#Nishimura Riki

[ni-kidaily]

[vivimura]

EYE CANDY ─ riki would never take advantage of drunk, needy girls. he does let the the drunk, needy girls who aren't wearing panties take advantage of him, though ;) nsfw!! 3.110 k wc

knock... silence... knock... silence...

“riki-!”

whoosh, a disgustingly familiar veiny hand swung the door open. you scanned the figure all the way from his bare feet where sweatpants were cuffed around the ankles, travelling up to the soft gray material covering his long legs. you gave special attention to the naturally large outline of his crotch, followed by his defined abs and smooth chest.

it was laughable, how fast riki’s expression turned from one of mild annoyance of having been disturbed mid-game to one of mild interest. no matter how hard he tried, his amusement was as obvious as it could get.

"what do you want?" he asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

you smiled from ear to ear at the tone of his voice, but more over the state you had found him in. your mind was clouded with thoughts of him and the few shots too many you’d had before deciding to march over to riki’s, causing you to stumble and land on his chest when you tried to step in normally.

“to see my favorite boy!” you replied in a volume too high to be considered sober.

riki's piercing gaze raked over your disheveled form, taking in the way your hair was tousled and your cheeks flushed a pretty pink. he could smell the alcohol on your breath from here, and it made him raise an eyebrow. this wasn't the first time you'd shown up at his doorstep in this state, claiming to want to "see your favorite boy". he knew what it meant.

"favorite boy, huh?" riki murmured, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm. his arms remained crossed, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. he caught you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist to steady you. he raised an eyebrow at your drunken state.

"how much have you had to drink?" he asked, his voice still gruff but slightly softer. he could smell the alcohol on your breath.

his accusations fell on deaf ears by you, who was too occupied in eyeing his abs like a child would eye candy. there was an undertone of possessiveness and shamelessness in your actions of reaching out to caress the smooth skin of his chest, down to the ridges of his sculpted abs. “your abs are so hard and nice..”

riki used all his will to bite back the chuckle threatening to spill from his throat. his abs flexed under your touch, and so did his grip around your waist. despite his attempts at maintaining the ‘ignoring you’ act, he didn’t make any efforts to dodge your touch. "you're drunk," he stated the obvious, his voice lower. "and touchy."

you didn't bat an eye at his accusations. slowly, almost reluctantly, you pulled your eyes away from his lean torso to look up into his eyes with a flirtatious gaze. you went on your tippy toes, and as if to continue his sentence, you whispered, "...and horny.."

riki's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and something else, something darker, as your words hung heavy in the air between them. his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hip, and he had to bite his lip down in a desperate attempt to hide his smirk.

"get out of my room," he said, his voice strained. he pushed you off his chest slightly. "go sleep it off."

despite the warning in his tone, there was a hint of dark promise there too. his heart pounded in his chest, blood heating as your flirtatious gaze sent a bolt of pure lust straight to his groin. he wanted to hate how easily you affected him, but he couldn't. not when every fiber of his being screamed at him to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his bedroom. to pin you down on the mattress and show you exactly what happened when you teased a man like him. but he held himself back. barely.

you let out a gasp of offence far more dramatic than necessary. “sleep it off?” you repeated and tilted your head, giving him doe eyes and a pout of hurt, as if he had just insulted your entire being. in a blatant attempt to provoke him, you defied his harsh commands by slipping out his grip to strut over to where his bed was placed in the corner of the room, and sat down on it with a false pride of ownership.

riki's jaw clenched as he watched you boldly stride past him, the sway of your hips making his pulse jump. he glared at you as you sat on his bed, crossing his arms over his chest again. he was trying to ignore the fact that you sitting on his bed made him want you even more. he was playing the game, and he was going to win. "get out," he ordered again.

“oh, come on.” you leaned your back on the soft pillow by the headboard of his bed and watched him loom over to you, his large frame creating a shadow over your smaller one. “are you really gonna kick a girl out at night, when it’s dark, cold and dangerous?” you asked, your voice soft and doe eyes eerily taunting.

riki repeated the word “dangerous” in his mind and scoffed. as if the biggest danger there right now wasn’t you in your damn mini skirt sprawled like an absolute wet dream on his bed. he knew you were playing with fire, and he should put a stop to it. but the devil on his shoulder was whispering that it would be so easy to just give in, to take what he wanted. 

“yes.” he replied bluntly. despite his words, there was no real bite to them. he knew you were drunk, and probably not thinking straight. besides, he had to admit, seeing you like this - all flustered and eager - was kind of cute. in a pathetic, desperate kind of way.

“yes? really?” you repeated, your eyes widening for a fraction mostly in amusement. you looked down at your lap with a dejected gaze and pouted, but suddenly looked up at him again with a challenging gaze.

you caught his wrist and pulled him closer to you, your breaths mingling as you whispered, “even if the girl forgot to wear panties?”

riki's breath hitched as you pulled him closer, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, could see the challenge shining bright in your eyes. and then you said it. those four little words that made his self-control snap like a twig.

his eyes darkened with lust as they flicked down to your lap, taking in the way your skirt rode up your thighs. he could see the smooth expanse of your skin, the way your legs were crossed and your feet swung slightly off the bed. and then he saw it. or rather, he didn't see it.

no panties.

fuck.

fuck fuck fuck fuck.

he felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants, already hard and aching. he knew he should push you away, and should tell you to leave. but he couldn't. not when the sight of your bare pussy was seared into his brain. not when the scent of your arousal filled the air between them.

riki looked as if he was wrestling a demon inside his mind, his eyes flickering rapidly between your spread legs and your eyes. his hands shook with the effort it took him to not touch you. "you're drunk... i'm not fucking you when you’re like this," he said, but his voice was shaking slightly.

"i know you won’t take advantage of me.." you countered in a whisper and gently tugged on his hand, guiding him to sit on the bed beside you. the look of desire in your eyes took a serious turn as you shifted and threw your leg over his lap, landing in a straddling position. your arms circled themselves around his neck, making sure your bodies were flush against each other.

"but won't you at least let me take advantage of you?"

riki let out a shuddering exhale as you straddled his lap, his large hands coming up to grip your hips tightly. he could feel every inch of your soft curves pressed against the hard planes of his body, and the wet heat of your core leaving a damp spot on the crotch of his sweatpants. 

he groaned and looked up at you with lust-filled eyes, trying to resist the urge to bury his face between your tits, the one you had arched into his face so beautifully. "you're still drunk," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"i'm not drunk," you whispered back immediately, your breath hot against his lips. "i know exactly what i want." you continued and looked into his eyes intensely, your fingers running through his raven hair as you began rocking your hips against his slightly, as if to prove the seriousness of your advances.

riki inhaled sharply as he felt your hips grind against his, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. he could feel every inch of your bare pussy rubbing against the hard bulge in his sweatpants, and it did it for him.

he yanked you down harder against his growing erection and pulled you in for a searing kiss.

riki kissed you hard, his lips claiming yours in a bruising kiss. one hand moved up to squeeze your breast through your shirt, while the other remained firmly gripped to your bare ass roughly. he started lifting his hips to meet your grinding, his dick throbbing with need. he licked into your mouth, his tongue hot and demanding as it tangled with yours.

you moaned into the kiss, your heart skipping a beat when you felt him finally return your advances by grinding up against you. your back arched into his touch as he groped your chest, and you could feel your body practically vibrate from excitement and arousal on his lap.

riki's hand slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your breasts. he broke the kiss to yank the garment off completely, tossing it carelessly to the floor. his mouth watered at the sight of your bare tits, nipples hardened as if just begging to be suckled. 

unable to resist, he leaned down and captured one between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before sucking hard, making you cry out softly in pleasure. he started humping up to you faster and harder, his breathing growing heavier. "you drive me fucking insane," he growled against your neck.

“riki.." you whimpered out his name and threw your head back, his mouth on your chest bringing an inexplicable amount of pleasure. your pussy throbbed with need, and you felt your head practically spinning in want for more.

riki groaned as he felt your nipple stiffen between his lips, your whimpered plea only spurring him on further. he released your nipple with a wet pop, only to move to the other and lavish it with the same attention. his hands slid down to grip your hips, yanking you harder against his throbbing erection as he bucked up to meet you.

he could feel your wetness seeping through the fabric of his sweatpants as you writhed on his lap, and he knew he couldn't hold back any longer. he wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you onto your back on the bed. he hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled your legs up to his shoulders, opening you up completely. "look at me,"

your skirt being the only garment on your body grew bunched around your waist, exposing your wetness to his dark eyes. your hands formed fists of anticipation of the sheet below, your breaths ragged as you looked up at riki and into his eyes. “please..” you whispered the single word so softly, the cold air making your pussy clench around nothing so pathetically.

riki licked his lips as he took in the beautiful sight before him - your skirt pushed up around your waist, your dripping pussy on full display, your tits heaving with each ragged breath you took. the desperation in your whispered plea gave him so many opportunities to tease you about how he had reduced the girl who was all talk and tease before to nothing but a desperate mess on his bed. but he couldn’t bring himself to.

he looked into your eyes with a promising look and pushed down his sweatpants, freeing his long, thick dick. he wrapped a hand around the base and guided it to your entrance, pressing the head against your opening.

you couldn't bite back the soft gasp that left your lips when you felt his tip slide back and forth against your folds. your grip on the sheets below tightened, your chest heaving and stomach flinching as you held back the urge to rock your hips forward. you found strange pleasure in the way he teased you.

riki teased his cock along your pussy, coating himself in your arousal. he could feel your body trembling with anticipation, hear the soft gasps and whimpers spilling from your lips. he wanted to savor this moment, wanting to watch you fall apart on his cock inch by inch. 

he thoroughly enjoyed the effect he was having on you. instead of thrusting in, he just held his dick there, letting the head rub against your clit with each shallow movement of his hips. "is this what you want?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

you let out a breath that came out more as a whimper and nodded frantically, legs spreading wider, more inviting. "god, yes.. please.." you whispered out, but were interrupted rather pleasantly.

without warning, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift move. he hit deep inside you, knocking the air out of your lungs. he groaned loudly and gripped your hips tightly. "fuck, you're tight," he panted, holding still for a moment.

you moaned out softly and threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching off the bed as he slowly began fucking you. he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. he did it again and again, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. he looked down at where you were joined, watching his length disappear inside you over and over.

"oh my god.." you moaned out, reduced to nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess. your legs over his broad shoulder brought a new degree of pleasure, your tits bouncing softly to the rhythm of his thrusts.

he watched your body move with his, your tits bouncing softly, your neck exposed as you threw your head back. he reached up and grabbed one of your thighs, pulling it higher onto his shoulder to hit deeper angles. 

you cried out softly at the deeper angle, your pussy beginning to quiver and clench around him. you gripped onto the sheets below tightly, your eyes rolling back as you felt a familiar tightening sensation in the pit of your stomach.

your pussy tightened around him like a vice, making him grit his teeth. he watched your body carefully, seeing the signs of your upcoming orgasm. he spread your legs wider apart and hit that spot deep inside you harder, making you yelp loudly. "right there?" he asked roughly.

"fuck, right there.." you barely managed to answer back. your legs trembled over his shoulders and you moaned like a broken record. "s-slow down.." you gasped out, his relentless pace drawing you closer to your high embarrassingly fast.

he ignored your pleas, his face contorting with concentration as he pounded into you mercilessly, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. he wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep you open wider, his hips snapping forward rapidly. “shh, you can take it.”

his mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing your cries as he continued to pound into you, his tongue exploring your mouth as expertly as his dick was taking your pussy. one hand moved up to grip your jaw possessively, keeping you in place while he fucked you senseless.

you closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth as he kissed you. your hips twitched and legs jerked slightly as you felt yourself grow dangerously close, and you could tell he was in a similar situation from the way he twitched inside you.

his control was slowly slipping. he kissed you deeper, growling as your legs tightened around him. he could feel your body tensing up, your inner muscles tightening around his length like they were already milking him. he pulled back slightly to watch your face as he snapped his hips forward harder.

“you first..” he growled and quickly moved one hand down to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he continued to thrust into you. his eyes locked onto yours, watching your expression twist into pleasure as the dual stimulation pushed you closer to the edge.

“shit..” it only took a few seconds for you to break loose. you let out a soft cry and orgasmed, looking into his eyes as you came around him. riki watched your face intently and rubbed your clit harder and faster, pushing you through your orgasm. he groaned as he felt your wetness gush out around his pumping length.

"you feel so fucking good," he said, his voice strained as he kept thrusting and rubbing until he felt your body go limp underneath him. only then did he slow down, his hips rolling languidly into yours as he chased his own release.

your whimpers of overstimulation, and the way your insides convulsing around him did it for riki. he threw his head back with a loud groan, his hips slamming forward one last time before he stilled. his cock jerked and throbbed inside you as he came hard, hot ropes of cum shooting deep into your spasming pussy. he gripped your hips tightly as he rode out his intense orgasm, finally pulling out with a soft, wet plop.

he collapsed on top of you, his sweaty chest heaving against yours as he caught his breath. he looked down at you with a satisfied smirk, taking in your blissed expression.

when the moment calmed, you grinned and looked back up at him with a satisfied, yet playful expression.

“again?” you joked and tilted your head.

riki barked out a laugh and shook his head, still catching his breath. "you're insatiable, you know that?"

mlist comment and reblog!

[amatabelle]

STUPID BOY MAKING ME SO SAD 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ she's got everything that i don't have

in lieu: after becoming jealous seeing riki's instagram stories, your boyfriend reminds you that he has his eyes on the most gorgeous woman in the world.

the muse: idol!nishimura riki x f!reader; established relationship; ft. moka wc: 1017 warnings: angst (+happy ending), fluff, jealousy, insecurities

whispers: uh so i ran out of hearts on gizmo while revising so im waiting for it to refill...go listen to she's all i wanna be by tate mcrae!! ><

reblog and i'll kiss you <3

You scroll through instagram, lazily lying on the couch in a hoodie and shorts.

It's a cool night, the city looks pretty, you just took a shower—you typically would've been watching a movie right now, waiting for Riki to come home so you two can have dinner and then cuddle together.

But you can't help but lie on the couch, your thoughts groveling at the back of your mind after you see a story of Riki and Moka from ILLIT together from the behind the scenes of a show they did together.

You know their relationship is just work-related, but seeing her with him strikes a small place in your heart.

After all, she's really pretty with a good body, rich and fun-loving. Her smile and facial features are to die for and she looks good in every dress she wears.

When she stands next to Riki in that picture, you can't help but have a pang of jealousy at the fact how good they look together. Like a match made in heaven.

Time passes by as you decide to scroll through TikTok instead, watching cat videos to try and get your mind off the story. Bisco lies on your chest, snoozing quietly.

Your eyes avert to the doorway at the sound of a key turning in the lock, looking away as you see Riki open the door and step inside.

You pay him no attention, going back to scrolling on your phone with one hand as the other scratched Bisco's head.

"Hi, baby," Riki says quietly, kicking off his shoes as he walks over to you and leans over the couch, brushing strands of your hair off your forehead.

When he sees that you don't answer, he chalks it up to you being tired and doesn't think too much about it. "I'mma take a shower and get back," he says coolly, walking away.

However, you've still got your unusually quiet attitude when Riki comes back.

"What's wrong?" He asks, frowning. His velvety deep voice is laced with worry as he helps you sit up, taking a sleeping Bisco off your chest and setting him down on his dog bed before plopping down on the couch next to you.

"Baby, did anything happen today?" His eyebrows are knotted in confusion as to why you're giving him the silent treatment. "Did I forget to get you something from the store on the way home? Is that what this is about?"

"It's just..." you blurt out, finally breaking your silence. You look down at your hands, playing with your manicured nails. It feels like a heavy lump is stuck in your throat. You swallow thickly before speaking again. "Don't you ever feel like you're too good for me?"

Riki recoils, taken aback by your words. "Why would you think something like that, baby?" He asks. "Did one of your friends say something to you?"

"No, it's..." you start, your voice trailing off. "It's just...that picture you posted with Moka on your stories."

"Go on," Riki urges warmly. "Talk to me, baby. What about it?"

"She's so pretty, and...and you look so good together," you say truthfully, your insecurities spilling out. "And then there's me. I'm not pretty or anything."

Riki takes your small hands in his large ones, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the back of your palm. "You're right," he says.

Your heart plummets to your stomach, your eyes widening in shock. "W-What?" You'd always suspected it, but it hurt to hear Riki say it himself.

"You heard me," he continues, acting like he didn't just break your heart in half with two words. "You're not pretty. You're absolutely gorgeous," he says with a teasing smile, although you can see depths of love in his brown eyes.

He lifts one hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm not too good for you, I actually don't deserve you at all," Riki murmurs. You can see the sincerity in his eyes. You can see how much he believes he doesn't deserve to be with you, how he believes he's lucky to have you. "But I'm going to work for your love everyday. Just like how you're going to promise me that you'll never say anything like this ever again. Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say in relief, not realizing that you've been holding your breath.

One hand leaves your hand, reaching out to cup your face. Your breath hitches at the touch. It's warm and adoring. It's full of promises.

"Can I kiss you, baby?" he asks quietly.

You nod in response. "Yeah."

He tentatively presses his lips to yours, his plush lips moving softly across yours, painting dreams of forever on them. The kiss isn't rushed or hurried. It soft, gentle and, god, you could keep going on for eternity like this.

Riki's arms snake around your waist, pulling you close, holding you gently like a porcelain angel as your arms make their way around his neck.

His right hand runs up and down your spine, deepening the kiss as you gasp at the feeling. He chuckles, slipping his tongue in.

His tongue works almost as reverently as his lips do, seeking out the deepest corners of your mouth as if he was painting them.

Eventually, you both have to pull away due to the lack of oxygen. He looks at you with glazed eyes, breathless as he presses your foreheads together.

"I love you, baby," he declares, sentimentally. His cheeks are all flushed from the deep kiss, hair mussed from your hands running through them. Yet he still looks like a god with his glowing tan skin and sparkling brown eyes that hold the entire world in them.

"I love you too, ki," you respond, your heart swelling with adoration for the man in front of you. Grateful to have him in your life. And you can tell he feels the same about you.

"i'm hungry," he says, suddenly pulling away. "Please tell me you made dinner."

You let out a laugh at how quick his demeanor changes. "I did, ki. Don't worry."

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------ᝰ‧₊ written by ©amatabelle 2025

[callikari]

YOU'RE MY FAVORITE ╰┈➤ kind of problem 。。。

PRECIS 。 he doesn't hate you (but he think he likes it that way.)

西村力 x fem!reader 1218 fluff highschool au opposite attract ─ kissing teasing emotional vulnerability skinship

REBLOG FOR A KiSS

nishimura riki hates mornings, loud people, and unnecessary affection. so of course, fate seats him next to you.

you — with your sparkly pens, cherry lip gloss, and the habit of being genuinely nice to everyone, including him. you talk too much, always smile like the world isn’t exhausting, and keep offering him gum even though he never says thank you.

(he always takes it.)

“you should smile more,” you say one morning, tapping the corner of his mouth with your pen. “you’d look cute if you didn’t look like you hate everything.”

“i don’t want to look cute,” he mumbles.

“too bad. you kind of do.”

he chokes on his water.

you treat him like someone worth taking care of.

when he shows up with damp hair, you push your umbrella into his hands without asking. when he skips breakfast, you press half your sandwich into his palm. you say his name like it’s normal to look at him gently, like it’s not strange to care even when he doesn’t make it easy.

and somehow, he doesn’t push you away.

riki acts annoyed. at your chatter. your energy. the way you remind him to drink water like you’re responsible for him now.

but then it’s picture day, and you’re fixing his tie like it’s second nature, murmuring something about how “you’d be helpless without me,” and he just… lets you. doesn’t move. doesn’t stop you.

when you pat his chest lightly after, like you’re proud of how he turned out, he has no idea what to do with that.

“look at you,” you say. “pretty boy.”

he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

he gets a paper cut during class and barely reacts, but you notice.

“riki. you’re bleeding.”

“it’s fine.”

you dig through your pencil pouch. “i’ve got bandaids—want rilakkuma or space rockets?”

“…rilakkuma?”

“thought so.”

you stick it on for him, then tap it once like sealing a deal. “good as new.”

he doesn’t respond. just leaves it on for the rest of the day.

“drink water,” you tell him, holding out your bottle.

“i’m not a toddler.”

“didn’t say you were. but dehydration makes you cranky.”

he glares at you, but takes it.

(he pretends not to notice the lip gloss mark on the rim.)

when you find out he’s been skipping meals, you start showing up with something wrapped in foil.

“what’s this?” he mumbles.

“something with actual nutrition, for once.”

“you’re acting like i’m five.”

“you’re acting like you don’t need it.”

he eats it anyway.

(you cut the crust off the next day without comment. he doesn’t complain.)

“you’re kind of like a cat,” you say once, watching him swat at a paper ball someone threw at him.

“what?”

“you pretend you don’t like people, but you keep showing up. and you’re grumpy when you’re hungry. and—” you grin— “you’re secretly affectionate when no one’s looking.”

“take it back.”

“never.”

you boop his nose. he mutters something under his breath and doesn’t meet your eyes for the rest of lunch.

one day he shows up late, hoodie on, eyes heavy. you don’t ask questions. just tug him toward the empty music room and sit him down.

you pull out a cookie from your bag. press it into his hand.

“eat first,” you say quietly. “then nap. i’ll wake you up before class.”

he looks at you like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. he eats in silence. and when he finally closes his eyes, you drape your jacket over him and keep watch.

he says your name softly, right before he dozes off.

that afternoon, he finds you by the back steps.

“why do you baby me?”

you look up from your phone. “what?”

“i’m not some charity case,” he mutters. “you don’t have to do all this.”

you shrug. “i know.”

“then why?”

you blink at him, like the answer’s obvious. “because i like you.”

he freezes.

“like, not just ‘you’re tolerable’ like. i actually like you. and you’re terrible at taking care of yourself, so i do it for you.”

“…oh.”

“you okay?”

he hesitates. “you like me?”

“yes, riki.”

“…like, really?”

“you’re exhausting,” you sigh. “yes.”

he stares. then: “can i hold your hand or are you gonna turn this into a whole thing?”

you smile. “i mean, i could—”

he takes your hand.

you stop talking.

he’s still grumpy. still rolls his eyes when you make a big deal out of nothing. still pretends he’s unaffected when you fix his hair or lean your head on his shoulder.

but he lets you do it all.

and when he calls you “sunshine” under his breath — quiet and honest, like the word is just for you — you pretend not to hear it, just so he’ll say it again.

he’s not good at affection. not the way you are. his hands get awkward, his words feel clumsy, and he never knows if he’s doing enough.

but he tries.

he starts carrying an extra granola bar in his bag — not for himself, but for you, when you’re running late or forget to eat. he won’t say it’s for you, but he slides it across your desk when you’re too tired to smile and mumbles, “you always feed me. figured i’d return the favor.”

you beam at him like he just handed you the sun.

he nearly explodes.

one day, it’s cold and rainy and you show up to school shivering, jacket forgotten. at lunch, you come back from the vending machine to find his hoodie draped over your seat.

you look at him.

he doesn’t meet your eyes. “it’s not a big deal.”

“riki—”

“just wear it.”

you slip it on. it smells like fabric softener and him.

“you’re warm,” you tell him.

“shut up,” he says, ears red.

when you forget your umbrella, he waits outside your classroom after school, pretending he was “just passing by.” walks you home without a word. you don’t bring it up, and neither does he. but the next day, he hands you a compact umbrella, still in the wrapper.

“keep it in your bag,” he says. “you forget stuff.”

you blink. “you bought this for me?”

“don’t make it weird.”

you smile anyway.

he starts noticing the little things — how your hands get cold easily, how your hair gets tangled when it’s windy, how you forget to take breaks when you’re stressed.

so he does what he can.

throws a scarf at you in the morning. pulls you toward the shade when it’s too hot. slips your favorite snacks into your bag with no note, no explanation, just a quiet kind of care.

it’s not perfect, but it’s him. trying.

and you notice. of course you do.

“you’re getting good at this,” you whisper one day, threading your fingers through his as he walks you home.

“at what?”

“being mine.”

he squeezes your hand. doesn’t say anything.

but when you get to your door, he kisses your forehead — awkward, fast, barely a brush — and mutters, “you’re my favorite, okay? just… don’t tell anyone.”

you grin. “your secret’s safe with me.”

(he kisses you properly a week later. still shy. still soft. but this time, he doesn’t pull away.)

taglist is open :: @nocturnebite @cheruphic @chrrific @manaah02 @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read @ijustwannareadstuff20

vi says :: i worked hard on this so i hoped you enjoyed it TT

© callikari — all rights reserved

[fleurhoons]

almost yours. 💌 brother’s bsf! riki

( 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝒾𝐒 ) fem!reader crack fluff angst ✴︎ swearing

♡ : thank u juni pie for the idea, hope u guys enjoy !

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[bangchanwifey]

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ boyfriend texts w nishimura riki ೀ.ᐟ⭒๋࣭ ⭑

— all fake texts !

contains: bf!nishimura riki x female!reader

warnings: language, suggestive content (?), fluff, crack, mdni!!!

⇾ MAIN MASTERLIST | ENHYPEN MASTERLIST

⇾ thanks for reading!! lmk what y’all wanna see next! my inbox is always open for ideas!! <3

[cafeartemesia]

This was so beautiful I think my heart stopped beating at some points.

party 4 you - nishimura riki 𓈒ིུ

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

“In which reader bumps into her ex in a party, and suddenly all the heartbreak and feelings come to life again.”

Content: fem! reader x ni-ki, exes to lovers, cursing, a little bit of angst, a lot of emotions, suggestive but no smut, drinking, fluff, both ni-ki and reader are pretty criers lmao

Notes: party on you party on you party on party on you party on you part of you knew

hate comments will be deleted and blocked, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

You stared at the glowing message on your phone screen for the third time that hour.

“It’s just a party, babe. You need this.”

Maybe you did. Or maybe you just needed to stop thinking about him.

Your finger hovered over the RSVP like it might burn you. You already knew he’d be there. Ni-ki always showed up to these things — along with his friends, like the social butterfly he was, charming everyone in the room like he didn’t carry a single piece of you in his pockets anymore.

You shifted in your bed, knees curled to your chest, blanket tucked under your chin like armor. The room was quiet, but your mind wasn’t. It hadn't been quiet in a long time, not since the day you left him standing in his living room, jaw clenched, eyes glassy, silence stretching between you like it could snap.

It had been a year.

A year of no texts. No accidental likes. No closure.

He wasn’t a stranger. That was what made it worse.

You’d known Nishimura Riki since you were fifteen. High school sweethearts — the kind people thought would get married someday. He walked you home when it rained, held your hand under the lunch table, memorized your coffee order before you even knew it yourself. He called you "his future" once — whispered it in your ear after prom, his mouth warm against your skin like a promise. You had spent years with him. Built routines and futures and secret traditions. Shared playlists and toothbrushes. Argued over which marvel movie was better and made up with forehead kisses on his bedroom floor.

He felt like home once, he was home to you. Your longest relationship, and your worst breakup.

You couldn’t even remember the last thing he said before the silence swallowed you whole. Something about needing space, something about how he was tired. Or maybe it was you who said it. You had both been tired, bruised from trying too hard to fix something that didn’t want to stay whole.

Still, loving him never stopped.

That was the part you couldn’t explain to anyone. How even now, a year later, the thought of bumping into him felt like pressing on a wound just to make sure it still hurt. How even now, you'd still dreamt about his hands, his smell, his smile, the way he teased you, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel.

“You’re not dressed,” your friend said from your doorway, arms crossed and eyes already rolling. “Don’t make me drag you out of bed.”

You blinked up at her, biting your lip, unsure.

“I don’t know if I should go.”

She sighed, walking in and tossing something slinky and black onto your sheets.

“You should. You need to. It’s been a year. You might not even see him, the house is huge.”

You nodded like you believed her. It was true, in part, Jake's house was really big and it would probably be packed of people from all campus, but still, the universe had a history of being cruel to you. And if you even got a sight of Ni-ki you didn't know how you would react, the thought only made your stomach twist.

She disappeared to finish getting ready, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the girl staring back. She was a little older now. A little more tired. A little less hopeful.

Some part of you wanted to see him.

Even if it was just to know he still existed in the same world as you.

You pulled on the dress. Did your makeup with shaky fingers. Told yourself this was just another night. Just another party.

The house was loud. Too loud.

Bass thumped through the walls, vibrating in your ribs as you stepped past the threshold, eyes already scanning the crowd on instinct. Your friend disappeared within minutes, swallowed by music, bodies, and a red solo cup. You didn’t follow her. You couldn’t.

You hovered near the kitchen instead, fingers wrapped tightly around a half-melted drink, heart beating too fast for someone standing still.

It smelled like perfume, sweat, and faint memories.

This was his best friend's house, every corner of the place felt like a landmine. The hallway where he used to press you against the wall, kissing you breathless. The back porch where he once told you, “I’ve never loved anyone this much.” The upstairs bathroom door, still chipped from the time you had a stupid argument and he accidentally slammed it shut too hard and came back ten minutes later with a shaky apology and a bag of gummy bears.

You should’ve left. You still could.

But your friends were right, you needed this. Not only for him, but for yourself, to prove yourself that you could live with this, that someday, it would all pass.

The music thumped, deep and heavy, reverberating through the floor and vibrating in your chest as you moved around the house. The party was in full swing now — people laughing, dancing, talking in tight groups. It should have been easy to get lost in the noise. To forget. To let yourself feel something that wasn’t this heavy, suffocating ache.

But it wasn’t easy.

Your friend, Rei, pulled you toward the kitchen with a grin, passing a new drink into your hand as if it was supposed to fix everything.

"You’re not going to stand around looking like a ghost all night, right?"

“Just… let me be, okay?” you muttered, forcing a smile, hoping it was convincing.

Rei didn’t seem to buy it but didn’t push either.

"Alright, alright. Just don’t go hiding in a corner again. Let’s at least pretend we’re having fun tonight."

You let yourself be dragged, but your heart wasn’t in it. You tried to lose yourself in the beat, in the movement, in the rhythm of the crowd. You swayed your hips, let your hands move through the air, pretending you weren't still thinking about him, about the inevitable.

But just as you turned to keep doing exactly that, you froze.

He was there.

Ni-ki.

Across the room, laughing at something someone said. Cup in hand. The same silver chain resting at the base of his throat — the one you gave him for your anniversary. He looked good, too good. Taller, maybe. A little broader. His hair was black now, you always used to tell him that was your favorite color on him, it was a bit shorter too. Like time had been kind to him while it only made you softer around the edges. He looked different, but it was still him. The boy who had loved you with everything he had. The boy who had torn your heart out when it all crumbled.

Your breath caught in your throat. He hadn’t seen you yet. But you saw him. And everything inside you went still.

It wasn’t dramatic. No slow-motion moment. No spotlight cutting through the dark. He didn’t even look in your direction. He was just… there, across the room, half-shadowed by the gold-tinted lights strung across the ceiling.

You turned your back to him and forced yourself to laugh at something your friend said. You fixed the strap of your dress. Took another sip of your drink. You focused on the ice melting between your fingers, the way it stung just enough to distract you.

You didn’t dare look again.

But you felt him.

Like gravity. Like pressure in your chest that hadn’t existed moments ago.

You tried to play it cool, smile the way you used to before everything fell apart. You leaned against the counter like you belonged here. Like you weren't unraveling slowly beneath the surface. You kept telling yourself you wouldn’t look. That he didn’t matter anymore. That the ache in your chest was just old muscle memory.

But then a familiar laugh floated across the room, his laugh, and it cracked something open inside you.

You knew that sound. You used to be the reason for it.

Your breath hitched.

A hand brushed your arm, pulling you back into the moment, asking if you were okay. You nodded too quickly, smiled too wide.

“Just gonna… find the bathroom,” you said, your voice too light. “Be right back.”

You didn’t glance back as you slipped down the hallway, heart pounding like you'd just run a race.

You hated that you still felt this way.

That after everything — after all the nights you'd forced yourself not to cry, after pretending for so long that you were okay — seeing him for five seconds could still shake you to your core.

You took a deep breath. Then another.

You’re fine, you told yourself. It’s just a party. It’s just a boy. You don’t love him anymore.

The apartment was cold — painfully so.

A stillness had crept in like a fog, dense and unmoving, wrapping around your chest until breathing started to feel like effort. You sat on one end of the couch, legs folded beneath you, cradling a mug that had long since gone cold. Across from you, Ni-ki sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it held some kind of answer.

You just had an argument, the third that week, and it was only thursday. It had been like this for months, he was distant, you were sensitive, it didn't feel the same anymore, and you knew he was avoiding talking about it, but you also knew he felt it too. He responded late, he stood in the field practicing more than he should've, he made excuses for your weekly dates. And you, you were always defensive, mean even, you didn't ask him anymore about his practice, you didn't even go to his last game.

The silence had already said everything.

But you broke it. Your voice came out cracked, barely above a whisper.

“We’re not okay, are we?”

He didn’t look up. Just clenched his hands together a little tighter, eyes fixed on the carpet. After a moment, he gave the smallest shake of his head.

“No.”

That one word still managed to sting more than you'd expected.

You nodded slowly, not because you accepted it, but because you’d known. You’d known for a while now, in the way his touches had grown hesitant, in the tired tone of his voice, in the endless nights where you both turned away in bed instead of toward each other.

“I thought love would be enough,” you whispered.

“I did too,” he said. And it sounded like regret. Not the sharp kind — the quiet kind that eats away at you, slowly.

You looked at him then. The dark circles under his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The way his mouth was pressed in a hard line, like he was holding something in.

“Do you still love me?”

The question left your mouth before you could stop it.

His head finally lifted, and his eyes met yours.

“God, I love you so much it makes me feel sick sometimes.”

You let out a soft, hollow laugh. He was like this, even in these moments, he made you laugh. And that made the pain even worse.

“Then why does it still feel like we’re losing each other?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Because loving each other isn’t fixing us anymore.”

That broke something inside you. Not in a dramatic, shattering way. Just a slow, internal collapse. A piece of your chest folding in on itself.

“So what do we do?” you asked.

He stood, slowly, like the weight of the moment made his movements heavier, and crossed the room. When he sank to the floor in front of you, kneeling like he used to when you’d come home upset from school or work, it almost felt like the past was reaching for you.

Almost.

“We let go,” he whispered. “Before we ruin the good we had.”

You blinked hard. Your throat burned.

“I don’t want to let go of you.”

“I don’t want to either,” he admitted, and his voice was shaking now. “But I think we have to.”

You put the mug down, and slid off the couch to the floor beside him. His hands were there, right in front of you, shaking. You reached for them — familiar, warm, still his — and he didn’t pull away.

“I thought we’d be forever,” you said.

“We were, for a while,” he murmured. “We grew up together. We made each other who we are. But maybe we can’t carry each other anymore.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks. Quiet. Steady.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered. “Even after this.”

“Don’t say that,” he replied, voice cracking. “You’re making this harder.”

“It’s already hard.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. His hands gripped yours like lifelines. You both sat there, shaking and quiet, breathing the same air like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I’ll love you for the rest of my life,” you whispered.

He didn’t say it back.

Not out loud.

Because if he had, if he gave that truth shape, neither of you would’ve had the strength to end it.

Eventually, you pulled back. Stood up. Grabbed your bag with trembling fingers. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, so soft it barely lingered, and you whispered goodbye.

Then you walked out.

And the door closed.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

And inside that quiet apartment, Ni-ki stayed exactly where you left him — knees to the floor, hands clenched tight, eyes fixed on nothing at all.

He didn’t cry.

Ni-ki told himself he was fine.

He smiled at the jokes, laughed at the right moments, nodded along as his friends passed around drinks and shouted over the music like the world was still spinning normally. He told himself this was what he needed — noise, people, distractions. He hadn’t been to a party like this in a long time. Maybe not since… well. Since you.

He even tried to date other girls, a lot of them, but it never worked, it didn't feel right.

And yeah, maybe his chest felt a little tight when he walked through the door and remembered that you might be here too. But the house was big. There were too many rooms, too many bodies. He could avoid you.

He could be normal.

So he leaned into the chaos. Let himself be pulled into a circle of friends, let Jake drape a lazy arm around his shoulders. He threw back a drink even though it didn’t taste like anything. His cheeks flushed from the heat of the room, from the music vibrating under his shoes, from the lie in his throat that kept repeating: I’m over it. I’m over her.

You hadn’t spoken in a year. A whole year. You’d both agreed, it was mutual. Grown-up, mature, clean, at least on the outside.

He never told anyone how many times he almost texted you. How many times he saw your old hoodie in the back of his closet and sat on the floor for hours, just holding it. How he couldn't had been able to delete your pictures from his phone, how he still heard your voice, your laughter, how even when some nights his friends insisted to him to find a casual hookup, he still wished the girl he kissed was you instead, how he missed your skin, your smell, everything.

And now here he was, dancing, joking, breathing. Existing without you.

He was fine.

Until he saw you.

You were across the room, bathed in purple lights, laughing at something your friend said. You moved with the music in that way you always did — like you weren’t thinking about it, like it was just instinct. Your body knew rhythm like your heart used to know his.

You looked beautiful.

You always did. But tonight you looked like you’d healed. Like you’d finally started to live again. And maybe you had. Maybe you had moved on. Maybe that smile was real. Maybe your shoulders weren’t heavy with memories anymore.

And Ni-ki’s heart twisted violently in his chest.

The room blurred around you, sound dampened by the roar in his ears. That lie in his throat, the one he’d been chanting all night — I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine — suddenly felt so small. So pathetic.

Because the truth was: seeing you, dancing like you’d never broken, like he wasn’t still holding pieces of you deep inside his ribs… it made him ache.

So he swallowed hard, turned his face away, and tried to laugh again at whatever joke his friend made.

But it didn’t convince this time.

You weren’t even sure how you ended up in the bathroom without passing out. One minute you were clutching your drink too tightly, laughing with your friend, pretending not to feel the way you were feeling just from seeing him. And the next, your legs were moving on their own, taking you down the hallway, slipping into the first open door you could find.

You exhaled sharply, fingers trembling as you tried to breathe past the knot in your throat. You didn’t want to cry. You hadn’t cried in months. Not since the night you left his apartment and didn’t look back.

You told yourself you were over it. That time had dulled the edges. That the ache had turned into something distant, something manageable.

But then you saw him tonight. 

Even if just for a second.

And suddenly everything hurt again.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror — all mascara, glossed lips, and shaky composure. You looked pretty. You looked hot. You looked like you were doing okay. And somehow that made it worse.

Because underneath it, you weren’t okay at all.

Not with the music thumping downstairs. Not with the memory of his eyes on you. Not with the echo of his voice in your head — low, soft, saying your name the way no one else ever had. Not with that ugly, dirty, pain that was creeping inside of your chest.

Your breath caught. You squeezed your eyes shut.

God, just stop. Get it together.

But it was already too late.

A sob tore through your chest, sudden and violent, catching you off guard.

And then you were sinking to the edge of the tub, hands covering your face, shoulders trembling as everything you’d kept buried clawed its way out. The kind of crying that didn’t come with neat tears, this was messy, raw, gasping for air.

The pain, the longing, the regret, it all spilled out at once.

You missed him.

You missed the way things used to be — late-night phone calls, tangled limbs on lazy mornings, the way he knew you without words. You missed his teasing, his laugh, the way he looked at you, the way he kissed you. You missed how you two owned every room you walked into, because everybody said how powerful you looked together, and he would always smile proudly and kiss your cheek. You missed your best friend. You missed feeling understood.

And you hated that you still wanted him.

You hated that even now, after all the silence, he still had this power over you.

“…Y/N?”

His voice made your stomach drop.

For a moment, all you could hear was the thudding of the music through the floor and the sound of your own uneven breathing. Then slowly, you looked up, eyes still glassy and lashes wet, and there he was — standing in the doorway like a ghost you hadn’t meant to summon.

Ni-ki.

Your heart lurched painfully in your chest.

He looked startled, like he hadn’t meant to walk in, like he was just looking for a break from the noise and accidentally stepped straight into a minefield. His hand stayed on the door, fingers curled tightly around the handle as if ready to bolt.

His eyes flicked across the room, the light still on, your body slumped near the tub, the flush on your cheeks that had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Oh—shit,” he stammered. "Sorry, i didn’t know anyone was in here.”

You flinched, quickly turning your face away, swiping at your cheeks in a panic. You couldn't let him see you like this, not when this was literally the first time he saw you in a year.

“It’s—fine. Whatever. Just go.”

You couldn’t even look at him.

He didn’t move. And then he noticed.

He noticed the trembling of your hands, the uneven rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyes were rimmed red and glassy — not from drinking. Not even close.

“Are you…” His voice softened, but it cracked at the end. “Are you crying?”

“No,” you bit out too fast, scrambling to stand up. You faced the mirror instead of him, avoiding your own reflection just as much. “I’m just...drunk. That’s all. I’m fine.”

You reached for a paper towel, wiping under your eyes as if you could erase everything, the tears, the pain, the year that had cracked you open and left you raw. You didn’t want him to see this. Not like this. Not when you’d worked so hard to pretend like you were okay.

God, this was the worst-case scenario. Out of all the people to see you like this, it had to be him.

He didn’t move. He just stood there in the doorway, looking at you like he didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth.

You hated that.

You hated how well he still knew you.

“You’re not drunk,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I am.” You let out a shaky, fake laugh, pushing your hair back. “I’m totally wasted. That drink was—like, way too strong.”

“Y/N.”

You looked up.

His eyes met yours — soft, hesitant, breaking at the edges. You felt it like a wave crashing over both of you. The weight of everything unsaid. The months of silence. The way this bathroom felt like the only place in the world right now.

You swallowed hard, backing up a step toward the sink.

His brows were drawn together, his mouth parted, unsure. You hated how much you still remembered the way that mouth felt on your skin. You hated that even now, with all this space between you, his presence still made your stomach twist and your heart ache in places you swore had healed.

“I said I’m fine,” you lied again, sharper this time, but your voice shook at the edges, betraying you.

And still, he didn’t leave. Instead, Ni-ki stepped fully into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

You blinked.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for a second, something flickered across his face — panic, maybe. Or guilt. “I just… I couldn’t walk away. Not when you’re like this.”

The silence after that was suffocating.

You stood facing the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink, your knuckles white. You felt him behind you. Close. Not touching, but there. And suddenly it was all too much — the scent of his cologne that hadn’t changed, the gentle thud of the music behind the walls, the ghost of his name still ringing in your chest.

“I didn’t want to see you tonight,” you whispered. 

“I know,” he said, barely audible. “Me neither.”

You felt him take another step forward, slow and hesitant, like he was afraid you might break again if he came too close, and you flinched slightly, tears starting to fall again down your cheeks, you wiped them fast as he talked again, his voice was barely a breath.

“Y/N… can I—?”

“No,” you said sharply, pulling away before he could reach you.

His hand hovered uselessly in the air for a moment before falling back to his side. You couldn’t even look at him now. You were afraid if you did, you’d fall apart all over again. And you knew he hated to see you like this, because he hated when you cried, but he hated even more when he knew he was the reason.

“I’m just trying to—”

“To what, Ni-ki?” you snapped, your voice brittle. “Make me feel better? Fix it? You can’t. You can’t just walk in here after a year and—what—play concerned ex-boyfriend while I’m falling apart?”

“I never stopped caring about you,” he said quietly, and it hurt more than you thought it would.

The silence between you stretched like a tight wire, humming with everything unsaid. You could feel him watching you, not just with his eyes, but with everything in him, like he didn’t know whether to reach out or run.

You knew you should just walk away, but you couldn't. It was too much, too much and you needed to say it, for once and for all. Because it wasn't the breakup itself, it was the fact that, after months of distance from him, he still let you walk away that day, he still didn't fight, he still didn't care.

You tried to keep your breathing steady, tried to blink away the burning in your eyes. But the second you opened your mouth, your voice trembled.

“You let me walk away.”

Ni-ki froze.

Your throat closed up. You swallowed hard, your chest aching, your hands shaking, the memory of that day a year ago still fresh and burning in your mind.

“I waited for you. For a day. A week. A month. I kept thinking you’d come back. That you’d knock on my door. Say you changed your mind. But you didn’t.”

He stepped forward, but you held up a hand — not touching him, just keeping him at that same unbearable distance. Close enough to feel, but not to hold.

“You didn’t even try, Ni-ki,” you whispered. “You didn’t chase me. You didn’t stop me that night. I was waiting for you to say something, anything, to make me stay.”

He looked gutted.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he said, his voice breaking like glass. “I was scared I’d say the wrong thing again.”

“So you said nothing?” you snapped. “You let everything we built just… end? We were together for years. Since we were kids. I loved you so much it scared me. And when things got hard, I thought we were supposed to fight for each other. I thought you would fight for me.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. His eyes were shining now.

“I wanted to,” he rasped. “You think I didn’t want to? Every night, I would stare at my phone. I’d go to your street and just sit there, not knowing if I’d have the courage to knock.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I thought I broke you,” he said, his voice cracking fully now. “I thought I wasn’t enough. And I knew you deserved better than a guy who kept shutting down. Who didn’t know how to fix things without making it worse.”

You blinked, a tear slipping free.

“I didn’t need you to fix everything. I needed you to try. I was willing to hold on through anything. But you let go first.”

He looked like he couldn’t breathe. His chest was rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

“I punished myself every day for that.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The ache in your chest was growing too loud to speak over.

“I still dream about it,” he whispered. “The way you looked at me before you left. You were waiting for me to stop you. And I just stood there, like a coward. I should’ve said something. I should’ve begged.”

You let out a broken sound — something between a sob and a laugh.

“I kept wondering if you ever missed me,” you said. “If you were out there forgetting me while I was remembering every piece of you. I would’ve taken you back, you know. Even after everything. You just had to say you wanted me.”

Ni-ki took another step toward you, slower this time. His eyes were glassy, a tear slipping down his cheek, unbothered and unhidden.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

His voice was hoarse, strangled, like it cost him everything to say it.

“I just didn’t think I deserved you anymore.”

The words knocked the air out of your lungs.

“Then you never really knew me,” you whispered, eyes blurring. “Because I wasn’t asking you to be perfect. I just needed you to be there. To not give up on me.”

He let out a soft, broken sound and finally, finally his face cracked. His shoulders curled inward like they were folding under the weight of everything he’d buried, and the tears came hard now, slipping past his lashes in streaks down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve fought. I should’ve followed you that night. I was scared and selfish and so, so wrong—”

You covered your mouth with your hand, a sob ripping through you as your body shook.

The bathroom felt too small for the pain in both your chests.

Ni-ki took one more step, close now, barely a breath away, but still not touching you. His hands hovered, trembling at his sides.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered. “I just didn’t know how to hold on without breaking you more.”

You shook your head, tears running freely now.

“You broke me because you let go.”

Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.

And there it was — both of you standing in the ruins of what could’ve been, hearts cracked wide open, trying to figure out if love was still enough.

For a moment, the only sound in the bathroom was your breathing — shallow, uneven — and Ni-ki’s quiet sniffle as he dragged the back of his hand under his nose. The silence didn’t feel awkward anymore. It felt sacred. Heavy. Like you were standing in the middle of something fragile and precious, even if it was painful.

You looked up at him, and god, he looked beautiful in the saddest way possible.

His dark lashes were damp, clumped together from tears. His eyes were glassy, swollen around the edges, and red like he’d been holding everything in for too long. A tear still lingered on his cheekbone, catching the light, and his lips were parted just slightly — like he wanted to say something but couldn’t trust his voice not to crack again. His hair was a little messy, falling into his eyes, and his chest rose and fell like every breath physically hurt.

You had never seen him like this. And still, even with tear tracks down his face and his hands trembling, he was heartbreakingly beautiful. He always had been. Even more so now, undone like this, human, soft, real.

And then his eyes met yours again.

You felt the burn of emotion rise again in your chest as you realized how you must’ve looked — mascara smudged under your eyes, lips swollen from biting down to stop yourself from sobbing, your dress wrinkled where your hands had clutched it too tightly. Your cheeks were damp, and your nose was red, and your shoulders shook with every shaky inhale.

But Ni-ki looked at you like you were still the only person in the world.

Like you hadn’t changed at all, like you were still his.

His gaze dragged over your features slowly, memorizing them like he hadn’t been doing that all night from afar.

“You’re still so…” he started, but the words caught in his throat. His voice cracked, softer this time. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

It was breathless. Honest. And it shattered something deep in your chest.

You let out a shaky breath, your bottom lip trembling.

“You too,” you whispered.

And somehow, even though you were both crying — both a mess, standing there in your sadness — you’d never looked at each other with more love.

Tears rolled silently down Ni-ki’s cheeks again, but he didn’t look away. Neither did you.

It was like time froze for a second. Just long enough to remember: this was the same boy you used to wake up next to, who used to trace your face with the tip of his finger just because he liked how you looked in the morning. And you were the same girl who used to kiss him just because he blinked too slowly when he was tired.

You were still them. Maybe older. Maybe a little more broken. But still you.

And god, even now, even in this , you were beautiful to each other.

He stepped forward.

You didn’t move. You should have — should’ve stepped back, should’ve put space between you, should’ve remembered that there were reasons why you’d walked away in the first place. But your feet stayed rooted, breath caught in your throat as his hand hovered just beside your face. Not touching, just waiting.

You could feel the warmth of his palm in the air, trembling.

And when his eyes dropped to your lips for just a second, you whispered, barely a sound, almost a breath.

“Ni-ki…”

“I know,” he said softly. “You don’t have to… I just—” His voice cracked again. “I missed you so much it fucking ruined me. I haven't seen you in a year, and i missed you.”

Your chest squeezed.

“I missed your voice,” he whispered, inching closer, heart in his throat. “Your laugh. Your hands. Your body. I couldn’t touch anyone else — I couldn’t even look at anyone else without seeing you.”

A whimper broke from your throat before you could stop it.

Your hands found his chest, not to pull him closer — not yet — but to push. You pressed against him with weak palms, shaking your head even as your tears fell faster.

“No,” you murmured. “This is a bad idea. We're in the bathroom and we're—”

“—not over each other,” he finished, voice shaking. “And we both know it.”

You opened your mouth, but he was already leaning in, slow, giving you every second to stop him. And still, you didn’t move. You wanted to push him away — your fingers flexed against his chest, trying, pleading with yourself — but the second his lips brushed yours, all of that fight melted into ache.

You gasped. And in that gasp, something in you broke.

You leaned in.

The kiss was nothing like how you remembered it — not soft, not sweet. It was hungry. Shaky. A collision of breath and tears and aching mouths trying to say everything they never got to. His hands cupped your jaw like you’d slip away if he let go. You gripped his shirt with trembling fists, pulling him closer until your bodies were flush, and your kiss deepened with a sob caught between your teeth.

You could taste the salt of your tears. His too.

You kissed him like you needed it to breathe. He kissed you like he never thought he’d get to again.

It was clumsy, noses bumping, lips trembling. He sighed into your mouth when your hands slid into his hair, and you felt him shudder as you pressed closer. The kiss felt like a cry, like mourning, like longing, like every what if that had haunted you since that night.

When you finally pulled away, barely a breath between you, his forehead dropped to yours.

Neither of you said anything.

Your tears had stopped, but your eyes still burned. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, tender, reverent, like he didn’t know how to hold you anymore but was desperate to remember.

Your breathing was still shaky, but his lips were still so close, warm, trembling, parted like he was caught between apology and need. His hands hadn’t left your face, his thumb still brushing over your cheek, tender like he was scared you’d disappear if he touched you too hard.

But when your eyes fluttered open and met his again, something shifted.

You didn’t know who leaned in first. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. But suddenly, your mouths collided again, harder this time, not rushed, but desperate. Desperate to feel something real. To drown in it. To let it hurt and heal at the same time.

This kiss wasn’t careful.

His hand slipped into your hair, gripping gently but firmly, angling your face to deepen it. Your fingers clutched his shoulders, sliding around his neck, dragging him impossibly closer as you parted your lips for him. And when his tongue brushed yours — soft, tentative, like he didn’t want to push too far too fast — you whimpered into his mouth, and he groaned quietly like the sound broke something inside him.

He tasted like salt and need, like everything you missed.

Your bodies pressed flush, your chest heaving against his, his fingers trailing down to your waist where they held you like he couldn’t bear to let go again. You tilted your head, kissing him deeper, slower, your hips shifting just slightly and making him suck in a sharp breath.

“God,” he whispered against your lips, voice wrecked. “You still feel the same.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to.

The way your nails grazed the back of his neck, the way your mouth clung to his like it was the last thing tethering you to the earth, it said everything.

Ni-ki’s kisses turned rougher with every second — still emotional, still laced with that aching kind of sadness, but growing hotter, heavier. He kissed you like he didn’t know where to put all of his grief, like this was the only way to survive it. And you gave into it just the same, kissed him with all the pain you never let yourself feel, every soft thing you buried just to get through the days without him.

Your tears had dried, but the emotion was still there, in the way you gasped when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, in the quiet moan you choked down when his hand gripped your waist tighter.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

It was everything you hadn’t said. Everything you’d swallowed. Every lonely night. Every almost-text. Every time you saw his name and looked away.

And for the first time in a year, you felt alive.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, his forehead dropped against yours again, both of you dizzy and breathless.

He was staring at you like you were a miracle.

His hands roamed gently, tracing over your back like he was trying to relearn you with his palms — not rushing, not pushing, just feeling. Every inch he touched sent warmth spreading through your skin, not from lust, but from the way it was him. The only person who ever made you feel this full and this fragile at once.

Your mouths found each other again, slower now, deeper, like you were sinking into him, like the ache wasn’t enough unless it lingered.

He kissed down the corner of your mouth, over your jaw, his lips brushing your skin like a secret. Your breath hitched when he reached the spot just beneath your ear, his voice low and raw, full of things he hadn’t dared say before now.

“I used to dream about this,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin with every word. “Touching you again. Kissing you like this. You have no idea what it did to me—wanting you and not being allowed to have you.”

You shivered under his touch, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. He kissed your neck, just once, slow and hot, then dragged his lips back to yours, softer this time, but no less desperate.

“You’re still the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered against your mouth. “Even when you’re crying.”

You let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, kissing him harder just to shut him up, because your heart couldn’t take it.

“You were always mine,” he breathed, kissing you again. “Even when I had to pretend you weren’t.”

His hands gripped your waist now, sliding beneath your dress just resting there, his thumbs stroking your skin lightly, reverently.

“I missed your skin,” he said, voice ragged. “Missed the way you’d melt the second I touched you. Missed the way you’d whisper my name.”

You pulled back, just an inch, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at him. His eyes were glassy, lips red and swollen, and he looked like a boy on the edge of a cliff, waiting for you to tell him whether to jump or step back.

“I’m not drunk,” you whispered, as if admitting it made it more real. “I know what this is.”

“So do I,” he replied softly. “I’m not touching you because I’m drunk. I’m touching you because I still love you.”

And then he kissed you again, deep, slow, filled with everything he couldn’t say all at once. His hand slid up your back, the other cupping your jaw like you were made of glass and he was terrified of breaking you. But he needed to hold you — to feel you — to convince himself this wasn’t another dream.

Every brush of his fingers was light, meaningful, the kind of touch that said he remembered everything. The way you liked to be held. The spots that made you breathe harder. The pace that made your knees weak.

His lips returned to your ear, voice so low it barely reached over the sound of your own heartbeat.

“I want to make you feel good again,” he whispered. “Like I used to. Just… let me have you for a little while.”

You shivered, but not from the cold.

Because you already had.

You never stopped being his.

[kikiheehee]

that feeling when we ᢉ𐭩

synopsis: ni-ki as your boyfriend

———————————————————————————————

boyfriend!ni-ki would never keep his hands off of you, he loves the way you feel against his skin,

boyfriend!ni-ki who would’ve been so persistent on making you his. Nonchalant? Don’t know him! He knew from the moment he saw you that you would be his person. No matter how long it took or what obstacles he had to endure.

boyfriend!ni-ki who always showers you in gifts from head to toe. Whenever he would go inside Prada, Chrome Hearts, or any of his other luxury brands, he would come out of the store with at least one whole bag dedicated to you. He would also send you monthly flowers to your doorstep, just so you always know how grateful he is to have you despite your distance.

boyfriend!ni-ki who has never once raised his voice at you. He never saw the need to. Even during disagreements, he explained his side softly, often with his arm around your waist. Because of this, arguments would never last long, he made sure of it.

boyfriend!ni-ki who made sure to talk to you on the phone at once a day for at least 5 minutes regardless of how busy his schedule got, because he always had time for you.

boyfriend!ni-ki who sends you spontaneous paragraphs about how much he loves you. Reassurance was a big thing to him, so naturally, it was absolutely necessary to let you know that the love he had for you was never lost, and instead grows stronger by the day.

boyfriend!ni-ki who can never shut up talking about you. Whether it be to staff, his members, his family, friends, and just about anyone who will listen.

boyfriend!ni-ki who wishes he could show you off to his fans. His love for you shouldn’t have to be a secret, and every so often he contemplates posting a picture of the 2 of you on weverse just so he could talk about you, but he knows that would be far too dangerous for the both of you.

boyfriend!ni-ki who sends you voice messages every night about how his day went with even the littlest details so you can have something to listen to when you do your morning routine.

———————————————————————————————

[daisydosie]

hii!!! can i request some fluff with sunoo or ni-ki, please!!! i'm like dying for some fluff with one of them and i saw you're taking requests so...🥹

𝐼 𝑊𝑖𝑛 | 𝑁.𝑅𝐾

𝐍𝐢-𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❥ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭! 🫶

❥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

❥ 𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐢-𝐤𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

❥ 𝐰𝐜: 𝟓𝟖𝟓

❥ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

It was supposed to be a quiet night

The two of you were curled up on the apartment's living room floor, a half-folded blanket over the two of you and an open carton of takeout on the table in front of you. The soft hum of music played from your phone speaker, the setting sun casting a golden glow across the room through the window.

You stretched out lazily, your arm brushing against Ni-ki’s as you reached for your water. “You know,” you said casually, “if we were to actually fight… I’d win.”

He froze mid-bite of his dumpling. “Excuse me?”

You turned your head to smirk at him. “You heard me.”

Ni-ki slowly lowered his chopsticks, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You, you, would beat me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Yeah right.”

“Why not?” you replied sweetly, “I’m scrappy. Unpredictable. Cunning.”

“Cunning,” he repeated with a snort. “You trip over your own feet brushing your teeth.”

Before you could snap back, he lunged—too fast, and way too confident. You yelped as he pulled you down to the floor, rolling you onto your back as he hovered above you. His body slightly straddling your waist, pinning you gently but firmly, and his hands caught your wrists like he knew exactly how this would end.

You glared up at him, breath catching. “Unfair. I wasn’t ready.”

Ni-ki’s grin turned wicked. “A true warrior is always ready.”

His face was close now—closer than you’d realized in the heat of your banter. His hair fell forward slightly, shadowing his eyes, and you could feel his breath against your lips. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, and suddenly the tension between you wasn’t just playful—it was thick, warm, charged.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Get off.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Admit you lost.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I can arrange that.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your lips twitch into a smile. He was still watching you closely—his gaze softer now, lingering for just a second too long.

Then he let go, sitting back on his heels and offering a hand. You hesitated but took it, both of you standing at the same time, as you let him pull you up with ease. The moment he did, you didn’t let go—you stayed close, chest brushing his as your fingers lingered in his.

“That was a cheap win,” you murmured.

Ni-ki tilted his head. “Still a win.”

“And now you want a reward, don’t you?” you asked, already seeing the mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Obviously.” His voice dropped a note lower. “I deserve something… don't you think?”

You scoffed, leaning in like you were about to roll your eyes again—but instead, you kissed him.

It was slower this time. Less teasing. His hand moved instinctively to the side of your neck, anchoring you to him as he kissed you back—like this was the win he really wanted all along.

When you pulled away, you looked into his eyes, your face dangerously close to his, your breath mingling.

“Still think I can’t win?” you whispered.

Ni-ki’s eyes fluttered open, dark and fond. “You win. Every time.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Told you I was unpredictable.”

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, arms winding around your waist as he pulled you into him completely. “And dangerously distracting,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw.

You stayed there, tangled in each other in the living room, the scent of dumplings and the warmth of home surrounding you like a quiet promise.

Neither of you moved to clean up.

The world could wait.

End.

[ni-kidaily]

250503

[yourislandgirl]

*:ꔫ:*ₓₒ LEMON DROP LIPS ˚ ༘♡ੈ✩ || 리키 x fem!reader || drabble

— KISS ME, DON’T SAY NO series

summary: enlisting the help of your boyfriend, you had a goal of completing your biology assignment well in advance, wanting to get back in your teachers good graces, and thanks to riki’s support, the task didn’t feel so impossible, a little sour for sure, but manageable

genres: fluff, romance, non-idol!riki x non-idol!reader, est. relationship

warnings: ni-ki is referred to as "riki", attempts at humour, swearing/cursing, brat boyfriend rikimura, standard high school student stress (i think i write stressed academics a bit too often . oh well)

wc: 2.8k

[archive]

“Why would you subject yourself to biology?”

You shrugged at the question.

But it was an assignment from that very class that had both you and your boyfriend at your local park hunting for flowers. The afternoon sunlight was slowly dipping lower and a gentle breeze swayed amongst the grass around your ankles. After carefully closing the lid of your lip balm and tucking it into your jacket pocket, you crouched down beside your boyfriend and took your biology question booklet out of his hands.

“Because,” you started, “I needed a science subject to close out my timetable and Miss Hwang said that bio had more visual learning and there were more hands-on experiments that we could do, so— Wait, why am I even explaining this to you? Dig!”

You nudged Riki with your shoulder, ignoring his groans as you flipped through the question booklet, making sure you’d found the right flower specimen.

Dissecting flora and delving into the horticulture topic was fascinating but equally a challenge. At the start, it included a lot of labelling and diagrams, and then it became more fun when your teacher brought in the bouquets — you and your friends got side tracked in class and started researching the language of flowers.

Riki had even started to take an interest when you talked about your lessons, sitting in the art room with him while he sketched.

Presently, as you pulled your phone out to take down a few notes, you smiled at the little doodle he did of carnation flowers that you’d placed in your phone case.

“They mean love, or something,” he’d muttered as he handed the sketch to you.

“Or something,” you’d muttered back before kissing him on the cheek.

more under cut !!

You shook your head, smiling at the memory while you closed your notes app and opened the camera instead. “Alright, here, take this.” Handing the phone to Riki, you chose to do the actual extraction yourself.

You grabbed the base of the stem and started to tug at it gently. Maybe a little too gently.

The seconds passed by and the stem moved just under a centimetre before Riki finally lost his patience and sighed a little. “Just pluck it.”

You shot him a small, harmless glare to which he replied with his tongue poking out but he remained in place ready to snap the photo.

“Riki, I need the root system as well.”

His expression soured. “I hate your teacher.”

“She hates you too. Go write a diss track about it later.”

You heard him chuckle quietly, your cheeks heating up at the sound.

It took you a few moments to brace yourself through it but eventually, you pulled out the flower, roots and all, and held in your hands as if it was a delicate angels feather. The sigh of relief that left your lips was nothing compared to the groan from Riki when he stood up after finally taking the photo.

“Ugh, my ankles are killing me.” He rolled his head back and clicked the joints in his neck and shoulders while he talked.

You felt a little bad for him but you needed the help. And in all honesty, Riki took better photos than you. The angle, the lighting, it all looked better when he was holding the camera. You used to think there was some secret to it but you quickly came to realise he just had an eye for beauty and composition that no one else had.

You loved the photo, immediately emailing it to yourself so you’d have it on your laptop. When you turned your gaze back up at Riki, he was resting his hands behind his head, eyes drooping a little.

You smirked. “Aw is Shnookums tired?” Reaching forward, your tried to poke his cheek before he gently swatted you away.

Your smile only grew at the sight of how Riki pinched the bridge of his nose, it seemed the memory of such a flattering childhood nicknames was an unwelcome one. “Stop, that was one time.” As he turned to walk further into the park, you could almost hear Riki chuckle as you hurried to catch up to him.

“I don’t know Shnookie,” your voice was torturously teasing, “The home videos your sister showed me say a different story.”

“God the next time I see her…”

Laughter blossomed out of you. Reaching for his hand, you continued to explore the local park’s flora and compare it to the required specimens needed for your biology class.

You’d carefully bagged each flower in a zip lock and handed them to Riki to slide into a folder before placing it in your backpack. Your little system of discovery, extraction, documentation and storage was going well, and you’d just about finished the list with only three remaining specimens left.

“Ok, I say we wrap it up for the day.” Riki got up from his crouched position for the seventh time in the afternoon, stretching every joint carefully, waiting for you to get up as well. Your jacket was slung over his shoulder like a towel, his own makeshift neck pillow.

“Uh…” You remained huddled on the grass, fingers flipping through the biology booklet.

“Y/N?” You looked up, seeing Riki’s expectant gaze, his hand outstretched ready to help you up. “Let’s go, I can walk you home.”

“I think I’m gonna stay a little longer. I can get my mum to pick me up, don’t worry.”

Asking Riki not to worry was like asking him to immediately start panicking, because both resulted in the same outcome. His eyebrows would furrow, his shoulder would tense up, his only goal would be to understand why and what he could do to help.

“I don’t understand,” he reached for your hand, pulling you up with ease, wanting to speak to you at eye level, or, somewhat-eye-level. “This isn’t due until after the weekend. You’ve got time to do this, you can take a break for now. Right?”

You gripped the booklet in your other hand a little tighter.

“Y/N, hey, it’s ok to take a break.”

You puffed out a breath, blowing some stray hairs off your cheeks. “I know that,” you mused. “I just need to do this now. I think… It could make Miss Hwang happy, that’s all.”

Riki’s frown turned from concern to judgement so fast, you’d miss the transition if you blinked. “Ok, what? Who gives a fuck what she thinks?”

“My parents, my report card, my scholarship applications, my—”

“I get it.”

He subtly reached for your wrist, his fingers gentle as they slide down your palm and interlocked with yours.

The silence was anticipatory. The kind where you could feel his questions churning inside by the way his thumb tapped against the back of your hand. It was the kind of silence where you felt his gaze on you a few times as if waiting for you to break the quiet and initiate some conversation.

Riki liked having answer, that much you knew. But you also knew that he’d never force them out of you.

Maybe that’s why it was easier to talk to him more than anyone else.

“Miss Hwang held me and a few others back in class last week.”

Riki slowed down his pace a little, frowning as he recollected the past week. “Hang on, you said you had extra bio work to do.”

“I did,” you shrugged. “I was doing it while she held me back. I, um…”

The hesitation on your face made Riki frown a little deeper, his lips pouting just enough to alleviate your mood that littlest bit. He really did not like that woman, and for what it was worth, that amused you deeply.

Enough to admit the reason with a shy smirk, “She may have seen me texting you while my friends and I did buzzfeed quizzes.”

He scoffed, his head tipping back with a sigh, the mental image of you, his high achieving girlfriend, wasting class time? “Buzzfeed? Really?”

Your eyes lit up with a simmering annoyance that you’d been harbouring for days. “We finished the class work! She was being so petty!”

“She is petty.”

You sighed, “She’s not horrible. Just, I don’t know, strict?”

Shrugging, Riki led you to a park bench to take a seat. “Lovingly, don’t care. Not a fan.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you leaned back onto the cool wood of the park bench, “I need to make her a fan of me again. I really don’t want to lose the favour of a teacher like her ya know?”

Riki merely gave you a blank expression before conceding, “Yeah, ‘kay.”

Wordlessly, he pulled your jacket off his shoulders and dropped it on your lap before taking the biology booklet out of your hands. He started flipping through.

You raised an eyebrow at his actions but quickly became distracted by the sheer concentration on his face.

It was the same face he wore when making sure he had every material needed before painting. Or when he was making sure he’d followed the rule of thirds during a preliminary canvas sketch. He had a precision to his perspective that you could not find in another person.

He only further proved your point by putting an arm over your shoulder and bringing you closer so that you could read along with him. He muttered under his breath about how many samples you’d collected, how many double ups you’d found, the general locations and other areas you could try in the park before it got too dark.

“You want to finish this by the end of the week right? Submit it early?” He didn’t wait for an answer before getting off the bench, taking you with him, his hand holding yours once again. “I’d say we’ve got fifteen more minutes before the street lights turn on.”

He turned to face you again. “We might have to come back tomorrow, babe. I’m sorry.” Pressing a soft kiss on your temple, Riki pulled his phone out to text his sister, asking her to come pick you both up. When he looked back up, Riki halted at the sight of your smile.

“You’re not upset?”

“What?” You hadn’t realised you’d been smiling. Shaking your head to compose yourself, you breathed out a nervous laugh, “Right. No, I’m not. I just… Thank you.”

You smiled wider at his confusion, spurring him to smile back, no less confused than before. At that moment the weight of Miss Hwang’s expectations didn’t matter. Your drive to please her regulated into a drive to please yourself.

As you slowly pulled Riki back to the park bench to sit next you, the simmering urge to submit early started to dissipate. Of course you knew it would come back again tomorrow morning, and you were prepared for that. But maybe Riki had a point, you could afford to take a break.

You’d made excellent progress, and with his help tomorrow, you’d have this assignment completed well before the due date, exactly as planned.

The street lights started to flicker to life, burning their midnight oil, unlike you, who’d chosen to preserve yours.

“You okay?” Riki’s voice was low, lower than a whisper. He still wore an expression of confusion but it had morphed into intrigue, enchantment — he didn’t need to know why you thanked him, he just needed to make sure whatever he did, he’d keep doing it.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered back. “I guess sometimes it hits different, knowing that I’ve got people in my corner, rooting for me and doing whatever they can to help me succeed. Even if the prize isn’t anything special.”

Riki smirked, “In your own words, an A+ is better than a winning lottery ticket.” He pulled you closer once again, the feeling of his arm draped over your shoulder was a welcomed comfort, a familiar warmth.

Even his teasing was welcomed; “That is a foul sentiment, by the way. Who taught you something so illogical? Let me at ‘em.”

You giggled at his dramatics. “I was being sarcastic.”

“I should hope so.”

Riki’s thumb drew small circles into your shoulder, his head dropping down to rest on top of yours. “Seriously, though. You don’t need to thank me for this. Of course I’d help you.”

Your cheeks felt like they were in bloom, lip quirking up as you spoke. “Even though you hate Miss Hwang?”

“Especially because I hate Miss Hwang,” he scoffed, sitting up a little to face you, the glint in his eyes like a fire cracker just looking for trouble.

“Think about it,” he started, “What better way is there to get back at that witch?” He pulled your biology booklet out once more, flipping through the pages speedily, as if to show just how much you’d completed in one afternoon.

“She’s gonna have to give you the top mark, and her knowing that you’re my girl just makes it better.”

You gasped, mockingly. “You petty little—”

“Listen sweets, if there’s anyone that I want succeeding, it’s you.” His arm found its place over your shoulder once more, this time pulling you into the warmth between his collar and neck.

“My support shouldn’t be a shock, it’s a given,” he said, softly.

You breathed in his scent, a little musky coupled with the slight smell of acrylic paint. Pursing your lips, biting back another smile, you turned to gaze up at him.

He glanced down. “What?”

You hummed a noncommittal tone, “You just look very kissable right now.”

It was amusing to witness, the way Riki’s gentle expression morphed into a boyish grin. “Well not to brag but, I fear I just wake up looking kissable.”

“Mhm.”

He nodded, “Honestly, go ahead, feel how kissable my lips are.” Just to prove his point, he puckered them up for you dramatically.

Nudging him in the ribs lightly, you leaned away in faux disgust. “Shut up.”

“Oh come on,” he grabbed your wrist, “I even used your lip balm.”

Your smile dropped, brows furrowing instantly.

Riki halted, verbally backpedaling “Wait, I mean—”

“You used my limited edition lemon drop lip balm?!”

“…No?”

You hands patted frantically against your jacket that was rested on your lap, feeling each of the pockets and finding no small plastic tube of citrusy softness.

Your gaze locked with your boyfriend’s, who’d already gotten off the bench and started walking away hastily.

“Riki!” You followed after him, both of you speeding into a jog, then a run, then a sprint.

Riki’s deep laughter resounded the local park, every other passerby with a dog or on a walk had turned to look at the scene that bolted past them.

You groaned, feeling yourself slowing down. “Stop running!”

“Stop chasing!” He yelled over his shoulder, turning slightly to see your speed reduce, causing him to do the same.

He kept a decent distance from you, hands up in surrender. Well, one hand open. The other was in a fist, his large palm could have been hiding anything but you had an inkling to what was inside.

“Got it right here,” he declared, smugly. Your beloved lip balm.

You stalked closer, before lunging forward to reach his hand. A failed attempt, of course. as he simply lifted it higher. “When did you even take it? Give it back!”

Your hands went to his ribs, aiming to tickle him into submission but he quickly dodged you, circling around, his free hand on your shoulder to hold you at arms length.

“Give me a kiss first!” His eyes were alight, sparked with love, cloaked with mischief.

You shook your head, your own grin was involuntary at that point. “Riki, I swear—”

“Nope.” He leaned forward, his empty hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer. “My name’s not Riki, it’s Shnookums. Now hold still and you’ll get your lip balm.”

You fidgeted out of his grip, determined to hold off on kissing him until you got your limited edition. “Fine.” Your hand was held out, palm open for the trade.

Riki unfurled his fist, an empty hand grasped yours and pulled you into him, his own lips locking onto yours.

Any semblance of stubborn determination was immediately dissolved against the taste of lemon meringue and citrusy zest that met your tongue.

The flavour faltered your thoughts, leaving you a blinking, blushing mess as Riki pulled away.

“Is that enough lip balm for you?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a couple steps back.

You jutted your lip out, deep in pretend-thought. “I might need more, funnily enough.”

You giggled at his expression. “Hilarious.”

a.n: FINAL INSTALMENT OF THE KISS ME, DON'T SAY NO SERIES IS HERE AHHHHH — i hope you all enjoyed the ride and i've got so many more drafts just itching to be posted but anyway, thank yoouuuu xx <3

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf — @itsrinsdrs — @enjakey — @rynnest

2025 © yourislandgirl

[yena-enha]

𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 - 𝐍𝐑𝐊

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Warning - Emotional neglect, loneliness, crying, mention of stress and overwork, hurt/comfort themes

Note - SFW CONTENT

Genre - Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Pairing - NonIdol!Ni-ki x Fem!Reader

Song Inspiration - Only by LEE HI

Word Count - 1.5k words

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You and Ni-ki had always been inseparable.

It started out beautifully—late-night phone calls where you whispered about your dreams, hands intertwined as you walked home from school, soft kisses under flickering streetlights. Loving Ni-ki was easy, natural. He felt like home.

But even the strongest homes could crack under the weight of life.

At first, it was little things. Missed texts, shorter replies, dates pushed back by an hour. Then it became days, weeks of waiting for a moment with him that never came. Ni-ki was drowning under the weight of expectations—schoolwork piling up, his job barely covering expenses, his mother relying on him to help with his younger siblings. He had so much on his plate, and you understood.

You always understood.

"I don’t ever want to be another burden to you," you had told him one night, when exhaustion lined his face and stress filled his voice. "I’ll always be here, okay? Even if you need space."

Ni-ki had kissed your forehead then, murmuring something about how much he loved you. But love, no matter how strong, couldn’t erase loneliness.

You became an afterthought.

Even when he texted, it was rushed. When you spoke on the phone, his words were distant, his mind somewhere else. You told yourself it was temporary. That you just had to wait. That you could endure it because this was Ni-ki. But waiting turned into wondering.

Wondering if he still thought about you.

Wondering if he even missed you.

The thing about love was that it didn’t just disappear. It lingered, even in the silence. Even when you found yourself sitting alone at a café, staring at the untouched coffee that was meant for two. Even when you lay in bed, phone screen dimly lighting up with yet another apology.

"Sorry, something came up. Rain check?"

You smiled at the message, but your hands trembled as you typed out, Of course! Don’t worry about it :)

And yet, that night, when you turned off your phone and curled into yourself, the first tear slipped down your cheek.

---

Ni-ki finally noticed.

It happened on a Wednesday evening. You were sitting by the window in your dimly lit room, absently scrolling through old photos—the ones from when Ni-ki was still there. His smile so bright, his arms around you, his eyes holding a warmth that now felt like a distant memory.

Then, suddenly, there was a knock.

You almost didn’t move. It wasn’t until the second, more frantic knock that you blinked out of your haze and stood up.

When you opened the door, Ni-ki stood there, panting slightly, his hands clenched at his sides. His uniform shirt was wrinkled, his hair messy like he had run all the way here. And then you saw it—his eyes. Wide, desperate, filled with something you hadn’t seen in so long.

"Ni-ki?"

He didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at you.

Your heart clenched. You were sure he saw the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore.

Then, his voice broke the silence. "I’m sorry."

The words cracked something inside you.

You swallowed, forcing another smile. "For what?"

Ni-ki let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to grip yours. His palms were cold, fingers trembling. "Don’t do that," he whispered.

"Do what?" You tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow.

His grip on you tightened. "Pretend like everything’s okay. Pretend like I didn’t—" His voice wavered, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second before meeting your gaze again. "I was so focused on everything else, I didn’t see what I was doing to you."

Your breath hitched.

"I was so damn selfish," Ni-ki continued, voice thick with regret. "I kept telling myself that you’d understand, that you’d wait, because you always do. But I never stopped to think about how lonely that must have felt."

Tears burned your eyes. You had spent so long being strong, convincing yourself that your pain didn’t matter. But hearing him say it, hearing him acknowledge it—your walls cracked.

You bit your lip. "Ni-ki, I know you didn’t mean to—"

"But I still hurt you," he interrupted. "I should’ve been there. I should’ve made time for you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And I hate myself for making you feel like you were second place."

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Then, Ni-ki cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had finally slipped free. "Please don’t hide from me anymore," he begged. His own voice was breaking now. "I don’t care how tired I am, how busy I get—I need you to tell me when you’re hurting. I need you to tell me when I’m being an idiot. I need—" His breath hitched. "I just need you."

A sob escaped before you could stop it. You clutched his wrists, eyes squeezing shut. "I just wanted to feel like I still mattered to you," you whispered.

Ni-ki pulled you into his arms.

"You do," he murmured, his grip so tight it almost hurt. "You always have. And I promise, I’ll never let you feel this alone again."

This time, when you held him back, you let yourself believe him.

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«Masterlist || Introduction»

Taglist» @strxwbloody

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[simp4jungwonn]

Sunghoon smut audio(mdni)

Sunghoon stroking his dick while thinking about you because he misses you so much

A/n I forgot I changed my username 💔😭

[fleuryns]

BUS STOP ★ 西村 力

୨୧ ; 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀

❪ 𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝑖 ❫ 니키 & 𝑓 ! r 69Owc ♥︎ fluff drabble high-school au 🪽 pre est. rel ──𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘 ｡

𝑙ike ˊᯅˋ  reb𝑙og

the first time you see him it's a monday morning. it’s so cold and dark, your energy is under the ground, and it's definitely way too early to be excited about anything.

you’re tugging your scarf tighter with small huffs of frustration, when you suddenly spot him standing at the far end of the bus stop.

a tall guy, really tall, and dressed in all black. a backpack is slung low on one shoulder and his headphones are in.

you can faintly hear a fast beat from the song he’s listening to and you wonder how loud his volume is.

you try not to stare, but for some reason it's incredibly hard to do so.

when the bus comes, the guy gets in right before you. he sits by the window all the way back, head resting against the glass. he doesn't notice the glances you steal while pretending to get stuff from your bag.

he’s there again the next morning. and the next. and the one after.

before you know it, his presence becomes part of your morning routine: you arrive at the bus stop when he's already there, you try to be sneaky in your staring, then you get off the bus, the boy stays on, and everything's gone for the rest of the day.

you don't talk, not yet. but you can't help but wonder if his voice sounds deep. he definitely looks like he'd have a deep voice.

you call him "the bus stop guy", and your friends tease you about him all the time. he doesn't notice you. probably. hopefully.

until one day, it rains. not just a drizzle, a full-on downpour that leaves you soaked within seconds. because, of course, you forgot your umbrella and it's too late to run back home.

and of course you look like a wet dog in front of your crush, who is casually standing under a huge black umbrella, completely dry.

he looks over at you. it might be the first time he acknowledges your presence in months and he just stares at you like you're some sort of weird alien from another galaxy.

but then, slowly, he shifts. the umbrella moves over you, while his eyes are already facing the street again, avoiding your gaze. you blink up at him, stunned.

"... thanks" you mumble.

the corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a little smirk. "a bad day to forget" he comments, voice a little rough, like he just woke up ten minutes ago. it's deep, like you had imagined. you want to hear it again.

"yeah, well, i wasn't expecting the apocalypse to happen" you laugh, nervously.

he finally looks at you, really looks at you, and something shifts in his expression. the ghost of the smirk is still there, but it turned softer. or maybe you're just imagining things again.

"im riki" he says after a few moments of silence, and just like that everything changes.

you still meet at the bus stop every morning, but now you stand closer, talk more. you find out he goes to a different school, that he loves dancing and that he's softer than he looks.

you never mention the rainy day again. you talk about mundane things, to fill the silence, mostly. he's a good listener to your ramblings, occasionally humming and nodding along like whatever you're talking aboug is the most interesting thing he has ever heard.

one day, before you have to get off, he taps your arm. "hey" he says, meeting your gaze with shy eyes. "i... like talking to you".

you smile, heart thumping. "i like talking to you too" you say. "i really like you" you confess next, without thinking, while hurrying up to get off.

riki's face is red when you turn to look at him. a small smile, rare but real, spreads across his face. "i like you too!" he blurts out in panic as the doors start to close between you.

the bus drives on, but for the first time it doesn't feel like the end. it feels like something new might just have begun.

© 𝖥𝖫𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖸𝖭𝖲 | 2025

[nikipett]

No words for this perfection...