cramp."

"I know."

"I'll be fine."

He shakes his head and chuckles quietly. "C’mon.. I'm not asking to kiss you or something."

The joke slips out suddenly. 

Your hands stop moving and your eyes immediately lift to his. Neither of you says anything, you just look at each other.

You quickly clear your throat and look back at your leg.

"...Fine." A quiet sigh leaves you. "Go ahead."

He puts his water bottle down.

"Give me your leg."

You slide it a little closer. Carefully, he rolls your grey sweatpants up to just below your knee, exposing your calf.

His fingers wrap gently around the muscle. "Tell me if it hurts."

"It already hurts."

Then he starts slowly massaging the tight muscle between both his hands. His hands are warm and soft on your skin, and it feels stupidly familiar.

He continues massaging your calf in silence, the music paused, the only sounds coming from the air conditioner humming above you and Riki's hands slowly working the tension out of your calf.

The pain has already eased a little. You watch his hands for a moment before quietly speaking.

"...I'm sorry."

He looks up. "Hm?"

"For earlier."

You fiddle with the ring on your middle finger. "I kinda snapped at you."

A small, awkward laugh leaves you. "I... didn't know you actually tried talking to the managers."

Riki’s hands don't stop moving.  He shakes his head. "It's okay."

He smiles faintly. "You couldn't have known."

He shrugs one shoulder. "I wasn't exactly able to tell you."

You let out a slow breath. "I still shouldn't have said all that."

He looks at you for a second before returning his attention to your calf.

"I said things too."

"Yeah, you did."

"...I’m sorry."

You smile despite yourself and the tension between you eases just a little.

Neither of you notices that his massage has slowly changed. He’s not massaging anymore, his fingertips drift lazily over your leg instead, tracing slow lines against your skin while the conversation continues. He's not even thinking about it, neither are you.

His eyes stay on your leg for a second before quietly saying,

"...I never wanted our relationship to end."

Your smile fades a little.

He lets out a breathy laugh. "You really broke my heart."

He says it almost jokingly, smiling as he looks up at you. You meet his eyes. You smile, but guilt still sneaks onto your face.

"I'm sorry… I think." You look down at your hands with a faint smile.

He watches you for a moment before giving a small shrug.

"Learned our lesson."

You nod slowly. You look at each other for a little, Riki is the first to break the silence.

He gives your leg two light pats.

"There. You good now?"

You gently flex your ankle. The pain is almost gone.

"...Mostly."

You lean back against the mirror with a sigh.

"I wanna sit for another few minutes, okay?"

He nods. "No problem."

Pushing himself up from the floor, he grabs his water bottle and takes another sip.

"I'll keep practicing."

Still smiling to himself, he walks back toward the center of the practice room. You stay seated on the floor when he walks away.

Your calf still aches a little, so you keep absent-mindedly rubbing circles into the muscle while scrolling through your phone with your other hand. Every now and then you take another bite of your protein bar.

The room fills with music again. Your eyes keep drifting away from your phone, to Riki. At first it's just quick glances, checking how far he is into the choreography.

Eventually you stop pretending he’s not all you want to look at. Your phone rests forgotten in your lap, you simply watch him. He hasn't changed, he's still ridiculously good.

Every movement is so clean it looks effortless. His shoulders roll smoothly, the muscles in his arms flex every time he throws them through the air. His footwork is still stupidly precise, and the little expressions he makes while dancing, his brows pulling together, the tiny smirk whenever he nails something, the way he'd mouth the lyrics without realizing it. 

You recognize it all.  You had just forgotten how much fun he was to watch.

Riki notices just in the corner of his eye. His heart immediately starts beating a little faster. 

Without meaning to, He puts more energy into every detail. Because a part of him still wants to impress you, maybe then you’ll remember why you liked him.

When the song finishes, he lets out an exaggerated groan.

"Fuck..."

He bends over dramatically, hands on his knees, breathing way louder than necessary.

"This shit’s exhausting."

You don't even look up from your phone this time.

"Mhm."

He shoots you a look. He sighs like the world is ending before standing back up.

"I'm dying over here."

"You'll survive."

"I don't know..."

He says before grabbing the hem of his tank top.

"So hot."

He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of it, lifting the fabric high enough to reveal toned abs, the dark tattoo stretching along his side… and just above the waistband of his sweatpants, the tiny kiss tattoo, your lips, sitting on his V-line. 

You see it. Riki glances down before looking back at you with the tiniest grin.

You grab your empty water bottle. 

"You're embarrassing yourself."  You say, then you throw the bottle at him.

He catches it against his chest with both hands.

"But you gotta admit…"

He tilts his head.

"…you missed seeing this a little"

You look at him with a stale face for a second before looking back at your phone. You’re not admitting that. 

Riki shakes his head to himself, still smiling, before tossing your water bottle into the bin beside the mirror.

"Come on."

He walks over to you with that stupid smug grin that always means he's about to annoy you.

Stopping right in front of where you're sitting, he holds both hands out toward you.

"Ready?"

You glance up at him.

"Last run." He wiggles his fingers. "Let's go."

You stare at his hands for a second before waving them away.

"I can get up myself."

He clicks his tongue. He motions with his fingers again.

You look up at him with the most stubborn expression you can manage. He stares right back. You sigh loudly and place your hands in his.

The second your fingers wrap around his, he pulls. He pulls harder than neccesary which makes you lose your balance immediately. Stumbling forward, bumping straight into his chest. He catches you by your forearms to stop you from falling against completely.

His grin is impossible to ignore.

"My bad."

He doesn't sound sorry whatsoever. You narrow your eyes.

"I slightly underestimated my strength."

"Mhm."

You poke a finger against the middle of his chest. He looks down at your finger and then back at you.

"I know what you’re doing Riki, you’re not slick. And it’s time to stop."

You walk past him toward the center of the room. He follows, and the music starts. The choreography goes amazingly well now that you’ve taken a break, and the tension between you has eased up.

When music finally cuts off you both stay where you are for a few seconds, breathing hard, hands on your hips.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead before looking at him. "...We did it."

Riki lets out a breathy laugh. He lifts both hands and you slap both palms against his.

Instead of letting go, though, his fingers immediately slide between yours. He interlocks your fingers and gently pulls you a step closer.

You're close enough now that you can see the sweat clinging to the strands of hair on his forehead.

He smiles. "You did really good." He sounds genuine this time.

You can't help smiling back. "So did you."

His grin grows.

"So..." He tilts his head. "Can I get a kiss as a reward?"

You immediately giggle. "No."

He doesn't let go. 

"Hm. How about..." He pretends to think. "...an 'I missed you' kiss?"

"No."

"'Welcome back' kiss?"

You shake your head, still smiling. "Nope."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"You don't even wanna think about it?"

"No. Ni-ki.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Don’t call me that.”

You gently press a hand against his chest and push him back to break the moment.

"Greedy."

"I had to try."

You shake your head with another laugh before turning away.

"I'm getting my bag."

He watches you walk toward the corner of the room.

He smiles to himself. He walks over to his own bag, stuffing his charger, water bottle and headphones inside before pulling his hoodie back over his head. You zip up your duffel bag at the same time.

The two of you walk toward the door together.

You grab the handle first and pull it open. Then... you stop. Riki almost walks into your back.

You glance into the hallway and hesitate. Without saying anything, you slowly pull the door shut again.

Riki raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"You should come out after me."

"...Why?"

"So people don't start talking."

He looks at you for a second before giving a tiny shrug.

"They're gonna know we did the collab anyway."

"I know."

"So?"

"I just..." You sigh. "I don't want people making up stuff again."

He studies your face, then quietly says, "...I don't really care."

"I do."

You point at him.

"At least put your hood up."

He lets out a small laugh. "Y/n.. It’ll be okay."

You slowly open the door again and you both step into the hallway.

For a few seconds you walk side by side in silence. Then you glance over and his hood is still down.

You let out an annoyed sigh. "Riki, just..."

You reach up and fingers catch the edge of his hood and gently pull it over his hair.

Riki looks down at you and a quiet chuckle escapes him. He leaves the hood on.

You reach the lobby and the evening sun shines through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. A few staff members walk past outside, and a security guard stands near the doors, barely paying attention.

You're only a few steps away from the exit when Riki suddenly catches your wrist.

"Y/n."

Before you can react, he gently tugs you sideways.

"What are you doing?"

He guides you around the corner beside the entrance, where one of the concrete pillars blocks you from most of the lobby.

"Riki," you whisper, laughing nervously. "What are you doing?"

He plants one hand against the wall beside your head, then he peeks around the corner toward the glass doors like he's checking something.

His lips slowly curl into a smile. You immediately recognize that smile.

"Riki we’re-"

He chuckles. "Kiss me."

You stare at him. "What?"

"Just one." He shrugs like he's asking for a sip of your drink. "One kiss."

You immediately start laughing, but panic creeps into your voice too.

"Are you serious? There’s windows everywhere."

"I know." 

He reaches up and pulls his hood down himself, fixing his hair with one hand.

You stare at him, he just smiles.

"Come on."

"No."

"Y/n."

"Riki, seriously—"

"One."

"Riki…”

He tilts his head.

"Please."

You sigh, smile and stop protesting. He takes it as a yes.

He immediately cups your face with one hand. His thumb brushes your cheek once and then he leans in.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds. Quick enough that anyone looking away for a moment would miss it, but knowing your fans, they won’t miss something like this.

And it’s exactly what he wants.

He wants people to see. He wants someone across the street to recognize him, he wants the blurry slowed down videos. He wants the dating rumors, the reporters asking about you, wondering if you're together again.

He wants a chance to have you back.

@ idolsdaily

🚨 ENHYPEN's Ni-ki and REPLAY's Y/n caught kissing inside HYBE after her hiatus.

Just one week after REPLAY's Y/n returned from her four-month hiatus, fans claim they spotted Ni-ki (ENHYPEN) and Y/n sharing what looked like a kiss inside the HYBE building. The sighting comes shortly after HYBE announced a dance collaboration between the two idols. Neither HYBE, BELIFT LAB, nor REPLAY's management has commented.

[🎥 Video attached]

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Fucking the President, Mr Fitzgerald Grant comes with a lot of rules. One of which being: you cannot fuck the president, the leader of the free world in the Oval Office. It is forbidden. Not allowed, the one rule you respect enough to follow.

But Fitz doesn’t care about that rule. He doesn’t follow that rule, hell, he doesn’t even acknowledge it as a rule. He’s shoving his hand down your pants up against his desk, circling your clit with his fingers whispering in your ear about how it’s okay, “it’s okay baby, just tell me how bad you want it, no one will see—I promise no one will see us just tell me what you want”

And he’s a liar of course. He doesn’t care who sees you, he wants you to be seen, he wants to be seen with the women making him betray the White House, the leader of the free world, taken over by some good pussy. That’s all it takes, really. And you want to be seen. You want to know you matter, you’re more than a good pussy, he loves you, and you love him, and it shows.

He fucks you good and hard, his legislations under your outstretched palms, crying out over his cock as he drives into you. He’d leak the footage to the press if Cyrus would let him. He loves how pretty you look stupid all over his cock. It’s a crime no one else knows how good you look split open. The American people have never known such a sight—and they never would. He could be greedy like that, the president. The American people could never see you like this, split apart on his cock, drooling from the corners of your mouth, crying out for the president to relieve the ache that settles in your lower belly.

He loves it. Being the only one to make you come undone, the only woman to come apart under him the way that you do. He dreams of the face you make when you come, strokes his cock to the expression etched across your face, every chance he gets, even next to his sleeping wife who is none the wiser—the First Lady, catching the end moaning of the president's late night fantasy of you.

If he’s lucky enough you’ll leave one of your panties, in the light after you’ve scurried away, or before one of the presidents briefing meetings—you’re such a good helper, always looking to help the President prepare for the big speeches.

Doesn’t matter that he had you spread open on his desk in the Oval Office, legs spread apart as he pushes his cock into your warm velvety walls, hips driving into your own, your heels arched as you take whatever the president has to offer. You don’t mean to forget your panties. It’s an accident, honest, but he sees them, and he has to put them in his pocket of course—can’t risk anyone seeing them

He runs his thumb over the wet slit his entire meeting. Sighing as he feels the wet patching you left prior, cock stirring in his slacks as he drives his hips up into the sensation of your panties balled into his pocket.